The Abraham Lincoln Brigade and the Spanish Civil War in U.S. History Textbooks

February 4, 2021
By

How do the Abraham Lincoln Brigade and the broader American response to the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939 appear in introductory college-level United States history textbooks? A survey of a dozen highly regarded textbooks published in the past quarter century reveals a mixed picture. Some ignore altogether the American volunteers who fought alongside the Spanish republicans, while even some with the best accounts of the Brigade include explanations likely to confuse students. On the other hand, several textbooks illuminate important concepts related to the Spanish Civil War and American politics in the 1930s.

No one can expect more than a few paragraphs about the Spanish Civil War and the Lincoln Brigade in a survey textbook that covers American events from the 1870s to the twenty-first century.

All textbook writers face hard choices of what to include and exclude. (Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States, popular among some progressives, does not mention the Lincoln Brigade and devotes only five sentences to the war in Spain. The free web-based 2014 “Open Stax” U.S. history textbook mentions neither the Lincolns nor the war.)

One must caution, too, against equating what is in textbooks with what students learn. Professors may raise issues that are not in textbooks, and students do not necessarily read textbooks carefully. If a professor does not discuss in class-specific topics that are in a textbook, even students who have read the relevant passages may not understand or remember that information.

Traditionally, the Spanish Civil War enters the narrative of U.S. history with the reaction to the rise of fascist aggression in the 1930s which eventually culminated in World War II. Most textbooks mention Japan’s 1931 assault on Manchuria, Italy’s 1935 invasion of Ethiopia, Germany’s rearmament and reoccupation of the Rhineland, Franco’s 1936 uprising against the Spanish Republic, and Germany’s takeovers of Austria and Czechoslovakia. The U.S. government’s Neutrality Acts, in the familiar accounts, reflected a broader “isolationist” public opinion, fostered by widespread disillusionment about the origins and results of American participation in World War I. Many authors, while explaining the rationale behind the Neutrality Acts, criticize the U.S. government for the connection between these laws and the defeat of the elected Spanish Republic. A few discuss the Lincoln Brigade in the context of American literature—Ernest Hemingway’s fictionalized account in For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940)—or the influence of the Left in 1930s American politics and culture.

Perhaps the best traditional account is by John Garraty, in the 1998 edition of The American Nation, first published in 1968. Garraty, born in 1920 and a Brooklyn College student in the late 1930s, undoubtedly had personal recollections of the war in Spain and of efforts to aid the Republic. He devotes three paragraphs to these events, writing sympathetically about the “somewhat leftist Spanish Republic” as it battled “the reactionary General Francisco Franco” and his Italian and German allies. “Here, clearly was a clash between democracy and fascism,” but President Franklin Roosevelt, going beyond even the leading isolationist senator, Gerald Nye, pushed Congress to extend the Neutrality Acts to ban arms sales during civil wars. Indeed, Garraty blames FDR and Congress in part for the Republic’s fall: “While German planes and cannons were turning the tide in Spain, the United States was denying the hard-pressed Spanish loyalists even a case of cartridges.” Quoting U.S. ambassador to Spain Claude Bowers, Garraty concludes that the Republic’s defeat increased the likelihood of a new world war, adding that the backward-looking sentiment for U.S. neutrality did not correspond to “the conflict looming on the horizon.”

One reason FDR failed to aid democratic Spain, says Garraty, was fear of alienating American Catholic supporters of Franco. While this motive is important for students to understand, Garraty leaves unexplained the affinity between the Catholic Church and Franco. Perhaps because his pro-Loyalist textbook first appeared during the Cold War, Garraty does not mention Soviet aid for the Republic or allegations that it was pro-Communist. Nor does he mention the Lincoln Brigade or support for the Republic as an American liberal cause célèbre.

