Traitor to His Class: The Privileged Life and Radical Presidency of Franklin Delano Roosevelt (74 page)

R
OOSEVELT REALIZED
that sooner or later he would have to deal with the Nazis and the Japanese. Yet he hoped to postpone that day as long as possible, the better to focus on reviving the American economy. Another aspect of foreign policy, however, was related intrinsically to his revival plans and couldn’t be so easily kicked down the road. The major trading nations were pushing harder than ever for the international economic conference, which, they hoped, would coordinate efforts to fight the depression. The United States, with the world’s largest economy as well as the biggest balance of credits to debts, was the obvious linchpin of any such conference. Yet many Americans were skittish, partly because the conference was being organized under the auspices of the League of Nations but mostly because any conference would almost certainly pressure the United States, as the great creditor, to forgive or reduce the debts it was owed. Franklin Roosevelt, as a candidate and then as president-elect, had promised support for the conference in general terms without committing himself to anything in particular.

As president he was in no greater hurry to sign on to the conference scheme, which was shaping up as a comprehensive approach to debt, reparations, tariffs, and exchange rates. Roosevelt’s dance card was full with his domestic reforms; the international conference would have to wait.

But it wouldn’t wait forever. One foreign leader after another trooped to Washington to tell him so. Ramsay MacDonald, the British prime minister, arrived in mid-April. Roosevelt didn’t expect much from MacDonald, a socialist (that is Laborite) who, “as everyone knew,” according to Ray Moley, “was merely a front for as hard-boiled a Conservative Government as England had had for many years.” Yet MacDonald
was
the prime minister, and Roosevelt judged him “a man of liberal ideas” who might serve as a vehicle for knocking some sense into the “special-privilege people” who controlled the Conservative party. Whether on his own or at the behest of his Tory backers, MacDonald adopted the Hooverian view that international cooperation was essential to any effort to relieve the depression. The prime minister took a political chance coming to Washington. Recent trends to the contrary notwithstanding, the British still fancied themselves the arbiters of the world’s economic fate. The fact remained that the sun never set on the British empire, and so long as it didn’t, British governments could pretend to British voters that London somehow kept it aloft. Never before had a British prime minister traveled hat in hand to the former American colonies; if MacDonald returned to Britain without some commitment by Roosevelt to a constructive policy, his government would suffer severe embarrassment.

The talks went less well than MacDonald hoped. Roosevelt surrounded himself with advisers, including Cordell Hull, the secretary of state; Ray Moley, Hull’s deputy but in fact Roosevelt’s inside man at the State Department; and Herbert Feis, Hull’s own economic adviser. Key Pittman, the Democratic chairman of the Senate foreign relations committee, who favored high tariffs and a return to silver currency in some form, sat in as Roosevelt’s witness to Congress that the president wasn’t selling American interests out to the wily Brits. MacDonald couldn’t break through Roosevelt’s screen of defenders, and the talks yielded nothing of substance. “It was never the purpose of the present discussions to conclude definitive agreements,” a joint communiqué asserted blandly. “They were designed to explore and to map out the territory to be covered.”

The French came calling next. The position of Édouard Herriot was even more problematic than that of MacDonald, for though he had thrice been premier, at the time of his visit he was between leadership posts. Nor did he represent what seemed to be a broad current of French thinking on economic issues. But Roosevelt had known him for years, and the acquaintance prompted the French government to send him over.

Herriot wanted to talk about debts; in particular he wanted Roosevelt to offer a reduction in what France was expected to pay. Roosevelt refused, albeit politely. He explained that Congress had taken a firm stand against reducing the foreign debts; consequently his options were limited. He noted, by way of giving Herriot some hope, that President Hoover had refused even to discuss the debt issue with the French (or the others in arrears), but now he—Roosevelt—was talking with Monsieur Herriot about that very subject. As additional encouragement, he told Herriot that if France made good on the payment that was due in December, he would ask Congress for the power to renegotiate the debts. Because Herriot was an old friend, he wasn’t surprised when Roosevelt illustrated his position on the debts with a homey example. He described a landlord who rented a house to another man. The renter ran into difficulty and was late with a payment. The landlord was sympathetic. “Pay as much as you can, but remain in possession of the house,” he said. Roosevelt’s precise point wasn’t clear—France could hardly be evicted from its own country—but the tone was encouraging.

After Herriot left Washington the line merely grew longer. The Canadian prime minister was followed by the Italian finance minister, who gave way to the Chinese finance minister, who passed the arriving Mexican finance minister. The vice governor of the Bank of Japan came after a personal envoy from the German government and representatives of various rank from Argentina, Chile, and Brazil. Simultaneous conversations took place between officials of the State Department and their counterparts from foreign governments, until more than fifty countries had filed through the American executive branch. But despite the diligence the diplomats devoted to the exercises, and for all the sincerity they attempted to convey, most of those involved suspected that they were wasting their time. Until Roosevelt tipped his hand, the discussions among the lower downs didn’t really matter.

