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Robert Meeropol is the younger son of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg and the founder and Executive Director of the Rosenberg Fund for Children. On June 19th, the 50th anniversary of his parents' executions, St. Martin's Press will publish his memoir, An Execution in the Family: One Son's Journey. |
As the fiftieth anniversary of my parents' execution approaches, I am encountering far too many reminders of 1953. While I was only six years old when the United States government killed my parents, the events of that period marked my consciousness indelibly. Today, as a lawyer and Director of the Rosenberg Fund for Children, I am well versed in the dangers of sacrificing fundamental liberties in the name of national security. At a time when anti-war forces are under attack for being unpatriotic, it seems appropriate to consider the parallels between the America of John Ashcroft in 2003 and J. Edgar Hoover's America in 1953.
This new McCarthy era has been gathering momentum since George W. Bush's appointment to the Presidency by his father's and former President Reagan's allies on the Supreme Court after the November 2000 electoral farce. And it reached full force once the attacks of September 11 provided the Bush administration with the excuse it needed to manipulate public fear and impose its authoritarian agenda on the American people.
After that infamous day, I realized that my parents' case was no longer merely of historic or educational interest, even though it was the lone modern case in which defendants who had only been convicted of conspiracy were ultimately executed. Since the mass murderers who flew the planes into the towers were all dead, the government was likely to develop conspiracy cases against their colleagues and ask for the death penalty. I was also quick to understand, just as Attorney General Ashcroft was quick to make clear, that the civil liberties of immigrants and, then, all Americans would soon be at risk.
For many years I have toured the country speaking about the death penalty. When I traveled in October and November 2001 to sound the alarm about capital conspiracy, I felt a mix of urgency and concern that bordered on fear. As the son of "Communist atomic spies" attacking the government's policies in wartime, I felt particularly vulnerable. The country was undergoing a paroxysm of thoughtless patriotism, dissent was equated with treason, and for many citizens of the United States the names Ethel and Julius Rosenberg were synonymous with traitor. It didn't take long before I got a dose of just how true this was.
In early November 2001 I was invited to talk about capital conspiracy at the main branch of Santa Barbara's public library. On my way into town that morning I stopped to do a radio talk show. About half way through the program a caller peremptorily demanded: "Your father was a traitor; yes or no!"
"That depends on your definition of treason," I countered. We sparred a bit, but soon the next caller turned the conversation in another direction. As I thought about that talk radio encounter, I knew I could have responded in a narrow manner: my parents were not charged or convicted of treason. Furthermore, treason requires helping an enemy, but my parents were charged with conspiring to help the Soviet Union during World War II when the USSR was our ally. But such responses missed the heart of the matter.
Treason and politics are inextricably entwined. A charge of treason may reveal more about the politics of the accuser than the actions of the accused. In fact, treason is defined in our Federal Constitution to minimize its potential abuse for political purposes. The Constitution defines treason thus:
"Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies, giving them aid and comfort. No person shall be convicted of treason unless on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act, or on confession of it in open court." (Article III, section 3).
This definition showed me what I should have said to the caller. I should have read the definition to him and asked what he considered to be the greatest act of treason against the United States in our history.
People have a hard time reaching the obvious answer. Despite its ultimate defeat, the Confederacy was by far the most massive and successful traitorous conspiracy in our history. And to this day the Stars and Bars flag, the symbol of that great treason, is displayed in some cases with official sanction. Perhaps some people who would be quick to call my parents traitors have a Confederate flag decal on their vehicle's back window! One person's treason is another's heritage. We've buried the Confederacy's treason so deep that the vast majority of us are shocked to hear the Confederacy described that way.
What constitutes patriotism is just as politically charged. Could my parents be considered patriots? Even if they never engaged in spying, they were members of the American Communist Party. The right wing in our country claims a monopoly on patriotism. They equate love of country with blind obedience to authority, with the belief that our country is better than all others, and that Americans are superior to all other people.
I grew up believing that acts to improve the quality of life for all our nation's inhabitants are the most patriotic acts. My adoptive father, Abel Meeropol concluded his patriotic song, The House I Live In, "but especially the people, that's America to me." Ethel and Julius Rosenberg identified with poor and oppressed people in America and around the world rather than a government that they believed served the will of a privileged few. Ethel and Julius believed that defeating Fascism would help Americans and the world. Any actions they may have taken sprang from their love of humanity.
What constitutes patriotism and treason comes to the forefront in wartime. My parents were arrested shortly after the beginning of the Korean War and executed shortly before the armistice was signed in 1953. Although material concerns such as Iraq's huge oil fields drove the US's most recent rush to war, the Bush administration understood that war provides great cover for a repressive domestic agenda. Al Qaeda is too formless a foe to serve this purpose well. That has not been the case with Iraq where US soldiers are in harm's way and a full-blown occupation is in process.
American soldiers dying in Korea at the rate of 1000 per month was a root cause of why few looked closely at the fairness of my parents' trial, and why those who supported my parents' execution carried signs that read, "Fry the traitors." The 2800 people who died in the World Trade Center attack provided the ultimate rationale for New York City's refusal to grant the million participants in the February 15, 2003 anti-war demonstration their first amendment rights to march in protest.
The anti-war movement must address the same volatile issues that arose during my parents' case because they will dominate the political debate in the war's aftermath. Many of the millions of people around the world who opposed attacking Iraq and oppose the US occupation, share a worldview that is fundamentally different from that of those who would follow our government into the abyss. These anti-warriors identify first as human beings and secondarily as citizens of their respective nations, or as members of a particular race, religion, or ethnic group. This is the modern manifestation of the same sentiments that drove the actions of my parents and their political comrades. We must publicly equate national security with global security, patriotism with love for humanity, and domestic constitutional rights with human rights all over the world. We must convince as many of our fellow human beings as possible that none of us can truly secure life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness if we do not take concrete steps to bring these seemingly unreachable ideals closer to reality for all citizens of the world.
On June 19, 2003 when the Rosenberg Fund for Children presents Celebrate the Children of Resistance in New York City to commemorate the 50th anniversary of my parents' execution, I will be celebrating their resistance and their patriotism. In the modern era's globalized political environment, helping humanity in general is the best way to improve our national security. Our government's attempt to control and profit off the rest of the world will never make us more secure. I can conceive of no more patriotic acts today than to organize resistance to military adventurism, racist profiling, and attacks on our rights.
(source: Peacework Magazine)
