Giving History the Johnson Treatment
Lyndon Johnson delighted in using power to accomplish his
goals. He was famous for his ability to leverage any advantages he held over
his opponents, whether that was a majority vote in Congress, or his 6 foot 4
inch frame. His personal efforts to control a debate or influence thinking became
known as the “Johnson Treatment,” and few survived the full force of it without
a shift toward Lyndon’s perspective. A current fifty-year commemoration of
Johnson’s term in office demonstrates the enduring influence of his presidency,
and a modern use of the Johnson Treatment to reshape his place in popular
memory.
Whitney Young gets the Johnson Treatment, June, 1966 |
This week, the LBJ Presidential Library in Austin, Texas
celebrated 50 years of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 with the Civil Rights Summit, a remarkable
series of public lectures and events. Speakers included President Barack Obama
and former presidents George W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Jimmy Carter. The
program was an outstanding opportunity for reflection on the importance of the
act and the challenges for civil rights today. The LBJ Library streamed the sessions,
and they are available for viewing online.
Johnson’s family and former staffers have been active in
promoting the civil rights acts and Great Society initiatives as the proper way
to celebrate the legacy of Johnson’s term in office. These are monumental
historic achievements that warrant commemoration. The Vietnam War is more
difficult. The burden of that war took the strength of a political animal who
rose to power in Texas and Washington by outmaneuvering and bullying his
opponents. The revised look
at Lyndon Johnson presents him as a great idealistic leader who chose to reform
society but had the Vietnam War thrust upon him. One of the most fascinating
ways that Lyndon Johnson is being celebrated is through the Broadway play “All the Way” starring Bryan Cranston,
most famous for his role as Walter White in Breaking
Bad. The play has received mostly positive reviews, and Cranston’s LBJ reinterprets
Johnson as earnest and determined to accomplish “big things” with initiatives
on civil rights, the Great Society, and the Vietnam War.
Next month will mark fifty years since Lyndon Johnson’s
commencement speech
at the University of Michigan in which he set forth the agenda for the Great Society. In doing
so, Johnson anticipated an America fifty years in the future and projected the
challenges that the nation would face. Some of his projections were accurate
(4/5 of the population living in urban centers), others fell a bit short (US population
of 400 million). Johnson identified three areas to build the Great Society: “in
our cities, in our countryside, and in our classrooms.” He called for an ambitious
reform of urban America, environmental protection, and education funding.
Johnson sought to build the reach of government much as his
hero Franklin Roosevelt had done; to establish systems of social reform so
enmeshed in America that they would not easily be turned back by future administrations.
He expanded the government with the idea that it would become the largest force
for good in the world. Today’s commemorative events remind us how earnest and
ambitious these initiatives looked prior to the full involvement of the United
States in Vietnam.
As part of the launch of the Great Society, fifty years ago
this month Johnson set out to meet the poor in America. The “Poverty Tours” video shows
the president selling his policies in campaign stops to working class areas in
Appalachia and the South where programs such as job training, education
programs, and free school lunch helped families there. Three years later, as
part of the effort to spread the message of the Great Society, Johnson paired
Billy Graham with “War on Poverty” director Sargent Shriver for “Beyond These Hills,” a filmed
tour through North Carolina. Their appearance was part of a program to bring
water and poverty relief to these rural areas. The story of those North
Carolina efforts is told in the book To Right These Wrongs: The North
Carolina Fund and the Battle to End Poverty in 1960s America, by Robert
Rodgers Korstad, James Leloudis.
The dialogue between the evangelical Graham and Catholic
Shriver explained their missionary endeavor to improve the lives of poor
Americans. Their conversation on government using Christian principles to
relieve poverty is almost unimaginable in the partisan worlds of politics—and faith—today.
Shriver himself held a seamless pro-life perspective—against the Vietnam War
and strongly opposed to abortion—that has rarely been represented in public
life in the years since he was the Democratic nominee for Vice-President in spot
on the 1972.
Just as the Great Society speech shows Johnson before the
burden of Vietnam bore down upon him, these faith-driven efforts show an America
not yet divided by the Vietnam War. It is a tempting view the Vietnam War as an
interruption in a grand story. Yet, current efforts to dismiss Lyndon Johnson’s
record in Vietnam and solely praise the Great Society and civil rights acts threaten
the lessons to be learned from this era. Johnson understood that to rally support
for the Great Society, the Cold War needed to be fought aggressively in
Vietnam. To do otherwise would cost badly needed votes for the Great Society in
Congress. The Johnson Treatment was applied to the pursuit of the war as well
as the domestic agenda.
