Henry Wallace’s Fight for Democracy and the Modern Relevance of His Warnings
Henry Wallace’s Fight for Democracy and the Modern Relevance of His Warnings
Legacy
Robert Reich’s Substack newsletter yesterday caused me to resurrect some old writings of my own. Wallace became a subject of interest for me probably sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s, when I was a very active hippie peace freak and anti-war protestor. I had been a voracious reader from my pre-teen days―reading adult fiction since age ten. By the time I hit my 20s, I was devouring books, magazines, and newspapers at a rate that probably caused me to become socially unacceptable in many of the hippie hangouts, but I loved college campuses and the coffee shops that dotted St. Marks, Greenwich Village, and lower eastside Manhattan. The philosophy of Henry Wallace was required reading if one wanted to hold his own in those venues.
But… before I go on, it is probably best if I first let Bob say his piece.
“My young and attractive mother recognized Henry Wallace — who had been Franklin D. Roosevelt’s vice president from March 1941 to January 1945 — in the South Salem, New York, post office one day and summoned the courage to introduce herself and her three-year-old son.
“Wallace invited us to tea on his large porch. I remember him as a kindly old man with a bright shock of white hair who pulled me up onto his lap while spending what seemed interminable hours talking to my mother. She was thrilled. I was bored.
“After we left, she told me Henry Wallace was a great man, and that someday most Americans would agree. But when my mother mentioned to a neighbor that we had tea on Wallace’s porch and I had sat on his lap, the neighbor was horrified. She called him a communist.
“Wallace was not a communist. He was a champion of democracy and fierce opponent of American fascism. He saw what Hitler did in Nazi Germany and feared the same could happen in America. He worried that an unprincipled sociopath with a gift for marketing and self-promotion could turn some Americans into violent bullies if they felt abandoned and angry enough.”
“Wallace scorned the America First rhetoric that was being mouthed by prominent Democrats as well as Republicans. “We must remember that down through the ages one of the most popular political devices has been to blame economic and other troubles on some minority group,” he said. “The survival and strength of American democracy are proof that it has succeeded by its deeds thus far,” he continued:
“But we all know that it contains the seeds of failure. I for one will not be confident of the continued survival of American democracy if millions of unskilled workers are condemned to [near poverty] all their lives, with no place in our industrial system. I will not be confident of the survival of our democracy if half our people must be below the line of a decent nutrition [and] if most of our children continue to be reared in surroundings where poverty is highest, and education is lowest.”-
Wallace called for massive investment in job creation, education, social services, and peacemaking.
No, Henry Wallace was not a fascist. He was clearly the opposite. Late in his political career he would be more accurately be described as a socialist. Had he been born 60 years later, he would likely have been a Hippie.
Now for my part in this dissertation:
Henry A. Wallace’s life story is a truly compelling blend of political idealism―a tale of a man taking a truly independent path as he navigated from his rural Iowa roots, the deep conservatism of his family and of most Iowans, and into a life of progressive thinking and a desire to steer the ship of state into calmer waters. His activism was directed toward creating a nation that was truly good for its citizens.
His dedication to progressive ideals was controversial, to say the least, and as he grew older, he moved further toward the left. Born in 1888 in Iowa, he developed deep ties to American farming―consuming his father’s farm and ranch magazines as quickly as they came in. His father, Henry Cantwell Wallace, was an influential figure in agriculture who served as Secretary of Agriculture under Presidents Harding and Coolidge.
His familial legacy, combined with young His curiosity and drive, maneuvered him into a position that would lead to a life as a central figure in transforming American agriculture and politics. Known as a scientist, farmer, and political progressive, Wallace's career bridged both the fields of agriculture and government, where he constantly sought to fuse practical science with policy for social good.
Henry admired his father. He was profoundly influenced by his work and early experiences with African American scientist George Washington Carver, who introduced him to the science of botany and the importance of sustainable agriculture. Henry’s interest in crop science took off during his studies at Iowa State College, where he was first learned of the potential of hybrid crops to resist disease and improve yield. His efforts in developing hybrid corn became instrumental to what some have termed the “Green Revolution” of American agriculture. In 1926, Wallace founded the Hi-Bred Corn Company, which later became Pioneer Hi-Bred. This company was pivotal in producing high-yield hybrid seed, ultimately helping countless American farmers increase crop production and profits during a time when farming was economically volatile.
