Sense for Republicans
A DISCUSSION of Republican policies might be modeled upon the famous essay on Snakes in Ireland, which ran: ‘There are no snakes in Ireland.’
There are, of course, no end of party platforms, beginning with that adopted at Kansas City after much argument in the Committee on Resolutions and no little debate in the convention hall, and running down to those declarations of county conventions adopted last fall in Nebraska and endorsing Senator Norris for reëlection as a Republican. But, except in Nebraska, these declarations appear to be honored in the breach; and the whole course of party policy seems to be determined by individual interpretation.
As a matter of fact, party platforms become archaic immediately after election day; and, on the whole, I think that we have come to a general adoption of the principle enunciated a good many years ago by a ‘reformer’ in my State of New Hampshire, the story having been told to me by that experienced and wise old statesman Senator William E. Chandler, who brought me up in politics. It seems that a new party arose in New Hampshire. It nominated a full slate of candidates and — that being before the day of the Australian ballot — had its tickets printed. Mr. Chandler, meeting one of the founders of the new party, demanded, ‘What are your principles?’ ‘Principles?’ replied the reformer. ‘Wait till we’re elected and then we’ll show you our principles.’
In 1928 the Republican Party won its greatest victory at the polls, and its platform was presumably endorsed. With Mr. Hoover there was swept into office an unprecedented number of governors, an unwieldy majority in the House of Representatives, and a majority of sixteen in the Senate. Here was presented an opportunity to carry out its platform such as no party had grasped since 1913. No sooner, however, had the Seventy-first Congress assembled in that extra session which Mr. Hoover called because he, at any rate, believed in the keeping of campaign promises, than there arose that individual interpretation of the party platform to which I have alluded earlier and out of which there sprang one of the most amazing political situations which ever have arisen in Congress. In the House all went well, — or fairly so, — because the rules of that body, the method of their application, and the rigid organization which functions there made possible a speedy passage of a tariff bill; whereupon the House went gayly home and the Senate was left to swelter in Washington and to wrestle with the job.
In passing, I may be permitted to remark that the tariff bill as it passed the House was a most imperfect response to the President’s Message to Congress, and that the final form which the Senate gave to it was far better suited to the conditions which Mr. Hoover had in mind when he made his rash promise to Senator Borah in 1928. But this result was in spite of and not because of the anomalous situation which confronted us as soon as the tariff bill reached us.
Immediately there was thrown together the Coalition. It is difficult to describe this group. Even my own biological allusion to them has been criticized as inaccurate. They were rarely of the same personnel as successive votes were taken; they not infrequently quarreled among themselves, and openly; I think there was never a time when all of the Democrats and all of the so-called Insurgents voted together; yet, in spite of the dissenting Democrats, whatever damage was done was always charged up to the Republican Party — and we settled the bill last November! We had had responsibility without authority, and our day of reckoning was bitter.
It was not a new situation which Mr. Hoover had confronted. In 1924, Coolidge was elected by a huge majority; he had the Senate and the House with him — nominally. Yet his measures, his vetoes, his nominations, suffered as hard a fate as any of Hoover’s. The reason, of course, is obvious; party authority had diminished. It was no longer good political form to invoke the party name, except in a primary or on election day. This, as I see it, is a direct result of the Seventeenth Amendment and the direct primary. I have no quarrel with either of these devices for engrafting the scion of democracy upon the stem of a republic. They have served me well enough; though I am sure that they have done a great disservice to political parties.
The direct-primary statutes in many of the states are lax beyond compare. In some states there is no party registration at all; the electors vote at will. In others the laws are so languid in their requirements for participation in party affairs that the ‘Hessians’ are always available. For instance, in one Northern state which is soundly Republican the primary check lists of our party are deeply checkered with names of Democrats who are there for the purpose of naming weak candidates whom they hope to defeat on election day. They manage this much better in the Democratic states of the Solid South; and in this may rest the reason for the higher degree of party solidarity which our opponents possess.
It is not surprising that Republicans who are thus nominated and thus elected should come to look upon themselves as superior to their party organization — if such exists; that they come to think that they have elected themselves and are therefore absolved from allegiance to any organization, its platform, or its policies.
I know that there is much force in this reasoning. I have myself run the gauntlet of three elections to the Senate — each time with a contest both in the primary and in the election; and each time I have felt that it was I, myself, who was the issue. This is probably true because I confess to have been none too regular myself upon occasion. Nevertheless, I have been termed the last of the Tories, and have never taken pains to deny it. Yet I was brought up in the strictest sect of the Sadducees among Republicans; and, except in matters affecting our foreign relations and in which I have had earnest and unyielding convictions, I have ‘gone along’ with my party as regularly as any precinct chairman in Indiana, that most highly organized of Republican states.
What, then, marks the limits of individualism in a party organization and where does the unpardonable sin enter the scheme of irregularity? I am not sufficiently skillful as a political cartographer to make this map; though the question has lately been raised in an acute form. I only know that interpretations far different than any I should make have played havoc with Republican prospects. In the instance to which I have referred, that of Senator Norris of Nebraska, there has been much begging of the real question, which, as I see it, is one of party, not to say personal, ethics. Certainly there is no comparison between 1928 and 1912. Roosevelt thought himself fraudulently deprived of a nomination which he had fought for and won, and he and his followers claimed to be the real Republicans. I do not follow them to either of these conclusions; but I do know that no accusation of taint followed the nomination at Kansas City and I do know that the Bull Moose, in many states, made no attempt to overthrow the state tickets set up by the regular organization.
