Originally published in 1941 by The Viking Press
Published 1993 by Transaction Publishers
Published 2019 by Routledge
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Library of Congress Catalog Number: 92-1307
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lerner, Max, 1902-
Ideas for the Ice Age: studies in a revolutionary era/Max Lerner; with a
new introduction by the author.
p. cm.
Originally published in 1941 by The Viking PressT.p. verso.
Includes index.
ISBN 1-56000-595-5
1. Democracy. 2. Totalitarianism. 3. DemocracyUnited States. 4.
United StatesPolitics and government I. Title.
LC475 1992
320.5dc20
92-1307
CIP
ISBN 13: 978-1-56000-595-7 (pbk)
ISBN 13: 978-1-138-52563-4 (hbk)
What Triggers History?
I T IS a daunting thing for a writer to republish a volume of his collected essays a half-century after its original publication (in 1941). He runs the risk inherent in such a venturethat some of the essays, written under the urgency of events at the time, will have been overtaken by the storms of the intervening years. Yet what counts in any theory of the deep structures of historical change is not the transitory events, whose acceleration is one of the signs of the twentieth century, but the inner reality at the heart of the ideas that give the events their meaning.
It is with these ideas that the present volume concerns itselfwith their mutations under stress but also their underlying viability, with the way they survive the efforts to twist and distort them, andmost of allwith their animating force. For it is this force which gives the idea the power to conscript the energies and stir the actions and passions of widely diverse people and cultures.
It is critical for the reader to understand that the essays presented here were meant as part of the same larger intellectual venture as those which comprised my earlier (1939) volume, Ideas are Weapons. They were both intended, as I put it in 1939, as adventures in the history and uses of ideas.
Both emerged out of a basic methods of approach to the task of the historian of ideas. Yet the two volumes are different. The differences are conditioned by the changing force-field within which ideas work out their history.
Summarily put, the acceleration of dark events during the two years that separated the books darkened my own mood as well. In 1939 America was just beginning to awaken from its isolationist slumber. The intervening years saw the signing of the Nazi-Soviet Pact, the division of Poland between the two totalitarian powers, the invasion of the Low Countries, the conquest of Norway, the collapse of France, the air Blitz over England, the invasion of Russia.
Every day brought its fresh headlines of looming disaster. We watched as nations collapsed like dominos before Hitlers triumphant armies. The prospect that he would be able to lay the foundation for his vaunted thousand-year Reich seemed less improbable than it had been. No one in the West who experienced those years can forget their poignancy and pain.
Little wonder that my mood was a bleak one. It was reflected in my choice of the Ice Age as the master metaphor for the volume. I knew of course that because of its association with the geological ice age it suggested the terminal visions of mans span on earth that had obsessed a number of modem writers. My own use of it was instrumental. It was meant to suggest the darkness of a society stripped of its freedoms, its cultural heritage, its human meanings, one that would envelop us unless we acted in concert, decisively, to rescue ourselves and assure a future for our children.
The time was short. When I sent the book to my editor at Viking, in the summer of 1941, America had not yet entered the war. Hitlers armies in Russia had not yet encountered their nemesis, General Winter, and Pearl Harbor was still undreamt of. Yet even as we sent aid to the British and Russians and hung on the news from both fronts, it became clear that only Americas massive economic and human war potential could redress Hitlers advantage and wrest a hard-won victory from his grasp.
This was the psychological climate within which I was writing. It gave a certain skin-of-our-teeth edge to a number of the essays. It was a time of disintegration of fighting faiths, one of doubt about first principles. We were witnessing the breaking of established nations and the shaping of barbarous new ideologies. Worst of all, there was the self-flaggelation of the intellectual elites, and their despair about democratic survival. Thus I found myself fighting not only the traditional isolationism of the Right but also the more dangerous isolationism of the Left, based on conscience and scruple over the costs of survival to democracy itself.
There was much to be done, and there was a certain delight of battle in urging it. We had to establish the principle of collective security, which I had staked out in my first book, It is Later Than You Think. We had to do it swiftly, with whatever allies offered themselves, to buy time for completing the unfinished business of democracy. In our harsh age we had to claim the future, even if it meant the very real risk of being thrust into war, with incalculable results. Meanwhile we would also have to organize a war-readiness economy and society that would severely strain our peacetime habits and institutions.
My opening essay, The War as Revolution, struck a theme that was to echo through a number of the others as wellthat the war was itself a revolution, that it came out of the failure to organize a viable peace after World War I which made a Hitler possible, that it showed up the inadequacies of a world of nation-states acting in isolation rather than in concord; that we had failed to recognize the impact of the new technologies of warfare, of mass communication, of propaganda and persuasion; that the revolution demanded a strong central authority within nations, and a dynamic both of leadership and administration; that it pointed to a postwar world in which the viable economic units would be not individual nations but national blocs; that it had underlined the incompleteness of a political and moral discourse that failed to reckon with the irrationals of mens thinking andalong with the life of reasonthe reality of evil.
If there was a militant instrumentalism behind my use of the idea of revolution, it was true of the other ideas that engaged me in both my Ideas volumes. I knew the liberal doctrine that ideas would triumph out of their validity or fall out of their falsehood, and I thought it was poppycock. Unless we fought valorously for our ideas we could scarcely complain if they failed to fight for us.