In confronting the evils of the world—as symbolized in the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—the liberal social gospel of the America of the twenties seemed to identify the black horse of famine with the poverty and waste ensuing from drunkenness. During the critical 1928 presidential election The Christian Century, chief journalistic organ of the social gospel, singled out three paramount issues facing liberal Protestant churchmen: first was prohibition, then Roman Catholicism and world peace. These took precedence over fundamental economic and social reconstruction, important as this was to the journal. But the protocol would be upended by the crash of the stock market a year later and the ensuing Great Depression.
Through the years an instability in Protestant liberal treatment of social ethics, reflected in Century pages, would include an ambivalence toward socialism, which would be strongly affected by the depression. A drunken rider of the black horse would seemingly be replaced by a capitalistic one.
Back in 1912 Theodore Roosevelt’s Progressive party, as a “liberal movement,” was hailed as an effective “counter” to socialism (Nov. 28, p. 4). The following year Century editor Charles Clayton Morrison wrote, “I am not a Socialist. I have profound sympathy with the Socialist program, but this program is not the same as the social program upon which the Church must more and more project its endeavor if it is to bring in the Kingdom of God” (Jan. 2, p. 8). In 1924 the Century saw little difference between the two major parties’ platforms and noted that both Coolidge and Davis were conservatives (July 10, p. 876; June 26, p. 814; July 17, p. 909). It was given an opportunity to support “a clean-cut liberalism” as represented by LaFollette’s new Progressive party (June 26, p. 814; July 17, p. 909). But as in 1928, other issues overrode fundamental economic and social reconstruction. La Follette lacked candor on the liquor issue (Aug. 14, p. 1037), and Democrat Davis was stuck with Wilson’s League of Nations with its detractory connection with the Treaty of Versailles (June 5, p. 717; Oct. 23, p. 1360). Only Coolidge sounded at all hopeful on outlawry of war, and the Century thus seemed to be leaning his way (ibid. pp. 1360 f.). For so important was outlawry to the journal that it announced its intention of sending a free subscription of a series of issues which contained articles on outlawry to every American Protestant minister and many Roman Catholic priests and Jewish rabbis (Nov. 13, p. 1461).
Rather than supporting a third party, the Century expressed hope that the 1924 campaign would start a “realignment of our national politics as between conservative and liberal” (June 26, p. 814). Donald B. Meyer has pointed out that
“social-gospel leaders could not have hearkened easily to third-party politics in the ’twenties, no matter how ideologically pure, for they had believed in their own majority. The Socialist party was now a sect; the social gospel thought in terms of a church—a church it wished to bring up to ideological sectarian purity, but that it wished to remain a majority. For the Century and the Federal Council, this was to remain so always” (The Protestant Search for Political Realism, 1919–1941, p. 127).
Meyer observes that “the liberal leaders had given little direct thought to the role of the state, either in the pursuit of justice or in the new social order itself. They criticized ‘mere’ state socialism, whatever the rigor of their ideals (ibid., p. 124). But by 1928, in the absence of party realignment, political frustration began to drive some social-gospel leaders into third-party action, and “a telling handful” of Protestant ministers supported Norman Thomas (ibid., pp. 122, 126). Most did not, and the Century backed Hoover.
Before the next election, the stock market had crashed and the Great Depression was an all-pervading reality. Yet, in 1932 the Century did not turn to the Socialist party, though it saw the two major parties as conservative, materialistic, and totally lacking in convictions and principles: “They exist for one thing only-office-holding and patronage.” The Century called for a “Disinterested Party” which would have no candidates but which would exert pressure on politicians to act according to political principles rather than special interests (May 25, pp. 663 f.; Dec. 14, p. 1536).
