A Soldiers’ Bull Session: Capitalism versus Communism

[In this entry, my father recounts a late-night debate about politics and economics among the soldiers in his tent. Many of the comments reported touch on issues that remain hot-button topics today. They include the lamentation that “politics always seems to boil the scum to the top” and the fair observation that a Constitution “written over a hundred and fifty years ago for a little colony of thirteen states” might need some tweaking to remain relevant in the current America. If only the conservative “originalists” on the U.S. Supreme court could exhibit such common sense!)

September 29, 1945 (Okinawa, Japan)

I come back to the tent about eleven-thirty after an evening of bridge. The only light is at Fisher’s improvised work bench, where he sits with black-bearded head bent forward, puzzling over some piece of electrical equipment. But there are voices in the dark. Old Buck and Stan Graham are deep in a discussion of economics and politics. Right in this one tent we have concentrated the best bull-shooters in the whole platoon. Last night it was Army organization, and war responsibility. Tonight it’s communism versus capitalism. These guys are so serious that they can complete one of these discussions without once bringing in women or sex. Of course, they’re never completed in the sense that unanimous conclusions are arrived at. They die out either from the exhaustion of the participants, which is rare, or from the intercession of perverted individuals like Tom Pearson, who believes in going to sleep early because he can’t help waking up early in the morning.

The discussion tonight is even more hopelessly abstract than usual. “I’ve read, or, er, I’ve heard it said,” Buck says, “that capitalism is just the thing for a young country – “

“That’s right,” Stan breaks in, “it’s OK as long as she’s expanding, as long as there’s a frontier. But now the frontier is gone.”

“Yes. Yes.” Buck says. “That’s just what I mean. So now I think that this country is ready – er, really needs some kind of economic regulation.”

“Yeah,” Stan says, “and then we come to a situation where we’re advocating just the things we’ve been fighting this war to prevent.”

“Well,” Buck says, “I think we ought to have a group of economic experts study the situation, and then make an honest report to the people on just what has to be done to stop depressions.”

At this point I enter the discussion and explain that a large number of such studies have already been made, and the reports are available to the public for whatever they’re worth. But Buck says he’s never heard of them. Then I try to explain the dilemma that arises when anyone attempts to press economic sanity through the maze of American politics.

“Well,” says Buck, “it seems to me that if we could educate the people on those things…”

Here again I’m skeptical. I point out that good education demands exceptional teachers, and there aren’t enough exceptional teachers to go around.

“Yep,” Stan agrees, “you can’t get a good man to work for nothing, and that teaching’s one of the lowest-paid professions.”

Then Buck starts working around towards communism again. Joe Graham comes in and says that communism, without the dictatorship part, is the only solution.

“Sure,” I say, “but just take away Joe Stalin and the club over a man’s head, and see what happens to your communistic system.”

Buck has an idea of more “personal” government at the township level. “The township is a closeknit unit, and, with the right kind of supervision, there hadn’t ought to be a single person in it on direct relief.”

I don’t seem to agree with anything that Buck has put forward. “What about the huge cities?” I ask. “That’s where most of your unemployment is. And besides, local economic problems are only tiny segments of disorders that have to be considered on an international scope.”

Stan tries a new tack. “I don’t know why it is,” he says, “but politics always seems to boil the scum to the top. Now if we could have some kind of group down in Washington, and salaries high enough to attract good men, and let this group hold a whip hand over all the sonsabitching senators and representatives, maybe we’d get something done. If they didn’t do a good job, they’d just get their asses booted out of there…”

“And we get some guys just as bad in their places,” I say.

“And how would you know when they’re doing a good job?” Fisher asks.

“Well, you’ve got something there,” Stan admits. “Look, fellows, I’ll tell you what. Don’t you just think that a Constitution that was written over a hundred and fifty years ago for a little colony of thirteen states might be a little obsolete today?”

“You’re absolutely right!” Buck agrees. “Now if we could just make the right changes…”

“Listen,” T. J. Pearson breaks in with a weary voice, “there’s a bunch of guys in this tent you have to shake their asses to get them out of bed at seven in the morning for breakfast, and that starts talking politics at eleven-thirty at night. That’s the one thing that’s wrong with the American way of life.”

