Much will and should be written about Howard's contributions to the world: how his People's History of the U.S. changed how many of us understand America and, like all great histories, shed the great light of Truth upon our present, explaining what cannot be understood by official propaganda; the pivotal role he played in the civil rights movement during the tough years when he, like so many others, took enormous physical risks for simply wanting justice, a period he told me was the highlight of his life; the thousands of people, well-known and not, whose lives were politically transformed by their encounters with him.
And the personal remembrances of Howard the human being will be no less moving and true. I have met many political people in my lifetime. Howard was by far the most honest, human, open, kind, generous, gracious, sweetest, humorous and charming of them all. By far. I am not the first to be reminded of Abraham Lincoln when talking with him, not only because of the physical resemblance but his profound humanity. His personal warmth and gentleness, combined with his political fire and passion, were entirely unique in my experience. He looked you in the eyes. He listened. He reacted appropriately to what you were saying. He was as interested in my ideas and experience when we talked last January as he had been 40 years ago. Looking back on his life he was as open and honest about his regrets as well as satisfactions as anyone I have ever met.
But to me there is an even more important aspect of his life, like that of his friend and colleague Noam Chomsky, that transcends the personal.
To many of us "Zinn" and "Chomsky" have not only been admirable human beings. They have been something far more, something difficult to put into words, something perhaps even risky to try and capture but something that, nonetheless, one feels driven to express at a moment like this.
Many of us were upended on the deepest possible level during the '60s. Growing up in the aftermath of the "Good War", many of us the children or grandchildren of immigrants who believed deeply in the America to which they owed their very lives, we profoundly believed in America's goodness and decency. And when we saw not only our leaders, but an entire older generation not only betray but spit upon and destroy these values in Indochina, we were undone. When we saw them mercilessly, pitilessly, amorally, criminally, deceitfully and undemocratically murder millions of innocent civilians over a period of weeks, months and years - each week a lifetime of agony - we were thrown into an emotional, intellectual and spiritual abyss, an abyss from which we have never really fully emerged. Our moral universe, the basic set of understandings needed to remain human, was shattered.
It was particularly during those morally chaotic years that "Zinn" and "Chomsky" became more than people to many of us. As elders who did not sell out, who acted as well as taught, who did not compromise, who did not abandon genuine American values and ideals, who did not lose their passion for social justice, who did not fail to side with the poor and downtrodden and victimized, and who above all spoke the truth, they became to many of us, quite simply, some of the most important nouns of our life. Even if we did not always agree this or that "position" they took, they represented something far higher.
"Zinn" and "Chomsky" represented a tradition and state of being that meant we were not entirely on our own, beacons of:
-- The deepest possible compassion. At any given moment the world is divided into those who hear the screams of the innocent victims and those who do not. Most of us, certainly myself, go in and out of hearing the screams. We fight this injustice but ignore that one. "Zinn" and "Chomsky" is a state of being that consistently hears the screams, from Vietnam to inner city ghettoes, from East Timor to Haiti. It is a state that is unable to close itself off from the pain of the world.
-- Intellectual clarity, as they have told their truths in their writings and speeches to millions, never compromising for the sake of political expediency like so many of their contemporaries. Many of us were terminally confused by the conflict between America's image and reality. "Zinn" and "Chomsky" provide explanations and understandings that helped keep us sane.
-- Moral courage, as they went beyond mere speech-making and writing, and joined with those opposing the war, risking imprisonment or physical injury - as in our "affinity group" during Mayday when either could have been arrested, beaten up or maced in the eyes like Dan Ellsberg who was standing next to them, or when Chomsky was a leader of the draft resistance movement. "Zinn" and "Chomsky" mean "committed intellectuals" who do not compromise, intellectuals who align their bodies and actions with their minds and thoughts.
