Three New Deals: Reflections on Roosevelt's America, Mussolini's Italy, and Hitler's Germany, 1933-1939

by Wolfgang Schivelbusch

From a world-renowned cultural historian, an original look at the hidden commonalities among Fascism, Nazism, and the New Deal

Today Franklin Delano Roosevelt's New Deal is regarded as the democratic ideal, the positive American response to an economic crisis that propelled Germany and Italy toward Fascism. Yet in the 1930s, shocking as it may seem, these regimes were hardly considered antithetical. Now, Wolfgang Schivelbusch investigates the shared elements of these three "new deals" to offer a striking explanation for the popularity of Europe's totalitarian systems.

Returning to the Depression, Schivelbusch traces the emergence of a new type of bolstered by mass propaganda, led by a charismatic figure, and projecting stability and power. He uncovers stunning similarities among the three the symbolic importance of gigantic public works programs like the TVA dams and the German autobahn, which not only put people back to work but embodied the state's authority; the seductive persuasiveness of Roosevelt's fireside chats and Mussolini's radio talks; the vogue for monumental architecture stamped on Washington, as on Berlin; and the omnipresent banners enlisting citizens as loyal followers of the state.

Far from equating Roosevelt, Hitler, and Mussolini or minimizing their acute differences, Schivelbusch proposes that the populist and paternalist qualities common to their states hold the key to the puzzling allegiance once granted to Europe's most tyrannical regimes.

Genres: History, Politics, Economics, Nonfiction, American History, Germany, Italy

256 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2005

Reviews

[Charles Haywood · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book, a brief work of cultural history, outlines four parallel aspects of three political systems: the American New Deal, Italian Fascism, and German Nazism. The point of "Three New Deals" is that these political systems shared core similarities in certain programmatic manifestations. The author, Wolfgang Schivelbusch, fortunately does not claim that the three systems were essentially the same. He offers, instead, a discussion of the interplay between the governed and the governors in each of these systems—how each shaped the other, in ways that can be compared and contrasted across systems. The result is a book of modest interest from which, perhaps, something more can be spun.

While cultural history is interesting, my purpose is not to examine "Three New Deals" as a view on the past, but as an onramp to the future. What applicable lessons, what tools, can we learn from this look at the troubled 1930s, when, like now, liberal democracy seemed like a dying system? By lessons, I do not mean pedagogical lessons, helping us to get liberal democracy back on track, since I don’t want to get it back on track. I mean how can what worked then to build mass support for political systems be used today to the same effect? Certainly, if the New Deal is not disqualified from polite society by its parallels to true Fascism and to Nazism, there is no particular reason a fourth, future, polity with the same parallels should be disqualified.

I really need a name for this political program that I am constructing. It is, of course a reactionary program—in my usual phrase, “a new thing informed by the wisdom of the past.” Generically, I refer to it as Reaction, but that is neither evocative nor adequately precise. That will not catch fire. In part, the problem is that it’s hard to name a program that is not an ideology, but rather a set of principles based on history and human nature, which does not promise utopia, or guarantee happiness or universal justice, but merely offers living within the truth, and maximum possibility for human flourishing. “Restorationism,” a related term, is too backward looking for my purposes; the past is gone, which is a key principle of mine, and anyway not all elements of any past were wholly desirable. I am struggling to come up with something good. Neo-Realism? If you have an idea, let me know.

But let’s parse the book. Schivelbusch makes clear his own angle from the book’s epigraph, a quote from David Hume: “As force is always on the side of the governed, the governors have nothing to support them but opinion. It is, therefore, on opinion that the government is founded; and this maxim extends to the most despotic and the most military governments as well as to the most free and popular.” We can forgive Hume his delusion that force is “always on the side of the governed”; he lived far away from Oriental despotism and long before both the modern totalitarian state and our own Cthulhu state. But his major point is insightful—that public opinion matters to any government. (In addition to public opinion, what he called “opinion of interest,” Hume was also talking about legitimacy, or what he called “opinion of right.” They are related, but not the same.) One necessary conclusion is that the support of the public is essential for the stability of any government, and its ability to fulfil its program, and the more support, the better. This is, no doubt, why Schivelbusch chose this epigraph, for the rest of his book discusses how public opinion was shaped by the the three regimes that are the subject of his study.

