When one mentions deportations of immigrants for their political views and activism, or the antagonistic relationship between the government and higher education, it conjures up the current news cycle in the second Trump era. However, as the New York Times editor and writer Clay Risen shows in his recently published book, Red Scare: Blacklists, McCarthyism, and the Making of Modern America, these aren’t new developments. Risen, who started writing this book in 2019, explores the rise of the “Red Scare” that started in the 1940s and abated in the late 1950s, yet whose repercussions and parallels are felt and noticed even today.
His book features various characters in American history who played a role in the Red Scare, from the notorious Joseph McCarthy to Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, and Roy Cohn—McCarthy’s chief legal counsel, who would eventually become an attorney and personal mentor to Donald Trump. I interviewed Risen about his book and the lessons that it can provide for us today. This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.
Miguel Petrosky: What drew you to write this book about the Red Scare?
Clay Risen: Part of it, like with a lot of my books, is that there’s usually some personal element involved—not necessarily intimate, but interests I’ve had for a long time that nag at me. In this case, it was growing up in the eighties and being very aware of the Cold War as an abiding concern and a force shaping American culture. The Red Scare wasn’t really present—we didn’t have that kind of thing happening at the time—but there was an awareness of that past and the idea that there had been subversives and spies among us.
My grandfather was an FBI agent, and he would tell us stories about being involved in loyalty background checks in the 1940s and early 1950s. These were usually kind of funny anecdotes, so they stuck with me. I was always interested in that part of American history. I’ve written a couple of books about the Civil Rights Act and civil rights generally—and the Red Scare colors and shapes some of that history as well. It just kept popping up in a way that made me want to zero in and really dig into it as a story.
MP: It’s interesting that you said your grandfather had “funny” anecdotes. I think I know what you mean, but I’m curious—what did those anecdotes look like? It sounds like your grandfather wasn’t necessarily as adversely affected by the Red Scare.
CR: Yeah, he was doing the checks. I mean, it goes to the point of what I think makes the whole existence of the loyalty program not just absurd, but also Kafkaesque. No spies or subversives were ever caught.
Just one story, as an example—my grandfather gets a tip that some guy is a Communist, and he goes to interview him. The guy says, “No, I’m not a Communist, but you should talk to my neighbor—he’s a Nazi.” Then my grandfather interviews the neighbor and ends up thinking, “I dug into these guys’ backgrounds, and they were fine.” Eventually, he finds out from a third party that the two just hate each other and are constantly throwing gossip around. It’s kind of a funny story on the surface, but when you think about it, all it took to get the FBI to dig into someone’s personal life was a baseless rumor.
That bore out as I dug into this story—and the federal loyalty program was just one part of it. It’s the idea that something as simple as a rumor or an anonymous tip could set off a potentially career-ending investigation, with a case file opened into someone’s life. There really weren’t many checks or guardrails on the program. That’s the connection there.
MP: There’s more to be said about the “Kafkaesque.” One theme I found in your book is the idea of politics as “carnival” or “spectacle.” It seems that, in some ways, political spectacle played as much a role in the Red Scare as it does today.
CR: I think that’s right. There is definitely a performative aspect to a lot of the Red Scare stories.
During the Chinese Cultural Revolution, there were these degradation ceremonies where someone would be forced to admit their mistakes vis-à-vis Maoist doctrine. They weren’t revealing anything no one already assumed—it was just a public shaming. And with some of the U.S. House and Senate investigations during the Red Scare, that kept coming to mind as I wrote the book.
If you look at the Hollywood hearings, they were purely performative—and ironically, in Hollywood. Whether there had been a Communist Party presence or not didn’t matter. These were high-profile people, and it’s what the public wanted at the time—people ate it up. You had actors and actresses called before the House Committee on Un-American Activities and pressured to name names. After a while, everyone was naming the same names. If they refused, they were blacklisted. And if they named names, they were shunned and felt terrible, because that’s a form of collaboration.
The committee got to look righteous and the actors were degraded. There was certainly a strong element of performance running through much of the Red Scare.
MP: You highlight—something I hadn’t known before reading your book—that this Red Scare in the 1940s–50s was actually the second Red Scare. Could you speak a little more about the difference between the two and why you chose to focus on the second?
