53 pages • 1 hour read
Jon MeachamThe Soul of America: The Battle for Our Better Angels
Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2018A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Chapters 5-6Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Chapter 5 Summary: “The Crisis of the Old Order: The Great Depression, Huey Long, the New Deal, and America First”
At the dawn of the Great Depression in 1929, America’s fate as a democracy hung in the balance. Meacham writes, “Would the nation save itself or, like Italy and, as the ’30s unfolded, Germany, seek comfort in totalitarianism? Or might it choose the path of the Soviet Union, casting its lot with Communism?” (138).
By the time of his first presidential election win in 1932, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt identified the two most dangerous individuals in America as Senator Huey Long and General Douglas MacArthur. Long, he feared, might launch a coup from the political left, while MacArthur might launch one from the right. In an indication of the country’s appetite for a political strongman, the author points out that the biggest applause line from Roosevelt’s 1933 inauguration was not the much-quoted “Nothing to fear but fear itself” line but a declaration to expand the power of the executive office to combat the Great Depression. Meacham also details the so-called Wall Street Putsch, an alleged attempt by the financial elite to install two-time Medal of Honor recipient Smedley Butler as a military dictator.
Long, meanwhile, voiced not the concerns of the financial elite but those of the poor and middle class. Irrepressibly pugnacious and unscrupulous in his attacks on fellow senators, the populist Long prodded Roosevelt and his New Deal program to take more dramatic steps in redistributing wealth. Equally critical of Roosevelt—but also intensely anti-Semitic—was radio commentator Father Charles Coughlin, who regularly took to the airwaves to denounce Jewish bankers and advocate for isolationist, noninterventionist policies toward Nazi Germany.
Beset on all sides, Roosevelt marched a middle ground that avoided the extremities of both fascism and communism. At this stage, he also largely avoided the politics of fear and hatred espoused by Long and Coughlin. Yet Roosevelt could go too far in challenging the rule of law and democratic principles, according to Meacham. For example, after Long’s 1935 assassination and a resounding victory in the 1936 election, Roosevelt sought to pack the Supreme Court so it would be more favorable to his second round of New Deal initiatives. Yet once he realized he had overstepped his mandate, Roosevelt pumped the brakes, reflecting the president’s ability to course-correct as he guided the nation through both the Great Depression and World War II.
In terms of Roosevelt’s efforts to enter World War II, he arguably faced an even bigger uphill climb. In 1936, three years before Nazi Germany invaded Poland, a Gallup poll found that a whopping 95% of Americans opposed entering a war in Europe. Support for war grew modestly after the invasion of Poland, but there still existed a huge groundswell of isolationism, one that was best illustrated by the America First movement and its most popular spokesperson, the famed aviator Charles Lindbergh. Yet like so many movements that rely on the politics of fear, both the text and subtext of Lindbergh’s movement was hate—in this case, anti-Semitism.
Many of these points would be rendered moot by the 1941 bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese that, followed by a debatably unwise declaration of war from Adolf Hitler, dragged the United States into war in both Europe and the Pacific. Now it was Roosevelt’s turn to give in to the politics of fear, writes Meacham. Between 1942 and 1946, Roosevelt authorized the forced internment of 117,000 Japanese Americans in what the author considers to be one of the great national shames of the 20th century. Meacham also ponders the debate over whether Roosevelt, through immigration policies, could have done more to help European Jews prior to formally entering the war.
Chapter 6 Summary: “Have You No Sense of Decency? ‘Making Everyone Middle Class,’ the GI Bill, McCarthyism, and Modern Media”
In surveying the post-World War II era up to the 1960s, Meacham examines the growth of the American middle class, which began in the 1940s under President Harry S. Truman and exploded further under Dwight D. Eisenhower in the 1950s. According to the author, “By 1945, average weekly earnings had nearly doubled since December 1941, and Americans had saved about $136 billion during the war—a staggering sum” (178). Meacham attributes this growth to a number of factors, including the New Deal, unprecedented defense spending during World War II, and 1944’s GI Bill which granted veterans college tuition and guaranteed home loans. The author also points to much earlier legislation like the Morrill Act of 1862, which created land-grant universities, and Theodore Roosevelt’s Progressive legislation against monopolies and other unfair industrial practices at the turn of the century. In many ways, Meacham views postwar prosperity as the reward for the work done by all the activists and presidents profiled thus far in the book.
