No historian of the United States is more provocative than Howard Zinn, whose leftist philosophy permeates his writings and never fails to challenge his readers. _The Twentieth Century: A People's History_ is every bit as ambitious as his other works; it is drawn from the latter part of his _A People's History of the United States_ with additional chapters to bring the chronicle to the end of the century. Like the majority of other works by Zinn, this one is a must read for anyone seeking to ensure the broadest possible perspective on the American past. What is presented here will be disturbing to many and perhaps angering to some, but as always he presents his analysis with a style and verve that is rigorous and often compelling. If you are not up to being challenged read something else that presents a more consensus perspective on the past, such as Stephen Ambrose or David McCullough. But if you are willing to consider that there might be more to the story of the twentieth century than you learned in school and from consensus historians, then ponder the ideas in this book.
Zinn believes, and states throughout this work, that the dominant narrative of American history focusing _on the Founding Fathers and the Presidents weigh oppressively on the capacity of the ordinary citizen to act. They suggest that in times of crisis we must look to someone to save us: in the Revolutionary crisis, the Founding Fathers; in the slavery crisis, Lincoln; in the Depression, Roosevelt; in the Vietnam-Watergate crisis, Carter. And that between occasional crises everything is all right...The idea of saviors has been built into the entire culture, beyond politics. We have learned to look to stars, leaders, experts in every field, thus surrendering our own strength, demeaning our own ability, obliterating our own selves_ (pp. 413-14).
Zinn abhors this aspect of our culture, and seeks to tell the story of those who bucked it throughout the twentieth century. He argues that the power elite in America have created a system of control in which most people do not even realize they are being controlled. _With a country so rich in natural resources, talent, and labor power the system can afford to distribute just enough wealth to just enough people to limit discontent to a troublesome minority_ (p. 414), he writes. Zinn notes that one percent of the nation owns one third of the wealth, and that the elite dole out just enough to placate the rest, all the while pitting them against each other. He adds, _These groups have resented each other and warred against each other with such vehemence and violence as to obscure their common position as sharers of leftovers, in a very wealthy country_ (p. 414). This book is really about those who battled that system, and he celebrates Eugene Debs, Daniel and Philip Berrigan, Angela Davis, Martin Luther King, Bill Haywood, and thousands of others who challenged the status quo.
No question, Zinn views the history of the twentieth century--as well as earlier--in the U.S. as a struggle between the haves and the have nots. The haves, he comments, have been enormously successful in securing their hegemony against far greater numbers in no small part because of _all-embracing symbols, physical and verbal: the flag, patriotism, democracy, national interest, national defense, national security_ (p. 415). Appeals to these themes, he believes, have been effectively used to blunt the criticism of the system that otherwise might bring it tumbling down. Thus, George W. Bush has appealed to flag-waving patriotism to unite a divided country and maintain control rather than deal with the underlying reasons for terrorism, _deep grievances against the United States_ (p. 474).
_The Twentieth Century: A People's History_ is a powerful book with ideas revolutionary in character. If you don't want to consider them then don't read it. Zinn certainly makes no apologies for his position. His is a distinctly minority voice in a discussion of the century just past, but an important and eloquent one. One that we all might learn something from.