The Georgist Philosophy in Culture and History
by Pat Aller
The Georgist Philosophy in Culture and History: How to
Broaden Our Focus to Strengthen Our Message.
We've been asking this question for over a century.
The very fact that we are in Arden attests to George's
influence on culture in his day. As you've already heard, artists
founded this place. The maker's marks of Frank Stephens, Will
Price, and others are everywhere here. Sculpture by Stephens was
also in Philadelphia's City Hall. I don't know if it's still
there, but we have his poems, one of which I'll read later.
George, in his lifetime, influenced many other artists, the
most famous being Leo Tolstoy and George Bernard Shaw. Tolstoy
arranged for, and possibly financed, the translation of all
George's books into Russian, using cheap editions to educate his
former serfs and writing the foreword to the Russian edition of
Social Problems. And in his own book, Resurrection, Tolstoy
incorporated George's idea of land as birthright. This is the
book for which the great Russian was excommunicated from his
church and which was censored in early European and English
translations, deleting references to George and to Herbert
Shaw says hearing and reading George made a man of him. He
adds that five-sixths of Britain's Fabian socialists, including
Beatrice and Sidney Webb, were catalyzed into action by George's
ideas. The fine book edited by Dorothy and Will Lissner, George
and Democracy in the British Isles, mentions many others.
Continental Europe was also reading George in his time, as the
Lissners' forthcoming Henry George in Europe will attest. So were
Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South America, and, later, China.
Charles Albro Barker, author of the authoritative biography,
Henry George, published by Oxford University Press, sees the
legacy of Georgism as fiscal, political, and moral. It is the
moral, or philosophical, on which I concentrate, as evidenced in
culture, or the arts. In the interest of time and relevance, I
include only United States artists, by whom I mean all connected
with painting, photography, architecture, and sculpture; with
music; and with writing -- poetry and prose, including nonfiction,
in books, radio, film, and television. Although I'd like to limit
works to those by people who knew George or his writings, I'll
cite others of social protest who support ideas like George's,
when I reach the time when his influence waned. I omit
economists, most politicians, and living Georgists. I'll go light
on history, since many of you know it well. As for how to broaden
our focus, I hope our discussion will provide some answers. My
purpose is to share with you names and works of Georgists and
others whose art, pleading for social justice, can be used to
attract a wider audience to our cause.
There are nearly 125 years of Georgist history between the
publication of Progress and Poverty in 1879 and today. To give
those years some form, I divide them into three periods: 1879 to
1929 (the beginning of the Great Depression), 1929 to 1945 (the
end of World War 11), and the last fifty years. George's book was
published during an era of massive industrialization,
encompassing railroad expansion, factory work, and huge foreign
immigration to the cities. He was not the only one appalled by
the contrast between the robber baron and the worker or tramp,
but the strength of his ideas and style helped others hone their
perspectives on his words. While none had the stature of Tolstoy
or Shaw, they had wide influence, some still admired today.
Of George's influence in the United States, Barker writes:
"By the middle 80s surges of acceptance and rejection delighted
or dismayed Americans, according to their sentiments. Then
gradually his ideas worked their way into the deeper strata of
public thought and conscience. When Georgism seized minds of
legalistic bent, like Thomas Shearman's, it impelled me single-
tax movement, which began during 1887 and 1888 in New York. When
it seized practical and political minds, Tom Loftin Johnson's
most notably, Georgism entered near its source the stream that
later broadened to become the progressive movement of the
twentieth century [subject of a forthcoming book in the George
Series, edited by the Lissners]. When, at their farthest reach,
the ideas of Henry George engaged literary and philosophical
minds, such as George Bernard Shaw's and Leo Tolstoy's abroad,
and Hamlin Garland's and Brand Whitlock's in the United States,
the moral appeal of Progress and Poverty extended with added
charm beyond the circle of those who had read George's books or
listened to his lectures or joined organizations, and had
pondered his argument for themselves. No other book of the
industrial age, dedicated to social reconstruction and conceived
within the Western traditions of Christianity and democracy,
commanded so much attention as did Progress and Poverty."
That's what we're looking for -- to go beyond our circle.
"[T]he axioms of [George's] thought were always the same,"
continues Barker. "They were the Jeffersonian and Jacksonian
principles of destroying private economic monopolies and of
advancing freedom and equal opportunity for everyone."