Bucking the expectations of the moneyed Republican elite, President Eisenhower did not dismantle Roosevelt’s New Deal programs. On the contrary, he continued aggressive public investment on projects like the Interstate Highway System. Despite his conservative wariness of too much central government, Eisenhower also realized the importance of the public will, which overwhelmingly supported a continuation of New Deal initiatives like Social Security and unemployment insurance.
Nevertheless, Eisenhower’s moderate policymaking created several powerful conservative enemies, few more consequential than businessman and right-wing political organizer Robert Welch. Angry over Republican losses in the House and Senate, which he attributed to Eisenhower, Welch went on a crusade that labeled the president and his inner circle as communists, despite the fact that Eisenhower and much of his cabinet were instrumental in winning World War II.
Meanwhile, Welch’s anti-communist hysteria combined with a preternaturally savvy use of the latest media platforms in the person of Senator Joseph McCarthy. By utilizing television and press conferences, McCarthy whipped up anti-communist fervor while remaining at the center of virtually every media narrative. Meacham quotes McCarthy’s lawyer and confidant Roy Cohn—later an associate of Donald Trump—who claimed the senator’s passionate hatred of communism was purely opportunistic. According to Cohn, “Joe McCarthy bought Communism in much the same way as other people purchase a new automobile” (186).
While Truman spoke out vociferously against McCarthy, Eisenhower preferred to ignore him to avoid giving the senator free publicity. That silence included a moment when, shortly before delivering a speech, Eisenhower removed from his set of planned remarks a sharp criticism of McCarthy over absurd accusations that George Marshall—army chief of staff during World War II and one of the architects of the Allied victory—was a communist. On another occasion, then Senator John F. Kennedy failed to publicly censure McCarthy out of concern over alienating his Catholic constituents in Massachusetts.
Eventually, Meacham writes, McCarthy overstayed his welcome in the public eye. The turning point came when US Army counsel Joseph N. Welch responded to McCarthy’s relentless attacks on a young colleague by demanding, “Have you no sense of decency, sir?” (201). In the author’s telling, the final nail in the coffin came when the Senate censured McCarthy in 1954. By 1957, the hard-drinking McCarthy was dead at the age of 48.
Chapters 5-6 Analysis
The key question posed in Chapter 5 is: How close did the United States come to embracing European fascism in the 1930s? The prospect of America taking on the form of authoritarian government it would fight so hard to defeat in World War II may sound outlandish. Yet Meacham paints a picture of a prewar America with a greater appetite for totalitarianism than one might expect. Furthermore, this question is of particular relevance to readers today, as the world has seen a rise in nationalism, populism, and leaders who express fascist tendencies if not outright fascism.
One of the most telling moments of this chapter is Franklin D. Roosevelt’s 1933 inaugural address. Scholars and laypersons alike best remember that speech for the line, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Yet as Meacham points out,
The loudest cheers during Roosevelt’s inaugural address on Saturday, March 4, 1933, did not come from his assurance that the only thing Americans had to fear was fear itself. No, as Eleanor Roosevelt noted, the greatest ovation greeted the new president’s assertion that the present emergency might require him to assume extended wartime executive powers (138).