The Vietnam War intensified an ideological divide in America
that persists to this day. And it took away Lyndon Johnson’s will to continue
in politics. The Johnson Treatment ultimately came back to lean on Johnson
himself. On March 31, 1968, in a televised address to the nation, Johnson
famously stated he would neither seek nor accept the Democratic nomination for
president. Four days later, Martin Luther King was assassinated, and America
appeared to be unraveling. The start of the major league baseball season was
delayed due to riots around the country. When the season started a few days
later, Johnson could not appear in public to deliver the ceremonial first pitch
at the Washington Senators opener, and sent Vice President Hubert Humphrey
instead.
Without the Vietnam War, Johnson’s legacy would still include
civil rights successes, but also the massive overexpansion of government. As
Johnson’s reform programs were approved and funded by Congress, the Great
Society became a great monolith of bureaucracy. Massive housing projects in
cities like Chicago and New York stood as abandoned monuments to government spending
without creativity and restraint. The role of faith in many of these government
solutions was abandoned as the size of relief programs grew far beyond the
spiritual approach discussed by Billy Graham and Sargent Shriver. By the 1980s,
evangelical political leaders spoke out against inefficient government spending
for relief programs. Johnson, like 1960s America, must be remembered fully with
the challenges of a divided nation in the midst of crisis. His legacy, like
that of America, is large enough to celebrate the successes and learn from the
failures.
Comments
Finally, was Graham the best spokesperson for the "War on Poverty?" Did he ever admit structural explanations for poverty, race, and gender inequalities? I haven't found so, but I'm not a Graham expert.
Really good questions here, Mark. I wonder if when talking about liberals and religion during this period, we might make some gains by paying closer attention to the "religious establishment" itself (as opposed to individuals). I think we often underestimate the size and scope of large-scale religious institutions at both the federal and the local/metropolitan level. This might be a result of the style of work taken up by the institutions themselves, their relatively top-down bureaucratic structure, and very behind-the-scenes approach to political lobbying. But I do think there is often far more intersection between umbrella/representative religious organizations (say, the National Council of Churches or, at the local level, the Chicago Federation of Churches) and politicians/city officials than we sometimes recognize. Teasing out some of those connections, as subterranean as they may seem, might help us to better situate mid-century religion within liberal politics. (Whether those connections held any real power or influence, of course, is another matter altogether.)
Similarly, we might look for the intersection of religion and political liberalism at the "grassroots" level of Great Society programs. I'm thinking particularly of groups funded through OEO grants to carry out war on poverty initiatives at the local level. I'm just offering an educated guess here, but many of those groups probably had connections to their local religious communities or institutional networks in one way or another; I've seen a bit of evidence to that effect.
I guess what I'm suggesting is that instead of explicit religious rationales/rhetoric, we may find more "religion" in the structures and institutional networks themselves, and the way those structures intersect with political institutions.
I see Graham as a friend to LBJ (keeping in mind he visited the Johnson WH more than for any other president), and a local advocate in the "Beyond These Hills" film. But much like Graham's involvement on Civil Rights, he is less of an activist and more of a public advocate for "good." Even so, I think the War on Poverty and Great Society was more idealistic and spiritual in the years before Vietnam became a dominant issue. What I see abandoned (much like the housing projects today) is the kind of spiritual conversation over how Christian people might look at government programs to help the poor. Those conversations continue to this day, of course, but what the Great Society became was much more bureaucratic and massive than the earnest conversations represented in the film by Graham and Shriver. And I see a parallel in Shriver's anti-war and pro-life positions, which seem idealistic and non-partisan today.
Your mention of Breadwinner Conservatism is a great point for consideration. It gives the great irony that a large coalition Christian-motivated voters stand against government funds being used on a massive scale to help the poor. I think that divide begins sometime after or during Vietnam.
Perhaps it was never an intentional abandonment of religious groups at all, but rather a byproduct of the Vietnam War. After LBJ, Nixon certainly worked hard to organize religious support during Vietnam.
Michael, I'm wondering what other examples you might point to of the War on Poverty (or Great Society's) more spiritually- or religiously-informed incarnations, pre-Vietnam? I think it's a really interesting suggestion, one that I haven't really considered before for precisely some of the reasons you offer here in the post: Johnson tends to be known more for bluster and bite than spirituality/religiosity (whatever those are) or breadth/depth of thought. Are there other figures beyond Shriver/Graham that might extend the argument further?
This post and the comments have really kept me thinking. Thanks to both of you!
Trevor, I think the Detroit ecumenical movement's last "heyday" was their involvement in the city's open housing push (see Lloyd D. Buss's dissertation on the subject: http://www.amazon.com/church-city-Detroits-housing-movement/dp/1243579269/ref=sr_1_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1397592649&sr=1-2). Your point about loss of direction after the fracturing of the civil rights movement is well taken. In fact, I'd argue that what we typically call the "ecumenical movement" in America--the Federal Council and all the city councils, which initially called themselves "co-operative Christianity"--is inseparable from the rise and fall of the strong-state liberal consensus. And yes, the idea of liberal consensus is quite problematic; I'll take for my point of reference on consensus Gary Gerstle's American Crucible.