In 1928 capitalism had been spoken of as “only a phase in social progress,” and organized labor had been encouraged to challenge “the whole regime of capitalism” (Jan. 12, p. 39). By 1932 the anticapitalism was predictably stronger: “… The laissez faire capitalistic system is inherently unjust and unchristian, and … it must give place to an economic order based upon the principle of radical social control of economic processes” (Dec. 7, pp. 1496 f.). The Socialist party “represents ideals and a program far more closely in accord with the ideals of Christianity than does either of the major parties” (Oct. 26, p. 1294). But from this it did not follow that readers should vote for the Socialist party, inasmuch as the third-party method, in light of American history and politics, was “the most impracticable method which can be undertaken” (Dec. 7, p. 1497). The Socialists should rather convert citizens to socialism, especially from the ranks of labor, and thus acquire enough voters to gain control of one of the major parties. This, despite the fact that in the same editorial the ultimate objectives of Communists and Socialists were asserted to be “essentially identical.” envisaging “an economic order similar in principle to that which Russia is striving to work out.” The difference was “in method, not in goal.” Yet the pacifist-minded Century noted with misgivings a developing apologetic within socialism for resort to force—only a step away from “an ethical defense of revolution and dictatorship” (Dec. 14, pp. 1535 f.). On the other hand, in 1926 the “plain moral duty” of America had dictated recognition of the Soviet Union. The social experiment of “the Russian people” was a mixture of good and evil, but “the worst thing that could happen in Russia would be the overthrow of the present government—in a word, another revolution” (Oct. 7, pp. 1222 f.).
All this notwithstanding, the Century choice in the 1932 election was once again Herbert Hoover, despite the conviction that prohibition in the course of the campaign became “a washed-out issue” due to Hoover’s “retreat” which left him side by side with Franklin Roosevelt on the issue (Sept. 21, p. 1126). Roosevelt was seen as a “none too firm personality” with “enormous obligations” to the “sinister” William Randolph Hearst, an ominous portent for “peace-minded citizens” with liberal vision (Oct. 26, p. 1297; Oct. 5, p. 1193). And in domestic affairs he was “more than likely to move in a reactionary direction.” His capitalist views were inconsistent, Hoover’s sound. Although capitalism was unchristian, it was an “inexorable fact” that the rescue work in the emergency “has to be done within the orthodox capitalistic system” (Oct. 26, pp. 1295 f.). And Hoover, if elected, would “surely be driven by events from his doctrinaire laissez faire position before many months have passed. The automatic processes of the capitalistic system will not reabsorb the ten million unemployed” (Nov. 9, p. 1366).
Hoover did not survive to face the challenge, but the Century fell in behind his successor, who was seen to be leading the country away from laissez faire. From the day he took office, Roosevelt “sensed the fact that the old system had utterly broken down.” And American capitalism was “an inhuman system” which operated under “its inhuman motivation—the unrestrained individualistic pursuit of gain” (July 30, 1933, p. 1078). After six months of the New Deal, the Century verdict was: “Our leaders have so far been wise beyond the expectations even of their most sanguine partisans” (Aug. 30, p. 1080); after a year: Roosevelt is “a gallant and an inspiring leader” (Mar. 7, 1934, p. 310).
“The New Deal represented movement in a direction, and it was the direction that pleased the Century. There was no fear of words: the editors said they believed Roosevelt must move toward ‘socialism’ and they welcomed the process. The New Deal was not itself socialistic, nor did the President intend to institute socialism; the President was working within the capitalistic system and apparently he desired to keep it” (Meyer, op. cit., p. 318).
“We need a new United States,” said the Century, and toward such Roosevelt “is directing this nation.” The “Hundred Days” had barely begun when the journal praised the chief executive for doing “more to start the nation toward a socialist order … than all the agitation carried on by all the avowedly socialist agents in our national history.… His public works program—the Tennessee valley scheme, with its adjuncts—is as completely socialist in method and aim as any Russian five-year plan” (Mar. 22, 1933, p. 383).
