On Depressions

Looking back on his response to the Depression as President, Herbert Hoover explained in his “Memoirs” the sharp conflict that persisted inside the Administration between himself and Andrew Mellon, “First was the ‘leave it alone liquidationists’ headed by Secretary of the Treasury Mellon, who felt that governments must keep its hands off and let the slump liquidate itself. Mr. Mellon had only one formula: ‘Liquidate labor, liquidate stocks, liquidate the farmers, liquidate real estate.’ He insisted that, when the people get an inflation brainstorm, the only way to get it out of their blood is to let it collapse. He held that even a panic was not altogether a bad thing. He said: ‘It will purge the rottenness out of the system. High costs of living and high living will come down. People will work harder, live a more moral life. Values will be adjusted, and enterprising people will pick up the wrecks from less competent people’…At great length, Mr. Mellon recounted to me his recollections of the great depression of the seventies which followed the Civil War…He told of the tens of thousands of farms that had been foreclosed; of railroads that had almost wholly gone into the hands of receivers; of the few banks that had come through unscathed; of many men who were jobless and mobs that roamed the streets. He told me that his father had gone to England during that time and had cut short his visit when he received word that the orders for steel were pouring toward the closed furnaces; by the time he got back, confidence was growing on every hand; suddenly the panic had ended, and in twelve months the whole system was again working at full speed. I, of course, reminded the Secretary that back in the seventies an untold amount of suffering did take place which might have been prevented; that our economy had been far simpler sixty years ago…But he shook his head with the observation that human nature had not changed in sixty years” (pp.30-31). Indeed, eighty years has not changed that nature.

This illustrates not only the divergent outlooks on the same problem but also shows how little former President Hoover understood what had taken place and why just over twenty years before. Mr. Mellon, nineteen years his senior, had learned from a very young age what it meant to build a business from nothing. He also knew the cost of making poor decisions. He had seen the pervasive suffering of what up to that time was called the “great depression” of the 1870s. He had learned from human nature. Similarly, Mr. Coolidge, who was seventeen years younger than Mellon, was a keen student of people. He observed the benefits of allowing bad economic decisions to work themselves out on their own and the exponential increase of suffering that results when government prevents that natural corrective. He, like Mellon, understood that the complexity of the market does not change the nature of people. The nature of people does not change. This stark difference in approach between Hoover and that of Mellon and Coolidge turned what was an “ordinary boom-slump” into something of unprecedented scope and duration because of repeated efforts to stop, suspend or slow down, through legislation and fiscal policy, the market’s natural ability to heal. Of course, good intentions were behind it all. The leadership of the 1930s was not trying to destroy the economy. But destruction and prolonged suffering did result. By trying to administer corrections through government, they unwittingly ushered in the very trouble they thought was being minimized. In terms with which Mellon would firmly agree, former President Coolidge would point back to something obvious lost in the flurry of calls to “do something” and “save the markets from themselves,” when he wrote, “The government has never shown much aptitude for real business. The Congress will not permit it to be conducted by a competent executive, but constantly intervenes. The most free, progressive and satisfactory method ever devised for the equitable distribution of property is to permit the people to care for themselves by conducting their own business. They have more wisdom than any government” (January 5, 1931).

Looking Back on Immigration

Writing six years after the grueling series of clashes with Congress on everything from tax reform to immigration, former President Coolidge would reflect on the national immigration policy as a whole in his daily article on December 13, 1930: “Immigration is not a simple question. The entire economic effect of restriction is unknown. Every immigrant is a consumer requiring food, clothing and shelter. To that extent work is made for wage earners. But when many are already idle, an influx of wage earners would aggravate the condition of unemployment. Every race and creed that has come here in numbers has shown examples of unsurpassed loyalty and devotion to our country. But only by coming slowly, avoiding city colonies and spreading over the land do they arrive in the real United States. The economic reasons for restricting immigration are not always the most important. We have certain standards of life that we believe are best for us. We do not ask other nations to discard theirs, but we do wish to preserve ours. Standards, government and culture under free institutions are not so much a matter of constitutions and laws as of public opinion, ways of thought and methods of life of the people. We reflect on no one in wanting immigrants who will be assimilated into our ways of thinking and living. Believing we can best serve the world in that way, we restrict immigration.” Our freedoms would be relinquished if we consign our sovereignty as a nation to an amorphous existence. We are a freer and more united people when we uphold standards of immigration.

On Immigration

As the political decision on immigration is taking shape, some thoughts on Coolidge’s view of the matter are in order. The Immigration Act of 1924 (the Johnson-Reed Act) has not been judged favorably by history. Coolidge is even held unfairly responsible for its “racial animus.” Congress, in a series of assertive actions that year, chose to restrict immigration down to 2% of the nations present in the 1890 census, severely rolling back Southern European and Asian entry. The previous law, passed in 1917, had allowed 3% of those present at the 1910 census. Under the new law, after 1927, the annual quotas would reflect those present at the 1920 census. As if this were not enough, the Congress included a refusal of Japanese immigrants into the country, ignoring the Gentleman’s Agreement that had expressed the good will and peace existing between the two nations up to that time. It was the unfortunate letter of Japanese Ambassador Hanihara referring to “grave consequences” from Japan’s government should the bill pass that rallied support for it in Congress. The Congress recklessly interpreted this as a threat of war and emotional reaction, not reasonable discussion, prevailed. Both President Coolidge and Secretary Hughes fought against this momentum without success. It would finally be signed by the President but he would attach a firm protest against so hostile a measure toward a friendly nation. In his protest, he declared how he reconciled defeat on principled grounds, “If the exclusion provision stood alone, I should disapprove it without hesitation, if sought in this way at this time. But this bill is a comprehensive measure dealing with the whole subject of immigration and setting up the necessary administrative machinery…It is of great importance that a comprehensive measure should take its place and that the arrangements for its administration should be provided at once in order to avoid hardship and confusion.” Had it been solely his to decide, his personal disgust with prejudice on the basis of class or color, would have vetoed the bill promptly. But it was given to the Congress, not the President, by the Constitution to outline immigration law. Still, he would not leave people without legal continuity given by the rest of the law as a whole. Were he to withhold his signature then, it would hurt more people by depriving them of the good in the bill without any sure expectation that a better result could be obtained in a Congressional climate so emotionally-charged.