The KKK in the 1920s [Note: This discussion is intended to complement "Passing from Light into Dark." Both deal with issues of race, ethnicity, religion, and national identity as foci of the "culture wars" of the 1920s. This site looks at politics, broadly construed, through the prism of the Klu Klux Klan. Its counterpart looks at popular culture, again construed broadly. My hope is that together they provide a coherent view of some of the key developments of the decade. I first began serious research into the Klan and the politics of the 1920s when Charles W. Estus, Sr. and I guest curated an exhibition on the "Swedish Creation of an Ethnic Identity for Worcester, Massachusetts" at the Worcester Historical Museum, a project underwritten by a public programs grant from the National Endowment for the Humanities. Professor Estus and I co-authored an accompanying monograph and cataglogue, gå till Amerika (Worcester Historical Museum, 1994), for which I wrote the chapter on "The Tribal Twenties. During that period Professor Estus and I had numerous and intense conversations from which I learned much. I cannot overstate their value in shaping my thinking. I have also benefitted more than I can say from my exchanges with my friend Gerd Korman. His work on Americanization was an early influence on my own. More recently, his studies of American traditions of anti-Semitism have taught me much. I have also learned a great deal from Robert O. Paxton's essay on the five stages of fascisms; from Nancy MacLean's Behind the Mask of Chivalry; from William D. Jenkins, author of Steel Valley Klan and an advisor to the exhibition; and from Kathleen M. Blee's Women of the Klan: Racism and Gender in the 1920s. -- John F. McClymer, October 13, 2001] Though men and women drop from the ranks they remain with us in purpose, and can be depended on fully in any crisis. Also, there are millions who have never joined, but who think and feel and -- when called on -- fight with us. This is our real strength, and no one who ignores it can hope to understand America today. -- Hiram Wesley Evans, "The Klan's Fight for Americanism," The North American Review (March-April-May 1926) How seriously are we to take Evans' claim? Did the Klan, of which he was the "Imperial Wizard and Emperor," speak not only for the millions who joined but for millions more? Was he right to boast that no one who hopes to understand America in the 1920s can succeed without first coming to grips with the views -- and the feelings -- of Klan members and sympathizers? Some historians have taken the Klan very seriously. They agree that, while it was in Evans' interest to claim the greatest possible influence for his organization, he was clearly right to argue that its adherents and sympathizers numbered in the millions. (At right is an idealized painting, unsigned, of a Kansas Klansman, circa 1925.) How seriously are we to take Evans' essay as a statement of Klan views? Historian Loren Baritz noted in 1970 in his The Culture of the Twenties that "The Klan's Fight for Americanism" was "the best statement of the Klan's credo that has ever been written." He also pointed out that the North American Review's readership was likely to be skeptical of any claims Evans might make. This led Baritz to caution readers that the Imperial Wizard might well downplay certain aspects of Klan belief and practice even as he overstated its strength. Further, Evans knew that the editors of the Review had invited several noted critics of the KKK, including W.E.B. DuBois, to contribute articles for the subsequent issue. He thus sought to anticipate what these critics might say. This may account for his willingness to admit that, in its early days, Klan leaders "began to 'sell hate at $10 a package.'" "Hate" and the "invisible government ideas," i.e., the Klan's vigilante activities, "were what gave the Klan its first great growth, enlisted some 100,000 members, provided wealth for a few leaders, and brought down upon it a reputation from which it has not yet recovered." That the KKK survived its beginnings, according to Evans, "is nothing less than a miracle," explicable only as "one of those mysterious interventions in human affairs which are called Providence." Evans would have hardly made such an admission in an official Klan publication, although claims that Providence watched over the KKK were common in that literature. Nonetheless, "The Klan's Fight for Americanism" makes no apologies for its members' attempts to impose their views upon "liberals," immigrants, Catholics, Jews, or peoples of color. Instead it sounds a clarion call for the Klan's "progressive conservatism" and celebrates its influence in American public life. Still, the question remains: How seriously should we take the Klan's "credo" as a guide to its appeal? As Robert O. Paxton pointed out in "The Five Stages of Fascism" in The Journal of Modern History (1998): Although one can deduce from fascist language implicit Social Darwinist