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Published online by Cambridge University Press: 26 August 2005
Wars have been underexamined as causal factors in American political history. The nation's freestanding hot wars seem to have generated at least four kinds of major effects: policy changes of lasting consequence, new issue regimes, durable changes in electoral alignments, and durable changes in party ideologies. Considered here are the War of 1812, the War with Mexico, the Civil War, World War I, and World War II.David R. Mayhew is Sterling Professor of Political Science at Yale University (david.mayhew@yale.edu). His publications include Party Loyalty among Congressmen; Congress: The Electoral Connection; “Congressional Elections: The Case of the Vanishing Marginals”; Placing Parties in American Politics; Divided We Govern; America's Congress: Actions in the Public Sphere, James Madison through Newt Gingrich; and Electoral Realignments: A Critique of an American Genre. The author thanks Alan Gerber, Matthew Green, Jacob Hacker, Sonam Henderson, Rogan Kersh, Philip Klinkner, Heinz Kohler, Joseph LaPalombara, Bruce Russett, Abbey Steele, and anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments.
Since its founding in 1789, the United States government has conducted hot wars for some 38 years,1
Porter 1994b, 58. Porter's total is thirty-four years as of 1994.
Yet, in general, political scientists who study American domestic politics have underappreciated these effects. That is true of “American political development” specialists as well as others.2
Notable recent exceptions to this neglect include Bensel 1990, Sparrow 1996, Klinkner and Smith 1999, Mettler 2002, and Katznelson and Shefter 2002. In the comparative analysis of the effects of wars on state building, Tilly (1975) has of course pioneered.
Some work in political science does point to the relative autonomy of sectors of the American national state, notably Skowronek 1982, but this scholarship does not center on wars.
At a conceptual level, John Kingdon has offered a refreshing amendment to the above account, at least in the sphere of policy making, through the metaphor of “windows” of opportunity during which policy change becomes possible. Even if an eager candidate, senator, interest group, or bureaucrat—or perhaps a Socialist Party platform a century ago—has promoted a policy idea, that advocacy is irrelevant unless the idea comes to enjoy the joint good fortune of a favorable political environment (such as an election result) and a perceived public “problem” (such as inflation, railroad insolvency, or terrorism). Happenstance rules, at least partly. If the conditions are fortuitously satisfied, a “window” may open. In particular, in Kingdon's view, the explanatory balance tilts away from a long-term interest-based determinism toward a jerky timestream of “problem perception.”4
Enter wars. Unsurpassed as producers of problems, wars may offer the best case imaginable for a conceptual tilt toward the idea of windows that are opened up by problems. For some decisive instances, consider the passage of the Freedmen's Bureau Act of 1865, the Current Tax Payment Act of 1943 (which began the now routine government practice of withholding income-tax payments paycheck by paycheck),5
or the USA Patriot Act of 2001. These enactments were triggered by problems that were triggered by wars. I will depend on Kingdon's central insight throughout this essay. Yet the effects of wars cut even deeper. Wars seem to be capable of generating whole new political universes. They can generate new problems and open up policy windows, thus often fostering new policies, but they can also generate new ideas, issues, programs, preferences, and ideologies and refashion old electoral coalitions—thus permanently altering the demand side of politics. Certainly, by strengthening the national state, wars can alter the supply side of politics.These are strong claims. I will try to substantiate them by documenting certain effects of five major American wars from 1789 through 1945—the War of 1812, the War with Mexico, the Civil War, World War I, and World War II. This omits the obviously consequential, although distantly so by 1789, Revolutionary War. It omits the Spanish-American War, which was brief (ten weeks), required little mobilization, and seems to have affected domestic politics little.6
In the policy realm, it did help to spur the professionalization of the U.S. Army. See Skowronek 1982, 112–18, 212–16. And it brought the annexation of Puerto Rico and the Philippines and, in a side move, Hawaii. Did the Spanish-American War trigger a new “issue regime” centering on, say, imperialism? Probably not. The American imperialist impulse of that era dates to the early 1890s. It is probably better to see the war as a yield of, or a moment in, an already existent issue regime rather than the cause of a new one.