The critical importance of public opinion in all times and places isn’t news, of course, and has little or nothing to do with democracy. José Ortega y Gasset pointed out that force, even in the modern world, followed public opinion. Julius Caesar and Augustus both were keenly aware of the need to keep public opinion, both aristocratic and plebian, in their corner. Such examples could be multiplied endlessly through the centuries. The trick, therefore, for those in charge is how to shape and shift that public opinion, rather than being tossed about by it. Such an effort is like the martial art of aikido—if you use your opponent’s own motions, but redirect them, it is a lot easier to win than by simply trying to overwhelm one force with another. In the same way, it is easier to create channels for public opinion and thereby lead and direct the flow in the desired direction, within the limits set by the opinion itself, which will vary in time and place. How to carve those channels, in four different ways, is the topic of the rest of Three New Deals.

Schivelbusch begins with “Leadership.” While Roosevelt is now, as viewed through the prism of World War II, seen as the antithesis of Hitler and Mussolini, in the early 1930s all three were perceived as charismatic leaders outside the established system, who stood apart from the traditional ruling class and built a “direct emotional connection with the masses.” “Commentators freely noted areas of convergence among the New Deal, Fascism, and National Socialism. All three were considered postliberal state-capitalist or state-socialist systems, more closely related to one another than to classic Anglo-French liberalism. Hitler, Mussolini, and Roosevelt were seen as examples of plebiscite-based leadership: autocrats who came to power via varying but thoroughly legal means.”

The mechanisms for, and therefore the impact of, this emotional connection to leadership were different: Hitler used the mass rally; Roosevelt the radio, “yet both were collective experiences.” Schivelbusch points out that the perception we have from speech excerpts of Hitler simply ranting is wrong; his speeches started and ended calmly, in a deliberate structure, and were regarded at the time as incredibly effective, just like Roosevelt’s “fireside chats”—especially at making the listener feel like he was being directly addressed. Both were carefully constructed and honed for maximum impact by the men who delivered them, who had a gift for oratory. Yes, it’s difficult to compare the two, in part because radios were much more common in American homes and, obviously, radio lacked the mass drama created by Hitler’s staging and a surrounding crowd (Schivelbusch naturally cites Gustave Le Bon). “Yet in both cases, the end result was similar. The individual abandoned [himself] fully to the speaker. . . .”

So now we have our first necessary element in a modern program: a charismatic leader in the same mold, that is, one having this direct emotional connection with individuals while actually addressing them en masse. Modern exemplars are thin on the ground; no Western modern politician has had any element of this charisma. Barack Obama was puffed as a great orator; we can ignore whether that’s actually true, but note without dispute, I think, that charisma does not derive from positive reception by people who already agree with you. I doubt if anybody at all was ever convinced of anything by an Obama speech; his oratory was purely designed for the faithful. And, of course, like all modern politicians, it wasn’t his oratory at all—he read, word-for-word, speeches written for him by others. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to create a “direct emotional connection” that way. Donald Trump may be good at the rabble rousing speech, and he is more extemporaneous, but his speeches are hardly honed, and he is also preaching mostly to the choir. Trump may be charismatic, but he is far too undisciplined to be this type of leader.

Arguably, the rise of such a man is more difficult than in the past, simply because collectively addressing the masses requires them to pay attention, and people have so many different ways to spend their time, and money to satisfy their tastes. This is exacerbated by the atomization of society and the destruction of intermediary institutions, which, for good and bad, can impose pressure on their members to participate collectively. It’s not clear to me that in the present dispensation any charismatic leader could get traction—say, approval by 85% of people. In any case, it seems to me such a man must spring up full grown, like Athena from the head of Zeus. We will not wake up one day with Ted Cruz or Gavin Newsom as Maximum Leader. If such a man does arrive, we will know it—again, for good or bad. For my purposes, therefore, there is nothing to do to hasten this tool for implementation of the program.

