Far too much historical analysis falls into two questionable schools of thinking, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt is the perfect subject for both. The first is the great man theory, where one man single-handedly changes the world because that is what he was put here to do. It suits the American outlook nicely, since this is the John Wayne view of life: a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, no matter how many injuns or cattle rustlers stand in his way. As a four-term President who saw our nation through the Great Depression and World War II, FDR has as strong a claim to the title of American Messiah as anyone since Lincoln.

Historians using this method include David McCullough, who tends to fall into such a swoon over his subjects that any faults are quickly glossed over (for instance, John Adams’ support of the Sedition Act may be the strongest attack on free speech in U.S. history, since it laid the groundwork for stifling all criticism of the government, but McCullough urges seeing it “in the context of the time” and promptly returns to gushing over how many love letters John wrote his wife Abigail).

The second is what I call the school of willful naiveté. This consists of looking at the past and, with the benefit of hindsight, recognizing every single mistake a person made and holding them accountable to standards that did not exist at the time. Under this microscope even triumphs can suddenly turn out to be failures. (Lincoln freed the slaves… but did he really want to free them? Was he just forced to do it by circumstance? And hey, what about the border states? Lincoln sucks!)

I would cite Robert Caro as a frequent practitioner of this approach. I find Caro brilliant and have immensely enjoyed his ongoing biography of Lyndon Johnson, but at some point — likely midway through the writing of the second volume, 1990’s Means of Ascent — Caro realized, “I sort of hate this guy.” And not just for Vietnam — the phenomenally thorough Caro’s three volumes and two thousand plus pages on LBJ haven’t even reached the Johnson presidency yet — but just for being a loudmouthed, egomaniacal, pushy, unfaithful, all-around jerkoff of a Texan who came of age when political dirty tricks were the only way to reach high office and then… get ready for a shocker… engaged in them himself. Even when Johnson does something right — notably the Civil Rights Act of 1964 — there’s a nagging sense on Caro’s part if LBJ had just applied himself he could have done more. While in McCullough’s view context of the time excuses almost all, in Caro’s view it forgives virtually nothing.

FDR is a frequent target for believers in willful naiveté. Some Republicans argue Roosevelt didn’t save us from the Great Depression at all, but his policies actually extended it until the surge of production triggered by World War II lifted all boats. Some fringe Republicans (notably Pat Buchanan) have argued America didn’t need to get involved in World War II at all, as it really was a European affair (the fact Germany was conquering every nation within reach and exterminating large segments of their populations is irrelevant in this view). Less crazily, FDR has been attacked for not doing more to help Jewish refugees. (The new book Refugees and Rescue: The Diaries and Papers of James G. McDonald, 1935-1945 seeks to refute much of this last point, noting his pre-World War II efforts led to successes including over 20,000 Jews eventually settling in Bolivia, throwing FDR back on the front pages some 60 years after his death.)

I believe these criticisms range from largely to totally unfounded. Roosevelt’s true achievement during the Great Depression wasn’t saving the nation’s economy; it was saving the faith of the American public in the nation itself. From 1923-29, unemployment averaged 3.3%. By 1932, it had exploded to 23.6%. Beyond this, when the “Bonus Army” of unemployed World War I veterans marched on Washington, the government responded by having the military attack them. By the time Roosevelt took office, a massive and still growing segment of the American public felt totally alienated from the country. There are cases where acknowledging a problem is almost as crucial as solving it. Simply by the act of recognizing and addressing how dire things were, FDR made it possible for us to survive the situation, even as it became clear there was no easy solution.

Likewise, I think it’s important to remember that if in the 1930s FDR got on the radio and held a fireside chat announcing, “Hey everybody, I know times are tough here, but there’s a lot happening over in Europe and I think we should open our borders and welcome thousands and thousands of foreigners, many of whom are Jews,” a large segment of the American populace would not have rushed to embrace this cause — hell, Pat Buchanan won’t embrace it now. Indeed, they would have done all in their power to stop it. FDR played a crucial role both in our getting involved in World War II and ensuring we defeated Germany. It is impossible to calculate how many lives were saved as a result. Considering how we’ve struggled to handle the far smaller menace Iraq, this achievement should not be understated.

At the same time, it’s important to remember FDR didn’t do it alone. To cite just one example, as a Senator during World War II, Harry S. Truman headed the “Truman Committee” to fight against defense contractors wasting or embezzling money. With a mere $15,000 budget, the Committee saved billions (by contrast, a 2006 60 Minutes report noted Iraq spending including 8.8 billion simply “not accounted for” — I shudder to think what that figure has swelled to by now). When Roosevelt died and Truman became President in 1945, Harry S. oversaw the surrender of Japan and the still remarkable transformation of two nations that had been trying to destroy us into two of our closest allies, securing much of the FDR legacy. Whatever you think of him, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was one of the most important people of the twentieth century. As with all defining figures, our challenge is to avoid the trap of giving him criticism he doesn’t deserve, as well as the praise best presented to someone else.

 

Sean Cunningham’s Man of the Moment appears each Wednesday.

 

Tweet  Print This Post

Tags: books & writing, politics & government // Add Comment »