I would guess that the kinds of arguments I make, and the kinds of conclusions I arrive at, in this paper will not be especially surprising to historians (including economic historians), who tend to be at home with events and contingency. The overall patterns I argue for might engage that audience. Yet the chief audience I am aiming for here is political scientists, who have tended to underplay events and contingency—and notably wars—in addressing American history.
By the effects of wars I mean, more precisely, the effects of wars and their immediate induced aftermaths. If a war causes a runaway inflation for a year or two after it ends, and the society reacts to the inflation, then that reaction counts as a war effect. The effects of demobilizations can count. This aftermath license needs to be used with caution. For example, it is probably best to steer clear of anything to do with the cold war as an effect of World War II; there is a time gap, and too many additional ingredients had gotten poured into the mix by 1947.
For evidence of causal relations I rely on expert testimony by historians, economists, and political scientists that includes, where possible and appropriate, the presentation of a plausible causal logic. By that term I mean a causal account featuring intuitively plausible reasons why an effect may have come about.7
In the instances of several dozen alleged effects, I invite readers to test the soundness of the causal logics by consulting the cited sources, which are referenced in detail. In most cases I have tried to pinpoint short stretches of pages that supply particularly apt documentation.
Dray 1964, 19.
Ibid., 42–43; Nagel 1961, 582–83.
In this article I investigate four kinds of effects. First, there can be policy changes, including changes in rules, institutional structure, and national boundaries as well as in ongoing administered policies. I am interested in changes that proved to be long-lasting, that is, changes extending at least a decade yet in most cases a generation or longer beyond the wars themselves. Not to be considered are such short-term policy initiatives as price controls or the Fair Employment Practices Committee during World War II or the temporary income tax of the Civil War era.10
In this analysis, I have skirted one evident ratchet effect of short-term wartime policy moves. In the wake of American wars, military personnel levels, and military spending as a share of the federal budget, have ordinarily continued on above prewar levels. See Russett 1970, 2–4.
A word is in order about the connection between the policy changes and the new issue regimes. They are distinct in principle and ordinarily unrelated in practice. Over two-thirds of the policy changes identified here were not followed by long-lasting postwar contestation about whether the changes in question should have been made in the first place. Basic policy questions were settled—in the sense (to cite a non-war-related instance) that the Louisiana Purchase was not followed by a quarter century of debate about whether to sell the territory back to France. Also, most of the new issue regimes identified here were not continuing arguments about the advisability of already achieved war-driven policy changes. Rather, they came about somehow otherwise through war-related circumstances. Nevertheless, there is an overlap. In some instances, an actual policy change blended into a new issue regime. That is, a war-induced policy change occurred in a specified policy area, yet a new highly public controversy (perhaps accompanying more change) persisted regarding the advisability of the already achieved policy change for a considerable time also. In such instances, a relevant policy area can be listed here under both the “policy change” and “new issue regime” rubrics. The boundaries around these matters are perhaps blurry but I hope workable.
A third kind of effect can be shakeups in electoral coalitions. By this I mean substantial changes in patterns of party voting in presidential elections that persisted for a considerable time—a decade or a generation rather than just a few years. Fourth, there can be major changes in party ideologies. With this rubric, I draw particular attention to the twentieth century.
These four categories of war effects are not exhaustive. Wars can be cataclysms. In a general sense, their effects can obviously be horrific and astounding as were, for example, those of World War I in Europe: “It is hard now to appreciate how overwhelming an event and how crushing in its aftermath the conflict must have seemed.”11
Stevenson 2004, 486.
Skocpol 2003, chap. 2.
See Putnam 2000, 54, 81, 84, 103, 267–76.
First, I jointly consider policy changes and new issue regimes war by war. I then evaluate electoral shakeups for all five wars and party ideological changes for the twentieth-century wars. This is a somewhat dissonant plan, but the joint treatment of the first two effects is probably justified by their frequent overlap of issue terrain. To cover the territory outlined above, I need to proceed by way of sketches that are brief to the point of being telegraphic. Also, I have made choices of emphasis. This is a what, when, and why analysis and centrally not a who and how analysis. I take it as given that in many, if not all, the historical instances cited below, political entrepreneurs did imaginative work through resourceful use of processes. But most of those stories will not be told here. It is true that a why analysis is incomplete without taking account of entrepreneurs, but the why analysis I undertake here centers on the circumstances in which the entrepreneurs might have operated. My main aim is to place the whats and whens in relief and point to plausible causal logics.