 

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A School Teacher’s Life

[The following, a vignette about an elementary school teacher my father met at a USO dance, is typical of the profiles of people he regularly entered into his journals. This entry — the last in his fourth journal — provides a glimpse of a young woman’s career and family life, her approach to teaching and her unselfconscious prejudice. My father’s description of the teacher’s salary and class size also provides an interesting point of comparison to some current hot-button educational debates.]

February 7, 1944 (Jefferson Barracks, Mo.)

Bernice Wildhaber is a thin blond girl of about 22. She lives in north St. Louis, and teaches fourth grade in grammar school. Ever since she was little, she wanted to be a teacher, and she never lost the ambition. For a while she thought of joining the WAC’s or the WAVE’s, but finally it seemed to her that teaching school was just as patriotic.

“Much more important in the long run,” I said.

She really loved teaching school. I wouldn’t be bored by hearing her tell about it, would I?

“No, not a bit. My father’s a school teacher, and maybe some day I’ll be one, too.”

Well, that was good. Most fellows ran the other way when they found out she was a school teacher. She had forty-five kids in her class, all of them Jewish youngsters. And they were the best bunch any teacher could wish for. Very clean and neat, and most all of them unusually bright. They didn’t misbehave at all. The only thing was that they loved to talk. They talked all the time…

I asked her if she hoped to go on to high-school teaching. O, no, she wanted to stay right where she was. She wasn’t smart enough to teach high school, and it was too much trouble to get a master’s degree.

She’d gone to teacher’s college right in St. Louis. Anyone who wanted to teach in St. Louis had to go there. But she was still technically a substitute teacher, getting paid by the day. So she could hardly ever afford to miss a day. That meant six dollars. None of the girls in her class had been given their appointments yet. She didn’t know why, except that there was a lot of trouble on the school board, and they’d changed over to a new system of appointing just about the time she’d started.

I asked her if she’d tell me how she went about teaching English grammar. It was the ancient traditional method, – anatomizing the parts of speech, drilling on the irregular verbs. Since she said that the kids seemed to enjoy this stuff, I didn’t tell her how much I’d hated it.

Instead I asked if she had them do any original writing. Yes, but not nearly as much as in the two previous grades, where they had to write a little story almost every day. She only had them do one about twice a month now. For one thing, she hated to correct the papers. That was one thing she hadn’t counted on before she started teaching. She figured that the papers would be fun for her…

Her whole family was working. Her father drove a bus, and had to get up every morning at three-thirty. He was done a little after noon time, and always slept for about three hours as soon as he got home. Then in the evening he went to bed at nine-thirty, and the house had to be quiet after that. Her father listened to all the commentators, unless there was some program the girls wanted to hear more, which was often. Her mother worked in a dress factory, and her sister, who was two years younger than she, was a stenographer.

She’d never had a real vacation, because every summer she felt she had to work. Last summer she’d put in several weeks at the Ordnance plant, – weighing and gauging fifty-caliber bullets. But it was terribly boring, and she did quit in time to take two weeks off. She was certainly glad to get back to school, though she hadn’t thought she would be when she finished in June.

This summer her father had told her she’d have to take a vacation, to gain some weight. She’d lost weight from worrying during the summers she was supervising playgrounds, and she hadn’t been able to gain it back. A while ago she had her father get her a case of beer, because she’d heard that a bottle of it every night would give her weight. But she hadn’t liked it at all, and after a doctor told her it wouldn’t do any good, she started taking vitamin pills instead.

When I told [her] that it was a funny thing, but I couldn’t remember a single one of my grade school teachers, she said it was almost the same with her, except she’d gone to a convent all the way through high school. There weren’t any teachers there, – just nuns. She skipped first the fourth, and then the seventh grades, so that by the time she started high school, she was two years younger than the rest of her class, and painfully aware of it. The girls had their own class clubs, but they wouldn’t admit any “skips.” When she was thirteen, though, she shot up practically to her present height. Things weren’t so bad after that.

After we began talking about teaching again, I supposed that they were studying the geography of some part of the world. Yes, they were just beginning the Belgian Congo tomorrow. They’d finished last week with Egypt and the Nile Valley. She’d been very pleased with a test she’d given them. Usually she wrote the answers on the board along with the questions, because they had so much trouble with them. But this time she’d given them ten blanks to fill in with things she’d especially stressed, and they did surprisingly well.