Only three weeks earlier, the Century had voiced concern over Federal invasion of the sovereignty of the states, but this was in connection with the journal’s opposition to the repeal of prohibition (Mar. 1, p. 281). No such constitutional concern was evident in a May editorial, “A Nation-Manager,” which attacked Congress and pleaded in totalitarian accents for government by “controlled management,” with more authority granted to the President. It was just not sensible to commit government to “a body of nearly 600 politicians elected chiefly because they are masters of the art of getting elected.… Why not change our form of government?” (May 17, pp. 646–648, italics theirs). The following month the Supreme Court was the target: “… The nation is being carried forward into an hour when its fate rests” on the word of “nine old men” (June 21, p. 809). And in 1935 the Century spoke ominously about the Constitution: “Under the present constitution, the NRA decision made it clear, the whole idea of a national planned economy is illegal” (Dec. 25, p. 1648, italics mine).
For the journal was praising Roosevelt’s “revolutionary … enterprise” of displacing “an automatic capitalistic economy with a planned and controlled capitalistic economy,” involving “the open adoption of unprecedented functions by the state” (Nov. 8, 1933, p. 1398). The “planned economy” Roosevelt was attempting to establish was within “the framework of the profit-seeking order.” Envisaged was “a form of state capitalism not fundamentally at odds with that in Russia,” with state control rather than state ownership to make it more palatable to the opposition (Mar. 7, 1934, p. 311).
Thus what Roosevelt was doing was “not socialism.” Rather, he was injecting into the framework of capitalism “certain principles of social responsibility.”
“The essence of socialism is the substitution of public ownership for private ownership on a scale wide enough not only to transform the economic structure but to modify, deflect, transform, or render ineffectual the greed for personal profit and economic power upon which the capitalistic system inherently rests. Until the new deal [sic] gives evidence of cherishing such a purpose it cannot be justly characterized as socialistic.…
“The administration gives every evidence of desiring to preserve the capitalistic system. It has adopted the policies of the new deal for that very purpose. Mr. Roosevelt is the best friend capitalism could have in this crisis.…
“It is ‘up to’ capitalism now to justify the President’s faith. Not all of us share this faith in the degree in which Mr. Roosevelt holds it” (Apr. 11. 1934, p. 489).
As the Century saw it, the very process of reforming capitalism would drain its dynamic:
“If, within the narrower zone left by the new deal for profit-making, the business community does not find a sufficient motive power to resuscitate itself and produce the work and goods which public welfare demands, there will be left to the President but one option, namely, the taking over of business by the government itself and the operation of it for public welfare rather than for private profit” (Nov. 8, 1934, p. 1400).
Meyer fills out the picture: “Restriction and regularization of competition, child-labor regulation, wage-and-hour prescriptions, monetary and banking regulations—all these restricted the field for the profit motive” and thus pointed to the crumbling of capitalism (op. cit., p. 319).
If indeed capitalism was to prove impotent, and, following this, if Roosevelt could introduce a socialized economic order without violence and the sacrifice of democratic ideals, “he will stand in history among the greatest benefactors of mankind” (Nov. 8, 1933, p. 1400). And in the elections of 1934 a mandate was seen: “Go left, Mr. President, go left.… Many features of the 1934 election suggest that a union of forces for a vigorous offensive in support of an avowedly radical program is not impossible” (Nov. 14, p. 1443).
Thus, says Meyer, the Century “stood out among the organs of that benighted moralism castigated by Niebuhr and the socialist realists.” The Century and the realists agreed that the time was not ripe for the administration to legislate socialism instantly. What then was the difference between them? The socialist realists
“believed the political public had to be reconstituted. The Century did not. This difference came out in Morrison’s suggestion of the role open to the church in meeting a peculiar dilemma raised by the New Deal. Social-gospel logic argued that a system bred men in its own image; capitalism depended upon the profit motive, its men were bred selfish and grasping. A coöperative system would call out men of coöperation and good will. But in the New Deal season of transition, what would be the effect of the old sort of man upon the new system coming to birth?” (loc. cit.).