The War of 1812 could serve as a model for the case that wars can have major effects. Two major policy changes emerged quickly after the armistice. Congress established the Second Bank of the United States—a reaction to the near-bankruptcy, currency disorder, and debt brought on by the war14
Rockoff 2000, 647–48; Watts 1987, 278.
Bauer, Pool, and Dexter 1963, 13–14; Baxter 1995, chap. 2; Binkley 1962, 101–2.
Babcock 1906, 247; Wiltse 1961, 27–28.
Wiltse 1961, chap. 3; Baxter 1995, chap. 2.
Binkley 1962, 101. See also Schoen 2003, 200; Sylla 2000, 519.
Watts 1987, 276.
Binkley 1962, 101. The postwar issue terrain is discussed in three parallel chapters on the bank, the tariff, and internal improvements in Babcock 1906, chaps. 13–15.
The war with Mexico of the 1840s brought one striking policy change—the acquisition of today's American Southwest, extending from Texas through California (in geographic terms, an area larger than today's Britain, France, Italy, Germany, and Spain combined).21
Texas had been annexed just before the war, but it took U.S. military action against Mexico to place the annexation beyond dispute. The rest of the Southwest was a direct prize of the war.
That is, all the new territory west of Texas.
Potter 1976, 23. See also Foner 1969. It is sometimes argued that the Whigs “played the antislavery card” in the 1840s to steer politics away from economic issues and thus upset the hegemony of the Democrats. See, for example, Riker 1982, chap. 9. But that does not seem to be what happened. David Wilmot, who presented the killer amendment in 1846, was representative of a sizable faction of northern Van Burenite Democrats committed to free-soil doctrine. A generation earlier, another northeastern Democrat had presented the relevant killer antislavery amendment during the brief but intense Missouri controversy.
Potter 1976, 17. In general, see Potter 1976, chaps. 1–5; Freehling 1990, chaps. 26–31.
The broad effects of the Civil War are well known. Beyond its changes in race policies, the war brought “a spirit of national economic activism unprecedented in the antebellum years,” engendering “what might be called the birth of the modern American state.”25
Foner 1988, 21, 23. In general, see Bensel 1990.
Foner 1988, 1–11, 66–67, 251-61, 444–48.
Bauer, Pool, and Dexter 1963, 14–15. See also Sylla 2000, 527; Brownlee 1996, 44–45; Hansen 1990.
Brownlee 1996, 44–48. See also Sylla 2000, 527–29; Porter 1994a, 260.
North 1966, 25. See also Sylla 2000, 531; Rockoff 2000, 651–52; Porter 1994a, 261.
Wander 1982, 25–28, quotation at 27.
Sylla 2000, 533; Foner 1988, 21.
Sylla 2000, 533; Foner 1988, 21.
Sylla 2000, 533; Foner 1988, 21.
The Civil War also deposited a number of new long-lived issue regimes. Again, under scrutiny is the content of highly public issue controversy during the ensuing decades. It is not clear what to list, but the following four entries seem plausible. They did not exhaust the agenda of public controversy during the late 1860s, 1870s, and 1880s (other chronic issues of that era, such as civil service reform and regulation of the railroads, did not have Civil War origins), but they contributed to it. The relevant new regimes centered on:
Previously, the tariff had not figured as a prominent issue between the mid-1840s and the Civil War.
Porter 1994a, 260; Foner 1988, 23.
Skocpol 1992, chap. 2; Holcombe 1999.
At least eight major long-lasting policy changes can be credited to World War I:
Witte 1985, 79–87, quotation at 87.
Brownlee 2000, 1030.
Brownlee 1985, 173.
Brownlee 1996, 60–72, quotation at 71. See also Higgs 1987, chap. 7.
Kaplan and Ryley 1994, chap. 5, quotation at 100.
Hicks 1960, 57. Eichengreen (1989) does not specifically connect the rise of the trade associations to the 1921 and 1922 enactments (his concern is the later Smoot-Hawley tariff) but he has the groups in place. There is a whiff of corporatism: “The sudden rise to prominence of trade associations was attributable to World War I. The war effort required closer ties between government and industry, but upon attempting to establish them the authorities found it difficult to deal with individual enterprises and requested that associations be formed. If the war occasioned the formation and growth of trade associations, the armistice by no means signaled their demise. Once formed into an association the process of marshalling a constituency was no longer so difficult.” A result was “to promote effective representation of industrial interests in Washington” (pp. 4–5).