Schivelbusch next turns to “Propaganda,” “the means by which charismatic leadership, circumventing intermediary social and political institutions like parliaments, parties, and interest groups, gains direct hold upon the masses.” As he points out, World War I led to the massive use of extremely aggressive propaganda by the United States government. All successful propagandists, though, start by grasping what public opinion is, along with where it is trending, and then reinforce what are perceived as desirable opinions, or “illuminate the people if those trends lead nowhere,” in the words of Joseph Goebbels that Schivelbusch quotes. While the general form of propaganda was similar, the New Deal government, unlike the Third Reich, did not have propaganda directed from a central ministry. Instead, it had coherent propaganda diffused through multiple departments, responding to direction from Roosevelt. And American propaganda relied on cooperation, which it got, from the press, sometimes helped along by pressure, rather than direct coercion, although the Nazis did not often have to use coercion either.

Beyond direct narrative propaganda of the obvious sort, the role of symbols was extremely important. Schivelbusch contrasts the successful Nazi use of symbolism (in part derived from Communist use of symbols) with the insistence upon strict rationality by their Social Democratic opponents. He gives the example of how the SD failed to push the powerful design by Sergei Chakotin of the “Anti-Fascist Circle,” three downward pointing arrows. (This symbol is still used by the so-called Antifa. That’s a topic beyond today, but it is interesting that Schivelbusch notes the quote attributed to Huey Long, “When America gets Fascism it will call it Anti-Fascism.”) Not that Schivelbusch thinks the SD could have won with more skillful propaganda; his claim is that “Propaganda works best in the service of a movement that is already on the rise, and its most effective moment comes in periods of crisis and revolution, when a fading regime is losing its potency and the nation’s will is as yet undecided.” No doubt Carl Schmitt would have had much to say on this.

One equivalent in New Deal America was the Blue Eagle of the NRA (not the good one, rather the “National Recovery Administration”). This was the central symbol of an extremely aggressive, though relatively brief, campaign by the Roosevelt administration to force “voluntary” price and wage controls, through identifying by display of the symbol those people who were good and those who were bad, and thereby creating a snowball of psychological compulsion. The head of the NRA, Hugh Johnson, called for social ostracism and boycotts of those not participating, though he didn’t call it a boycott. Rather, merchants not participating went out of business because “The public simply cannot tolerate non-compliance with their plan.” Thus, the Blue Eagle was a classic form of what Schivelbusch calls the “symbolism of compliance.” Its equivalent in Germany was the use of “Heil Hitler,” display of swastika flags, and so forth. Its equivalent today is “Resist” and “I’m With Her” stickers, yard posters lying that “Hate Has No Home Here,” or signs in shop windows saying “Workers of the World, Unite” or “This Business Serves Everybody.”

The purpose of all 1930s propaganda, narrative or symbolic, was to create the psychology of “voluntary compulsion.” It was not a substitute for actual political programs, which were offered and repeated in detail, but were given punch by symbolism. “What captivated the public imagination was not any particular project and its chances for success but the emotional charge of how such projects were presented.”

So what does this imply for my program? It implies, for one, that modern “movement” conservatives are functionally worthless. (Sorry to my friends in the conservative movement.) Ideas may have consequences, but theirs don’t, because the masses aren’t listening, and they’re not going to wake up one day, realize what they’re missing, and rush to consume journals of opinion or YouTube videos with 324 views. The conservative movement does have uses—for example, building Rod Dreher’s Benedict Option can be done through such a movement and its publications. By definition, the Benedict Option is not a mass movement (though the government, with the support of the masses, if they are not turned by an angel with a flaming sword, or a man with an AR-15, will crush the Benedict Option, as I have said before and I will shortly expand upon). But good propaganda has exactly zero traction on the intellectual Right today (though “MAGA” does have some pull). It has somewhat more traction on the Left, but, really, not much by historical standards.

Perhaps, in any case, propaganda’s effect is lessened today for the same reason that charismatic leaders cannot get the focused attention of the masses, and modern symbols of compliance often feel washed out —there is a lot of competition for eyeballs. I’m not sure what an effective propaganda campaign would look like; the only ones we have today are facile ones that ask of people nothing other than costless virtue signaling. Certainly, such virtue signaling is not costless for others, like orthodox Christian bakers, and such propaganda does have a real impact on the masses, but it seems to me there is little of the visceral, or any “emotional charge,” about it. One moment a flash of contempt for the Christian, who dares deny that “Love is Love is Love” is a profound truth; the next moment it is forgotten as Netflix offers a smorgasbord of cotton candy for the brain. For any propaganda to be successful in catching the vast majority of people and pushing them in a particular direction, good symbolism or no, it would have to be tied to some focusing event, jarring people out of their lives of ease and comfort to think for themselves again. If grabbed at that moment, let’s say at the same time the charismatic leader seizes the day, then we are well on our way to rerouting public opinion through our new channels.