Progress and Poverty was one of 13 books that changed America,
according to Eric Goldman, writing in The Saturday Review in
1953. The Autobiography of Lincoln Steffens, the muckraking
author influenced by George, was another. And a third was Human
Nature and Conduct by John Dewey, who held George in such esteem
that he served as an honorary officer of the Henry George School,
was founding advisory editor to The American Journal of Economics
and Science, and in 1933 broadcast an appeal to President
Franklin a Roosevelt to adopt a national land value tax to ease the
Henry Steele Commager writes, in The American Mind:
The decade of the nineties is the watershed of American
history. As with all watersheds the topography is bluffed, but in
the perspective of half a century the grand outlines emerge
clearly. On the one side lies an America predominantly
agricultural; concerned with domestic problems; conforming,
intellectually at least, to the political, economic, and moral
principles inherited from the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries -- an America still in the making, physically and
socially; an America on the whole self-confident, self-contented,
self-reliant, and conscious of its unique character and of a
unique destiny. On the other side lies the modem America,
predominantly urban and industrial; inextricably involved in
world economy and politics; troubled with the problems that had
long been thought peculiar to the Old World; experiencing
profound changes in population, social institutions, economy, and
technology; and an to accommodate its traditional institutions
and habits of thought to conditions new and in part alien.
[T]he demands made upon the integrity of the American
character and the resourcefulness of the American mind at the end
of the century were more complex and imperative than at any time
in a hundred years ... of class conflict in American society, and
the fashioning of new legal and political weapons for that
struggle .... The great issues of the nineties still commanded
popular attention half a century later.
Another critic commented that one of the "major principles of
that new economic thought which was to become the orthodoxy of
the twentieth century, appreciation of the relevance of ethical
as well as scientific considerations... found expression in the
hopeful and not wholly futile effort to Christianize and humanize
the social order which enlisted the efforts of ... that large and
straggling body of reformers from Henry George to Henry Wallace
who sought to subordinate economic to social ends."
"The literature of the post[Civil]war years" [returning to
Commager] "had been regional and romantic; that of the nineties
was sociological and naturalistic .... The Thirteenth District
[Georgist Brand Whitlock's novel] owed much to Altgeld and
"Golden Rule" Jones, but more to Brand Whitlock's own experience
in Toledo ward politics.... The Saturday Evening Post ...
published such novels as Frank Norris' The Octopus. Willa Cather,
Ellen Glasgow, Edith Wharton, Theodore Dreiser, Brand Whitlock,
Thomas Beer, and Sinclair Lewis appeared in its hospitable
A poet who galvanized the conscience of the 90s was Edwin
Markham, whose "The Man with the Hoe" is still included in
anthologies. He wrote it after seeing Jean-Francois Millet's
painting by that name. Like another great painter, Francisco Goya
(whose searing sketches of the poor are on exhibition,
temporarily, right around the comer at the Philadelphia Museum of
Art), Millet saw the roots, the radical truth behind pastoralism
so often portrayed sentimentally. Markham's poem first appeared
in 1899 in the San Francisco Chronicle, which printed many a
piece about that city's Henry George:
The Man With the Hoe by Jean-Francois Millet
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down his brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land,
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power,
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And pillared the blue firmament with light?
Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this--
More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed--
More filled with signs and portents for the soul--
More fraught with menace to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades?
What the long reaches a the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look.
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop.
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited.
Cries protest to the judges of the world.
A protest that is also a prophecy.
0 masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape,
Give back the upward looking and the light,
Rebuild in it the music and the dream,
Touch it again with immortality,
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
0 masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this man?
How answer his brute question in that how
Men whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
Men this dumb terror shall reply to God,
After the silence of the centuries?
Another poet, famous for her tribute to the Statue of Liberty,
is Emma Lazarus, who corresponded with George. Here is her poem,
"Progress and Poverty," first published in The New York Times in
Oh splendid age when Science lights her lamp
At the brief lightning's momentary flame,
Fixing it steadfast as a star, man's name
Upon the very brow of heaven to stamp!
Launched on a ship whose iron-cuirassed sides
Mock storm and wave, Humanity sails free,
Gayly upon a vast, untrodden sea.