-- Passion for social justice, an antiquated concept these days, in which a new generation of Americans has come to believe that "collateral damage" is inevitable in war, the very idea of war crimes irrelevant, and that the poor are responsible for their poverty. "Zinn" and "Chomsky" has meant never losing the passion for justice, a passion that began for Howard when he realized, as a bombardier in WWII, that he was of the bombing the innocent not out of military necessity but mere inertia and indifference.
-- Above all integrity, authenticity, wholeness. "Zinn" and "Chomsky" are embodiments of that word so often praised but so rarely practiced. They have practiced what they have preached. I have never seen either act out of character. I remember well when I first met Howard in Laos in 1968 as he and Dan Berrigan were on their way to Hanoi to escort U.S. POWs home. What political system did he believe in?, I asked. He smiled in his wry way, grinned his wide grin, and answered in that soft, Brooklyn-tinged but clear way of his: "I guess the closest is the kind of anarcho-syndicalism they had in the Spanish Civil War", he responded. As we talked I understood that he knew too much to put faith in any government, right or left, that "anarcho-syndicalism" was a way of saying he remained idealistic that humans could theoretically live sanely. But he never fell into the trap that many of us have of projecting our ideals onto the fallible humans who hold power in any system, left or right, and are inevitably corrupted by it.
The integrity conveyed by the words "Zinn" and "Chomsky" is, in the end, impossible to pin down. They have been cut from an older, different cloth. Their roots lie in an earlier time when those fighting for peace and social justice did so because of who they were, not because they sought personal power or to realize fantasies of "revolution". I asked Howard last January what kept him continuing to fight, write and speak for peace and social justice when it all seemed so hopeless. His answer was as simple as it was profound. "I couldn't live with myself if I didn't." The meaning of the words were far less important than the wave of feeling that moved through me as he said them, a wave of feeling that cut through the rationalizing and intellectualizing and connected with the deepest part of me that feels the same way.
The most important role that "Zinn" and "Chomsky" (whom I also met in Laos, in 1970) have played in my life has been to serve as nouns reminding me of my highest self. I cannot describe how often, consciously or unbidden, I have found myself thinking "how would Howard see this?," "what would Howard say?", "what would Noam do in this case?".
And the deepest role they have played in my life only became apparent to me in recent years, as I began to explore my unconscious. I realized that they represented a kind of moral center in my life, a compass, a guiding star. This or that politician in whom I had believed might turn out to have feet of clay. I might betray my own ideals. I might drop out for a while, become despairing. But knowing that "Zinn" and "Chomsky" did not, that they fought consistently for their ideas, did not get corrupted by the temptations of power, meant that somewhere, some place, there was still a still point of integrity in this world.
Somewhere, some place, it was possible to remain a human being with compassion, intellectual clarity, moral courage, a passion for social justice and, above all, integrity. Somewhere, someplace, the world was not entirely sick, corrupted, confused or compromised.
These "Zinn" and "Chomsky" states of being, which meant so much to me, also made me feel conflicted about the persons Zinn and Chomsky at various points in my life, particularly when I went into electoral politics in the 1980s. I projected onto them that they, who had kept their integrity, would look down on me for getting involved in electoral politics. I assumed they would find my rationale for doing so morally or intellectually compromised. I tended to avoid them during this period.
I also sometimes saw them as naive. When I talked to Howard shortly after John Kerry was nominated for President he said forcefully that Kerry had better run against the Iraq war if he wanted to win. My internal reaction was something along the lines of "oh, there he is, good old Howard, naive romantic to the end. Noone can hope to win the Presidency without supporting the Iraq war."
I did not foresee that Kerry's key losing moment of the campaign would be saying he voted for the Iraq war before he voted against it, or that Barack Obama would win the Presidency largely because for opposing the Iraq war at a time when the conventional wisdom, embodied by Hillary Clinton, still held that supporting it was necessary to win. I did not foresee that a few years hence I would see myself as naive on this question, and Howard more realistic. Nor did I foresee that when I met with them again neither would judge me negatively for my forays into electoral politics. It had all been a projection on my part.