I will also note in passing, and keep discussion for another day (sorry I keep doing that), that good propaganda requires good creative ability. In the post-war era, creative types tend to be left-wing. Certainly, artists have not historically been left-wing; this is a wholly modern phenomenon, the basis and future of which bear examination. But as I say, not today. I also note that one necessary lesson from this discussion of leadership and propaganda is how rapidly the consensus represented by public opinion can shift. Public opinion is like a counter-weighted elevator; it seems like it would take an enormous effort to shift its direction, but it is so balanced that small changes reverse it entirely, multiplying the impact of both leadership and propaganda.

Up next, Schivelbusch covers “Back to the Land.” Nationalism, in the sense of a classless community of the nation; and its cousin, autarky, get a brief treatment. Of course, the community of the nation has its enemies; in America, those were the “money changers” blamed by Roosevelt (not an anti-Semitic reference) and the supposed war profiteers. The governments in all three countries explored forms of regionalism and autarkic back-to-the-soil movements, in part a reaction to economic depression and resulting unemployment in cities, in part a form of re-enchantment and retreat to a supposedly more virtuous, primordial way of life, a type of “organic authenticity.” In the United States, this led to a lot of talk, and the construction of the abortive Arthurdale planned community in West Virginia. The Germans also nattered a lot about “settlements” (Siedlungen), but those never went much of anywhere inside Germany (still, it seems to me, though Schivelbusch does not mention it, that these same concepts must have underlain the plans for German repopulation of the “new lands to the East,” after the inconvenient Untermenschen had been seen off). Schivelbusch does not see these “back to the land” movements as a failure, however—he sees them as an integral and successful element of the overall propaganda effort of both the American and German regimes.

My program is not going to have any back-to-the-land component. While there is something to be said for keeping farming as a possible occupation simply for nostalgia, modern agriculture doesn’t need family farms, nor does farming offer anything that catches and channels public opinion. Neo-Realism, or whatever we are calling it, will not offer price supports to farmers. It will not allow factory farming, either, though—allowing fat people to hoover up huge quantities of cheap fried meat is antithetical to human flourishing, and while animals have no rights at all, it is our duty to treat them, to exercise our dominion over them, in a moral fashion, which factory farming does not. But the days of working the soil for any significant portion of the population are over, and there is nothing inherently more virtuous about farming than any other occupation—though, certainly, total detachment from nature is not desirable, so there will be plenty of parks, national and otherwise.

Finally, Schivelbusch turns to “Public Works.” Mussolini finally gets some mention (he is mostly missing from the first three topics). Here we return to neoclassical monumentalism, which, let’s be honest, impresses everybody. You are lying if you think Le Corbusier holds a candle to, say, the Jefferson Memorial. Classic architecture is classic for a reason. “Scholars gradually recognized neoclassical monumentalism—whether of the 1930s, the Renaissance, the French Revolution, or the Napoleonic empire—for what it is: the architectural style in which the state visually manifests power and authority.” In Washington, D.C., “most of the large neoclassical buildings associated with the city today were built between 1933 and 1939.” Similar projects were undertaken elsewhere. True, there are limits to this. The monstrous proportions of buildings proposed, but never built, by Hitler and Stalin take this arc too far, becoming anti-human and enshrining the state as a false god (the Amazon series "The Man in the High Castle" portrays many of these buildings as if-built; this reality comes through clearly).

But buildings are only a small part of it; a government desiring to create a new thing must offer a broad range of public works that embody a unifying philosophy and create a unifying effect. Mussolini drained the Pontine Marshes and constructed therein new cities, “three-dimensional representations of the Fascist ideals of organization, control, and the absence of urban chaos.” The struggle to tame nature gave Fascism an epic tale that fit with charismatic leadership and propaganda; a masculine battle against disorder. In America, the equivalent, with less bluster but on a grander scale, was projects like the Tennessee Valley Authority (also used to extend the reach of the federal government beyond traditional limits). The Germans had the autobahn.