O'er pathless wastes, to ports undreamed she rides,
Richer than Cleopatra's barge of gold,
This vessel, manned by demi-gods, with freight
Of priceless marvels. But where yawns the hold
In that deep, reeking hell, what slaves be they,
Who feed the ravenous monster, pant and sweat,
Nor know if overhead reign night or day?
[T]he dominant trend in literature was
critical; most authors portrayed an economic system disorderly
and ruthless, wasteful and inhumane, unjust alike to workingmen,
investors, and consumers, politically corrupt and morally
corrupting. ... Never before in American literature and rarely in
the literature of any country had the major writers been so
sharply estranged from the society which nourished them and the
economy which sustained them as during the half-century between
The Rise of Silas Lapham and Grapes of Wrath
[L]iterature was not only an echo but often -- as with The Jungle -- a trumpet and an alarm. During the Populist era it was Howells and Garland, Norris and Frederic, who set the literary tone; those who were not championing the cause of the farmer were pleading the rights of labor or designing Utopias -- some fifty of them
altogether during these years -- to show what felicity man might
achieve if only economic competition were banished.
Of those American writers affected directly by George, by
knowing him or his book, one of the greatest was Hamlin Garland.
From the Middle West, where his parents farmed unsuccessfully, he
moved East, where he saw how banking, as much as trade,
determined farmers' fates. Main-Traveled Roads (a collection of
short stories), novels, and a series of reminiscences about the
Middle Border (as he called the Middle West) are his heritage.
"Under the Lion's Paw" describes how a man saving to buy the farm
he has worked for three years finds himself in a Catch-22 because
he has improved it. Butler, the landlord, speaks to Haskins, his
"Oh, I won't be hard on yer. But what did you expect to pay
f'r the place?"
"Why, about what you offered it for before, two thousand five
hundred, or possibly three
thousand dollars," he added quickly as he saw the owner shake
his head. "This farm if worth five thousand and five hundred
dollars," said Butler in a careless but
"What! " almost shrieked the astonished Haskins. "What's that?
Five thousand? Why,
that's double what you offered it for three years ago."
"Of course, and it's worth it. It was all run down then; now
it's in good shape. You've
laid out fifteen hundred dollars in improvements, according to
your own story."
"But you had nothin' t' do about that. It's my work an' my
"You bet it was; but it's my land."
"But what's to pay me for all my --?"
"Ain't you had the use of 'em?" replied Butler, smiling calmly
into his face.
Haskins was like a man struck on the head with a sandbag; he
couldn't think; he stammered
as he tried to say:
"But -- I never 'd git the use-- You'd rob me! More'n that, you
agreed -- you promised that I
could buy or rent at the end of three years at--"
"That's all right. But I didn't say I'd let you carry off the
improvements, nor that I'd go on
renting the farm at two-fifty. The land is doubled in value, it
don't matter how; it don't
enter into the question; an' now you can pay me five hundred
dollars a year rent, or take it
on your own terms at fifty-five hundred, or -- git out."
He was turning away when Haskins, the sweat pouring from his
face, fronted him, saying
"But you've done nothing to make it so. You hain't added a cent.
I put it all there myself,
expectin' to buy. I worked an' sweat to improve it. I was
workin' f'r myself an' babes--"
Haskins sat down blindly on a bundle of oats nearby and, with
staring eyes and drooping head, went over the situation. He was
under the lion's paw. He felt a horrible
numbness in his heart and limbs. He was hid in a mist, and there
was no path out.
Frank Norris called the Southern Pacific Railway "The Octopus"
in his novel of that name:
The [railroad] map was white, and it
seemed as if all the color which should have gone to vivify the
various counties, towns, and cities marked upon it had been
absorbed by that huge sprawling organism .... It was as though
the State had been sucked white and colorless, and against this
pallid background the red arteries of the monster stood out,
swollen with life-blood, reaching out to infinity, gorged to
bursting, an excrescence, a gigantic parasite fattening upon the
life-blood of an entire commonwealth.
Listen now to Henry Demarest Lloyd, who wrote Wealth against
Commonwealth, and was one of the three author-activists who were
the subjects of John L.Thomas's provocative Alternative America:
(Harvard University Press). The others were Edward Bellamy,
author of Looking Backward, and George.