I also did not foresee that as the horrors of the Bush Years wore on, and the disappointment of Obama Year One would kick in, that I would find myself increasingly embracing what they have taught and what they have embodied; that they would be serving even more as a lodestone to me in these years than they did in my youth.
Howard's death is thus a shock transcending the normal death of a friend or even loved one. Yes, the personal memories come tumbling out: watching a theatrical presentation in a cave north of Hanoi as Nixon got elected in November 1972, marveling at the morale of the Vietnamese compared to the despair we felt at the prospect of four more years of killing; spending the night in adjoining jail cells during the Redress demonstration, being so buoyed in the morning by his cheerfulness, smiles, wry but never cynical humor; marching together in a small march in Lexington, Massachusetts, and then hearing him speak, out of the deepest possible knowledge and feeling, about how the ideals of the American Revolution, as contrasted with its reality, applied to Vietnam today; our emails, phone conversations and visits over these 40 years - with Howard always gracious, always committed, always kind, always interested, and always interesting.
But this feeling of devastation at his loss far transcends even these personal memories.
There is, you see, no "Zinn" or "Chomsky" among we baby-boomers, let alone the generations that follow us.
One of our beacons of integrity has now flickered out. Our world has suddenly become a little darker, a little colder, little more bitter, a litte more insane.
It is bad enough when a loved and admirable person dies and one realizes they can never be replaced, that there will never be another one remotely like them. It is worse when that person's death leaves a hole in the entire moral universe, that a spiritual vacuum has been created that can never be filled. The pain is more intense, the feeling of irreplaceable loss even stronger.
My only consolation at this moment is knowing that though Howard Zinn the man has died, "Zinn" has not. I know that many of us will continue to be sustained in the difficult years to come by the answers we will receive when we find ourselves asking:
-- What would Howard think, how would he see it?
-- What would Howard say?
-- How would Howard feel?
And, most importantly:
-- What would Howard do?
Zinn has died. Long live "Zinn".
하워드 진의 딸 마일라 카밧 진은 이날 부친이 캘리포니아주 산타모니카에서 수영을 하던 중 심장마비로 숨졌다고 밝혔다.
1922년 뉴욕에서 유대인 이민자의 아들로 태어난 그는 좌파적 입장에서 미국의 주류 학계를 비판하는 역사학자이자 정치학자, 사회비평가, 희곡 작가로 흑인 민권운동과 반전 운동에 적극 참여하며 노엄 촘스키와 함께 미국을 대표하는 양심적 지식인이 됐다.
1943∼45년 미 공군 폭격수로 2차 세계대전에 참전했던 하워드 진은 항복 직전의 독일군과 민간인들에게 폭격을 하는 것을 보고 전쟁에 환멸을 느낀 뒤 베트남 전쟁, 이라크 전쟁 등에 반대하는 활동을 펼쳤다.
그를 대표하는 저서 <미국민중사>는 1980년 출간해 2003년까지 100만 부가 팔린 베스트셀러로 기존 역사 서술과는 달리 노동자들을 역사의 주역으로 끌어올려 미국 사회에 지적 충격을 주었다.
<미국민중사>에서 하워드 진은 콜럼버스의 '신대륙 정복'을 찬양하는 기존의 역사학적 관점을 뒤집고 아메리카 토착민들의 투쟁에 주목했고, '프론티어 정책'에 대한 칭송 대신 그로 인해 희생된 가난한 사람들과 노예제도의 희생자들을 살폈다.
노엄 촘스키 매사추세츠공과대학(MIT) 명예교수는 "하워드 진의 저술은 한 세대의 의식을 바꿔 놓았고 우리 삶의 중요한 의미를 이해하는 새로운 길을 열었다"며 "우리의 활동이 신뢰할 만한 사표(師表)를 요구할 때 그는 언제나 맨 앞줄에 서 있었다"고 말한 바 있다.