George Tindall and David Shi, in America (2004), echo Garraty’s points, while adding more context about international politics and American Catholics. Like Garraty, they, too, overlook the Lincolns. Tindall and Shi write that Franco “established a fascist dictatorship with help from Hitler and Mussolini while the democracies stood by and left the Spanish Republic to its fate,” a statement they repeat almost verbatim three pages later. In that later discussion, on the Neutrality Acts, these authors state that “Roosevelt now became more isolationist than some of the isolationists,” preventing arms sales to the “recognized, democratic government” of Spain. FDR’s motives were two-fold: to support the British and French position that “non-intervention would localize the fight,” and in wariness of the “pro-Franco Catholics in America who worried that the Spanish Republic was a threat to the Church.” These Catholics, moreover, opposed what they saw as “atheistic Communist influence in the Spanish government”; the authors explain that the Soviets did aid the Republic, but with “nothing like the quantity of German and Italian assistance to Franco.” One wishes this textbook pointed out that the Republic established U.S.-style church-state separation, ending Catholic control over all Spanish education and allowing non-Catholic religious groups to operate openly. Nevertheless, Tindall and Shi do better than many others in explaining why the Spanish Republic stirred controversy in the U.S.

Some textbooks, unfortunately, pay less attention to the Spanish Civil War in their more recent editions. Take Mary Beth Norton et al.’s A People and a Nation, first published in 1982 and now in its eleventh edition. (Norton currently has six co-authors, including Pulitzer Prize-winners David Blight and Fredrik Logevall. History professors usually refer to such multi-authored textbooks by the name of their lead author.) In the 2005 edition, Norton describes the aid by Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy to Franco’s insurgency. In response, “About three thousand American volunteers, known as the Abraham Lincoln Battalion of the ‘International Brigades,’ joined the fight on the side of the Loyalist republic, which also had the backing of the Soviet Union.” That sentence, meager as it was, has disappeared by the 2018 edition. Both the earlier and newest versions add that Roosevelt and Congress embargoed arms sales and loans to both sides in the civil war, “reflecting the popular desire [in the U.S.] for distance from Europe’s disputes.” The earlier version, while better, could lead to confusion, as the “Lincoln Battalion” showed that some Americans did see the need for involvement in “Europe’s disputes.” The recent version unsatisfactorily “solves” that problem by eliminating references to the Republic’s U.S. supporters, and adds a new problem: there is now no explanation of the Spanish Civil War itself or of German and Italian aid to Franco.

Paul Boyer et al.’s The Enduring Vision has also recently condensed its coverage of the Spanish Civil War, but more gently. Both older and newer versions include important insights, alongside glaring omissions. Boyer frames discussion of this war around the Popular Front, noting that the American Communist Party in 1935, following a new policy of “dictator Joseph Stalin,” praised FDR and focused on building an antifascist alliance. After describing support in Spain for its “legally elected government” from “liberals, socialists, communists, and anarchists,” with opposition by “monarchists, landowners, industrialists, and the Roman Catholic hierarchy,” along with Hitler and Mussolini, Boyer writes that American “writers, artists, and intellectuals” – adherents of the Popular Front – backed the Loyalists. (It is important for students to know that Spain’s Republican government, with those left-wing constituents, had been elected, and Boyer twice makes that point. Some textbooks only imply it.) In its 2000 edition, The Enduring Vision provides two examples of this Popular Front support: a paraphrase of a 1937 statement by prominent poet Archibald MacLeish that writers could not be “aloof” in this struggle, and Hemingway’s depiction, in For Whom the Bell Tolls, “of a young American who joins a Loyalist guerrilla band.” (Boyer nicely observes that Hemingway’s “new-found capacity for political engagement” was a far cry from his disillusioned 1920s novels.) Boyer also points out, appropriately, that the Popular Front “collapsed” in 1939 when Stalin signed the “cynical” non-aggression pact with Hitler, which “shocked idealistic Americans.”

Nevertheless, Boyer ignores American trade unions and working-class people who supported the Republic, and students may not understand from his wording that Hemingway’s novel was based on actual Americans fighting for the Republic. Nor does Boyer make clear, in his section several pages later about rising fascist aggression, that the Spanish Republic suffered because of the American Neutrality Acts. While Boyer includes examples in this later section of antifascist sentiment which challenged the prevailing isolationism, support for the Spanish Republic is not among them. He thus misses the chance to reinforce the linked domestic and international aspects of the Popular Front.

The 2018 edition of The Enduring Vision eliminates the reference to MacLeish, but the paragraph on Hemingway is intact. The new introduction to this section – “The Spanish Civil War was the Popular Front’s high-water mark” – is awkward, at best, however, as it was support for the Republic that epitomized the Popular Front, not the war. More problematic in the 2018 edition about the U.S. mood in 1936 is this statement, just ten pages after the description of Hemingway’s novel: “With the public firmly isolationist,…confrontation with fascism came solely in sports,” with Jesse Owens’s challenge to Nazi racism at the 1936 Olympics. The disjunction in Boyer’s 2000 textbook between the Popular Front and the response by Americans to fascism’s rise actually widens by 2018.

