We had laid on the glamour and celebrity, and it had worked. We knew America.

Where to start?

I was amazed at the fact that although Bernstein had certain beliefs on Socialism, they didn't seem to consume him to the point that it affected his work, or the lives of anyone else for that matter. These ideals didn't seem big enough to blacklist him, to label him as a threat to America. At times he even felt disconnected from his beliefs. It was like someone saying "I like the color green" or "I think the killing and consumption of animals is inhuman". People are entitled to these opinions whether they be right or wrong, and I highly doubt green lovers and vegans are a threat to America. I guess what I'm getting at is, I still can't wrap my head around the concept of a blacklist. It makes me think back to when Bernstein described the movie My Son John, in which a patriotic mother blamed intellect for turning her son into a Communist (177). That summed up the whole ordeal to me, America was afraid and "they" wanted to keep people inside a little box where they could control them. It wasn't Communist people were afraid of, it was knowledge and growth. God forbid anyone would try to overthrow the government. The powerful were trying to protect themselves by instilling fear and claiming to protect everyone else. I guess its like Bernstein said, “You took a stand, and you had to be prepared to pay the price (151).” Who gets the right to determine that price though?

What struck me the most was the way the blacklist affected Bernstein, and the people he worked with. As a writer, I can't imagine how hard it must have been to sign your work over to someone else. I take pride in my work, I love knowing that I created something, I love seeing my name on a beautifully constructed piece of writing, and I love knowing that it's mine. "I felt suspended; my real life was somewhere else, on hold, waiting to be resurrected when the country came to its senses (186)" wrote Bernstein. There are things that Bernstein said and did that I do not agree with, but just putting myself in his shoes makes me feel awful. He constantly had to search for a front to conceal his identity, forcing him to disown what was rightfully his. Although Bernstein did brag that, "Careers were made on my talent" and this gave him "a righteous superiority", he finally felt the difference of being off the blacklist when he regained the use of his name (251). Writing is a lot of "behind the scenes" work, people read your words and that's the reflection they have of you. Your name on a piece of work though, that's what connects you to those words, that's your moment of being in the spotlight. To have someone take that away from me, I'd feel like my life was suspended in time as well.

Willful(?) Ignorance

One thing that struck me about Bernstein’s descriptions of his political activities is how little he seemed to know about the actual policies of the Communist party. He seemed to treat Communism like he treated the war, with idealism and romanticism, and without much recognition of the gravity of the situation. He said that he hadn’t known about Stalin’s purges at the time he was a full supporter of the Communist Party, and he was a supporter of the Communist takeover of China. But it seems that he wasn’t aware at the time of Mao’s Cultural Revolution in which many intellectuals, artists, and students were killed or severely persecuted. It seems a little surprising to me that Bernstein is such a strong supporter of a Communist government when, in other circumstances, he might be the type of person who is persecuted by the regime. While Bernstein describes learning about the horrors of Nazi brutality after WWII and the rage he felt about it after the war, I hope there is a similar account of his recognition of the brutalities committed in the name of Communism near the end of this book.

Another thing that struck me in Bernstein’s descriptions of the blacklist is how strong the impact of the blacklist was on him and his colleagues. His description of people who had been blacklisted and had then taken their lives, like Phil Loeb, was particularly striking. His description of John Garfield, who basically drank himself to death, was even more so. It was heartening to read Bernstein’s accounts of all the people who tried to help him during this time, however. The person who passed him a $100 bill at a bar, his agent, his friends, his fronts, all risked a lot by lending their help to him, and I liked that he recognized this, and the solidarity he felt among others on the blacklist. It seemed like a reference to the way he had felt with the guerilla warriors in Yugoslavia, in hiding, but with friends. It was a nice way of tying his feelings about the war to his experiences in peace time.

Bernstein's Drive to Succeed

One of the pivotal moments so far for me in Walter Bernstein’s memoir was what the blacklist had achieved for writers, mainly in movies and television at the time. He discusses how the role of the writer became much bigger than it had ever been. Instead of just submitting a script and being almost on the outside of the production in general writers were now being asked to be in the forefront of the production. For those not on the blacklist I’m sure this was a monumental occasion for them. Even though this new importance for writers was taking over, it is overshadowed by the fact that it was taking place probably to guarantee those blacklisted were no longer a part of the entertainment industry.