Farrar-Myers, Renka, and Ponder 2000, 1; Wander 1982, 31–35.
Kyvig 1996, 218–26, quotation at 224.
Ferrell 1985, 188–90, quotation at 189.
Kerr 1985, 185. See also Cooper 1990, 307.
Kyvig 1996, 226–39, quotation at 234.
Keyssar 2000, 214–18, quotation at 216. See also Cooper 1990, 307–8; Wynn 1986, 148–52; Behn 2005.
Lewis 2004, plus scattered sources on individual countries. The list for World War I includes neutrals, but there could be spillover effects. As of 1914, women had had the vote in New Zealand, Australia, Finland, Norway, and certain American states.
Tichenor 2002, 138–46; LeMay 1987, 70–72.
Goldstein 1978, chaps. 4, 5; Ungar 1976, chap. 3.
Klein 1990; Higgs 1987, 152–53; Skowronek 1982, 283.
Beyond these policy changes, World War I was a fertile source of new issue regimes. Five of them, in addition to the chronic tariff issue (which figured prominently both before and after the war), came close to exhausting the public agenda during the 1920s:
Witte 1985, 88–96; Brownlee 1996, 67–72
Leuchtenburg 1969, 66–67.
Karl 1983, quotation at 43; Hansen 1991, chap. 2; Olmstead and Rhode 2000, 730; Benedict 1953, chaps. 8–12; Eichengreen 1989, 5.
Key 1943; Brown 1956, 863–69; Lee and Passell 1979, 384–86.
As in the locution “postwar era,” we still regard World War II as a dividing line, and that makes sense in domestic as well as in foreign affairs. At least nine substantial policy changes can plausibly be credited to the war:
Wallis 2000, quotation at 73; Murphy 1996; Brownlee 1996, 88–101; Witte 1985, chap. 6; Campbell and Allen 1994.
Witte 1985, 124.
Wallis 2000, 73.
North 1966, 178.
Stein 1969, chaps. 8, 9, quotation at 171.
Brownlee 2000, 1050. The experience of the war seems to have brought a similar result in Britain: “There must be some doubt if an administrative Keynesian revolution (that is, the adoption of Keynesian goals as well as Keynesian instruments) would have occurred had it not been for the Second World War…. The key to the institutionalization of the new paradigm was the shock of war—the decisive factor in forcing the Treasury radically to reappraise its ideas on economic policy.” Oliver and Pemberton 2004, 423–24.
Patterson 1972, 306.
Lee 1966, chaps. 1–3; Amenta and Skocpol 1988, 114–15; Young 1956, 63–67; Sparrow 1996, chap. 3; Wynn 1996, 470. Spirited controversy over the Taft-Hartley Act carried into 1949 but then died down as the Democrats retreated. The question of whether it had been wise to curb the unions proved to be unpromising material for a long-lasting new issue regime, just as continuing opposition to the principles of the Employment Act of 1946 was unpromising terrain for the Republicans. These matters were largely settled.
Keyssar 2000, 244–55, quotation at 244. See also Klinkner and Smith 1999, chap. 6.
Smith 1990, 34.
Ibid., 1–3, 34–52; Polsby 1984, 35–55.
Green and Rosenthal 1963, chap. 1; Balogh 1991, chap. 2.
Wander 1982, 35–38; Rosenbloom 2001; Brazier 1996; Davidson 1990. The term-limit restriction on presidents was the sixth constitutional amendment evidently stimulated by war conditions. A seventh came with the Twenty-Sixth Amendment providing for teenage voting as the Vietnam War wound down. Little has been written about the Twenty-Second Amendment. One safe conclusion seems to be the following: in the 1940s, President Roosevelt would very likely not have become a third- and fourth-term president absent the imminence of war in 1940 and its continuation in 1944. In that case, no term-limiting drive would have arisen. On the elections of 1940 and 1944, see Divine 1974, chaps. 1–4.
Yergin 1977, chap. 8, quotation at 193; Huntington 1964, 429–33.
Perrett 1989, 439. See also Olson 1974, chaps. 1–3.