Did she ever attempt to tie in events of the war with places they were studying? No, no, she didn’t know enough about it to attempt doing that. Last week, though, one of her uncles, who had been to North Africa, came home on furlough, and she had him speak to the class, since by a coincidence they were studying the Sahara desert at that time…

I wondered if Negroes went to the same schools with white kids. Oh, no, they had their own schools, including three high schools. She wouldn’t be able to teach a class herself if there were Negro children in it. She wasn’t prejudiced. But she was sort of affectionate, and often she put her arm around different kids who came up to see her at the desk. And she couldn’t possibly do that with Negro children.

She’d been coming to the USO off and on for over a year now. It was really the nicest place the girls could go, even though there was an awful lot of red tape to getting on the list. She was glad to give me her address and phone number, and if I couldn’t see her again before I shipped out, well, to write to her, anyway.

I said I would.

[Followed by an entry dated 3/21/46: (But I never did)]

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Wendell Willkie, Liberal Republican, Backs the Liberal Arts

[Throughout his adult life, my father was a card-carrying Democrat and an unapologetic political liberal. Not surprisingly, as a college student in the 1940s, he was taken with the promise of “democratic socialism,” a subject that his journals of this period address several times. Nonetheless, he also found much to like in the ideas and speeches of a prominent Republican of the times — Wendell Willkie. Willkie, the Republican nominee for the 1940 Presidential election, lost to Franklin D. Roosevelt, who was elected to an historic third term. FDR later brought the philosophically compatible Willkie into his administration as a special ambassador-at-large, promoting “One World” internationalism and an end to imperialism and colonialism.

The following journal excerpt, which quotes Willkie extensively from a speech he delivered at Duke University (presumably reported in The New York Times), is an interesting window into the mind of a “liberal” Republican of the era. Not only are such Republicans an extinct breed today, also all-but extinct are politicians of any party who can articulate moral and philosophic ideas — rather than slogans and sound bites — with the sophistication and intelligence Willkie demonstrated. Even then, however, being a liberal Republican carried significant liability; Willkie dropped out of the 1944 Presidential race because his liberalism lost him the support of the GOP establishment.

As reported by my father, much of the content of Willkie’s speech involved the benefits of a liberal arts education, a conviction shared by my father throughout his life. Willkie’s proposal to defer some men from Army service so they could remain in college and meet future American needs, not surprisingly, finds a sympathetic ear in my father. Despite the ambivalence  about military service that he states in this entry, however, my father would go on to enlist in the Army several months later. One note about the end of this entry, where my father’s personal commentary is interspersed among various Willkie quotes. All of Willkie’s quotes, even if not so identified, are bracketed by quotation marks. ]

January 15, 1943 (Middlebury College)

… Last night Wendell Willkie spoke at Duke in defence[sic] of the liberal arts education. It was a most encouraging talk, and added considerable cement to my conviction that Willkie is the man who must be elected next president of the United States. He himself, of course, reiterated his previous statement that there must be no indispensable man in a democracy. And certainly I won’t go around calling him indispensable. When lined up against all other known aspirants to the presidential office, however, I will gladly call him invaluable.

His ideas were so well phrased that I shall quote some of them here, perhaps as handy material for the Emerson paper, certainly as invaluable material for any man who believes in democracy. “I am speaking of education for its own sake: to know for the sheer joy of understanding; to speculate; to analyze; to compare and to imagine.” He lists the conventional frivolous objections to the liberal arts: “When such arguments gain acceptance, that is the end of us as a civilized nation.”

“… there should be some provision in the manpower program for leaving a nucleus in the colleges of men when aptitudes qualify them as definitely for our long-range needs as, let us say, other men are obviously qualified for medicine.” This statement drew a light blast from the Times editorial, which was otherwise commendatory. The Times maintained that these specially qualified youths still ought to stand the test of fire, to be able to understand and speak the language of the returning veterans. I stick with Willkie. It’s not a matter of courage. Probably it would take more courage to stay in college. It’s a matter of waste. Why throw tomorrow’s leaders into the gamble of physical combat? God knows they are preparing themselves to enter an arena of conflict as demanding on the man as any Libyan battlefield. I feel it myself; certainly I could go into battle of arms, but I am not happy at the risk of losing my chance to fight in the realm that I am much better fitted for, the realm of ideas.

I’m looking for a lifetime battle. Today I can say that I believe. Democracy and Christianity are more than words. They are ideas planted deep in my mind, and now coming to first flower. I am happy in the thought of living for them, not of dying for them. My death on the point of a bayonet would contribute very little to the life of these ideas in the world, and I have the confidence to hope that in a lifetime of study, writing, and teaching, I can make a much greater contribution to these ideas that I love, one that might rank with Emerson’s.