Peter Carroll, in We the People (2003), does not make the same errors as Boyer. In his three-paragraph discussion of Brigade members, he describes their varied backgrounds, from college students to artists to “manual workers…and veterans of depression-era labor wars.” Moreover, in his later paragraph on the Neutrality Acts, Carroll refers to public opinion polls which “showed majority support for the embattled Spanish Republic,” thus exhibiting cracks in that decade’s isolationist consensus. Carroll, the author of The Odyssey of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade (1994) and a longtime editorial board member of The Volunteer, frames his chapter on World War II more widely as “The War against Fascism, 1931-1945.” It was in the Spanish Civil War, then, that some Americans – volunteers, not government-sponsored, to be sure – first have “the opportunity to fight back” against fascism, in the words of one Brigade member who died in Spain. Carroll uses another letter from Spain, from Hyman Katz to his mother, to open this chapter, providing the only instance in which a textbook author quotes Lincoln Brigade members.

Like Garraty and others, Carroll also notes FDR’s concern over the Catholic vote in his refusal to allow the Republic to purchase weapons in the U.S., but Carroll adds that Roosevelt “listened to business leaders who warned that socialists in Spain threatened U.S. interests.” That additional motive echoes the analysis offered by Walter LaFeber in The American Age (1994), a more specialized textbook, for courses in U.S. diplomatic history. LaFeber writes of the influence over U.S. government policy wielded by such corporations as International Telephone & Telegraph, which since 1931 had opposed the new Spanish Republic’s efforts to regulate big business. This reference to IT&T resonates historically because this corporation participated in American efforts from 1970 to 1973 to overthrow Chile’s elected socialist government, as LaFeber notes later. LaFeber also mentions that President Harry Truman warmed to “Spain’s dictator” in 1950, the only reference in these textbooks to the U.S.’s de facto Cold War alliance with Franco.

“Out of Many” textbook.

Out of Many (2003) is among several textbooks whose authors were influenced by leftist social movements of the 1960s and which clearly describe the actions of the Lincoln Brigade. John Mack Faragher and his co-authors do not use the phrase “Popular Front,” but they allocate four paragraphs to the role of the Communist Party, USA in a sub-section titled “Waiting for Lefty.” Out of Many explains the CP’s appeal during the Depression, including its “militant opposition” to racism and its dedication to industrial union organizing. Faragher adds: “Some 3,200 Americans volunteered for the Communist Party-organized Abraham Lincoln Brigade, which fought in the Spanish civil war on the republican side against the fascists led by Francisco Franco. The Lincoln Brigade’s sense of commitment and sacrifice appealed to millions of Americans sympathetic to the republican cause.”

Despite this appreciative description of the Lincolns, even this textbook’s explanation could confuse students without prior knowledge of the issue. The support of fascist Germany and Italy for Franco is not mentioned until the next chapter, on World War II’s origins, and the effect of the U.S. government’s hands-off approach in Spain is left unmentioned – as is the fate of the Republic itself. Moreover, as in The Enduring Vision, Out of Many implies here that there was no dissent from the pervasive isolationist mood in Congress or among the American public. Thus, the internationalism behind the Lincolns and support for the Republic in one chapter has been erased in the next, although the two chapters describe the same years. Moreover, for college students today, support for Spain’s “republic” means little without further explanation of its revolutionary implications as an alternative to a monarchy tied inextricably to an all-powerful Catholic Church and a landlord-dominated economic system. A U.S. history textbook cannot delve deeply into the underlying social conditions of other nations, but “Republican” (capitalized or not) does not evoke the same ideas for 21st century students as it did for many Americans in the 1930s. (Puzzlingly, Out of Many mentions Hemingway’s later support for Fidel Castro’s revolution, but not his admiration for the Lincolns and the Spanish Republicans.)