H
E GAVE A HINT
in May. The London economic conference would be one of two international extravaganzas that season. A disarmament conference had been at work in Geneva since the previous year, and it remained in session. One reason the conference continued, despite minimal progress, was that disarmament is never simple. The other reason was that Germany’s new government was demanding the right to rearm. Hitler and the Nazis contended that the Versailles settlement was unfair and unrealistic; as a sovereign nation, they said, Germany ought to be able to defend itself. Britain and France refused, recalling what the Germans had done with their weapons the last time they possessed them. Britain’s MacDonald and France’s Herriot, on their visits to Washington, implored Roosevelt to stand by them in resisting Hitler’s demands.

Roosevelt responded by sending a message to most of the world’s governments urging their cooperation in ensuring the success of both the London economic conference and the Geneva disarmament conference. Together, he said, the conferences would go far toward determining the fate of humanity for a generation to come. In his message Roosevelt called for the entire elimination of offensive weapons. Nations armed, he said, for two reasons: “first, the desire, disclosed or hidden, on the part of governments to enlarge their territories at the expense of a sister nation;…second, the fear of nations that they will be invaded.” Roosevelt asserted that the governments intending aggression were few but had an effect far beyond their numbers. The majority of countries retained weapons because they feared attack. Their fear was justified, in that military technology had lately given an advantage to attackers. The solution, Roosevelt said, was to banish offensive weapons. “Defenses automatically will become impregnable, and the frontiers and independence of every nation will become secure.” The goal for the Geneva disarmament conference, therefore, must be “the complete elimination of all offensive weapons.” This was the test of international good faith—this and cooperation at the London economic conference. “If any strong nation refuses to join with genuine sincerity in these concerted efforts for political and economic peace, the one at Geneva and the other at London, progress can be obstructed and ultimately blocked.” The world would be watching, and it would hold the non-cooperators to account.

H
ITLER DIDN’T
realize how ironic Roosevelt’s words, especially those about the London economic conference, would seem before long. The German chancellor was scheduled to deliver a major speech to the Reichstag the next day, and most observers expected more of the anti-Versailles vitriol that had brought him to power. Already Americans realized that Hitler was one to watch, and American radio stations announced that they would carry his speech.

Roosevelt tuned in at the White House. Leaning close to a radio in his office and recalling what he had learned of the German language in his youth, he provided a running translation of Hitler’s speech for Louis Howe and Ray Moley. The president heard both less and more than he had anticipated. That Hitler blamed Germany’s current troubles on the postwar settlement was no surprise. “All problems at present causing unrest are founded on the shortcomings of the peace treaty,” Hitler asserted. “The idea of rendering useful service to other peoples by destroying economically a people of 65,000,000 is so absurd that nobody can dare today openly to expound it.” But Germany wasn’t the sole sufferer from the ill-begotten pact, Hitler said; the artificial arrangements imposed on European trade and investment by the Versailles system had so crippled Europe’s economy as to be directly responsible for the depression that ravaged the region.

Some of Hitler’s listeners—perhaps even Roosevelt—expected the chancellor to declare that the Versailles system might be overturned by force. His earlier speeches and writings had revealed no reluctance to threaten armed action to achieve his goals for Germany. But on this day he abjured the use of force. “No new European war could replace the present unsatisfactory conditions by something better,” he said. “On the contrary—new wars, new sacrifices, new uncertainties, new economic distress would result.” At the end of that road lay “a Europe sinking into communistic chaos.”

Hitler surprised Roosevelt further by praising the president’s disarmament message. “For President Roosevelt’s proposal, the German government is indebted with warm thanks,” the chancellor said. “It is ready immediately to endorse this method of remedying the international crisis because it, too, believes that without a solution of the disarmament question no enduring economic recovery is possible.” The president’s proposal for eliminating offensive weapons and renouncing aggression was brilliant and wise, and Germany would support it wholeheartedly. Hitler reminded the Reichstag—and Roosevelt and the rest of the world beyond Berlin—that the Versailles treaty committed even the victors of the war to work toward disarmament. If those countries lived up to their commitments, they would have Germany’s full cooperation.

“If, however”—and here Hitler got to the part Roosevelt was waiting for—“the others are not willing to carry out the disarmament provisions under the Versailles treaty, which is equally binding upon them, then Germany must at least insist on its claim to equality.” The natural edge in Hitler’s voice sharpened and his high pitch rose further as he avowed his determination to defend Germany’s rights. Germany would not submit to anything that perpetuated the inferior status imposed on it at Versailles. Should the other powers attempt to keep Germany down, they would have themselves to blame for what followed. “Responsibility for the political and economic consequences—the chaos that such an attempt would lead Europe into—would fall on those who resorted to such means against a people who are doing nothing to harm the world.”