There must be many like me, – eager boys who feel the electric shock of this new age zipping through their nerves, and long to be among its prophets, as I do. Is it timidity that holds us back from asserting what we want to do for our fellow men? Will we accept meekly the grasp of the hand that is drawing us into the Army? With me there is a balance of opinion in this problem that keeps me from declaring openly on Willkie’s side. I imagine that valuable experience will derive from service as a soldier in a great Army, though the few reports I’ve heard don’t lead me to expect too much here. Probably it means entrance into some technical training, which probably wouldn’t hurt any, but would it help? Meanwhile, as the deadline approaches, I have these last three months of college to push as far ahead as possible.

Willkie went on to a discussion of freedom: “It is true that a man cannot be free unless he has a job and a decent income. But this job and this income are not the source of his freedom. They only implement it. Freedom is of the mind.”

…Willkie speaks of the damaging influences of the German universities. “It has encouraged the sacrifice of methods that make for wide intelligence to those who are concerned only with highly specified knowledge; it has held that the subject is more important than the student; that knowledge is more important than understanding; that science, in itself, can satisfy the soul of man; and that intelligent men should not be allowed to concern themselves with politics and the administration of state. Such matters should be left to trained politicians.”

That’s a damning indictment… But on one thing I insist. That science is nothing new in the world, and that it is no more adequate by itself for man today than it has been in the past. Science is generally description and analysis of the workings of natural laws in the material and human worlds. The continued expansion of scientific knowledge can be tremendously valuable for our society, but only when applied to the problems of society by morally sound men. Such men are more than scientists; they are religious men.

“If the humanities, or the humanistic temper which they promote, are permitted to lapse now, we shall have lost the peace before we have gained it, and the real victory after the war will be to the way of life, inhuman, tyrannical, mechanical, of those whom we shall outwardly have conquered.”

Speaking of our trend towards leadership, “hero-worship,” “indispensable men,” he says: “Had we more faith in liberal institutions, we would have, I believe, more faith in ourselves – more faith in the great leavening processes of democracy, which forever pushes new men to the top.” The new men! Emerson yesterday. Willkie today. Tomorrow? I’m trying. “Education is the mother of leadership.”

“More and more the doctrine of telling us what we should know is being adopted… And what has won out In the long battle. Always the truth.” The greatest prize for which man may strive. Each discovery leads one to higher truth, and there is never an end for him who dares to pursue. Melville was one of these, until the climb became too steep even for him.

“We have seen the devolution of human aspiration. It is a tragedy as great as men have ever witnessed.” But men are aspiring even at the darkest hour. Aspiration? It’s becoming the keynote of my life.

“Too many of the planners, I feel, are trying to look ahead by looking backward. Too many are seeking the future in the past.” It is neither in the past nor in the future, but it is now! and not in other men, but in you! Let a man first discover those moral laws that are completely independent of time, and then he will know what his society demands of him.

“Open the books, if you wish to be free.” Better to say, open the books, that they may open your mind. 

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Education for All, Balanced Budget or Not

[This lengthy entry — pared down from a much longer original — followed an evening of caroling by my father and his two siblings while home for the Christmas holiday. After meeting a young farmer among the carolers, my father went on to discuss his belief that all people should have access to the highest educational opportunities of which they’re capable. In this sentiment I see a foreshadowing of his eventual work in university administration and development. My father argues that, if our country is able to pay whatever the cost necessary to wage war, it can also pay the cost of offering the best educational opportunities to all its citizens, regardless of their economic circumstances.

As in the previous posting, my father states his opinion based on lessons learned during the Great Depression — i.e. the need for government spending to address pressing societal and economic needs, regardless of “such bogies of finance as the ‘balanced budget.'” Our country today faces many of the same challenges and, unfortunately, it seems that the no-taxes/cut-spending crowd is prevailing over those (most economists included) who warn that cutting back on stimulus spending too soon could stall, and possibly reverse, the halting economic growth we’ve begun to achieve. My father’s youthful idealism that America’s values were shifting to emphasize “social success” rather than “money success” has since been shown, repeatedly, to be wishful thinking.]

December 23, 1942 (Underhill, Vermont)

…At nine o’clock Kent and his wife arrived, and we proceeded to the main business of the evening. Most of the people who appeared to acknowledge our singing were old folks. They seemed genuinely pleased.