For many Americans at the time, the aggressive masculinity associated with a search for a strongman leader was often accompanied by racist and nationalist tendencies which, taken together, bear numerous similarities to Nazi Germany under Hitler. In fact, the question of whether Americans could have fallen under the spell of fascism is a bit misleading, given that many Americans already belonged to fascist groups, according to historian David Motadel. Writing in The Guardian, Motadel identifies the Silver Shirts movement, the Black Legion, and the Fascist League of North America as fascist or proto-fascist groups in the 1930s. (Motadel, David. “The United States Was Never Immune to Fascism. Not Then, Not Now.” The Guardian. 17 Aug. 2017.) Some scholars even identify the Ku Klux Klan as a variant of American fascism. But the biggest of these groups was Fritz Julius Kuhn’s German American Bund, which once held a pro-Nazi rally at Madison Square Garden attended by 20,000 people.
The extent to which America was ripe for fascism in the prewar era was also explored in the 2020 HBO series The Plot Against America. Based on a 2004 novel by Philip Roth, the series imagines an alternate history in which Charles Lindbergh defeats Roosevelt in the 1940 election, only to loosely align his administration with Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. If that sounds far-fetched, consider Roosevelt’s declaration that, “If I should die tomorrow, I want you to know this. I am absolutely convinced that Lindbergh is a Nazi” (160).
Perhaps the one portion of Chapter 5 that most beggars belief pertains to the so-called Wall Street Putsch. Named after the Beer Hall Putsch, an early failed power-grab by Adolf Hitler, Major General Smedley Butler alleged he was approached in 1933 by a group of right-wing bankers who wanted him to lead a plot to overthrow Roosevelt and replace him with a military dictatorship. Frightened that the New Deal was the first step down the road to communism, they believed this was the only way to preserve capitalism—and their own fortunes.
While Meacham portrays the planned coup as a legitimate threat to presidential sovereignty, the veracity and seriousness of this plot is still debated today. At the time, a New York Times editorial referred to it as a “gigantic hoax.” (“Credulity Unlimited. The New York Times. 22 Nov. 1934.) Decades later in 1958, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr. dismissed its seriousness, writing, “the gap between contemplation and execution was considerable, and it can hardly be supposed that the Republic was in much danger.” (Schlesinger, Arthur M., Jr. The Politics of Upheaval: 1935-1936, The Age of Roosevelt, Volume III. Boston: Mariner Books. 1958.) Yet more recent scholars, including Meacham, are of the opinion that it is disturbing that such a plot was even considered as an option. In an interview with NPR, historian Sally Denton referred to the Putsch as a “cockamamie concept” before adding, “the fact that it even got as far as it did is pretty shocking.” (NPR Staff. “When the Bankers Tried to Overthrow FDR. NPR. 12 Feb. 2012.)
Chapter 6 stands out in that while previous chapters focus on a leader employing the politics of hope in a time of fear, here Meacham profiles a leader employing the politics of fear in a time of hope. Despite unprecedented prosperity, US Senator Joseph McCarthy cultivated intense division and paranoia over the supposed threat of disloyalty at the highest levels of government. To do so, McCarthy exhibited an uncanny ability to manipulate a then-new technology that allowed more direct engagement with citizens than ever before.
Based on that paragraph alone, readers might see similarities between McCarthy and Trump. Later in the Conclusion, Meacham draws an explicit connection between the two men. Yet given the metatextual presence of Trump looming over the entire book, such a connection may be implied even here, chapters earlier.
Meanwhile, Eisenhower is seen as another one of Meacham’s admirable yet imperfect leaders who was hampered in his efforts to fight fear by a dearth of political capital. Just as Roosevelt backed off on anti-lynching legislation to preserve his much-needed New Deal programs, Eisenhower feared criticizing McCarthy explicitly for fear of losing Republican support in an upcoming election. Because of these individuals’ great deeds, Meacham is forgiving of such politically expedient moves. He views compromise and balance as necessary attributes for all great leaders, especially presidents. Yet even from the perspective of a historian or layperson decades later, it is clear from Meacham’s book that the judiciousness of any given compromise can be extremely difficult to ascertain.
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