As in the cases of earlier wars, World War II brought about policy changes but also transformed the national policy agenda. Four major issue regimes lasting into the 1960s seem to have stemmed from the war:
Antilynching was a legislative cause of the 1930s, although the White House and the leadership of the Democratic Party took little interest, and the drive failed.
Klinkner and Smith 1999, chaps. 6, 7, quotation at 200; Keyssar 2000, 244–53; Hart 2004; Collins 2002.
Thomas 1975, 20–22, quotation at 20; Patterson 1972, 320–26. In 1943, “for the first time in over fifty years, a federal aid to education bill was debated and acted upon in the United States Senate” (Munger and Fenno 1962, 8; see also 7–10, 16). Bills had been introduced and won committee assent in previous Congresses, but 1943 brought an attention breakthrough.
Starr 1982, 280–81; Hirshfield 1970, chap. 5; Derickson 1994, 1340–42; Hacker 2002, 217, 223; Derthick 1979, 317–19.
Davies 1966, xi–xiv, quotation at xiii; Patterson 1972, 315–20; Keith 1973, 13–14, chap. 2.
Note that another bundling pattern appears here. Civil rights, education, housing, and health insurance, along with a full-employment thrust, formed the core of what we remember as Truman's “Fair Deal” program.78
On the Fair Deal in general, see Neustadt 1954.
The New Deal era of the 1930s had plenty of issues or causes—relief, recovery, social security, labor-management relations, antimonopoly, banking reform, regulation of various industries, the minimum wage, tariff reduction, fair trade laws, mortgage insurance, reforming the Supreme Court, the TVA, rural electrification, agricultural crop supports. But civil rights (aside from the antilynching cause), federal aid to education, and national health insurance were not on the list, and public housing was not high ranked.
See table 1 for a summary of the foregoing material. At least four observations or reflections seem warranted. First, the Civil War and the two world wars obviously outpaced the two earlier wars in generating entries to the table. No doubt one reason is the scale of the three large wars—the cost in money, mobilization, and lives. In particular, the War with Mexico pales in comparison as a cheaper, easier, one-sided contest more akin to the Spanish-American War. Another likely reason is that the federal government in its early decades was functionally specialized: it was not designed to undertake programs of domestic policy initiatives in good times or bad, and on balance it did not.80
Lasting policy changes and new issue regimes in the United States deriving from wars
Even so, it is well to realize that certain entries in table 1 are more important than others. In particular, an unweighted entry count underrates the War with Mexico. Few policy moves have ever exceeded the annexation of the American Southwest in importance. Possibly no American issue regime has ever exceeded the free-soil versus slavery-expansion controversy of the late 1840s and 1850s in intensity, public engagement, and eventual policy effects. Also, Americans have lost a sense of the War of 1812. The casualties may have been low, but even so—the British invasion of the Detroit area and Maine? The American invasion of Ontario? The battles of New Orleans and Baltimore? The American seizure of Indian territories? The burning of the White House? A secession move in New England? Near national bankruptcy? Perhaps we underrate both the war's amplitude and its effects—the latter being a blend of nation building (as seen in the postwar burst of nationalism) as well as state building that is perhaps thinly captured in table 1. Not considered here yet is the war's impact on the party system.
Second, on the evidence here, the country's hot, freestanding wars have left more of a mark in some policy areas than others. What is missing? In the familiar Progressive or New Deal–liberal interpretation of American history, attention centers on adversarial regulation of industry (as in taming the late-nineteenth-century railroads, busting trusts, setting a minimum wage, and policing such areas as occupational safety, securities fraud, consumer affairs, and environmental protection) and on establishing welfare-state entitlements. These topics make at best a faint appearance in the war-related lists of table 1. The only solid exception is veterans' benefits. In general, wartime governments may see fit to make use of industries rather than to confront them, and to allocate their expenditures otherwise. It is not surprising that Progressive and liberal accounts tend to skimp on the wars.