하워드 진은 그의 자서전격인 <달리는 기차 위에 중립은 없다>에서 "나는 다른 관점에 공정하고자 했지만 '객관성' 이상의 것을 원했다. 내 수업을 들은 학생들은 보다 많은 지식을 얻어가기 보다 침묵함으로써 안락해지는 삶을 포기하고, 정의롭지 못한 것에는 언제나 맞서 싸울 자세를 가지길 원했다"고 말했다.
하워드 진은 1997년 나온 영화 '굿 윌 헌팅'에 카메오로 출연하기도 했는데, 이 영화의 각본을 쓰고 주인공을 맡았던 배우 맷 데이먼은 하워드 진과 이웃해 살면서 우정을 쌓았다. 맷 데이먼은 이 영화 대사에 "<미국민중사>를 이해하지 못하면 미국을 이해할 수 없다"라는 말을 넣기도 했다.
영화인 밴 애플렉은 진에 대해 "민주주의와 미국에 대해 '반대'라는 가치가 얼마나 귀중하고 필요한 가치인지를 가르쳐 줬다"며 "그 덕분에 엘리트가 아니라 우리 모두가 역사를 만든다는 사실을 알게 됐다"고 말했다.
유년 시절 찰스 디킨스의 소설을 즐겨 읽었던 진은 공산주의의 영향을 받아 17살 때는 뉴욕 타임스스퀘어에서 열린 시위에도 종종 나갔다.
군복을 벗은 후에는 뉴욕대와 컬럼비아대에서 수학했고, 이후 흑인 여학생들만 다니는 스펠만대에서 교편을 잡았다. 그는 당시 학생들에게 흑인들의 접근이 차단된 공공도서관에서 책을 빌리도록 하고 시내 카페에서 연좌시위를 하게 하는 등 민권 운동을 실천하도록 설득하기도 했다.
소설 <더 컬러 피플>로 유명한 소설가 앨리스 워커, '아동보호기금'의 회장을 지낸 매리언 라이트 이델만 등이 당시 그의 수업을 듣고 강한 영향을 받은 제자들이다. 1963년 스펠만대에서 해직당한 그는 보스턴대로 자리를 옮겨 베트남 전쟁 반대 운동을 본격적으로 전개하는 한편, 비리를 저지를 이 대학 학장 존 실버를 비판하는데 앞장섰다.
1988년 은퇴 때 마지막 강의를 30분 일찍 끝내고 교내 간호사들이 파업 시위를 하는 현장으로 달려가 피켓을 들고 시위에 동참했던 일화로 유명하다. 그의 마지막 수업들 듣던 500여 명의 학생들 중 100여 명이 시위에 동참했다. 퇴직 후에도 그는 반전·평화를 위해 거리에 섰고 대중들의 마음을 흔드는 연설을 했다.
그는 <베트남, 철군의 논리>, <불복종과 민주주의>, <전쟁에 반대한다>, <오만한 제국, 미국 이데올로기로부터의 독립> 등 수많은 저서를 남겼다. 부인 로슬린은 2008년 작고했고, 슬하에 2명의 자녀를 두고 있다.
또한 그는 <마르크스 뉴욕에 가다>, <비너스의 딸들>, 아나키스트 지도자의 이야기를 다룬 <에마> 등 3편의 희곡을 발표하기도 했고, <비너스의 딸들>과 <에마>의 연극 제작자로 직접 참여했다.
하워드 진은 지난 주 진보적 시사주간지 <더 네이션>에 생애 마지막 글을 남겼다. 버락 오바마 대통령의 1년을 비판하는 내용이었다.
"미국인들은 지금 오바마의 화려한 언변에 현혹되어 있다. 오바마를 더 나은 방향으로 가게 하는 전국적인 운동이 없다면 그는 그저 그런(mediocre) 대통령이 될 것이라는 것을 알아야 한다. 우리 시대에 '그저 그런 미국 대통령'이란 위험한 대통령을 뜻한다."
