Paul Johnson’s A History of the American People is a big ambitious book I enjoyed reading. Not all scholars have Johnson’s knack for producing works that can appeal to the educated lay reader. To focus momentarily on just one of his many talents, Johnson’s short and lively biographical sketches are often fascinating, and have stimulated many readers into further historiographical excursions. He covers a broad range of figures, primarily politicians, but also creative practical geniuses and several artists and literary types. Of course, Johnson is a politically conservative scholar, and some readers, even some who generally admire this book, take issue with Johnson for politicizing history. However, in my experience, most history writing has a particular political slant, understandably so, and at least Johnson is up front about his. The notion of “objective” history, like “objective” news reporting, is problematic. The consumer in both instances is best advised to sample a variety of different sources. So, Johnson’s text is well worth reading, regardless of one’s political persuasion. Because conservatives are underrepresented in academia, AHOTAP will provide politically liberal readers food for thought with a scholarly account of the American past they might never have seen articulated before. This might conceivably change a few preconceptions. And even if one disagrees violently with Johnson on just about everything even after reading his book, his sustained attack on so much “conventional wisdom” might at the very least spur one to refine his/her historical arguments by seeking out specific scholarly works with which to contest some of Johnson’s claims. Conservative readers will obviously feel more “at home” here than their liberal counterparts, and will find this book a useful resource. They too will be given much to think about, not least because Johnson is his own man, and has provided a “conservative” interpretation of America that is difficult to pigeonhole.
One of Johnson’s great themes is the failure/undesirability of social engineering. He weaves it into his account from the beginning, pointing out the failure of top-down planning schemes in the English colonies, and arguing that the salutary neglect from England ensured that the colonies were more dynamic and vital than the colonies of other Old World powers, where designs/straitjackets from on high were more thoroughly and “successfully” implemented. Prohibition in the early 20th century was a spectacular failure of social engineering that well illustrated what Johnson, following Popper, calls “the law of unintended effect.” Of course, most of Johnson’s critique of social engineering deals with liberal policies. He spends much time arguing that the depression was prolonged precisely by attempts to intervene in the business cycle rather than letting it run its course, and he is skeptical of Keynesianism generally. He also is suspicious of much governmental business regulation, and gives historical examples of how it has had many unintended and unwanted effects, including actually hurting constituencies the regulation was ostensibly supposed to protect. He notes that the welfare state has spiraled out of control financially (and suggests that keeping down inflation is the best form of social security), and argues that it has subsidized various forms of unhealthy behavior. He also laments the influence of Gunnar Myrdal in terms of judicial activism on behalf of affirmative action/social justice. Myrdal’s legacy, says Johnson has been the undermining of the rule of law, an undercutting of the notion of equality before the law, and a failure of the judiciary to meet the general social aims for which its activism was launched and for which so much else has been sacrificed. If anything, says Johnson, judicial activism has simply created new injustices. As should be apparent by his historical critique of liberal social engineering, Johnson emerges as a defender of capitalism, limited government, and judicial restraint.
AHOTAP is also a book very appreciative of religion and its role in American history and American life. The Great Awakening brought the colonists together, providing unity without which the notion of independence would be inconceivable. The Great Awakening also championed the “inner light” and evinced millennial yearnings, and ultimately set the stage for the general acceptance of Jefferson’s valorization of individual rights and popular sovereignty, both rooted in the divine plan and with the American Revolution as the eschatological occurrence. Johnson thus argues that the revolution was a religious event, and that our politics is historically rooted in a moral and religious consensus (a rather ecumenical consensus, of course, not limited to Protestants or even Christians generally.) Johnson argues that until fairly recently, it was universally understood and acknowledged that religion was essential for maintaining the Republic, and he offers a historical understanding of the religious aspects of the first amendment that differs from much recent jurisprudence. Johnson also links flourishing religion with flourishing commercial endeavor in America, and further sees the Second Great Awakening as instrumental in leading to the ultimate eradication of the sin of slavery. (Johnson also sees parallels between the religiously inspired abolitionists and the pro-life movement.) Johnson laments the rise in recent decades of an intellectual stance in America that treats religion as the enemy of political freedom, and he worries that it threatens the moral and religious consensus at the foundation of our politics. He also thinks today’s anti-religiosity is precisely the wrong message given the increasing societal and personal decay in America that religion could help counteract. Johnson also discusses the secularization/liberalization of mainline Protestantism, and contrasts the precipitously declining membership of mainline denominations with the relative health of Catholicism and evangelical Protestantism.