[Review completes as first comment.]

[George Siehl · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a fascinating comparative analysis of three nations' political response to the economic and social crisis of the Great Depression. While the United States, Germany, and Italy operated from three different political systems, there was a large overlap among the solutions they used to restore economic and social vitality.

Social historian Wolfgang Schivelbusch's book is well researched, deftly analyzed, and tightly written. The narrative notes concerns on the political left as well as the right that the emerging New Deal contained a hint, and a further threat of Fascism. The author, however, quotes John Garraty that, "to compare is not the same as to equate."

The comparisons begin with the subject of monumental architecture. Despite the emergence of modern architecture, all three countries built extensively in neoclassical mode. One observer noted irony in that the style 'originally conceived to magnify the glory of despotic kings and emperors came to be applied' in a country 'so firmly rooted in democratic equality.' The author then moves to establish the "kinship" among the three forms of government found in the three nations. He also draws comparisons with the leadership styles of Roosevelt, Hitler and Mussolini.

Schivelbusch also compares some of the programmatic tools employed by all three governments: propaganda, rural settlement and relocation, and public works. The author is a magician at bringing forth amazing bits of history. In the propaganda section he compares communication styles of Hitler and Roosevelt: mass rallies versus fireside chats. He notes that the latter were so effective because the American public was so attuned to the medium of radio. He goes on to specify that it was the radio soap opera which made the radio listener receptive to the President's one-on-one style. The idea of sitting, listening intently to the personal narratives of the characters carried over to an open acceptance of the message from the leader.

In public works, the contrast is drawn between Hitler's concentration on highways, and Roosevelt's on rural electrification, particularly the Tennessee Valley Authority and its huge dams. The TVA was described by the President as 'a corporation clothed with the power of Government but possessed of the flexibility and initiative of a private enterprise.' Schivelbusch notes, "There was considerable concern at the time as to whether the president was subverting the U.S. Constitution."

The outbreak of WWII placed these three nations as enemies, their underlying values in conflict. The author writes, "It is tempting to conjecture that a great swap occurred: while Fascist Europe took over the American creed of classlessness, New Deal America imported major elements of European economic and social order."

He adds, "The victor was America, but an America that achieved the stability that became its hallmark only by assimilating a major part of its enemies' culture." That "stability" is sometimes a bit difficult to detect.

Highly recommended for those interested in history and politics.

[Lauren Albert · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating and surprising comparison of the administrations of Roosevelt, Mussolini and Hitler. Remember, as the author writes, quoting someone else "to compare is not the same as to equate." Schivelbusch is comparing some very specific features of the administrations including their promotion of large, even grandiose, public works projects, their use of propaganda and social pressure to create "voluntary compulsion" as he writes, and their skill at seeming to be addressing the "common man."

"The New Deal, Fascist Italy, and Nazi Germany all profited from the illusion of the nation as an egalitarian community whose members looked out for one another's welfare under the watchful eye of a strong leader."

[Fred R · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book opens up the under-explored connections between The New Deal in America, and similar programs of revitalization and unification carried out simultaneously in Europe. I am not sure why he omits any discussion of the Soviet Union, which surely would provide similarly resonant examples. To the close-minded or excessively political reader this may seem an unwarranted book, but I suggest that before dismissing it one meditate, for a moment on the TVA or the NRA blue eagle campaign. Unfortunately this book is in the end only a sketch for further research.

[Aaron · Rating 3 out of 5]

A fascinating examination of the similarities between Hitler’s Germany, Mussolini’s Italy, and Roosevelt’s America. The comparisons are interesting, but the thesis is shallow and non-confrontational. A nice inquiry into the general mind of western politics in the 1930’s and that’s about all you get. It wasn’t disappointing, just underwhelming.

[Paul · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not a bad book, but not quite the book I had hoped for. It felt as if it was seen from a little too high up, too many generalities, which were then repeated in different combinations. Once again I read a book that felt padded.

[Bulent · Rating 2 out of 5]

Yazarın Keyif Verici Maddelerin Tarihi (Cennet, Tat ve Mantık) isimli kitabını okuyup çok beğenmiş, bu kitabını da çarpıcı başlığı ve o kitabının hatırına almıştım. Çok bir şey olmadığını kitabın içinde söyleyerek başlayayım.