If our civilization is
destroyed, as Macaulay predicted, it will not be by his
barbarians from below. Our barbarians come from above. Our great
money-makers have sprung in one generation, into seats of power
kings do not know....Without restraints of culture, experience,
the pride, or even the inherited caution of class or rank, these
men, intoxicated, think they are the wave instead of float, and
that they have created the business which has created them. To
them science is but a never-ending repertoire of investments
stored up by nature for the syndicates, government but a
fountain of franchises, the nations but customers in squads ....
They claim a power without control, exercised through forms
which make it secret, anonymous, and perpetual.
Today David Korten's powerful book, When Corporations Rule
the World, says the same thing, with less eloquence. Norris,
Lloyd, and Bellamy were not Georgists, but shared with them many
of the same protest meetings and utopian conferences. George was
asked to join their Populist ticket but chose not to.
Of the muckrakers, those pioneer investigative journalists,
writes Commager, "Lincoln Steffens was the most astute, and the
most influential. His findings are to be read in the sensational
Shame of the Cities, but it is me sober and disillusioned
Autobiography that best presents his conclusions ... a cold-
blooded analysis of how the political system actually works.
Together with such autobiographies as Tom Johnson's My Story and
Brand Whitlock's Forty Years of It, it swept away the whole case
of the civil service reformers of the Progressive era, for it
made inescapably clear that the political corruption stemmed from
commercial, that bosses were me creatures a big business and the
spoils system the natural product of a predatory economy, and
that the moral approach to politics was not only inadequate but
foredoomed to frustration."
Good nonfiction -- whether a description of events or of a
life, one's own or another's--is art. You have just heard the
highest praise, by Commager, for three Georgists. Steffens is
the best known, but, in the arts of governance, Johnson and
Whitlock are tops. Johnson (like a later Georgist, John C.
Lincoln) was an inventor who grew rich on his patents.
introduced to Georgist books by a railroad porter, and became an
admirer and close friend of the author. He was elected to
Congress, then to four terms as mayor of Cleveland, Ohio. You
can see his statue there today, a copy of Progress and Poverty
in his hands.
Between George's death in 1897 and the outbreak of World War
I in 1914, prominent Georgists, including several writers,
influenced presidents, Teddy Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson, some
attaining Cabinet or other high office. Whitlock, who was reform
mayor of Toledo, Ohio, later served as ambassador to Belgium as
part of the great Georgist circle around Wilson. Both Johnson
and Whitlock instituted many civic reforms, including
demonopolizing municipal transit and other services. Read all
about them, and good governance in general, in the Lissners'
George and Ohio's Civic Revival, part of their George Series.
Whitlock also wrote a novel of social protest, but here's an
excerpt from his autobiography, Forty Years of It:
I speak of their [Mark Twain's and William Dean Howells's]
democracy for the purpose of likening it in its very essence to
that of Golden Rule Jones and of Johnson [both Georgist mayors],
too, and of all the others who have struggled in the human
Upton Sinclair's stunning novel, The Jungle, is a horrifying
depiction of industrial brutalization and of indifference to the
public's wellbeing. Such art still raises more anger than a
dozen Ralph Naders, though we need all the Naders we can get.
Sinclair established a utopian community in New Jersey -- Helicon
Hall--which was burned down by a firebomb, as we heard last
night. He spoke up for George many times, lived here in Arden,
also in Fairhope [both Georgist enclaves], and then moved to
California, where he ran for governor and lost.
Robert Heilbroner, in The Worldly Philosophers, says of
George, "[T]he import of his ideas -- albeit usually in watered
form -- became part of the heritage of men like Woodrow Wilson, John
Dewey, Louis Brandeis .... The complacency of the official world
was not merely a rueful commentary on the times; it was an
intellectual tragedy of the first order. For had the academicians
paid attention to the underworld, had Alfred Marshall possessed
the disturbing vision of a Hobson, or Edgeworth the sense of
social wrong of a Henry George, the great catastrophe of the
twentieth century might not Eve burst upon a world utterly
unprepared for radical sit change."