Eric Foner, whose uncle Henry often presided over Lincoln Brigade commemorations, devotes only a few sentences to the Spanish Civil War in Give Me Liberty! (2014), but he includes two significant points others miss. First, Franco’s victory came in part because Hitler, pouring in arms, regarded “the conflict as a testing ground for new weaponry,” an idea which underscores the conflict’s global importance. Although Foner had earlier described at length the “The Heyday of American Communism” without mentioning Spain, his one bland reference to the Lincolns does not connect them to the left or the Popular Front: “Some 3,000 Americans volunteered to fight in the Abraham Lincoln Brigade on the side of the Spanish republic.” That blandness is surprising in light of Foner’s second significant observation, as he later discusses McCarthyism: “Previous membership in organizations with communist influence or even participation in campaigns in which communists had taken part, such as the defense of the government of Spain during the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, suddenly took on sinister implications.” Foner does not specifically write that the Attorney General in 1947 labeled the Veterans of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade a subversive organization. Nevertheless, alluding to the Lincolns’ controversial legacy situates them in the broader context of American history and helps students understand the convoluted thinking of the second Red Scare.

Page from Gilmore & Sugrue.

Glenda Gilmore and Thomas Sugrue’s These United States (2016) and Roy Rosenzweig et al.’s Who Built America? (2008) each highlight the Lincoln Brigade by including a photograph of volunteers. Gilmore and Sugrue include two paragraphs on the Spanish Civil War, with the first providing background on Franco’s insurrection, backed by Hitler’s and Mussolini’s “arms and air support,” against the “duly elected government” of Republican Spain, “which had Communist support.” Then, these authors state that this civil war “captured the imagination of democrats, socialists, and Communists worldwide,” with “35,000 foreign volunteers,” including some 2,800 Americans in the Lincoln Brigade, fighting for the Republic. “Ernest Hemingway wrote For Whom the Bell Tolls about it, black actor and singer Paul Robeson cheered volunteers in it, and more than eight hundred Americans died in it.” These United States singles out Salaria Kea, an African American nurse, in the text and the photograph, as a Brigade member.

Despite its excellent discussion and the photograph, there are problems with Gilmore and Sugrue’s account. They incorrectly describe Kea as “the only woman in the brigade”; in fact, other women, too, served as nurses, ambulance drivers, and in other capacities, as shown in the 2002 documentary, “Into the Fire.” Moreover, while the authors accurately state that the 1936 Neutrality Act “did not prevent U.S. trade in arms with the combatants,” they ignore its January 1937 update designed to prevent such trade, with its disastrous results for the Republic. So Gilmore and Sugrue seem to let FDR off the hook here, along with Franco’s American backers in the Catholic hierarchy. These United States characterizes the civil war as “brutal,” but misses the chance to demonstrate that brutality. Previous paragraphs described at length Japanese atrocities in China, observing that Americans during the 1930s thought that “Only a depraved nation could bomb cities from the air.” Surely the 1937 bombing of Guernica by the German air force on behalf of Franco could be mentioned as parallel to Japan’s actions.

Page from Rosenzweig.

Rosenzweig et al.’s Who Built America? devotes only three sentences in its text, plus the photograph, to the Spanish Civil War, but its discussion is nonetheless astute. Rosenzweig notes that Hitler sent its “new air force” to aid Franco’s “fascist forces in their attack on that country’s democratically elected government” (although he, too, does not mention Guernica). Two pages later, as he considers the American reaction to the rise of fascism abroad, Rosenzweig – in an insight practically unique among textbooks – frames the support the Republic received from some Americans as part of a gradual and contested shift in the late 1930s from isolationism towards internationalism. Just as Chinese Americans led a boycott of Japanese goods, “Liberals and leftists who were sympathetic to the Spanish Republic attacked U.S. neutrality laws, which prevented the Spanish Loyalists from securing the military supplies they needed to fend off the fascists in that nation’s civil war.Who Built America? emphasizes the broadly international nature of the Lincoln Brigade and its significance beyond Spain: these “American radicals…fought alongside 35,000 antifascists from fifty-two countries in what some later saw as a dress rehearsal for World War II.”

The photograph in Rosenzweig’s textbook shows about thirty Lincolns – mostly white, but with two or three African Americans – posing just before they crossed the Ebro to engage in “the largest battle” of the war. The lengthy caption, which states that “about 700…American volunteers died in Spain,” also calls it “the first racially integrated U.S. military unit and the first led by a black commander.” These last points, of course, contrast the Lincolns’ progressive orientation on race with the still-segregated U.S. Army – and yet the wording might lead some students to believe that the Brigade was a unit of the U.S. government.

