I have two items for my blog post today on Roger Morris' Richard Milhous Nixon: The Rise of the American Politician. The context is Richard Nixon's acrimonious campaign for the U.S. Senate against Democrat Helen Gahagan Douglas.
1. On page 603, we read the following:
"In
late October, along with the ads and circulars, came a stream of
letters to the editor in various regions of the state, often so
thoroughly prearranged that the text was accompanied by photos and
capsule biographies of the writers. Thus Mrs. Ruth Peters, secretary of
the local Chamber of Commerce, typically wrote The Hemet News:
'As for Helen Douglas I consider her a traitor for defending communists
in the government, communists who have been ruthlessly murdering our
helpless boys...[and] her campaign for the U.S. Senate [is] a personal
threat to my security.' Hearing a similar commentary on a Los Angeles
radio station, the Douglases' twelve-year-old daughter was in near
hysteria as she greeted her mother one night: 'Mummy, Mummy...they are
saying terrible things about you!' Soon after the letters began to
appear, Douglas's car was pelted with stones and her dress splattered
with red ink at one appearance. Now frightened, her aides insisted she
travel with bodyguards through the closing days of the race. In
Visalia, in the heart of the Central Valley, she gave an impassioned
speech, and a migrant worker came up to her afterward with tears in his
eyes. 'They haven't made you afraid, they haven't made you afraid,' he
repeated, and she was mute with emotion. Elsewhere in the Valley,
vigilantes coerced farmers known to be Democratic supporters. And, as
in the small towns of the twelfth district for years earlier, local
businessmen----including one prominent vintner----were threatened by the
loss of vital bank loans if they backed Douglas. 'You wondered, is
this a democratic election,' Helen Douglas said to an interviewer years
afterward, 'or are we in a war, an undeclared war?'"
Morris
presents the 1950 race as one between a progressive, Helen Gahagan
Douglas, and a Republican candidate, Richard Nixon, who was receiving
substantial support from wealthy special interests, and thus had more
means and opportunities to get out his message. Nixon, however,
presented himself as the underdog who was standing up to certain special
interests. He liked to refer to the union support that Douglas
received and the hecklers at his campaign rallies. While many would
portray Douglas as a victim of a whispering campaign that was saying
that she was either a Communist or was soft on Communism, Nixon would
claim that he himself was a victim of a whispering campaign, which was
calling him a racist and an anti-Semite. And Morris refers to Douglas
campaign people turning over a Republican campaign car.
What I
thought about as I read page 603 of Morris' book was how much courage it
would take to challenge the powers that be. There are people who have
thought that I had that sort of courage, but, believe me, I don't. When
I spoke up, there were often people around me who would back me up.
And, even when there weren't, I wasn't in any danger for speaking my
mind. It would be so easy to go with the flow, to appease the powers
that be and to advance their interests. I scratch your back, you
scratch mine! But there are politicians who courageously stood up for
what they believed was the good of the people, against those who could
hurt them.
Nixon himself probably believed that he was this sort
of politician, one who courageously stood up for what he believed was
right, at risk to himself. I doubt that he saw himself as one who was
pandering to the highest bidder. In his eyes (or so he tells us), he
laid his career on the line on the notion that Alger Hiss was a
Communist spy and needed to be exposed. Irwin Gellman in The Contender
talks about how Nixon as Congressman surprised people by opposing a dam
that he thought would waste money, even though there were prominent
interests that wanted that dam. (Morris narrates that Nixon in his 1946
campaign talked out of both sides of his mouth when it came to the dam,
basing his stance on his audience at the moment.) Nixon himself says
that a leader should not simply follow public opinion but should seek to
shape public opinion. Nixon may have had his share of courage, but my
impression is that Douglas was swimming upstream a lot more than he was,
since he had wealthy special interests in his corner.
I've been
reading I Chronicles lately. In I Chronicles 11, we read of David's
mighty men. These were brave men, some of whom single-handedly killed
vast numbers of Israel's enemies. I Chronicles 11 can easily encourage
some of us to be courageous because the courage of these mighty men
worked out well for them: they courageously stepped forward, they
fought, and they won. But that's not a guarantee in life. What if you
courageously step forward, and you lose? I think of Helen Douglas, or
that lady who saved children during the Holocaust, and she would be in a
wheelchair because of what Nazis did to her. This lady probably still
thought that her act of courage was worth it, whatever the cost to
herself, for she did good. But, unfortunately and yet understandably,
many choose to go with the flow, to travel the path of least resistance.
2. On page 620, we read the following:
"Beyond
the candidates and their fate, history in a larger sense would mock the
great causes of 1950. It was not the greedy Republican landowners who
undid Helen Douglas's cherished 160-acre limitation in the Central
Valley but rather a Democratic Bureau of Reclamation that soon found a
way around the controversy to protect and preserve its own bureaucratic
position. If a corporation had ten or even a hundred shareholders, it
would be entitled to federal irrigation for 160 acres per shareholder,
the bureau soon ruled. And an owner could legally deed out 320-acre
parcels to various married relatives and children. It might not be
'spiritual compliance,' the bureau chief would tell Congress, 'but
technical compliance was good enough.' Neither Sheridan Downey not
Helen Douglas, it turned out, had quite understood what or who really
ruled the Valley."
I can't say that I understand everything that
this paragraph is saying, but let me say what I do understand. The
issue with the 160-acre limitation was that Douglas supported a law
limiting state-funded irrigation to farms that only had 160 acres or
less, and the rationale for her position was that she wanted the small
farmers to have a shot in a state where big agribusiness dominated.
Sheridan Downey was the Democratic Senator of California prior to
Richard Nixon, and Douglas did not care for him because she thought that
he was entrenched with wealthy special interests. Downey opposed the
160-acre limitation, and he wrote a book (or actually it was
ghostwritten for him, according to Morris), They Would Rule the Valley,
which said that the Bureau of Reclamation was trying to institute
totalitarian rule over the Valley, thereby destroying the free economy.
Nixon would commend Downey on account of this book.
It is hard to
tell from the paragraph who exactly won in this dispute. It looks like
neither did. But the dispute was resolved, Morris appears to narrate,
not through some grand appeal to reform, nor through opposition to
federal intervention, but rather through some bureaucrats stepping in
and devising a technical solution. That's actually pretty profound, in
my opinion. I can admire those who courageously step forward and make
waves, challenging the special interests, knowing that they may face
peril on account of this. It's good to have idealists because,
otherwise, we have business as usual, which tends to privilege those
with power, to the disadvantage of those whose wealth, power, and
influence are not as large. But, sometimes, it's not the grand idealist
who solves the problems, but someone operating behind the scenes in a
low-key manner. There are people who are reformers, but they're not out
there on the street-corners, offending the rich and powerful.