Harold Laski: A Life on the Left.

In the second quarter of the Twentieth Century, Harold Laski was a legend to the politically conscious the world over. A noted socialist theorist, he published a major work almost yearly. He was political activist, a member of the British Labour Party's National Executive Committee from 1937 to 1949, and its chairman in 1945.

He was a confidant and adviser to government leaders in several countries. His name was almost synonymous with the London School of Economics, where his brilliant lectures made him a favorite of students - like myself, who chose LSE because of his presence. His list of friends reads like a Who's Who of prominent names in political and intellectual circles.

Following Laski's death, conservative historian Max Beloff wrote, "Just as we call the period 1840 to 1870 ... the |Age of John Stuart Mill,' so too the future historian may talk of the period between 1920 and 1950 as the |Age of Laski.'" James Callaghan, Labour Prime Minister in the late 1970s, wrote that wherever he traveled he "was bound to meet a distinguished academic, administrator, or politician who would boast that he had been taught by Laski." While Laski's goal was not to mold students to his own convictions - it was to stimulate them to read, think, and discuss - he showed by example that learning should be used in the social struggle of one's times.

Six books on Laski have been published, but the authors of these two new volumes realized that the others have their limitations. Michael Newman saw the need for a more scholarly analysis of Laski's "development over time" as political philosopher and activist. Isaac Kramnick and Barry Sheerman felt that a complete biography of Laski the man, based on extensive research, has not been done. The authors of both books can be credited with fulfilling their objectives. They have also done a service that will endear them to those who knew Laski and were saddened by the distorted image of him gaining ascendancy after his death in 1950 - that of the "Red Professor."

Newman shatters the character assassination by Herbert Deane in The Political Ideas of Harold Laski, published in 1955. Deane wrote that, after 1931, Laski was "calling for faith and fervor rather than reason and persuasion" and was "the prophet if not the advocate of violent revolution and dictatorship as the inevitable road to the new socialist society." Newman quotes Laski's various denunciations of the Soviet dictatorship and his well-reasoned explanation in The Secret Battalion (1945) of the British Labour Party's rejection of the British Communist Party's request for affiliation.

Both of these books tell of Laski's first-hand experience with the McCarthy era in the United States. The Justice Department wanted him to register as a foreign agent. The press headlined him as a "pro-Russian" figure. Catholic war veterans, priests, and nuns picketed his lectures. The University of California canceled a lecture because it did not want to provoke its conservative Board of Regents. The mayor of Cambridge, Massachusetts, refused to allow Harvard Law School to use an auditorium because "Laski was a Communist, hostile to all religions, and an enemy of Catholicism." The British Embassy thought a Laski visit to the United States would weaken Britain's efforts to secure a loan from Congress. The chairman of Brandeis University's Board of Trustees overruled and chastised a search committee that included Albert Einstein for inviting Laski to be the university's first president - because his image would weaken its fundraising efforts.

Newman suggests that Laski became a victim of the Cold War because it had become "necessary to adhere to the American ideology. Laski was never prepared to do this." It was not enough that he was a bitter foe of the Soviet police state; he committed the unpardonable when he noted some of the Soviet Union's internal achievements. He drew attention to the "negative domestic and international aspects of American capitalism rather than singing its praises." He was particularly critical of the suppression of civil liberties in the United States after World War II and its support of right-wing movements and governments abroad.

The books differ in south, but their the overall assessment of Laski's character is similar. Kramnick and Sheerman write that he was "the enduring conscience of the British Left. Others in the labor movement but ... Laski's writings and activism always stressed the importance of these socialist principles, often lost sight of by his colleagues in their eagerness to govern." Newman describes Laski as "scrupulously honest in his serious work. Nor did he skirt the sometimes painful duty of speaking the truth of individuals," and he "was prepared to court unpopularity and personal hardship to translate his vision into reality."