CR: The first Red Scare, in many ways, was a predicate to the second. It was relatively short and took place after World War I in the U.S., sparked by a series of anarchist bombings—including one at the attorney general’s home. That led to a crackdown, particularly by what was then called the Bureau of Investigation, which became the FBI under J. Edgar Hoover. They rounded up hundreds of mostly immigrants considered “radicals,” “anarchists,” “communists,” or “socialists,” intending to deport them. Only a few hundred were actually deported before cooler heads prevailed.
There are parallels between the two scares—mainly the fear of radicalism expressed through targeting vulnerable populations. But the first focused more on immigrants, partly because they were easier to deport. In the second Red Scare, due to immigration restrictions in the 1920s, the focus shifted.
One key point I try to make in the book is that, even though the first Red Scare ended, its architecture remained. The FBI formed during that time, and Hoover wanted it to be an internal police force. He later changed the language, but he still wielded it like one.
There was also a broader societal stance against “radicalism”—a vague term encompassing any idea outside the mainstream. And during the Cold War, national security became paramount. Anyone seen as even remotely threatening could be targeted. It wasn’t just about what people did—it was about their ideas, their associations, and their speech.
One key point I try to make in the book is that, even though the first Red Scare ended, its architecture remained. The FBI formed during that time, and Hoover wanted it to be an internal police force. He later changed the language, but he still wielded it like one.
MP: There are also instances, especially during the second Red Scare, in which the U.S. government and the FBI targeted immigrants—as you just mentioned. I’m thinking of Australian-born labor leader Harry Bridges, who you write about in the book. His U.S. citizenship was revoked (eventually reinstated by the Supreme Court). That reminds me of what we’re seeing today with pro-Palestinian green-card holders facing deportation and detentions happening in higher education. I’m reading clear parallels. There’s usually a response to these kinds of civil-liberties violations, especially from a liberal point of view, that goes, “This isn’t who we are,” or “This is un-American.” But from your book, it seems like these practices are very much part of the American story. Would you agree?
CR: Yeah, I would. I think both things can be true. There are different visions of what America is. One of the tensions running through this book—and through twentieth- and twenty-first-century U.S. history—is that two-sided conception.
The progressive view is that America is a country founded on certain ideals that it has violated and that we must always strive to atone and move forward—to make a more perfect union. The more conservative vision says, “America is perfect as is and doesn’t need to change.” A corollary to that is that anyone who tries to change America is “anti-American.”
So, if someone says they want to improve the country, progressives might listen. But conservatives—especially during the Cold War—would say, “No, you’re fundamentally anti-American.” And in a time of national crisis, like the Cold War, that’s an easy sell. It elevates political disagreement to something existential—a threat.
Most communists in the forties and fifties would have faced strong pushback even from progressives. But conservatives didn’t even acknowledge their intentions; they just labeled them as enemies. And when people do that—when they target dissenters—they often trample on the very civil liberties America claims to hold sacred. So when people say, “This isn’t who we are,” maybe what they really mean is, “This isn’t who we wish we were.” The truth is, who we are is much more complicated and messy.
MP: I’m sure history will look at Donald Trump as a central figure of the MAGA era, in much the same way people see Joseph McCarthy as a key figure of the Red Scare. One line in your book about McCarthy that I highlighted was, “While he was certainly the best-known of the red baiters, he was in fact a symptom of the era, not its cause.” I think the same could be said about Trump and the MAGA movement. I noticed many similarities between Trump and McCarthy. Can you talk about some of those similarities and differences?
CR: Yeah, I think that’s a really insightful observation. There are definitely parallels.
McCarthy had a knack for recognizing certain cultural forces and fusing them into a movement. Trump did the same—he brought together anti-immigrant sentiment, populist anti-statism, and conservative frustration into one political moment.
But I’d say Trump has gone further. Even though McCarthy railed against institutions in the federal government, it never seemed like he actually wanted to tear them all down. Maybe he would have, but he was never going to be president. Trump, on the other hand, has articulated a vision of dismantling the liberal state at the heart of American governance—and he’s actually had a real shot at doing it.