assumptions about human nature, the need for community and authority in human society, and the destiny of nations in history, fascism does not base its claims to validity upon their truth. Fascists despise thought and reason, abandon intellectual positions casually, and cast aside many intellectual fellow-travellers. They subordinate thought and reason not to Faith, as did the traditional Right, but to the promptings of the blood and the historic destiny of the group. Their only moral yardstick is the prowress of the race, of the nation, of the community. They claim legitimacy by no universal standard except a Darwinian triumph of the strongest community. An American Fascism? Is it appropriate to label the Klan of the 1920s "fascist"? Surely it is one of the most overused terms in contemporary discourse. Yet, Paxton points to the first Klan as "the earliest phenonemon that seems functionally related to fascism." "In its adoption of a uniform (white robe and hood), as well as its techniques of intimidation and its conviction that violence was justified in the cause of the group's destiny, the first version of the Klan . . . was a remarkable preview of the way fascist movements were to function in interwar Europe." Nancy MacLean, in Beyond The Mask Of Chivalry: The Making of the Second Ku Klux Klan (1994), makes a similar argument: "Not only in its world view, but also in its dynamics as a social movement, the [second] Klan had much in common with German National Socialism and Italian Fascism." Klan leaders of the 1920s and 1930s acknowledged this kinship themselves, she points out. Further, as we will see, the second Klan espoused all of the "mobilizing passions" Paxton identifies as characteristic of fascism: Feelings propel fascism more than thought does. We might call them mobilizing passions, since they function in fascist movements to recruit followers and in fascist regimes to "weld" the fascist "tribe" to its leader. The following mobilizing passions are present in fascisms, though they may sometimes be articulated only implicitly. 1. The primacy of the group, toward which one has duties superior to every right, whether universal or individual. 2. The belief that one's group is a victim, a sentiment which justifies any action against the group's enemies, internal as well as external. 3. Dread of the group's decadence under the corrosive effect of individualistic and cosmopolitan liberalism. 4. Closer integration of the community within a brotherhood (fascio) whose unity and purity are forged by common conviction, if possible, or by exclusionary violence, if necessary. 5. An enhanced sense of identity and belonging, in which the grandeur of the group reinforces individual self-esteem. 6. Authority of natural leaders (always male) throughout society, culminating in a national chieftain who alone is capable of incarnating the group's destiny. 7. The beauty of violence and of will, when they are devoted to the group's success in a Darwinian struggle. If the Klan of the 1920s was a fascist movement, how seriously are we to take the views Evans put forward? Paxton identifies five "stages" of fascism. It is the first two -- "the initial creation" and "their rooting as parties in a political system" -- that relate to the KKK. The Klan never advanced beyond the second stage, and reached that only partially and ineffectually. "First-stage fascism," Paxton notes, "is the domain of the intellectual historian, for the process to be studied here is the emergence of new ways of looking at the world and diagnosing its ills." Further, he argues, "comparison is of little help to us at this first stage, for all modern states have had protofascist movements and publicists since the 1914-1918 war." The very ubiquity of these movements suggests "that we can hardly attribute their origin to any one particular national intellectual history." Instead, Paxton holds, fascist movements emerged everywhere where democracy was sufficiently implanted for disillusionment with it to emerge. Where national peculiarities do come into play is in how fascist intellectuals and spokespeople drew upon particular national traditions to articulate their message. Here, then, is a guide to reading Evans' essay and other Klan pronouncements. Such works articulate "welding passions," deeply felt, otherwise inarticulate beliefs, prejudices, fears, resentments, and hatreds. They use ideas opportunistically. Of eugenics, for example, Evans wrote: We are pleased that modern research is finding scientific backing for these convictions [about the importance of "racial instincts"]. We do not need them ourselves; we know we are right in the same sense that a good Christian knows that he has been saved and that Christ lives -- a thing which the intellectual can never understand. These convictions are no more to be argued about than is our love for our children; we are merely willing to state them for the enlightenment and conversion of others. Klan leaders measured