An agency with “immediate moral power” was required for the crisis (Oct. 11, 1933, p. 1263). And this was the Church, which would have to “preach forth the new economic man” (Meyer, loc. Cit.). The Century spoke of an “evolutionary revolution” which was in progress and judged that “the step from the Roosevelt system to a true and candid socialization of the economic system would be a much easier one to take than is generally recognized” (Jan. 17, 1934, pp. 78 f.). Comments Meyer:
“In this estimate of the New Deal as the critical, hardest step, Morrison was able to smother the issue of violence, and its coördinate, the issue of class.… Somehow a socialist issue from the New Deal could be anticipated without reconstitution of the political audience.
“The vision was a political parallel to Morrison’s neonaturalist theology, the key concept of which was ‘emergent evolution.’ The immanent processes of creation brought forth new and higher forms of meaning, genuine emergents inexplicable by mechanistic causation, revealing thereby the divine in history. It was sufficient for Morrison to read the New Deal and its future as emerging from the immanences of American life. He could not explain the fact, but the fact was enough. The anguish nerving pacifism, socialism, revolutionary absolutism, and realism was unnecessary” (op. cit., pp. 320 f.).
The mystique of an evolutionary theology commingled with an optimistic politics was vividly displayed as the Century rebuked Senator William E. Borah (for whom it once had words of highest praise) because of his opposition to the New Deal:
“[When Borah says] the economic system must be reestablished on the old lines to fit ‘the same appetites and passions, the same hopes and aspirations, the same desire to own and to possess,’ because ‘human nature does not change,’ he gives comfort to the old dealers …—the old-line, self-seeking, party-bound politician[s].” “… The recovery of national prosperity and morale depends upon creating a system based upon the hypothesis that human nature can change and has changed” (Apr. 4, 1934, p. 444).
The mystique was reflected in Century reaction to a speech by Secretary of Agriculture Henry A. Wallace, wherein it found “evidence that there is at the heart of this administration the most profound sort of religious understanding.” The “genuinely prophetic-quality” of his thought raised the question whether actual religious leadership lay in church leaders or in a public servant like Wallace (Dec. 20, 1933, p. 1596). “The most staggering blow that Protestantism has ever received is the discovery of the fact that the capitalistic system and the capitalistic culture which are now passing away derived their moral and spiritual nourishment from the Protestant churches.” “Ascetic renunciation of all responsible involvements with capitalistic mammonism” was now needed (Apr. 25, 1934, pp. 550, 552). For after all, capitalism was “unchristian” and utterly pagan (Dec. 7, 1932, pp. 1496 f.; Apr. 11, 1934, p. 489).
Thus did the Century present an amalgam of Pelagius, Darwin, and Marx, among others, for the healing of the nation. Augustine was nowhere in view. Glided over was the biblical doctrine of sin. Resilient liberalism had retained its basic optimism even in the depths of depression. Blame for the human predicament was shifted from human nature to the economic system. Seemingly forgotten were Jesus’ words, “… There is nothing from without a man, that entering into him can defile him: but the things which come out of him, those are they that defile the man” (Mark 7:15). If there had ever been a Fall, it must have been, in Century context, a plunge into capitalism at some weak link in the evolutionary process. But such a fall was not so serious as to require violent revolution or class conflict (Marx, Niebuhr) or supernatural regeneration (Jesus, Paul). The liberal optimism yet held—an “evolutionary revolution” would suffice. It was an old story: man rejecting the offensive but realistic biblical assessment of himself at his own peril, his rejection prodding him toward fallacious theories on how to gain international peace and domestic tranquillity.