Amply represented in the checklists, by contrast, is a collection of concerns that Alexander Hamilton might feel at home with. The wars have nourished state building and economic management, that is, systems of revenue extraction, the crafting of government institutions, tariff duties for revenue and protection, the banking systems of the nineteenth century, as well as—this seems to fit the pattern—the Keynesian managerial thrust of the mid-1940s. Yet that is not all. Policy moves as diverse as immigration restriction, prohibition of alcohol, curbs on unions, and a transcontinental railroad have appeared at various times in the mixed bag of war legacies. There are some general patterns. Until the 1960s, the federal government's main efforts to shape higher education drew from wars—the land grant colleges of the 1860s as well as the GI Bill and science policy (including the NSF) deriving from World War II. Three of the hot wars—the War with Mexico, the Civil War, and World War II—revolutionized American race policy, either immediately or by spurring new issue regimes that proved consequential. The Civil War and World War I brought unsurpassed instances, and World War II a lesser but still notable one, of suffrage expansion—for, respectively, blacks, women, and blacks again. (Later, the Vietnam War also left a deposit of teenage voting.)81
Keyssar 2000, 277–81.
Third, note the extraordinary power of these wars—all five of them—as agenda setters. The second column of table 1 has the relevant entries. In all five cases, new issue regimes that absent the wars might not have come into existence at all captured public attention for a generation or more. Why, it seems worthwhile to stand back and ask, did politically aware Americans of the 1850s come to dwell on free-soil versus slavery expansion, their descendants of the 1920s on Prohibition enforcement, tax cuts, and crop-support plans, their descendants of the late 1940s and 1950s on civil rights, federal housing programs, and federal aid to education? War legacies have provided a surprisingly prominent answer to the question, What is American politics about?
A fourth and related point is that one comes to appreciate the sheer noninevitability of much of American history by sifting through the materials in table 1. This raises the risky topic of counterfactuals, but serious historical explanation does not seem possible without doing that, at least implicitly.82
A logic of “windows” of opportunity in Kingdon's sense, and then some, pervades the content of table 1. Reverse the close election of 1844, thus possibly skirting the war with Mexico, and who can say what the policies and issue regimes of the 1850s and 1860s would have looked like? Would the Civil War have been averted?83 Locate World War I in the 1920s, or at least somewhere else if at all, and what would today's federal revenue system amount to? A rather different tax mix could have been chosen as in, say, Sweden.84 Cancel the world wars and American women might have waited a considerable time for the suffrage—perhaps even until 1971 as in Switzerland. Greatly magnify the American need and shared sacrifice associated with World War II and this country might have reached for national health provision as a consequence then, as did apparently Britain and Japan, despite the cost.85Counterfactual speculation is relatively easy on topics such as veterans' benefits, where one can readily conclude that without a war, there would have been no benefits (although the shape of the various veterans' payouts of American history is a complicated matter). Heavier going occurs in areas where a preexisting policy impulse allows a claim that a result might have happened anyway, war or no war. One response here is philosophical: I do not see any reason why in principle a long-term allegedly “underlying” cause of a policy effect should be considered more real, basic, important, interesting, or successfully explanatory than a short-term, contingent cause. This is to step away from, among other things, a commitment that I believe is unwarranted to various social or economic determinisms.
A second response is ad hoc and empirical: There does not seem to be any escape from assessing the causal backgrounds of past phenomena one by one with counterfactual ideas in mind. In general, in apprehending the American past, I would guess that we impute far too much inevitability to what has in fact happened. Our explanations tend to overfit. Of the entries in table 1, which were inevitable, war or no war, sooner or later? (This relaxes for the moment any requirement of temporal immediacy—although note that when something happens is not necessarily a minor concern; consider the Thirteenth Amendment.) Suffrage for American women was extremely likely, although that judgment does not settle the question of when. Slavery would have come to end, but, absent the Civil War, at what cumulative human cost and when? A transcontinental railroad would almost certainly have been built, although possibly by the states, on private resources, or later or differently. But the near certainties run out quickly. For a century, Whigs, Republicans, and their industrial backers supplied powerful support for high tariffs, but we do not know what would have happened on that policy front absent the wars. After all, it had proven possible for a stable American low-tariff regime of nearly constitutional standing to persist for a full generation leading up to the Civil War.86
Whittington 1999, 93–112.
Exclusion of East Asians beginning in the 1880s has been the other major constraint placed on immigration during American history.
The American past is a cemetery of failed impulses and movements. It is news when events assist one to succeed. In general, it is probably a mistake to invest in grand schematic explanations of American history that underplay contingency, and wars are hard to beat as bearers of contingency.