I am a firm believer in the doctrine that a political party must be purged from the inside; therefore I have much sympathy with my co-partisan insurgents, especially since I had my own turn at insurgency many years ago when New Hampshire was ridding itself of an absentee political landlordism. But I think that they now, as I did then, should pick their flint and try again, submitting to majority rule and biding the time when they will be the majority. They certainly are not the majority now, and I doubt if the power issue which they have raised will make them a majority. It certainly will not if the power barons show sense.
Naturally, those who are politicallyminded — and I plead guilty — are concerned with forecasting the effect of all this upon 1932. I am not yet swathed in the gloom which enshrouds so many of my party associates. I still think that we elected a President in 1928 to be reelected in 1932. My mind is sufficiently actuarial to take notice of the doctrine of cycles; because I know full well the habit of history, especially political history, to repeat itself. I was actively in politics in 1890 and in 1910. Therefore I do not overlook the political cycle implied in 1930. There is, however, no Cleveland in the opposition, as there was in 1892; no Roosevelt in our own party, as there was in 1912. Here, I suppose, I should offer my apologies to Mr. Young and Governor Pinchot.
Accordingly, I look to see Mr. Hoover renominated. I make no prediction for the Democrats — though I have an opinion about what they will do. I do not look for the power issue to loom large in either convention. But I do look to see the wet-and-dry issue playing a big part in both conventions. This question already cuts across party lines; and it is by no means inconceivable that there will be a bolt from both conventions next year.
What then? Can we raise the war cry of 1924 and shout: ‘Hoover or chaos?’
In the event of the next Presidential election’s being thrown into the House of Representatives, where the state delegations vote as a unit, we shall find the Republican states exactly equaled by the Democratic states. No wonder, then, that so many politicians are disturbed by the actuaries’ pronouncement that at least seven members of the Seventy-second Congress will die before that body normally assembles in December next.
Still more interesting would it be to know how many of these delegations are either wet or dry; for it might well be that this would determine the Presidency.
However, the main question of concern — to me, anyway — is what my own party can do between now and 1932 to make it the virile and successful organization it has been so often. My guess is that we shall do nothing speedily, that we shall not summons the bouncer to remove Senator Norris, and that Mr. Lucas will go cheerfully about his appointed round of duties at the Barr Building. In other words, the tares and the wheat will remain together till the harvest. Years ago I used to compare the Republican Party to the Protestant Episcopal Church and say that if that Church could hold Phillips Brooks and Arthur C. A. Hall in its House of Bishops at the same time, the Republican Party was big enough to hold both La Foliette the Elder and me. And it was. And I miss that man. He had a give-and-take philosophy; and he was patient — he knew how to wait. Nowadays the reformers all remind me of Lord Randolph Churchill’s description of Gladstone as ‘an old man in a hurry.’ So maybe they are hurrying the Republican Party to destruction. I do not think so — yet.
Much water will run down the Potomac in the next year; and maybe our troubles will run out to sea. As against that chance, however, there are some matters which concern the party organization which must be attended to. In many of the states the so-called Republican organization is a mere shell. It is made up of men who have become dead on their feet. In too many of the states the chairman has but one idea: to get as much money as possible from the national organization. My campaign duties took me into many states last year and I early came to expect two questions: How much? and, How soon? These men resent new blood in the organization, and they especially resent the Nineteenth Amendment voters who have come to take so important a place in Republican politics. Lnless these state organizations can be rejuvenated and revamped generally we shall be in a bad way next year.
Another thing: the senselessly bitter primary fights which are made to run over into the election must be reduced to a minimum. I know two states where we lost Senators last fall simply because of this; and I know three other states where this was a prime cause in the catalogue of our catastrophes.
Mr. Hoover has been showing signs of using a big stick. I commend these opportunities to him.
Meantime we shall muddle through in some way. As a matter of fact, I have always wondered that we Republicans have gotten on, in latter years, as well as we have. We have seen our opponents compacted in one section of the country where primary interests are few and simple. And, as a matter of mechanics, they still have in Congress the binding caucus; whereas we, since the advent of the ‘Iowa idea,’ brought to us by the late Senator Cummins, — who, by the way, lived to look upon this particular child with severe disfavor, — have only a ‘conference,’which is never attended by all of us and to whose decisions no one of us owes more than an ethical or sporting allegiance. In addition, we Republicans are spraddled all over the map from Passamaquoddy to Coos Bay, meeting at every natural barrier — such as the Mississippi, the Plains, the Rockies — a new and important set of primary interests. Is it surprising that we have to get on with one another and do the best we can? — which, to use the smug complacency I may be allowed because I am from New England, has not been so bad. Therefore, I warn some of my party associates that we must continue to hold the fire to our bosom even if our clothes are thereby burned.