Late in 1934 an editorial on the Townsend Plan (for old-age revolving pensions for all over 60) rejected it as not radical enough. Though Townsend’s goal was “just,” it could not be “attained within the present capitalistic system.” Needed was “the nationalizing of credit and the socializing of the great monopolies. When these changes occur the system called capitalism will hardly be recognizable under its old name” (Dec. 26, pp. 1647 f.). Nor did Huey Long or Father Coughlin go far enough, in the sense that “they promise limitation on income through political action without touching the economic system which automatically makes for inequality and injustice.” In the same editorial, early in 1935, the Century looked disapprovingly on “President Roosevelt’s drift to the right”: “… His liberal and radical pretensions evaporate when the commercial and industrial oligarchy threatens to retard his plans for recovery by non-cooperation” (Mar. 13, pp. 327–329).
Nevertheless, in the election year of 1936 Roosevelt enjoyed Century support for the only time in his four presidential campaigns, and Robert M. Miller observes that the Century was the “only church paper … to support his re-election” (American Protestantism and Social Issues, 1919–1939, p. 121). The support was somewhat unenthusiastic; the journal already regarded the President’s “big navy proclivities with profound disquiet.” With some cynicism it declared: “Elections are not choices between the issues which candidates talk about; elections are choices between the controlling interests which stand behind candidates.… The Christian Century has always stood, as it has believed religion must stand, for the rights of the underprivileged.…” Hope for gaining those rights was said to be brighter under Roosevelt than under a Landon government administered “on behalf of the privileged forces which stand behind him” (Oct. 28, pp. 1414–1416).
But by the end of 1937 the Century was moving away from Roosevelt. The journal called his attempt to pack the Supreme Court “ill-advised” and suggested that the preferable procedure would have been to “liberalize the Constitution” by amendment toward making it “the more flexible instrument that it ought to be” (Dec. 29, p. 1615; Oct. 6, p. 1225). Moreover: “… The recession has served to prove that the basic purposes of the New Deal have not been achieved.… The tendency toward centralization of wealth and credit has not been checked, let alone changed.” There was evidence of need for “far more radical” political action (Dec. 29, p. 1615).
By the end of 1938 things looked even worse. The liberal legislation of the past six years seemed very mild and hesitant; desperation of the underprivileged, apart from some governmental changes, would produce “an explosion and chaos” (Dec. 7, p. 1491). Public confidence in Roosevelt as “a liberal spokesman and leader” had suffered. The “average American” had “begun to suspect” his program of being “mainly a patchwork of expedients” rather than a long-range balanced campaign with definite goals. Unemployment was still up, and government deficits accumulated (Dec. 28, p. 1599).
But now foreign perils began to overshadow domestic problems, and the Century attacked Roosevelt repeatedly for his armament measures. When in 1939 the President warned Congress that European dictatorships menaced America’s religion and democracy, the journal responded wrathfully:
“Here, we do not hesitate to say, is the most misleading and dangerous appeal made to the American people by a chief executive in the history of the Republic.…
“The reasons why Mr. Roosevelt tried to pitch his plea for a vast armament program in terms of a religious crusade are not difficult to discover. He knew … that the attempt to restore our American economic and industrial system to normal functioning by means of governmental pump-priming has not succeeded.… Such recovery as business shows is dependent almost entirely on a continuation of huge federal spendings. To guard against another such economic collapse as followed the curtailment of government spending in 1937, it was necessary … [to] insure the passage of gigantic appropriation bills.”
The threat of Hitler, Mussolini, and the Japanese was played down (Jan. 18, p. 78).
Indeed, in the election year of 1940 Century worries as to dictatorship seemed centered not on Hitler but rather on Roosevelt. If the two-term limitation were broken and conscription adopted, the President’s power would “be essentially the same as that of any European dictator.” The “New Deal’s constructive resources were exhausted” in Roosevelt’s first term, the second being devoted chiefly to “consolidation” of the party’s position (Aug. 28, pp. 1046 f.). But the third-term issue was the paramount one, for the two-term limitation constituted a “barrier” to a one-party system. Such a system was the essence of fascism, and Roosevelt was the “Führer of this inchoate fascism.” His party, “unable to unify the national life at the level of its economic well-being, now turns to the war as a unifying substitute.” Wendell Willkie accepted the “essential features” of the New Deal. The Century swallowed hard and backed Willkie (Oct. 16, pp. 1272 f.; July 31, pp. 942 f.).