the worth of their speeches and other works by the way their intended audience responded. Evans put this quite plainly: We in the lead found ourselves with a following inspired in many ways beyond our understanding, with beliefs and purposes which they themselves only vaguely understood and could not express, but for the fulfillment of which they depended on us. We found ourselves, too, at the head of an army with an unguessable influence to produce results for which the responsibility would rest on us -- the leaders -- but which we had not foreseen and for which we were not prepared. As the solemn responsibility to give right leadership to these millions, and to make right use of this influence, was brought home to us, we were compelled to analyze, put into definite words, and give purpose to these half conscious impulses. Evans and his colleagues clearly succeeded in putting "these half conscious impulses" into "definite words." The measure of their success is the fact that they built the largest fascist movement of the 1920s, Italy's alone excepted. If they did not succeed in finding a long-term niche for themselves in the political party system, this spoke to the opposition they encountered from the objects of their attacks, especially within the Democratic Party, on the one hand, and the success of the Republican Party in implementing key conservative policies during the 1920s, on the other. In the case of the Democratic Party, the key battleground was the 1924 Convention. The Klan endorsed William Gibbs McAdoo, the frontrunner for the nomination. Senator Oscar Underwood of Alabama and Governor Al Smith of New York both called upon the party to repudiate the Klan by name in the platform. This motion failed by four votes. The vote, however, was not a Klan victory. Instead it meant that Smith and Underwood had more than enough strength to challenge McAdoo and effectively prevent him from getting the nomination which required a two-thirds majority. Finally, after 98 ballots Smith withdrew. On the 103rd ballot the nomination, now thoroughly worthless, went to John W. Davis of West Virginia. Davis then did what the platform failied to do; he repudiated the Klan by name. McAdoo's political career was over. Smith won the nomination in 1928. As for the success of the Republicans in implementing conservative positions, a most impressive case in point is immigration restriction, a cause the Klan vigorously espoused. The Republicans delivered on this with the Johnson-Reed Act of 1924 which targetted precisely those nationalities the Klan labelled most dangerous. The Klan vociferously opposed the role of Catholics in public life, to cite another important issue. Since these Catholic officeholders and office seekers clustered in the Democratic party, it was the Republican party which provided the candidates to oppose them. The Klan supported Prohibition. It was Coolidge and then Hoover who carried the standard of "the noble experiment," as Hoover called it. In addition, historians point to the scandals within the leadership of the KKK, ranging from instances of fraud to the trial of Indiana Klan leader D.C. Stephenson for kidnapping and rape. However sincere the convictions of millions of members, Klan leaders came from the ranks of travelling salesmen, confidence artists, and opportunists generally. Their inability to keep these proclivities hidden from the membership undoubtedly weakened the KKK. What is striking in this regard is how long this process of disillusionment took. The Klan's inability to become a part of the political party system, except for brief periods of time in a few scattered states, as a result, does not mean its import was trivial. Clearly we must heed Evans' claim that one has to understand the Klan and the "half conscious impulses" it expressed in order to understand the public life of the 1920s. Had the Steel Strike of 1919 with its communist leadership succeeded, had the Red Scare crackdown on leftwing political movements been less thorough, had the bombings of 1919-20 continued into the 1920s, had Klan leadership been bent on political power rather than personal gain, had, in short, conditions been more favorable to the emergence of the KKK as a political party, it might well had succeeded. As it was, the Klan exerted significant influence. This was true in many localities where Klan members effectively "policed" their communities. They might object to a theater showing "immoral" pictures or warn an alleged wife beater to desist or pressure a school committee to crack down on a "liberal" teacher or ban a particular book. Klan influence was felt in many political races where a reputed "Klan vote" put one or another candidate in office. Here the secrecy of the Klan could work to enhance or to diminish its role. Unlike other "blocs," candidates could not be sure of the size of a "Klan vote." Nor, in many cases, could the Klan show clearly that its role was decisive. Its greatest impact, perhaps, was