"The innovation of hybrid corn," noted Wallace biographer John C. Culver, "was transformative for American agriculture. Wallace’s work provided a practical solution for farmers struggling during the agricultural downturns of the early 20th century." His research and development of hybrid seeds spotlighted Henry’s scientific approach to problem-solving―a trait that would mark his political career.
Following the family legacy, Henry entered politics, initially as a Republican. The Party had not yet been stained by the likes of Hoover or Nixon, and to be honest, in 1920, the Party was moderate enough that I would possibly have been a Republican. Henry quickly became frustrated with the growing conservative intractability of the Party as it was slowly devoured by the wealthy industrialists, and the first inklings of what would become known as Trickle Down theory became party dogma. Henry watched this with growing alarm, believing the disease of fascism was on the rise, and the Republican Party was being sucked in.
According to the Abraham Lincoln Brigade Archives, Henry believed that “a fascist is one whose lust for money or power is combined with such an intensity of intolerance toward those of other races, parties, classes, religions, cultures, regions, or nations as to make him ruthless in his use of deceit or violence to attain his ends.”
This definition highlighted the danger he saw lurking within American society, especially in corporate monopolies and media outlets that he believed could manipulate information for power, and it was in this direction he believed the Republican Party was heading.
Seeing his beloved Party of Lincoln devolving so rapidly from a Party of the People to becoming a Party of the rich―demonstrating unwillingness to address farmers' economic struggles and those of the lower classes, and blind to how the nation was being pushed into depression―all the while watching Northern Democrats as they moved to blunt the nativist former Confederate, Jim Crow element of their own party, Henry jumped to the Democratic Party in the late 1920s.
Franklin D. Roosevelt’s campaign spoke of addressing social decline was looking favorably at helping farmers. Henry supported the campaign and was rewarded when he was appointed Secretary of Agriculture in 1933―just as the Republicans he had succeeded in pushing America into the Great Depression he had predicted a decade earlier.
Henry was one of the architects of Roosevelt’s New Deal, with which he did what Republicans refused to―address the plight of farmers decimated by the Dust Bowl and a deepening financial crisis that had put so many of his fellow Americans into bread lines. He acted quickly, pushing through reforms that within just a few years, transformed American farming.
The Agricultural Adjustment Act (AAA) was the cornerstone of Henry’s policy. Through it, farmers were incentivized to reduce crop production―a policy that stabilized prices and reduced surpluses that kept commodity prices suppressed. He was criticized for waste and inefficiency, but Henry was looking for long term solutions. His policies helped improve farmer incomes then and have continued to make farming sustainable. Feeding, housing, and employing the poor proved a larger challenge. The Works Projects Administration and the Civilian Conservation Corps helped with that.
But Henry was focused on agriculture. His efforts went beyond production control; he championed major conservation programs, soil conservation, and crop disease research. Henry's efforts included erosion control using slope terracing techniques and promoting the use of technology developed by a Texas rancher 20 years earlier, called dug tanks, dirt tanks, or more commonly, stock tanks―ponds dug to capture rainwater for livestock. He introduced crop rotation to prevent the depletion of minerals, and although menace wouldn’t be officially recognized as an economic threat until 1958, Henry set in motion the scientific research that would lead to the elimination of the Boll Weevil.
"He understood the interdependence of soil health and farm productivity,” historian Richard S. Kirkendall wrote, “making Wallace’s contributions foundational to the sustainable farming practices we see today." His work on soil erosion prevention and crop diversification set new standards in farming, focusing on long-term sustainability over short-term profit.
Henry argued that “it has been claimed at times that our modern age of technology facilitates dictatorship. What we must understand is that the industries, processes, and inventions created by modern science can be used either to subjugate or liberate.” Wallace saw technology as a tool that could be used to uplift society or concentrate power, depending on society’s choices. His was the choice of liberty―the antithesis of the view of the Republican Party. By his actions and his words, Henry had cut the final threads linking him to the Party of his father.
When Roosevelt ran for a third term in 1940, Henry was chosen as his vice-presidential candidate. He had been moving politically left since he quit the Republican Party, and as vice president he became known for his progressive ideas on economic equity, civil rights, and international relations. A significant moment during his tenure was his 1942 “Century of the Common Man” speech, which articulated a vision for a postwar world built on democracy, freedom, and opportunity for all.