İtalyan Faşizmi, Alman Nasyonal Sosyalizmi'nin birbirinin farklı ülkelerdeki uygulamaları olduğunu bilmeyen yoktur herhalde. Yazarın iddiası, demokrasinin elle tutulur hale geldiği ABD'de 1929 ekonomik bunalımı sonrasında iktidara gelen Rooswelt ve onun savunduğu New Deal sisteminin de tıpkı Faşizm ve Nazizim gibi propaganda yöntemleri kullanan, karşıtlarını dışlayan, taraftarlarını tek bir kimlik etrafında birleştiren bir ideolojik uygulama olduğu.

Bu uzun cümlenin dışında kitabın bir iddiası/tezi yok. Mimari, şehir planlamacılığı ve biraz da iletişim temalı örnekler ile bu iddiasını uzun uzun ispatlama çabasına girişiyor. Özellikle New Deal uygulamasına muhalif Amerikalı isimlerden alıntılar ve Faşist İtalya ya da Nazi Almanyasından gazete yazıları ile tezini destekliyor.

Böyle bir tezin bir kitap yerine bir makale formatında da anlatılabileceğini düşünüyorum.

[Rhiannon · Rating 3 out of 5]

A comparison of responses to the Great Depression in Fascist Italy, Nazi Germany and New Deal America. Schivelbusch looks both at comparisons made at the time, by 1930s journalists, academics and political theorists, and comparisons that can be drawn in retrospect. He covers topics such as leadership styles, monumentalism, propaganda, economic regions, city planning and infrastructure.

Schivelbusch assumes a level of base knowledge about the Great Depression and the histories of the three regimes which I barely have. It's certainly not an introduction text. And while interesting - and I must read up further on eg the economic history of liberalism ca 1870-1930, the concept of the garden city, and the demise of the gold standard - I didn't come out of the book feeling a point had been made, which made the book kinda disappointing in comparison to Schivelbusch's The Culture of Defeat.

[Ostap · Rating 4 out of 5]

4-

Could be a great book, but somewhere near the middle of it Schivelbusch gets carried away with his cultural musing and starts to forget to provide readers with hard facts supporting his theories. The facts, as it's clear from the first chapters of the book, are there, they're just more and more often with every new page not narrated, only mentioned. Another thing lacking in the later parts of the book is compelling narrative to help readers keep attention on the matter. I could say that the book that's started as very good American non-fiction investigation at the end reads more like a mediocre French post-modernist philosophy. It's a shame and a missed chance, but the book or at least its first chapters are still well worth reading.

[William · Rating 5 out of 5]

Schivelbusch illuminates fascinating similarities, differences, points of connection, and odd coincidences between Fascist Italy, Nazi Germany, and New Deal USA. His focus is mostly on the ideological motivation and marketing/appeal of each and less so on the policy. The book is also relatively short and easy to process, providing a great comparative overview of the topic that certainly invites further research and investigation. My only real critique is that I wish Schivelbusch had delved a little deeper into contemporary academic studies on Fascism-New Deal comparisons, as he does an excellent job outlining those comparisons' from the mid-century.

[Tom A · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a good book, once you get past the introduction. The author tried to make an initial tie across the commonality of FDR's, Hitler's, and Mussolini's cultural visions by reference to the monumental architecture that was created during all three regimes. While an interesting observation, in my opinion it made for a very strained and tenuous introduction to the subject matter of the book. Once past that chapter it becomes a much more engrossing book.

[JohnDoe · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interessant ist es da, wo es inhaltliche Übereinstimmungen zwischen Faschismus und New Deal im Programm und im Grund für dieses darstellt (Vgl. etwa die Erlösung und Rettung der Nation vor der Krise, die ein zum Krieg bereites Volk gegen diesen Feind zur Voraussetzung hat). Unergiebig ist es da, wo es eine formale Gleichheit der Mittel ausmacht, und insoweit in Gänze von ihrem Zweck abstrahiert, um insoweit eine Übereinstimmung darzulegen.