Two recent textbooks explicitly follow the recent trend of historians to situate U.S. history in its full international context. In Michael Schaller et al.’s American Horizons (2013), Hitler and Mussolini “rush[ed] military aid” to the “Spanish fascist” insurgent general, and Stalin, in turn, “dispatched some military aid and advisers to assist the Republic.” This is accurate, although the wording may give the misimpression that Soviet intervention was greater than Germany’s and Italy’s. Unlike other textbooks, Schaller asserts that “Roosevelt worked behind the scenes to impose economic sanctions against the Franco forces,” but failed because “Great Britain and France refused to help.” Regardless of such efforts – and new scholarship, including Dominic Tierney’s FDR and the Spanish Civil War (2007), documents the President’s sympathy for the Republic – Schaller agrees that the 1937 Neutrality Act revision hurt the elected Spanish government. Schaller describes the Lincolns through a brief but clear summary of For Whom the Bell Tolls, “in which Robert Jordan, an American college professor, dies heroically in defense of Spanish democracy.” However, American Horizons depicts the International Brigades rather narrowly, as “Several thousand French, British, and American men…” (Recall better Rosenzweig’s phrasing: “35,000 antifascists from fifty-two countries.”) Schaller does raise, appropriately, “the complex politics of the war” among the Republic’s supporters, as “socialists, communists, and anarchists fought each other as well as the fascists,” citing George Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia. Orwell, of course, was British, but it is surprising that Schaller’s is the only U.S. history textbook which refers to this well-known source.

Robert McGreevey et al.’s Global America (2018), the most recently published textbook surveyed, builds on the best aspects of its predecessors while adding perceptive observations of its own. Devoting almost a full page to “The Spanish Civil War, 1936-39,” McGreevey frames it as the first armed conflict between “Fascism and democracy,” foreshadowing the larger conflict that would erupt as World War II. As in Boyer, the forces behind each side in Spain are clear: Franco, “the Catholic hierarchy and the landlord class,” versus a democratically elected coalition of “republican and leftist parties.” As in Foner, Italian and German weapons and personnel were not only key to Franco’s victory but served as “a kind of proving ground” for their future use. Indeed, McGreevey singles out these air forces’ “indiscriminate bombing of civilian targets, including the town of Guernica, whose destruction was immortalized in Pablo Picasso’s painting of the same name.” While references to “Guernica” are common in European history textbooks, Global America is one of only two U.S. history textbooks surveyed which mentions this first major instance of aerial bombing in Europe and Picasso’s masterpiece. (The other is Carroll’s We the People.) As in Faragher and Boyer, support for Republican Spain was a key feature, for McGreevey, of the Popular Front. Indeed, “The crowning glory of the Popular Front was the International Brigades,” with their 3,000 Americans and 40,000 total – phrasing that is preferable to Boyer’s similar idea.

McGreevey points also to a “moral dilemma” facing some in the Popular Front: defending democracy in Spain meant “linking arms with Stalin,” whose contemporaneous “Great Terror” in the Soviet Union “was a grotesque mockery of justice that led to the death of millions.” That arrangement “presented no problem” to Communists, but it did to liberals and other leftists. McGreevey continues: although “democracy was on the line, the Western democracies…stood by and watched” as “Madrid fell,” and so “the first battle between Fascism and democracy ended with Fascism victorious.” After framing the issue of working with Stalin as a problem, McGreevey nevertheless concludes that the different outcome of World War II resulted precisely from an alliance between “the Western democracies” and the Soviets.

What can we conclude from this survey? Perhaps most significantly, the failure of some earlier textbooks to mention the Lincoln Brigade has, for the most part, been rectified. Most recent textbooks characterize these volunteers respectfully, even heroically, although at times the quest for brevity or a rush to publication leads to a lack of clarity. We see, in those textbooks which depict the Lincolns and wider American support for the Spanish Republic as part of the Popular Front, a useful marker of the strength of the Left in American political culture in the late 1930s and of ways ordinary Americans inserted themselves into history. But we also see here an issue on which FDR disappointed his progressive backers, exhibiting fissures in that Popular Front as well as in the New Deal coalition, as Roosevelt expediently sought the Catholic vote.

