June 9, 1954, marked a turning point. Senator Joseph McCarthy, already a year into wielding immense power as chairman of the Senate Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations, was escalating his relentless accusations. He’d burst onto the national stage in 1950, claiming hundreds of communists had infiltrated the government, and his targets were growing increasingly broad, now including the U.S. Army itself.
McCarthy operated with unchecked authority, described by Harvard law dean Ervin Griswold as a one-man show – judge, jury, prosecutor, and publicist all rolled into one. He publicly accused the Army of lax security, alleging communist infiltration within its most sensitive facilities. The Army, in response, brought in Joseph Welch, a seasoned Boston lawyer, to mount a defense.
The ensuing Army-McCarthy hearings captivated the nation. People who rarely watched television found themselves glued to the screen, witnessing a drama unfold that would define an era. At McCarthy’s side was Roy Cohn, a lawyer as ruthless as he was ambitious. Cohn’s career was forged in the fires of McCarthyism, and his influence would cast a long, dark shadow over American institutions for decades, even until his death in 1986.
Cohn’s tactics, many believe, laid the groundwork for future attempts to undermine the foundations of American government. A key element of this strategy involved directly attacking the military, eroding its values and traditions. Recent revelations – including reports of a “kill them all” order resulting in the deaths of survivors from a rocket attack – echo this dangerous pattern.
The televised events of June 9, 1954, offer a stark lesson. In just five minutes, viewers witnessed the dismantling of McCarthy’s power, a “slaying of the dragon” orchestrated by Welch, with Cohn as a silent observer. It was a moment that irrevocably damaged McCarthy’s reputation and ultimately led to his downfall.
A fragile agreement existed between Welch and Cohn: McCarthy would refrain from attacking a specific Army serviceman in exchange for Welch’s measured tone. But Welch deliberately provoked McCarthy, leading him to break the agreement and launch a vicious attack on the young man. Welch, visibly moved, delivered a powerful and prepared defense, a moment etched in history.
Historian Thomas Doherty recalled the nation’s collective anticipation for someone to finally challenge McCarthy. When Welch famously asked, “Have you no sense of decency?”, it resonated deeply with a country weary of fear and accusation. Cohn, watching his carefully constructed image crumble, could only wince as his influence waned. Jelani Cobb observed that Welch’s challenge shattered the illusions McCarthy had cultivated about himself.
As current events mirror the dangers of unchecked power, the hope is that history will offer a guide. Courage, now more than ever, must come from within. As Martin Luther King Jr. powerfully stated, we will not remember the malice of our adversaries, but the silence of those who stood by and did nothing.