[Noah Worth · Rating 4 out of 5]

A truly considered work: Schivelbusch is and remains the preeminent comparative and cultural historian. He seamlessly and without lecturing reveals the ideological, social, and economic similarities between National Socialism & Fascism with America's sister economic and social state-planning project, the New Deal. A good place to start for learning about New Dealism or National Socialism/Fascism. Leaves a lot for the reader to interpret, which for some may be a bad thing but I am ok with that.

[Lance Greenlee]

Just finished the first chapter (will update later). I find the author first gives a thesis (Roosevelt's economy was similar to Mussolini), but then instead of explaining HOW FDR's economy was similar to the Italian model, he at length quotes reporters and politicians that echo his thesis. Okay, so many people agree that the two were similar, but we never get any examples of that similarity.

[David · Rating 5 out of 5]

Interesting evaluation and assessment of efforts to recover from depression era using propaganda, return to the land, and public works in Italy, Germany and the US. Following WWII Europe became more American by attempting to de-emphasize class differences and the US became more European by adopting policies of the welfare state.

[Urstoff · Rating 3 out of 5]

This type of cultural history is always a dodgy proposition; plausible sounding narratives can be constructed, but there just isn't the evidence available to support them in principle. Best to take away from books like these small interesting factual nuggets rather than broad interpretations.

[Michael · Rating 4 out of 5]

Could’ve been an essay. For anyone familiar with Roosevelt-revisionism, this book presents little novel information. Its take on the inception of the managerial state and propaganda are worth the price. Early Yarvin ideas are nascent if you know where to look.

[Chad · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a very interesting book to see the comparisons between these three leaders and countries. The author emphasizes that comparisons does not mean that they are identical. I was shocked of how easy it was to compare the three. My favorite chapter of the book is entitled "Propaganda". You read about how it was used then and you can see how those same tactics have been used since.
Overall it was a good read and worth purchasing if you are fascinated with the era.

[Bryan · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is an excellent explanation of how the Democrats of today are fascists.

[Oolalaa · Rating 3 out of 5]

9/20

[Cody Allen · Rating 4 out of 5]

While the Great Depression started in the United States with a stock market crash in 1929, it quickly spread around the globe throughout the 1930s, eventually affecting nearly every country on earth. International trade fell by a whopping 50% and many countries experienced severe unemployment—some estimate as high as 25% in the United States. Many nations struggled until the Second World War put economies back into action.

Major crises (war; pandemics; economic disasters) almost always lead to more power for those in leadership positions. Perhaps it is the instinctual fear that exists within us humans that causes us to look for someone competent and powerful who will tell us everything is going to be okay when life looks bleak. After the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, for example, President George W. Bush was given a ‘blank check’ and used it to invade the Middle East and massively expand the US government’s surveillance capabilities. This is the same power that was once given to Roosevelt, Hitler, and Mussolini in the wake of the Great Depression, a time in history that produced a similar reaction by many governments from around the world: the centralization of power.

Mussolini, Hitler, and Roosevelt were all charismatic individuals who were given a ‘blank check’ of their own, and this book highlights the similarities in the way they spent it (while also acknowledging their drastic differences—Roosevelt never expressed racism or antisemitism the way his European counterparts did, for example). They all placed an emphasis on national unity, manipulated their citizenry via the use of propaganda, and funded public works as a means of reshaping their societies.

All governments use propaganda to influence their citizenry. Mussolini, Hitler, and Roosevelt propagandized their people with ideals surrounding national unity and all three were largely successful. Interestingly, all three used eagles as central pieces of their political symbols, however, as one historian wrote about Roosevelt’s blue eagle campaign, it was “based on voluntary cooperation, but those who did not volunteer to cooperate were to be forced into participation.” Something similar can be said about Italy under Mussolini’s rule and Germany under Hitler’s. Coming together to solve collective problems is indeed often the surest way to prosperity, and as “divergent as the New Deal and Nazism were when it came to application of direct state coercion, they were similar in their political rhetoric and the underlying psychology behind that rhetoric.” If you weren’t with them, you were against them.

Despite the fact that the United States was a liberal democracy and Germany a repressive dictatorship, both Roosevelt and Hitler (and Mussolini) “depicted their rise to power as the concrete realization of the idea of the nation,” each casting himself as the sole strong man capable of leading his country out of chaos and depression. Roosevelt spoke to his citizens via the radio and his weekly fireside chats and Hitler and Mussolini spoke to their supporters at massive outdoor rallies. In both realms, the effect was the same: people felt as though their leaders were taking care of them. In their own way, they were.