Let's take a break now from wordsmiths to some other kinds of
artists who built American culture. Literal builders, or
architects, of Georgist inspiration or sympathy, include Frank
Lloyd Wright, perhaps this nation's greatest and certainly most
daring architect. He spoke at a Georgist meeting in Chicago in
1951 and praised George for the "organic" quality of his thought,
a rootedness and wholeness essential to great art. Remembering
that the origin of radical is root, getting to the source of
things. we find George's radical diagnosis of, and remedy for,
economic inequality heeded by Walter Burley Griffin. He was a
Georgist, and, like Wright, a Chicago architect. He won the
competition to design Australia's new capital, Canberra, and
provided that its land be leased, not sold, and taxed on value.
As for painters, few are credited with being Georgists,
although Arden contains exceptions. Daniel Carter Beard, who
illustrated Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's
Court, was another. Twain is said to have remarked that Beard had
"made of my book a Single Tax work," because of its scathing
portraits of vested interests. [The drawing at right is captioned "They have a right to their view; I only stand to this." --Ed.] Beard went on to become more
famous as leader of the American Boy Scouts. Amy Mali Hicks, who
lived in Arden's Georgist neighbor, the enclave of Free Acres in
New Jersey, was a well-known stage designer. But for inspiration
we have to turn to the artists of the 30s and later, many helped
by the New Deal's Federal Arts Project, who show us poverty and
despair in both city and country. They include George Bellows,
Grant Wood, Thomas Hart Benton, Charles Sheeler, and many others.
The project, writes Commager, "was an expression of the principle
that literature and art, music and drama, were as essential to
the happiness and prosperity of the nation as any merely economic
activities, and that those who engaged in them were legitimate
objects of the patronage of the state." This belief was echoed
often by George's famous granddaughter, Agnes de Mille.
Photography may do even more than painting to unjustify "God's
ways to man." One of the great artists in that field lived when
George did, though I find no acknowledgment by either of the
other. He is Jacob Riis, a Danish immigrant whose images, in The
Making of An American and How the Other Half Lives still assault
us with dark scenes of starvation and crime in New York City. A
superb photographer of our own times and of our land before we
ruined it, Ansel Adams wrote, in the preface to Alexander
Alland's Jacob A. Riis, Photographer & Citizen: [T]he larger
content lies in Riis's expression of people in misery, want and
squalor. These people live again for you in the print -- as
intensely as when their images were captured on the old dry
plates of ninety years ago. Their comrades in poverty and
suppression live here today, in this city -- in all the cities of
the world." Walker Evans' pictures, abetted by the text of James
Agee, in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, chronicled the bleak lives
of five sharecropper families in the 30s. Dorothea Lange and countless
others did the same, often for federal agencies like the
Department of Agriculture.
For music, let's begin right here in Arden, with Frank
Stephens' Grubb's Corner, to Gilbert & Sullivan melodies. Can you
resist lifting your voices in song to "When First I
Came to the Delaware Shore," to the tune of "The Ruler of the
Queen's Navy" from HMS Pinafore?
Men first I came to the Delaware shore,
It was some weeks ahead of Lord Baltimore,
And I floundered over moor and fen
Some days ahead of William Penn.
I cut my schedule down so fine
That I reached the banks of the Brandywine
Some half an hour or so I claim,
Before these folks from Holland came.
By dropping my kit and hustling quick
I was first to get to Naaman's Creek,
And just ahead of Dutch and Quakers
Mandated some five thousand acres.
And here secure from war's alarms,
I'll stake out hundred acre farms.
I'll rent them fair, as man to man,
And farm the farmers as I can.
And then when Wilmington grows great
We'll make some booms in real estate,
And all by landlord's law will be
For me and my posterity.
Among Georgists I find only those who set their own lyrics to
popular tunes by others. From the larger world, there is the grand
music of Virgil Thomson, enhancing the tough prose of Pare
Lorentz in the film, The Plow that Broke the Plains, which
documents how poor farmers had to keep moving on, from bad soil
to worse (Georgists call it land at the margin), turning the
nation into a vast dust bowl in their desperate attempts to feed
their families. Then there are George Gershwin's melodies and
orchestration for Dubose Heyward's Porgy and Bess, especially a
song like "I Got Plenty 0' Nothin'," although the social message -- the brutality of poverty -- is muted. The music that speaks our
cause the most, I believe, is folk and the blues. Just two nights
ago, I heard on WQXR radio's "Woody's Children," Odetta, Oscar
Brand, and Tom Paxton. They sing our words. Lindy tells me Bob
Dylan has a number called "Dear Landlord." And nearly all Pete
Seeger's songs are about social justice. (One of our Georgists,
Mary Rose Kaczorowski-Redwood Mary -- spoke to Pete and presented
her views at his popular Clearwater Festival on the Hudson River
The anthem of the Depression was written by that clear-eyed
tramp, Woody Guthrie, singing of the out-of-work, out-of-luck,
out-of-pocket, who are no longer such a small number in the
United States. We all know "This Land Is Your Land, This Land Is
My Land". How many know that Australia's unofficial anthem,
"Waltzing, Matilda", about a tramp chased to death by police, was
written by a bona fide Georgist?