Too many textbooks still follow the conventional wisdom that American public opinion was monolithically “isolationist” in the mid-1930s, even as they describe an important group of internationalists—the Lincoln volunteers and their American supporters—challenging that consensus. (Rosenzweig’s Who Built America? models an improved paradigm here.) We see the Lincoln Brigade, including its Communist leadership, supporting democracy in Spain, while the U.S., British, and French governments did not, which should encourage students to examine their likely preconceptions on such issues. But we also see that the Left, too, by allying with Stalin, selectively supported democracy, another important issue with which we all must grapple.

U.S. history textbooks certainly agree with the view advanced by Lincoln volunteers and their later supporters that the American, British, and French failure to support the Spanish Republic not only contributed to the death of Spanish democracy but emboldened European fascism, helping to lead to World War II. At the same time, most textbooks indicate, if only by implication, difficulties in “learning from history,” as the reaction against U.S. involvement in World War I led to the seemingly reasonable but in fact harmful 1930s Neutrality Acts. No textbooks explicitly apply these lessons to later situations, but one hopes that professors in using these accounts have students apply them to such complex recent issues as “humanitarian intervention,” “just war,” and the often-problematic American response to revolutions.

Taken together, these textbooks present most of the key ideas we would want students to know about the Lincoln Brigade and the Spanish Civil War – although first-year college students are not expected to consult multiple textbooks! So as these authors prepare new editions, they would do well to look closely at their own accounts and at those of others in order to make revisions as clear and complete as possible.

Robert Shaffer is Emeritus Professor of History at Shippensburg University.

Textbooks Discussed in this Essay (in alphabetical order of lead author, and with relevant page numbers)

Boyer, Paul, Clifford Clark, Jr., Joseph Kett, et al.  The Enduring Vision: A History of the American People, 4th ed., vol. 2.  Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2000, pages 747, 752-755, and 9th ed., vol. 2.  Boston: Cengage, 2018, pages 710, 718-720.

Carroll, Peter.  We the People: A Brief American History.  Belmont, CA.: Wadsworth/Thompson, 2003, pages 521-524.

Corbett, P. Scott, Volker Janssen, John Lund, et al.  U.S. History.  Houston: OpenStax, 2014, online at https://openstax.org/details/books/us-history.

Faragher, John Mack, Mari Jo Buhle, Daniel Czitrom, et al.  Out of Many: A History of the American People, 4th ed.  Upper Saddle River, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 2003, pages 757, 771-772.

Foner, Eric.  Give Me Liberty!  An American History, Seagull 4th ed., vol. 2.  New York: W.W. Norton, 2014, pages 854-856, 921.

Garraty, John. The American Nation: A History of the United States, 9th ed.  New York: Longman, 1998, pages 736-737.

Gilmore, Glenda and Thomas Sugrue.  These United States: A Nation in the Making, 1890 to the Present.  New York: W.W. Norton, 2016, pages 214-215.

LaFeber, Walter. The American Age: United States Foreign Policy at Home and Abroad, 1750 to the Present, 2nd ed.  New York: W.W. Norton, 1994, pages 384-385, 522, 655.

McGreevey, Robert, Christopher Fisher, and Alan Dawley.  Global America: The United States in the Twentieth Century.  New York: Oxford University Press, 2018, pages 165-166.

Norton, Mary Beth, Jane Kamensky, Carol Sheriff, et al. A People and a Nation, 7th ed.  Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2005, pages 724-725, and 11th ed.  Boston: Cengage, 2018, page 659.

Rosenzweig, Roy, Nelson Lichtenstein, Joshua Brown, et al.  Who Built America?  Working People and the Nation’s History, 3rd ed., vol. 2.  Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2008, pages 499-502.

Schaller, Michael, Robert Schulzinger, John Bezís-Selfa, et al.  American Horizons: U.S. History in a Global Context, vol. 2.  New York: Oxford University Press, 2013, pages 879-880.

Tindall, George Brown and David Shi.  America: A Narrative History, 9th ed., vol. 2.  New York: W.W. Norton, 2013, pages 1145-1149.

Zinn, Howard.  A People’s History of the United States, revised ed.  New York: HarperPerennial, 1995, pages 400, 412.

Share

One Response to “ The Abraham Lincoln Brigade and the Spanish Civil War in U.S. History Textbooks ”

  1. Robert Shaffer joining Peace & Change on March 10, 2021 at 3:24 pm

    […] Peace & Change as book review editor. It is fitting, then, that we would repost his recent assessment in The Volunteer of the Spanish Civil War in U.S. history textbooks. We’d also like to thank […]

Leave a Comment