In this address, Henry observed, “The march of freedom of the past 150 years has been a long-drawn-out people's revolution. It has been marked by tremendous battles...but the people have continued to march toward freedom, equality of opportunity, and justice under law”.
Henry’s vision of a peaceful, democratic world order aligned with Roosevelt’s ideals but put him at odds with less progressive members of the administration. His outspoken advocacy for racial equality was something the conservatives insisted America “was not yet ready for.”
How many times have we heard that in our lifetimes? Conservatives have never been ready for progress, and it is doubtful they ever will be.
The deciding ruckus came when Henry launched bitter opposition to the internment of Japanese American citizens―something that Roosevelt had acquiesced to―but even before that his push for economic justice and internationalism had marked him as out of step with current policy―some called him communist, which was not true.
His political doom though, was his fascination with mysticism and his association with the Russian mystic Nicholas Roerich. It was nonsense that Nancy Reagan would repeat 40 years later, and Democrats didn’t put up with it either time. He was a one-term bice president―replaced by Truman on Roosevelt’s ticket for a fourth term.
After Roosevelt’s death, Henry remained in the Administration as Secretary of Commerce, focusing on the need for postwar economic planning, yet he remained an advocate for peaceful relations with the Soviet Union. The accusations came quickly and hard. Even his former supporters were by then calling him communist. It didn’t help that he became increasingly outspoken critic of Truman’s hardline approach toward the Soviet Union, leading eventually to his resignation after just over a year.
He continued to express disillusionment with the Truman administration―blaming the president of starting the Cold War. Fellow Democrats called for his head, and the conservatives, leading a drumbeat of nativism amplified by radio commentators and newspaper editors, turned the public against him. It was over for Henry.
Henry understood perfectly what was happening, and he articulated it well. “The American fascist would prefer not to use violence,” he explained. “His method is to poison the channels of public information…to deceive the public into giving the fascist and his group more money or more power.” For Henry, this indirect control was as dangerous as direct violence, posing a threat to democracy itself. The Republicans noted how effective it was, and it’s been in their campaign toolbox ever since.
The wealthy corporate monopolists also took note, and Henry warned us about that as well. “Still another danger,” he said, “is represented by those who, paying lip service to democracy and the common welfare, in their insatiable greed for money and the power which money gives, do not hesitate surreptitiously to evade the laws designed to safeguard the public from monopolistic extortion.” This perspective reflects his belief that unchecked corporate power could erode the rights of ordinary citizens, and well describes one current presidential candidate and a bunch of billionaires.
“Monopolists who fear competition and who distrust democracy because it stands for equal opportunity,” Henry noted, “would like to secure their position against small and energetic enterprise.” Henry felt that the monopolists, in their fear of competition, would “sacrifice democracy itself” to maintain power—a warning that underscored his distrust of unchecked corporate influence. For the Republican Party, and the faux Republican they have chosen as leader, the same is true today.
His unwillingness to surrender his vision for peace led him to a final, dramatic chapter in his political life―something I documented on my old Blogspot blog, in a piece I rather boringly titled “Tilting at Windmills”.
In 1948, he ran as the Progressive Party’s presidential candidate, on a platform of civil rights, desegregation, and labor rights―all very positive and acceptable policies, and the remainder of his platform called for some policies you might recognize―universal health care, voting rights protections, and government regulation of corporate monopolies. During his campaign, Wallace declared, "The only cure for America’s economic ills is true democracy. If we cannot manage to achieve it here, we cannot hope to support it abroad." Henry’s opposition to militarism cost him support from mainstream Democrats, and he faced attacks from both sides of the political aisle.
But he also called for diplomatic engagement with the Soviet Union. Though he eventually abandoned his infatuation with the Soviets, America did not forgive him. His recent reputation did not serve him well and faced a hostile political climate. Ultimately, he received only 2.4% of the popular vote, a disappointing outcome that marked the end of his political career. His words have survived and ring truer today than they did those eight decades in the past.
Resigned that he would not be able to save this nation from itself, Henry gradually distanced himself from the Progressive Party and politics in general. His views on the Soviet Union shifted significantly during the Korean War, as he came to see the USSR’s policies as oppressive rather than egalitarian.
Retreating from politics, Wallace returned to his first passion—agriculture—where he continued to innovate in plant genetics and sustainable farming until his death in 1965.