AHOTAP also stresses America as a force for good in the world, most importantly during and after WWII. Defeating the Nazis, containing communism, helping Europe get back on its feet with the Marshall plan, the staggering amount of foreign aid we have supplied generally, the SDI push that helped facilitate the collapse of the Soviet Union, there is much that America can be proud about, thinks Johnson. A related theme Johnson emphasizes is the importance of a strong executive branch to allow for effective and timely decisions, and strong Presidents to make those decisions and to boost national morale.
Because Johnson’s book is so vast in scope, and because much of what he has to say is controversial, any reader is bound to disagree with at least some of Johnson’s arguments. Rather than chiming in with my own likes and dislikes, I wish instead to draw attention to several inner tensions involved in Johnson’s outlook. For one, Johnson wants to limit the scope, size, and profligacy of the State at home, yet simultaneously wishes America to remain an active and benevolent superpower. On some level, these agendas seem at cross-purposes. And given Johnson’s celebration of America as a supporter of freedom on the world stage, it also would have been interesting to see Johnson take a clearer position about what he thinks of the exportation of democracy abroad, especially given that he grounds American politics in an Anglo-Protestant culture. At any rate, there is a tension between even the vaguely defined hope that Johnson thinks America offers the world, and the specific historical conditions that Johnson thinks made America distinctive in the first place.
Another tension in Johnson’s account involves the acceptance of high-minded national ideals on one hand, and a “leave well enough alone” opposition to top down reform on the other. One very distinctive aspect of Johnson’s history is that he combines a Northern view of the Civil War with a Southern view of reconstruction. Johnson valorizes Lincoln, the great champion of Union and Emancipator of slaves, and denies that Lincoln somehow derailed the Constitution. Johnson here celebrates a strong and righteous America led by a strong and righteous Executive. However, Johnson immediately goes on the offensive against Congressional reconstruction, viewing it in part as misguided idealism, and in part as vindictive, unconstitutional and self-serving. Johnson thinks Lincoln would never have gone along with it, expresses some sympathy with the defeated South, and thinks that Congressional reconstruction ensured that the South treated blacks worse than they otherwise would have. (Admittedly, thinks Johnson, they would have been treated poorly in any event.) In effect, says Johnson, the North fought for a righteous cause in the Civil War, but what to do for Blacks in the aftermath of the war was not clear-cut at all, and certainly arm-twisting and bullying states and white citizens in an attempt somehow to “move forward” was wrong and counterproductive. On the face of it, this is a rather abrupt shift in his analysis. One national sin is immediately replaced by another. Johnson is trying to steer between the Scylla of vilifying Lincoln and (by extension) the post 1865 Union, and the Charybdis of sanctioning liberal social engineering on behalf of a nation devoted to a proposition. This attempted feat is fraught with difficulties, especially when Johnson, like Lincoln, embraces the importance of the Declaration. For instance, Johnson unsurprisingly chooses not to valorize the mid-20th century civil rights movement, which has been used to give a halo of legitimacy to judicial activism and affirmative action. He does not denigrate it, as he does with Congressional reconstruction, but he downplays it, mentioning it as if in passing. The Civil Rights movement for Johnson was ultimately a step along the road leading to pernicious social engineering. Fair enough. But if we are as Johnson claims, a nation animated by ideals articulated in the Declaration, it is difficult to treat MLK (and others) as merely a step along that road. By his own understanding of American idealism, Johnson might well lionize much of the civil rights movement, but given his opposition to the liberal judicial activists, Johnson feels this is clearly the wrong thing to do. Such is the inherent tension brought about by his various commitments.
This is a well-written book that provides much to ponder on.