So while there are ideological similarities, there are also key differences in their reach and impact. That’s one thing history helps us with: seeing the parallels, but also appreciating where things diverge. Understanding both helps us better grasp where we are now.
MP: One thing that really stood out to me about McCarthy was how he managed to dominate the media narrative—similar to Trump, who’s obviously a media juggernaut. But back then, there was no social media, and television was just getting started. How did McCarthy manage to hold public attention so effectively?
CR: McCarthy was a master at manipulating the print media, especially daily newspapers. He knew how to work a deadline.
One of his tricks was calling up a hungry reporter just before press time—maybe fifteen or twenty minutes before the deadline—and saying something like, “I’ve got the scoop of the century. Tomorrow I’ll reveal the greatest spy scandal in American history.” Now the reporter had a dilemma: do they run a quote from a sitting U.S. senator that might not pan out, or ignore it and risk missing a bombshell?
Most of the time, they’d run with it. Sometimes, the next day, McCarthy would follow through—sometimes not. But by then, he’d already moved on to something else. He stayed one step ahead of everyone.
He also curried favor with reporters—maybe not in a warm way, but in a “buddy-buddy,” transactional way. He made sure good photos of him ran in the papers. But once television emerged, people could see him—and figures like Edward R. Murrow exposed how badly McCarthy came across visually. That played a big role in his downfall.
Trump, by contrast, is a master of our media environment, especially social media. If he excels at anything, it’s that.
MP: One difference I noticed between McCarthy and Trump is that McCarthy seemed more like an ideologue, whereas with Trump there seems to be more self-interest and grievance at the center. Would you say that’s a fair distinction?
CR: Yeah, I think that’s probably fair. McCarthy was definitely an opportunist and saw himself as the central figure of his time, but he did have a clear ideology that he was promoting.
Trump also embraces an ideology—he speaks to one—but it often circles back to his own personal grievances and self-interest. That distinction between the two is probably more a matter of degree than kind, but it’s definitely worth noting.
There’s usually a response to these kinds of civil-liberties violations, especially from a liberal point of view, that goes, “This isn’t who we are,” or “This is un-American.” But from your book, it seems like these practices are very much part of the American story.
MP: You don’t highlight this as a major theme in the book, but you do touch on the role of religion during the Red Scare. At one point, you wrote that white conservative Christianity was the “bedrock” for McCarthy and some of the hard-right Republicans elected in 1946. Could you expand a bit on religion’s role during this era? I noticed a number of your examples centered around Roman Catholicism.
CR: There’s a strong strand of anti-communism in the Catholic Church. And to be fair, there were good reasons—Catholics in Eastern Europe under communist regimes suffered immensely. Many were repressed, imprisoned, or killed, so American Catholics had a legitimate fear and loathing of communism.
But there was also a growing divide within Catholicism. By the 1940s and even more so in the 1950s, a liberal Catholic movement was emerging—one that focused on social justice. Some on the right saw the Red Scare as a way to push back against that trend.
You saw similar tensions in American Protestantism—between evangelicals and mainline Protestants. On the right, Christianity was used as part of an identity in the fight against communism. On the left, it was more about pluralism—finding common ground beyond religion. That difference shows up in how each side used religion rhetorically.
And of course, communism was atheistic at its core, so conflict with religious institutions was inevitable. Even today, you can see the legacy of this “capture” of Christianity by the political right.
MP: What lessons do you think we should draw from your book when thinking about American politics today?
CR: There are a few. First and foremost: civil liberties have to be at the heart of our vision for America. If we’re asking what America means, we have to start with the First Amendment—freedom of expression, association, and belief. Those are always the first things to be targeted, especially the rights of the most vulnerable: dissenters, immigrants, LGBTQ people, and people of color.
During the Red Scare, we largely failed to defend those rights. We’ve learned some lessons since then, and today we do see more pushback when the government overreaches. But the tension between liberty and security will always exist. State power always tends toward overreach, regardless of who’s in charge. That’s why we need strong civil-society institutions to hold it in check. There’s a quote from Albert Camus’s The Plague that I reference in the book. At the end, he says the plague is gone—but we can’t let our guard down. It still lives in closets and linen drawers, waiting to come back. I think that’s true of fascism, of authoritarianism, and of state repression. Liberal society has to always be on alert.