Policy changes can be popular or unpopular, in a general sense, and they can beget both winners and losers. New issue regimes can crystallize electorates in new ways. Disagreement can mount and last about whether a war should have been fought in the first place. By way of these various routes, all in the realm of “position issues,” it is easy to see how wars and their near aftermaths might spur significant, possibly long-lasting, shakeups in electoral coalitions. There is also the route of “valence issues.”90
On position and valence issues, see Stokes 1966.
This is a jumble of possible causal paths that cannot be sorted out through available historical data. But clues can be sought on the general question of whether wars have been associated with significant and long-lasting electoral change. For this purpose, an apt dataset was provided by Jerome Clubb, William Flanigan, and Nancy Zingale in 1980 (although the authors did not emphasize the question of wars in their own analysis).91
Clubb, Flanigan, and Zingale 1980, chap. 3. See also the discussion in Mayhew 2002, 44–50.
For all thirty-three presidential elections from 1836 through 1964, table 2 documents the realignment changes of various kinds that the authors considered ample enough to report.92
Clubb, Flanigan, and Zingale 1980, table 3.1a at 92–93.
This means Democrats and Whigs back then. In 1836 the Democrats refashioned their regional base in nominating Martin Van Buren, a northerner. His party predecessor, Andrew Jackson, a southerner, had run in the three preceding elections, losing once and winning twice.
Surge and interactive realignment in U.S. presidential elections, 1836–1964
This is complicated material, but it yields some simple results. After the 1830s, the seven elections associated with the highest change values in table 2 all occurred during or after major crises. Three of them were the first presidential elections to take place after the country's three worst depressions struck—in 1876, after the crash of 1873 (those years also brought a crisis centering on Reconstruction); in 1896, after the crash of 1893; and in 1932, after that of 1929. The other four were the first elections to take place after hot wars ended—and in all four cases volatile war aftermaths had had time to occur and war-induced issue regimes had had time to take hold. Those were the elections of 1848, after the War with Mexico; 1868, after the Civil War; 1920, after World War I; and 1948, after World War II. All four occasions seem to have brought sizable lasting penalties in the 5 to 8 percent range to the incumbent presidential parties (or, more or less the same thing, durable bonuses of that size to the opposition parties). This is in the neighborhood of a recent 4 percent penalty estimated through a different methodology for the Korean War in 1952 and the Vietnam War in 1968.94
Bartels and Zaller 2001, 16. This is a one-shot penalty for the incumbent party, not a lasting penalty.
Lest an ironclad law be spotted here, let it be said that measurement of this sort is not easy and that different techniques can yield different results. One similar analysis has not found such results for 1868 and 1948.95
See Bartels 1998, 313–17, which covers the twenty-seven elections from 1868 through 1972. Still, the Bartels study ranks two war-impacted elections among the top four in long-term realigning consequences—the contests of 1920 after World War I (ranked third) and of 1972 as the Vietnam War wound down (ranked fourth). Ranked first and second are the elections of 1932 and 1880, the latter evidently owing to delayed coalitional changes associated with the end of Reconstruction.
In one way a striking violation, yet in another way a striking confirmation of the pattern in table 2 is the election of 1816, held in the wake of the War of 1812. Although that election occurred too early to earn a place in mass voting studies, it seems to showcase the idea that wars can bring lasting coalitional change, yet the then-incumbent Democratic-Republican Party reaped a bonus in 1816 rather than a penalty. Here is the story. Earlier in 1812, a few months into the war, the Federalist candidate had fallen only one state short of winning that year's presidential election through an able blend of position and valence appeals (the war shouldn't have been fought in the first place; why are the British occupying Detroit?). The Federalists were doing well.96
But then they dragged their feet on the war effort to the point of near treason, the war closed in a surprising burst of victory and nationalistic enthusiasm, and the discredited Federalists performed dismally in the election of 1816 and never ran a candidate again.97Binkley 1962, 94–97; Watts 1987, 282.
Turner 1971, 299.
Lipset and Marks 2000, 184–92, 244–60; Foner 1984, 60, 71–72.
World War I, looked at more generally, seems to have affected American voting behavior a good deal.100
Clubb, Flanigan, and Zingale 1980, 92–93; Bartels 1998, 315.