I was shocked and amused by how easily at first Bernstein seems to find a way around this dilemma. Instead of considering himself defeated he simply knows, like many other writers, he must find a trustworthy stand in to pretend to be the writer of his pieces. I find there to be an almost script-like aspect to many of Bernstein’s stories, but this one in particular because it almost combines humor with action with drama and suspense. While some of Bernstein’s qualities and his reactions to events are at times selfish and whimsical, especially during the war, I found his reaction to being blacklisted at this point almost inspiring. Bernstein did not seem fazed or worried that he may not be able to find work to support his family or to continue doing the work he loved. It never was an option for Bernstein to give up script writing; it simply became finding a new means of doing so. Even the woman Bernstein chooses to be his front is as much a character out of one of his scripts as anyone else ever could be. Whether we like Bernstein’s decisions, mindset, or his personality, what stands out in my mind when I think of him is his laid back drive that seems to always find him a will or a way of achieving what he wants.

Idealism and Ideology

While I have trouble considering Walter Bernstein experiences in World War II as representational of the overall war effort, his beliefs on the justness of the war was praiseworthy in my opinion. His idealistic vision concerning the various instances of cooperation during the war seemed to consistently be his uplifting thought, even after witnessing various atrocities. The only thing that could equate with his marvel of the present and his hopes for the future was how far reality really was from these thoughts. His description of the Peekskill incident is when I believe his idealism truly faded. The violence he witnessed was sadly indicative of the hypocrisy that permeated the “American” ideology at that time. Bernstein painfully iterated this fact when he questions his war wondering how “They had fought and won a war against hatred and bigotry—to become this” (147) It seems that Bernstein’s war was just that; his war. The general public’s goal of preserving America during World War II in no way translated to preserving the humanistic cooperation that Bernstein valued. Politics of this time were shaping an America in the image of international superiority. A superiority that it seems they were terrified of losing. Although, this fear was in all probability a ruse to further the careers of various politicians of the time under the guise that America was “being threatened from the outside and subverted from within” (145). For example McCarthy was an unknown senator (and a drunk) prior to his “list” coming to light.

These thoughts of blind devotion to an ideology can also be applied to Bernstein’s own Communist beliefs. What is strange is that Bernstein was not ignorant to his unreasonable attachment to the Party. He says himself that he “knew little about the gulag and wanted to know less” (180). He explains that he was a “hostage to ideology” (182) which in many ways was indicative of the American mind throughout the Red Scare. Bernstein it seems cannot hide behind ignorance or leadership that skewed the facts. While his story thus far does attempt to induce sympathy, for me it lacks a necessary innocence.

Groupthink, Party Unity, and Willful Ignorance

There were a few moments where Bernstein really lost my sympathy, and his discussion of party identity and dissidence (pg. 136-138) in which he explains that though he was mostly private about his identity as a Communist outside of party meetings, and didn't spout his beliefs in public, within the meetings there wasn't a lot of dissent, either especially where foreign policy was concerned: "Whatever line the Soviet Union took, we followed. It seemed only right. The Russians had suffered more than anyone (thirty million dead in the war) and they 'Knew the Way.' We questioned what was happening there, but always within the context of their suffering, their terrible struggle to build the first socialist state in a world that had tried from the beginning to destroy them. This was not always easy." In reference to anti-Semitism and the treason trials, Bernstein says they "smacked of frame-up but felt I had not enough evidence to be sure." Some left the party but most stayed, "facing the growing attacks from the outside."

It's a little disturbing to realize that the demonization of the American Communists partly gave them the justification to continue to support the Soviet Union despite the rumblings of human rights abuses within the country going back to before World War II. Maybe the idealism that Bernstein describes as the core force for the American party prevented him and his fellow party members from looking too closely, but either way, Stalin's actions were directly counter to the Communist tenets Bernstein defends so vehemently. To dismiss that contradiction because of the polarized political attitudes of one's own country is understandable, but also disappointing and cowardly.

It is hard not to see the echoes of this kind of behavior within the American Zionist movement in response to the abuse of the Palestinians, or the American government's attitude towards the Taliban before the war in Afghanistan. Adversarial relationships always simplify these positions to an illogical place where we rotate enemies and overlook our allies' faults, but never actually stop the policies we seek to condemn.