The election year of 1944 found the Century accusing Roosevelt of “moving … toward reaction” (Mar. 8, p. 296). It strongly criticized the dumping of Wallace from the ticket, thus “smothering … the voice of liberalism” at the Democratic convention (Aug. 2, p. 895). The fourth-term issue alone was enough to rouse Century opposition to Roosevelt, but now also voiced were fears of government regimentation of the individual in the direction of totalitarianism—not a primary concern when the Century pushed for socialism but a fear for the pacifist-inclined journal when connected with war (Nov. 1, p. 1248; cf. the warning that Truman’s “universal training program” would result in something similar to the Young Communist League, coupled with a Century plea for continuation of “free and decentralized” institutions [Jan. 8, 1947, p. 381). As for the candidates themselves, Roosevelt’s “craft” and “deception” were traced to “a tragic lack of integrity at the core of his nature,” while on the other hand Dewey was progressive and laudably had “identified himself fully” with Roosevelt’s first-term programs (Nov. 1, p. 1249; Oct. 11. pp. 1158 f.). So the Century backed Dewey, the last time to date that it would declare for a presidential candidate. After the election the Century wished for Roosevelt adoption of a democratic policy, almost millennial in implication, which would safeguard individual liberties and also guarantee security. Could a “middle way” be found between control in the interests of a “profit-seeking capitalism” and control by “government ‘planners’ ” (Nov. 22, p. 1345)?
Almost a decade later Morrison declared that laissez-faire capitalism had given way to a “capitalist-labor economy, and he even defended the profit motive while at the same time voicing strong criticism of labor leaders (Jan. 21, 1953, pp. 75–78). The swing of churchmen away from the far left had been manifested in Reinhold Niebuhr, who during the war years had been moving from socialism toward the pragmatic approach of the New Deal and to support of Americans for Democratic Action—he had abandoned Marxism before 1940, becoming a sharp critic of Communism (John C. Bennett, “Reinhold Niebuhr’s Social Ethics,” in Reinhold Niebuhr, His Religious, Social, and Political Thought, ed. by Charles W. Kegley and Robert W. Bretall [New York: Macmillan, 1961], pp. 71–74; Meyer, op cit., p. 408).
The postwar Century drift was highlighted in a 1959 editorial which described a “worldwide decline of socialism” and pronounced it “not regrettable.” Nationalization was now “nonsense.” The idea that all would be well if government only controlled production, distribution, and commerce, was an “illusion.” “Gone is the simple faith of the New Deal that big government can set right everything that big business or big agriculture sets wrong”—“gone … the illusion … that big labor has only to seize … power and the poor will be succored.…” “We are all sinners”—Niebuhr’s more biblical doctrine of sin had gotten through. Now favored, in place of socialism, was a “free order of voluntary cooperation and mutual aid” (Dec. 30, pp. 1515 f.).
Subsequently, President John Kennedy would not always come up to Century standards as a liberal leader, Charles Bowles, to the President’s left, being hailed as one of the few in his administration “not expendable” (July 12, 1961, pp. 845 ff.; Aug. 2, pp. 925 f.).
From socialism (and earlier, prohibition), the Century had turned to other issues now of vital import to it, such as racial equality, Federal aid to education, and certain welfare legislation. Though sin had been rediscovered to an extent, there was no equivalent proclamation of spiritual regeneration and conversion as the cure. The emphasis was rather on resort to the ballot with big government pushing through the necessary reforms, even though imperfectly. So much for the black horse of human want. Liberal social ethics lacked the foundation of biblical authority and appeared driven by events of the times. Ethical instability was matched by theological instability. Fixed principles were wanting. The white horse of death and hades—of the ultimate enemies, the ultimate questions—was confronted with transitory weapons, transitory answers, which seemed to vanish with the polishing.
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