Agnes de Mille, George's granddaughter, is a world-class
choreographer who introduced an American idiom in the musical
Oklahoma, bringing to greater fame Aaron Copland, who composed
the music. De Mille is less well known as a great autobiographer -- more than a half dozen books about her life as well as that of
America and the dance. Funny, heart
breaking. Tough, too. Just read her preface to the centenary
edition of Progress and Poverty. Here's a section:
The great sinister fact, the one that we must live with, is
that we are yielding up sovereignty. The nation is no longer
comprised of the thirteen original states, nor of the thirty-
seven younger sister states, but of the real powers: the cartels,
the corporations. Owning the bulk of our productive resources,
they are the issue of that concentration of ownership that George
saw evolving, and warned against.
These multinationals are not American any more. Transcending
nations, they serve not their country's interests, but their own.
They manipulate our tax policies to help themselves. They
determine our statecraft. They are autonomous. They do not need
to coin money or raise armies. They use ours.
Drama, you'd think, would have had many Georgist
practitioners. Only one play by a Georgist, James Herne's Shore
Acres, made it to the footlights and is not performed today. A
few Georgists wrote some shorter ones, gathering dust in our
archives. In the 30s and later America had social realism -- Elmer
Rice, Lorraine Hansbery (dead too young) of A Raisin in the Sun,
Arthur Miller, and more. Tobacco Road had a long run, as did
Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, both originally novels. The latter
is also a powerful opera, which I saw this year. Another novel,
turned film, and soon to be an opera, is Sister Helen Prejean's
Dead Man Walking, about prisons and capital punishment. (One of
my Henry George Institute students is in the prison she
describes.) Rent, a current drama hit based on Puccini's opera,
La Boheme, has characters who starve and die, but neither the
opera nor the play stirs real outrage.
The Great Depression bared the bones of society. I've just
named many artists of that period. Some great works were created
because of poverty; the WPA -- Works Progress Administration --
employed and paid people to paint murals in libraries, post
offices, and other public buildings; to collect songs; and to
record poverty and progress through books and photographs.
Commager describes a giant of the 30s and 40s:
If Dos Passos
derives from Veblen, John Steinbeck derives from Henry George.
His theme, like that of the great California radical, is the
contrast between progress and poverty, and the calamitous
consequences of the exploitation of the land. More clearly than
any other critic or crusader of the thirties, he carries on the
tradition of revolt and reform established by Hamlin Garland and
Frank Norris, and of the nostalgia for the generation of the
builders and impatience with the generation of the exploiters
that is implicit in so much of Willa Cather.
Grapes of Wrath is more than the story of the flight of the
Okies from the dust bowl to golden California. It is an
indictment of the economy that drove them into flight, that took
the land from those who had tilled it and handed it over to the
banks, that permitted hunger in the land of plenty and
lawlessness in the name of law and made a mockery of the
principles of justice and democracy.
Here is Steinbeck:
The banks worked at their own doom, and
they did not know it. The fields were fruitful, and starving men
moved on the roads. The granaries were full, and the children of
the poor grew up rachitic, and the pustules of pellagra swelled
on their sides. The great companies did not know that the line
between hunger and anger is a thin line. And money that might
have gone for wages went for gas, for guns, for agents and spies,
for blacklists, for drilling. On the highways the people moved
like ants and searched for work, and food.