Both books tell of Laski's refusal of a 1940 request by U.S. Ambassador Joseph Kennedy to write an introduction to John Kennedy's book Why England Slept. Laski said it was a superficial work and no "publisher would have looked at that book of Jack's if he had not been your son."

Such examples contradict those critics who alleged Laski was a social climber seeking to ingratiate himself with those in power-though both books confirm there is some truth to the charge that Laski dropped first names of prominent people and exaggerated his role in critical political situations. But Newman adds that "several times in the research for this book, I began with an attitude of skepticism towards a particular claim made by Laski about his political involvement in various episodes only to find the balance of probability was in his favour."

Still, it's interesting to speculate why a man of Laski's stature had a need to enhance his importance. Perhaps a clue comes from his wife, Frida. At their home, in 1949, she said to me, "You have a mother complex, just like Harold." Was Laski's story-telling nothing more than the boy performing for his mother?

Another charge made by Laski's detractors is that, by moving from liberalism and pluralism to Fabian socialism and then to Marxism, his thinking was confused, if not contradictory, and lacked coherence and unity. The Kramnick/Sheerman book does not adequately challenge the negative criticisms, nor does it offer an interpretation of Laski's thinking.

Newman does make this contribution. On the alleged contradictions in Laski's writings, he states, "At each stage in his life he tried to incorporate what he had learned from his experience into his thinking, and his thought into practice." He never became a prisoner of theory because "he was trying to effect change." At times, the visionary Laski could become the pragmatic Laski, if it could lead to the acceptance of socially beneficial change. But the dominant intellectual preoccupation, throughout his life, was the question of liberty and authority in society.

As a sensitive, thoughtful person, he was inevitably affected by the political upheavals and dramas of the 1930s and 1940s - the Great Depression, the New Deal, the collapse of the McDonald government, the overthrow of the Spanish Republic by Francisco Franco, the rise to power of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, the totalitarian nature of the Soviet Union, World War II, the Holocaust, the Attlee government's opposition to increased Jewish immigration to Palestine the start of the Cold War. These events and his own personal growth and experience altered his political thinking.

He was led to a Marxist analysis of the capitalist state, but he described Marxism to his students as a method, not a dogma. He advised us to read the Communist Manifesto "as a discourse, not an incantation, and in an armchair, not on your knees."

In adding this layer of Marxism to his firmly held liberal values of individualism, pluralism, constitutionalism, and political freedom, he was making an effort to integrate the best of these two philosophies. What remained unchangeable in him was an open mind, a love of truth, an identification with all who suffered, and an incredible energy and passion to battle with the dragons of his time.

In his final few years, Newman notes, Laski became discouraged, pessimistic, and even depressed. This was in part due to the increasing tempo of the Cold War. His fear of the tragic consequences of this development led him to urge Dwight Eisenhower to be the Democratic candidate for President in 1948. When I questioned the wisdom of a military figure holding this office, Laski replied, "The world needs an American President who can resolve problems with |Uncle Joe,' lessen tensions, and thus reduce the likelihood of World War III."

Personal blows also played a part in Laski's depression, including his loss of influence in Labour Party circles once it came to power in 1945 and the hostility he encountered on visits to the United States. To Laski, whose personality strongly required acceptance and approval, the blows were felt as a rejection of his essential being. But the affection of his students, correspondence with intimate frinds, and the constant support and love of his wife sustained him.

We students experienced him as not only devoted to our intellectual growth but also concerned about our personal needs and worries. I wish I had realized then what I know now from reading Newman's book - that Laski's intellectual stature and reputation obscured his neediness. I might have asked for less and tried to give more.

One of his comments reflects the emotional pain he was undergoing in his last year. After reading a chapter in my dissertation, he cautioned, "Karson, the truth can be a poison. Be careful how you use it."

Marc Karson, a retired professor who lives in Asheville, North Carolina, was Harold Laski's last doctoral student at the London School of Economics.