The Cold War was fought in every corner of society, including in the sport and entertainment industries. Recognizing the importance of culture in the battle for hearts and minds, the United States, like the Soviet Union, attempted to win the favor of citizens in nonaligned states through the soft power of sport. Athletes became de facto ambassadors of US interests, their wins and losses serving as emblems of broader efforts to shield American culture--both at home and abroad--against communism. In Defending the American Way of Life, leading sport historians present new perspectives on high-profile issues in this era of sport history alongside research drawn from previously untapped archival sources to highlight the ways that sports influenced and were influenced by Cold War politics. Surveying the significance of sports in Cold War America through lenses of race, gender, diplomacy, cultural infiltration, anti-communist hysteria, doping, state intervention, and more, this collection illustrates how this conflict remains relevant to US sporting institutions, organizations, and ideologies today.

It is the early Cold War. The Soviet Union appears to be in irresistible ascendance and moves to exploit the Olympic Games as a vehicle for promoting international communism. In response, the United States conceives a subtle, far-reaching psychological warfare campaign to blunt the Soviet advance. Drawing on newly declassified materials and archives, Toby C. Rider chronicles how the U.S. government used the Olympics to promote democracy and its own policy aims during the tense early phase of the Cold War. Rider shows how the government, though constrained by traditions against interference in the Games, eluded detection by cooperating with private groups, including secretly funded émigré organizations bent on liberating their home countries from Soviet control. At the same time, the United States utilized Olympic host cities as launching pads for hyping the American economic and political system. Behind the scenes, meanwhile, the government attempted clandestine manipulation of the International Olympic Committee. Rider also details the campaigns that sent propaganda materials around the globe as the United States mobilized culture in general, and sports in particular, to fight the communist threat. Deeply researched and boldly argued, Cold War Games recovers an essential chapter in Olympic and postwar history.

After the Supreme Court ruled school segregation unconstitutional in 1954, southern white backlash seemed to explode overnight. Journalists profiled the rise of a segregationist movement committed to preserving the "southern way of life" through a campaign of massive resistance. In Defending White Democracy, Jason Morgan Ward reconsiders the origins of this white resistance, arguing that southern conservatives began mobilizing against civil rights some years earlier, in the era before World War II, when the New Deal politics of the mid-1930s threatened the monopoly on power that whites held in the South. As Ward shows, years before "segregationist" became a badge of honor for civil rights opponents, many white southerners resisted racial change at every turn--launching a preemptive campaign aimed at preserving a social order that they saw as under siege. By the time of the Brown decision, segregationists had amassed an arsenal of tested tactics and arguments to deploy against the civil rights movement in the coming battles. Connecting the racial controversies of the New Deal era to the more familiar confrontations of the 1950s and 1960s, Ward uncovers a parallel history of segregationist opposition that mirrors the new focus on the long civil rights movement and raises troubling questions about the enduring influence of segregation's defenders.

Conservative columnist West uncovers how and when America gave up its core ideals and began the march toward socialism. She digs into the modern political landscape, dominated by President Barack Obama, to ask how it is that America turned its back on its basic beliefs.

Glenn Greenwald was not a political man — neither liberal nor conservative. To him, the U.S. was generally on track and would remain forever centrist. But all that has changed. Over the past five years, a creeping extremism has taken hold of our federal government, which threatens to alter our system of governing ourselves and our national character. This extremism is neither liberal nor conservative, but is driven by the Bush administration's radical theories of executive power. Greenwald writes that we cannot abide these unlimited and unchecked presidential powers if we are to remain a constitutional republic. Because when you answer to no one, you're not a president — you're a despot. This is one man's story of being galvanized into action to defend his country, and his concise and penetrating analysis of what is at stake for America when its president has secretly bestowed upon himself the powers of a king. From 9/11 to the question of nuclear war in Iran, Greenwald shows how Bush's claims of unlimited power play out. In the spirit of the colonists who once mustered the strength to denounce a king, Greenwald asks: how would a patriot act today?

A behind-the-scenes political memoir written by a prominent White House physician. I would talk to the president before the chief of staff even saw the president in the morning. I walked into work, and I was already in the Oval Office talking to President Trump. It was rarely medical, to be honest with you; it was whatever was going on in the news. I’d be the first person he’d see in the morning. The president was completing tasks two to three hours before anybody else showed up in the West Wing to work. He’d get up at five o’clock in the morning and would be watching TV, tweeting, making phone calls, and doing all types of other tasks. President Trump would poke his head into my office or I’d walk out, and we would say, “Good morning. Did you see this or that?” He was always asking me about things on TV and what was going on, from Iran to Stormy Daniels. He’d say, “Walk with me.” So I’d walk him to the Oval Office, and we’d talk about everything. I’d walk out through the outer Oval Office and the chief of staff, national security advisor, and even the CIA briefer would be standing there, waiting to get in and talk to him. I’d walk out, they’d walk in, and his day would start. I was the first person he saw every morning and the last person he saw every evening when he went to bed.