upon the "spirit of the age." This is notoriously difficult to define, especially since different people experience any given period of time very differently. Nonetheless the Klan and the "impulses" it articulated did much to define the spirit of the twenties. One way of capturing this is to pay attention to ways in which Klan pronouncements echoed themes sounded more broadly in the culture. The most obvious of these is eugenics. Nordic America Aggrieved The Klan claimed "to speak for the great mass of Americans of old pioneer stock." Their ancestors, "hardy, adventurous and strong men and women," won a continent and created the American nation. Their "remarkable race character," passed on to their descendants, "made the inheritance of the old-stock Americans the richest ever given to a generation of men." In spite of this, "these Nordic Americans for the last generation have found themselves increasingly uncomfortable, and finally deeply distressed." What had gone wrong? Evans' initial formulation in "The Klan's Fight for Americanism" was intentionally vague: There appeared first confusion in thought and opinion, a groping and hesitancy about national affairs and private life alike, in sharp contrast to the clear, straightforward purposes of our earlier years. There was futility in religion, too, which was in many ways even more distressing. Presently we began to find that we were dealing with strange ideas; policies that always sounded well, but somehow always made us still more uncomfortable. Finally came the moral breakdown that has been going on for two decades. One by one all our traditional moral standards went by the boards, or were so disregarded that they ceased to be binding. The sacredness of our Sabbath, of our homes, of chastity, and finally even of our right to teach our own children in our own schools fundamental facts and truths were torn away from us. Those who maintained the old standards did so only in the face of constant ridicule. Historians have difficulty taking such laments seriously save when made by fellow intellectuals, such as Joseph Wood Krutch. His The Modern Temper (1929) painted a similar picture of the loss of "clear, straightforward" purpose, of "futility" in religion, of the collapse of traditional morals. Krutch, the sort of "deracinated" intellectual Evans and the Klan scorned, had no solution, other than resignation, to offer. Evans and the Klan did. For Krutch, the loss of purpose arose inexorably out of scientific research. Darwinism was a triumph of the random, a compelling argument against the belief that a beneficient Deity ruled over all. "Futility" in religion grew out of this and also out of historical and anthropological research. The more scholars knew about the origins of the Bible, the more they compared religious and mythological systems from around the world, the more difficult it became to hold to the faith of one's fathers. So too with the collapse of traditional morals. They had rested upon a biblical foundation, as interpreted by middle-class Victorians. With the Bible in doubt, with Victorian an epithet, and with middle-class verities shattered by the war, a new generation set out to find new rules. Krutch could, and did, bemoan these developments. He even speculated that "more primitive" societies, ones not so "palsied over with doubt," would likely come to the fore. He too, that is, saw a loss of American vitality in these developments. Krutch cared deeply about ideas. Darwinism might undercut one's belief in a "clear and straightforward" purpose in human life, but that did not change its scientific validity. The "higher criticism" in Biblical Studies might challenge one's faith, but one could not ignore the evidence. Nor could one categorically deny the right of a new generation, dismayed by the carnage of WWI and its aftermath, to question received wisdom. Hence the pessimism of The Modern Temper. For Evans, as we have seen, convictions trumphed ideas. Truth lay not in science, much less in historical investigations. It lay in "race instincts." What Nordic Americans felt, however inarticulately, was true precisely because they felt it. There was an kind of eugenics of ideas. Nordic Americans have learned, he wrote: . . . that alien ideas are just as dangerous to us as the aliens themselves, no matter how plausible such ideas may sound. With most of the plain people this conclusion is simply based on the fact that the alien ideas do not work well for them. Others went deeper and [have] come to understand that the differences in racial background, in breeding, instinct, character and emotional point of view are more important than logic. So ideas which may be perfectly healthy for an alien may also be poisonous for Americans. Similarly, although immigrants might use the same words as patriotic Nordic Americans, they could rarely, if ever, achieve genuine Americanism. "Americanism, to the Klansman, is a thing of the… truncated (93,520 more characters in archive)