All three of these leading men invested heavily in public works projects as a means of uniting their people and showing them that a better world could exist. The problem, of course, as the history of communism teaches us, is that society can very seldomly be built from the top down—it is most successful when it is built bottom up. So, while the attempts at building new communities were mostly failures, the successes were found in areas of public utility: roads, canals, bridges, highways, hospitals, and schools. Germany’s autobahn highway was started by Hitler during this time.

While we may be able to look back at history and see Roosevelt’s expansion of social services as empathetic towards the starving lower classes and Hitler’s persecution of Jews as genocide, we can nevertheless identify in both governments (as well as Mussolini’s) a “seismic historical change from liberal to state capitalism, replete with a welfare state and government planning and direction of society.”

[Anthony Mercando · Rating 3 out of 5]

Didn't take long to get through this niche title. The author even alludes to the now non-existent field on American Fascism, though any basic analysis of history explains why. Interesting to look at the New Deal and the burgeoning fascist regimes developing at the same time with a handful of the same ideas, but Schivelbusch overlooks that all three leaders/nations had no other viable choice but to innovate. As the previous systems had been doing the same thing for the past two decades, the only logical step from there was to experiment and take matters into their own hands (Though I wouldn't say Germany needed a Hitler and Italy needed a Mussolini, America needed an FDR)

I could go on about how the book lends itself to calling FDR a tyrant in the making, but like any critique and comparison, it ends where the parallels end--and rather abruptly. A good read for anyone interested in what was one of the most important six years in world history.

[Iben · Rating 4 out of 5]

Besides having the world's best name, Schivelbusch is also a fantastic writer. While this book is primarily based on existing research, he is able to pull together various sources to make a compelling argument: that the various governmental projects under Roosevelt, Mussolini and Hitler had certain aspects in common (e.g. public works, propaganda, focus on the land). Schivelbusch also constantly reminds us (smartly) that to compare is not to equate, and his argument is a fascinating one. This book is not a difficult read and serves as a great summation of trends of the interwar period. My only gripe is that he could have made a much more interesting argument if he had also included the Soviet Union. His reasons for not doing so are unclear, as the book often refers to goings-on there.

[John Schneider · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wish that I could rate this book more highly, but I found its pace and lack of wit significant drawbacks. Although always illuminating this book has a very dry and matter of fact style that prevents the reader from enjoying it greatly. Schivelbusch firmly establishes his thesis that Roosevelt, Hitler, and Mussolini shared much in common in how they changed their nations. That accomplishment makes this book a good read for historians and lovers of politics; its lack of style, however, will make it very difficult for most people to enjoy.

[bibliotekker Holman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sometimes books sit on the shelf, aging like a bottle of wine, waiting for the proper moment. A student, who had served in various military combat roles across the globe, lamented during a presentation recently how insulated many Americans are regarding the real state of the world. This and the bizarre political season we are in, prompted me to pick up this book. An interesting and thought provoking read.

[Walid · Rating 3 out of 5]

"[propaganda] is to the will of a regime what the automatic transmission is to an automobile engine."

more like a 3.5 stars review. in keeping with schivelbusch's writing style, the book is clearly written and articulated, and quite informative. a few unsupported claims are sprinkled here and there, which brought the review down.

[Divinus · Rating 2 out of 5]

While agreeing with the central point, that all three grew in a large part from the same sort of soil, and enjoying the writing style, much of the book kinda turned me off. I'm still trying to figure out what it was that did that.

[Sheryl · Rating 2 out of 5]

Schivelbusch makes a good case for the parallels between Roosevelt's America, Mussolini's Italy, and Hitler's Germany, but I pretty much believed that going in. I thought a lot of his observations were interesting, less impressed with his conclusions.

[arjuna · Rating 2 out of 5]

Can't really disagree with this review - limited discussion, barely mentions Italy really, would have liked a bit more meat. Enjoyable but hardly world-shattering.

[Josh · Rating 5 out of 5]

i'm just smitten with schivelbusch. it is limited in scope, but i sheds important like on the changes in the nature of the state in the 1930s.