Kent is a young farmer, 23 years old. The local board had deferred him because he’s running one of the largest farms in the vicinity. There’s nothing deceptive in his nature. His face is pleasant, broad featured, Yankee; his body is big and strong, his hands massive. I suppose you’d call him raw-boned, a typical farm type. Bashfulness is a quality completely foreign to him. He was well-acquainted with me from the moment of shaking hands. Before I left him at midnight he had given me a frank appraisal of his fortunes and hopes…

I don’t envy Kent. He reminds me of Thoreau’s farmer who went through life carrying his farm on his back, a slave to his occupation. Kent isn’t degraded yet to this unhappy state, but the time may come. I just can’t see how he has much chance. His wife is a good kid, willing to work hard… he seems quite proud of her, partly because she’s an “out-of-state” girl, partly because she’s had an education…

…There is certainly a formidable barrier between the well-educated and the uneducated which can’t be melted down by simple appeals to humanitarianism. This doesn’t offer an excuse for snobbishness on the part of the well-educated. It does mean that the channels for communication between the two levels are considerably circumscribed. What a democratic state needs is an educational system which offers an opportunity for the maximum development of native talent (mental ability) in whatever economic level it appears. We should not be much concerned for the existence of these economic levels, so long as those at the bottom can earn enough to live without suffering. What we must avoid is the freezing of these levels. We know that exceptional minds appear at the bottom as well as at the top of the economic heap. The economic factors, however, have thus far been given far too much weight in determining what minds shall come to fruitful expression in the world. When genius is allowed to starve to death behind economic barriers, this is one of the most disastrous expenses that any society can shoulder. If the expenditure of money can build an educational system that will make such starvation or malformation of genius highly improbable, no sum will be too large to spend.

This was the point which was emphasized in that supplement to Fortune which I read in Burlington yesterday at the library. The National Economy, it was called. We have come traditionally to exalt money to a position where it becomes our master, instead of keeping it where it should be, in subjection as a slave to help us achieve social profits. We have too long been tyrannized into poverty and national weakness and unhappiness by such bogies of finance as the “balanced budget.” It’s taking a terrible war to break the delusion. We are finding out that we can spend just as much money as we need to preserve our national existence under the hammer blows of enemies who learned the same lesson several years before we did. It doesn’t matter how many hundreds of billions our national debt runs into on the books, as long as we keep our national destiny in our own hands, – it doesn’t matter, if we apply the knowledge that we already have for the control of our financial system. This, of course, is the basic idea in the compensatory government spending theory of Keynes, Hansen, and their associates.

It is indeed, not only a new theory, but a new philosophy of economics, and marks the overall change from the last century’s focus on “money” success to this century’s focus on social success. It can’t be repeated too often that money is properly a tool, and not a tyrant, for men.

We do have the knowledge and the mechanical means now to assure every inhabitant of our country, and ultimately the world, freedom from economic insecurity. While this cannot be considered as the highest aim of man’s activity, it is essential to any permanent progress of man in his spiritual sphere. It is very important that economic security always be recognized as a means to a better life, and not as an end in itself, or as a guarantee of that better life. For life can be “better” only in a moral sense, and science, including economics, which we are using as a means to that better life, is in itself amoral. The Nazis are demonstrating that it can very well be used as a means to a worse life.

We don’t debase ourselves or jeopardize our ideals by studying our science as avidly as do the Germans. In fact, we criminally betray ourselves to destruction if we do not seize upon science for all it can show us about the waging of war and the building of the new world order. The significant difference comes if we use science as a weapon on the side of Christian morality. Joseph J. Thorndike, Jr. makes this point clear in an interesting exposition of the science of geopolitics in the Dec. 21^st issue of Life. We don’t damn ourselves by using what knowledge we can discover to make ourselves powerful, if we use our power to give our ideals of Christian morality expression in the lower but nonetheless necessary, level of economic life. The name of [Halford J.] MacKinder’s book on geopolitics was Democratic Ideals and Reality. He brought it out in England in 1918. Our trouble was that we wrote out a peace in which democratic ideals continued to be abstracted from reality.

What excites me now is that today there are a lot of men who know that we must not repeat this disastrous experience. Keats it was who maintained that the ideal can’t be separated from the real. Democratic ideals are just so much hot air until they are expressed as relationships of men to men, and men to goods in the marketplace.

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