Reflecting on his legacy, Wallace's contributions to both agriculture and progressive politics have had lasting impacts. His work in crop science remains a cornerstone of modern agriculture, while his advocacy for civil rights, social equity, and the welfare of the poor have influenced generations of progressives.
"Wallace’s legacy,” historian John Hyde noted, “is one of unyielding idealism combined with practical ingenuity—a combination that left a deep if complicated mark on American society."
Henry did not quit telling any who would listen that what we now call “the billionaires” are a significant internal threat to democracy. He felt that monopolists, in their fear of competition, would “sacrifice democracy itself” to maintain power—a warning that underscored his distrust of the same unchecked corporate influence that have today created the top 1%.
“Monopolists who fear competition and who distrust democracy because it stands for equal opportunity,” he said, “would like to secure their position against small and energetic enterprise. Their final objective, toward which all their deceit is directed is to capture political power so that they may keep the common man in eternal subjection.”
Sebastian Faber of Oberlin College, writing in a 2019 short article, spoke of three men who volunteered to fight fascism. They are Canute Frankson, a Jamaican immigrant born in 1890 and who came to the U.S. in 1917; Hy Katz, born in the U.S. to Polish immigrants in 1914, and; Henry A Wallace.
Frankson and Katz volunteered to fight fascism in the Spanish Civil War after Hitler-and Mussolini backed the 1936military coup, toppling the Second Republic. Henry fought fascism in America by his deeds and his words. Faber compares the three men and finds them equal. After several paragraphs describing how each saw their individual obligations, Faber summarizes it well, bringing it into contemporary content by referencing a 1,800-word article authored by Wallace and published in the New York Times on April 9, 1944, titled it American Fascism.
Faber asks:
“Why should we consider now, almost two decades into the twenty-first century, how these three men defined a political phenomenon they saw emerging around them in the 1930s and 40s? […] In 2018, former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright—who in 1938 was forced to leave her native Prague in the wake of Nazi aggression—published her book Fascism: A Warning. In early 2017, the historian Timothy Snyder published On Tyranny, which, like Albright’s book, returns to the worst moments of twentieth-century history in search of lessons for the present.”
Faber’s 2019 piece is a warning about the dangers of Herr Drumpf, as he related it directly to fascism.
In the heat of the 2015 campaign season, “fascism” was the second most looked up word―beaten out only marginally by socialism. It was a time when Republican politicians and pundits, afraid of both the Bernie Sanders campaign and that of Herr Drumpf, began regularly spouting both words.
Due to the interest in socialism, Merriam-Webster fine-tuned the definition:
“In the modern era, “pure” socialism has been seen only rarely and usually briefly in a few Communist regimes. Far more common are systems of social democracy, now often referred to as “democratic socialism,” in which extensive state regulation, with limited state ownership, has been employed by democratically elected governments (as in Sweden and Denmark) in the belief that it produces a fair distribution of income without impairing economic growth.”
Fascism required no update:
“A populist political philosophy, movement, or regime that exalts nation and often race above the individual, that is associated with a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, and that is characterized by severe economic and social regimentation and by forcible suppression of opposition. A political system that aims to stamp out dissent and seize control of every major aspect of a country's political and social life, without needing to resort to ‘hard’ measures like banning elections.”
As Faber observed, Canute Frankson described what he called “a small group of degenerates gone mad in their lust for power.”
Hy Katz wrote, warn that “What they represent may come to us as it came in other countries.”
Before either of them was Henry Wallace, saying they are “most easily recognized by their deliberate perversion of truth and fact […] Their newspapers and propaganda carefully cultivate every fissure of disunity. What is more, they “se isolationism as a slogan to conceal their own selfish imperialism and claim to be super-patriots but would destroy every liberty guaranteed by the Constitution.”
Henry ended his piece with four simple words: “They are our problem.”
There is not a word any of these men wrote that cannot be shown to be truth―now as it was then, yet in all this time, nothing positive has occurred. After the brief social revolution of the 1960s-1970s. we have done nothing but empower them. How do we explain it?
My eternal optimist side demurs. The tiny pessimist within is asking, “do we even deserve democracy?”
Apologies to Bob Reich. I hope he does not object to my use of his eloquence. Bob. I’ve been a fan since the late 1970s.