Hide and Seek - Blacklist

The most startling admission was Bernstein’s feelings or lack thereof of the informed decision to drop the atom bombs. He writes, “Many American lives would be saved. I felt no guilt. A bomb was a bomb....I did not understand that dropping this bomb was different from dropping any other kind of bomb” (130-131). Even in writing this as a memoir i.e. looking back, it seems to me that Bernstein may still not understand the gravity of this decision. It is this type of self censorship that I feel makes its statement here. I wonder, if in attempting to censor Hollywood and thus media in the form of entertainment, the big proponents i.e. political, ended up censoring America to the _. This ‘knowing’ is kind of reflected in Bernstein’s feelings towards technicolor. “ A few films were now coming out in glorious technicolor, but these seemed paradoxically pallid beside black-and-white...There shadows had no mystery...they had lost the quality of dream” (127). The colors almost bring reality more to the forefront - where all of the flaws are for the audience to see. That shield of black and white - especially with the blacklist and its sometimes no-nonsense accusations- reveals the gray in between. People are forced to confront reality. It’s interesting how this idea is changes or transforms for the current generation. Movies are still a source of escapism, but it’s the content not necessarily the color/no-color that provide this source. On a side note, this makes me think of how this blacklist could have an affect today if it were re-instated. What would be censored? Going back to Bernstein’s disappointment with technicolor, he continually tries to fill that void, especially evident in his search for ‘fronts’ once he is blacklisted. However, he continuously fails to realize that as much as he uses his fronts, they are using him for their own ‘selfish’ means. Contrary to most, he doesn’t feel betrayed, and instead finds a strange comradeship in being censored - similar to his war experience (199). Among blacklisted people he finds a common purpose. He’s almost absolved himself to take a back seat to the events at the forefront of the war abroad and at home. I wonder if this distance is an indication or product of him writing this memoir. The only thing I can think of is that this memoir is a reflection of how it is to be blacklisted. For instance, I would imagine that blacklisted people don’t know or understand everything about the war or the reasons for their blacklist. They have to go through life taking opportunities that fall at their feet, unable to search for them themselves - otherwise they’ll draw even more attention to themselves. According to Bernstein, this is even harder for actors as they have to show their face in order to get work (whereas writers can use pseudonyms - eventually backed up by a physical body). This game of ‘hide and seek’ can’t just be taking place in the ‘Hollywood’ scene. In censoring this type of media, how much are the other types of media being censored? How much of the faces of political strategies/ists being presented to the public? In other words, how much of the war did the people at the time truly understand? Were they primarily concerned with conflicts at home or abroad?

Luck

In Inside Out Bernstein’s story made me increasingly aware of how lucky he was, particularly during the wartime. The way Bernstein writes about period in his life makes it seem as if he floats from one lucky event to another, with little struggle in between. A few examples of the luck he encountered are:
He obtained the first interview with Tito (115)
The lieutenant offered to move Walter to safety; “…they said if I wished, they would spirit me out of Drvar and then anywhere else I wanted to go,” (117)
He was caught and transported to Bari where, “He said the British were not turning me over to the SBS here in Bari-the normal procedure- because they didn’t want to see me terrorized,” (119).
He avoided possible death, “I heard that the day after I left Drvar, the Germans had dropped two paratroop battalions into the valley…I felt sad and lucky,” (121).
He was not sent back to war, “My new assignment was to cover the invasion…I never got to the Pacific…I was discharged,” (129).
He did not have trouble finding a job when he returned from war, “When I went to pay my respects to Ross, he assumed I had returned to work for the magazine and gave me an office and a small drawing account,” (132).
He went to the concert, and escaped without a hospital visit or an arrest, “We got through finally and headed back to the city, picking broken glass out of our hair. I don’t know how many concertgoers were hurt…there were also broken arms and fractured skulls,” (149).
All of the above examples made me think about just how much disaster and turmoil Bernstein had avoided. I kept turning the page wondering if at some point his break was going to end. Then, while he was discussing how he made money during the early days of his blacklisting Bernstein wrote, “I believed there was not a raffle I would not win…Every time the phone rang, I thought it was either my winning ticket or the FBI,” (168). Honestly, it just seemed too good to be true (not the FBI part of course) but he would win the lotteries he entered. Then, Bernstein had trouble finding a front and I began to feel like maybe he would provide more information on the struggle he underwent. At this point, Bernstein wrote, “Then—just when the landlord, giving up on me, sternly issued an ultimatum: Either buy the house or pay the rent—I found a front,” (186). Yet another break!
The blacklist was in no way lucky, and I am not arguing that Bernstein had an easy life, but his recollections certainly seem to show that luck was on his side for at least part of his life.