World War II -- fought, so Adolph Hitler said, for "lebensraum"
(space to live, land) -- brought unspeakable slaughter and
destruction. Man's inhumanity to man is best exemplified by
another example I must take from abroad -- Picasso's Guernica, the
bombing of that Spanish city by fascists in 1937. The victims
were Basque separatists protesting an oppressive Spanish
government, which turned to Germany for its dirty work. We are
taught that World War 11 began in 1939, but me kindling had
already been lit in Spain, in Ethiopia, and in other places
suffering social injustice.
War, as always, creates jobs and wealth for some, and a "just"
war dampens social protest. America's communist "enemy, " Russia,
became a friend for awhile. After the war prosperity came to most
in the United States. The GI Bill (free college education with
living expenses for veterans) brought culture to many who'd never
had time or money for it. GI loans bought houses for the masses,
not always pretty, as Malvina Reynolds sang in "Little Boxes".
New towns sprawled into farm land and wet land and forest land.
The growing isolation and indifference of people were
characterized in Frank Reisman's chilling sociological study, The
The millennium approaches, with the great Jubilee 2000 to be
celebrated by religious denominations worldwide. Georgists have
potential allies there. We share their aims of economic justice
and George was a major influence on religious leaders. There is
no time today to include that part of our culture, but I
recommend Robert Andelson's son's works on the subject,
especially From Wasteland to Promised Land. And I remind you
that three major New York City religious leaders knew and admired
George: Stephen Wise, after whom the Free Synagogue is named;
John Haynes Holmes, eloquent minister of the Community Church
(Unitarian); and Edward McGlynn, of St. Stephen's, excommunicated
from the Catholic Church for his support of George.
As I close, I've cheated you on the most recent 50 years, and
on history. There are, in those years, the same social problems -- civil rights, poverty, war. And some splendid artists
communicating them. But while creative people in other nations
have had much to say on the issues of land and monopoly, I find
less emphasis by United States artists -- until recently. I
believe, however, we're in a new era where essayists and
journalists (print, radio, TV, film, the web) are showing greater
awareness. We had Edward R. Murrow's "The Harvest of Shame" on
TV. Today we have Alan Durning, David Hapgood, Michael Kinsley.
Did you know Fairhope's Paul Gaston was a consultant to National
Public Radio's recent series on the civil rights movement of the
60s? Alanna Hartzok brought the young novelist of Appalachia's
poverty, Denise Giardina, to address our 1989 sesquicentennial
Georgist conference in Philadelphia.
Ken Burns is doing another TV documentary, this one on American
feminism. Let's hope it's not too late to let him know that
Carrie Chapman Catt (who was a possible presidential candidate)
and other Georgist women, like "Alaska Jane" McEvoy, were active
for women's right to vote, as was George.
I've listed, in a separate paper, more than 300 Americans
eminent for both their compassion and their culture since
George's day. Let us cite them, quote them, use them. We have
allies in the widest spectrum of interests. We are for the single
tax -- but let us not continue in a single band of the spectrum
I close with a Georgist poet, E. Yancey Cohen, one of the
Schalkenbach Foundation's original directors, who wrote "Jubilee"
in 1928 for a City College of New York class's 50th anniversary
nearly a century ago. It fits our conference on education too.
"The Earth is Mine," thus spake the Lord,
"Sojourners ye by my accord.
Six days for labor, one for rest,
This of my rulings is the best.
The waters of the open sea
For all my children's use are free.
The early and the latter rain
I cause to fall each year again.
The sun's all-generous warmth and glow,
Which from the seed-time makes to grow
The varied harvests of your toil
Give each his corn and wine and oil.
Partake of all my bounteous aid
But let my mandates be obey'd.
Not seek ye field on field to join
Nor others' labors to purloin.
Your heads to think, your hands to do
In fitting way I give to you--
But all my natural Universe,
In which my Godhead I immerse,
My winds, my fires, my powers divine
Shall not be own'd by you -- they're mine!
And woe to those who in their pride
By my great law will not abide!
With equal right use ye the Earth,
This guerdon comes to you at birth--
But he who filches this clear right
Him will I shatter in my Might!"
Thus was the blast of that wild horn
On Palestinian echoes borne.
So seven times seven the years went by,
And we have liv'd and we can die--
But what we've seen and we shall see
Is the bright gold of Destiny.
Sound high, thou horn of Jubilee!
Ring out, 0 bells of Liberty!
Teach men God's truth that makes men free!