The 1920s is often seen as a replay or continuation of the McKinley era. President McKinley defeated the Democratic candidate in 1896 and 1900 by margins of 4 percent and 6 percent.
Creighton 1959, 216–17; McNaught 1970, 230–31.
MacIntyre 1986, 190.
Butler and Stokes 1974, 172–74; Wilson 1966. Another causal account goes: “Between 1914 and 1921 trade-union membership doubled and between 1918 and 1924 Labour displaced the Liberals as the largest anti-Conservative party, as a consequence of the Asquith-Lloyd George split [that is, the war-induced fracture of the ruling Liberal party], the widening of the franchise in 1918, and the heightened class consciousness of British workers—all factors that could be attributed to the war.” Stevenson 2004, 440.
Wilson 1966, 18.
The costs of World War I mounted far higher for, especially, Britain than for the United States. Still, even leaving aside the U.S. postwar turmoil of 1919–20, the war itself was not a minor undertaking for this country. It brought a government-directed economy, the country's “first real taste of truly large-scale government spending,” restrictions on civil liberties more serious than anything experienced since September 2001, repression approaching devastation of German-American culture, five million participants in the armed forces, two million troops (42 divisions) deployed in France, 114,000 war deaths (many through disease), and over 200,000 military wounded. See Cooper 1990, 279–80, 288–91, 297–305, quotation at 291; Stevenson 2004, 405, 442; Luebke 1974. Note also that World War I could affect even resolute neutrals through spillover effects. Swedish politics seems to have been revolutionized in 1918 as the fall of Germany's monarchy sent a democratizing impulse across the Baltic. See Berman 1998, chap. 5.
Overall, whatever the precise causal paths may have been, there is a suggestive case on the statistical evidence for the War with Mexico and World War II as electoral levers, a suggestive as well as commonsense case for the Civil War—how could it not have made a difference?107
It is difficult to analyze electoral continuity in the 1860s and 1870s, given the Democratic party schism in the 1860 election, the wartime subtraction of the South from the electoral universe, the staggered readmission of the Southern states, and the various moves enfranchising blacks and disfranchising southern whites.
A fourth probe into the consequences of wars is made possible by John Gerring's recent work on party ideologies, which is based on a coding of campaign speeches and party platforms of the major American parties from 1828 through 1996.108
Ideologies are conceived by Gerring to be broader and more basic than issues such as civil rights or than time-specific programs such as the New Deal. In one feature of the study, he looks for hinge-point changes in party ideologies and finds a few (for example, the Democrats' switch to Bryan-style economic populism in the 1890s). The era of the 1810s could not be reached by the study—party platforms were not yet being written then—although perhaps the Democratic-Republicans of that time would be accorded a hinge point following the War of 1812 if they could somehow be coded. That party shifted then to new concerns and a new model of political economy; there was a “liberal [in the classical sense] revision of Republican principles.”109Watts 1987, 281–82.
Gerring's most interesting and surprising ideological hinge points came in the twentieth century. There were only two. In the mid-1920s, the Republican Party abandoned its century-long stance (in ideological terms, the party is taken to be a continuation of its predecessor, the Whigs) as a party of state building, government activism, reverence for public institutions, and, in general, authoritative order as a guard against the menaces of disorder, insurrection, and anarchy. The Republicans had been the party of state. Now, in swept a new emphasis, still abundantly prominent in our own day, on free-market and anti-statist themes that often flare into populist-style assaults against Washington, DC.110
Gerring 1998, 15–16, chaps. 3, 4.
Ibid., 140.
Ibid., 158.
The Democrats' twentieth-century hinge point came around 1950. Then, that party shook off its longstanding antimonopoly, anticapitalist, anti–Wall Street rhetoric well captured in the phrase “the people versus the interests” that had infused the campaigns of Bryan around 1900 through Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt, and in a last hurrah in 1948, Truman. Out the window went assaults against capitalism. In swept a new configuration of emphases on civil rights, social welfare, redistribution, and inclusion. The party “discarded its abrasive, class-tinged ethos in favor of a Universalist perspective—the extension of rights to all aggrieved claimants and a general rhetoric of inclusion.” In general for the Democrats after 1950 or so: “Oppression and injustice were out; peace, harmony, and community were in…. It was a far cry from the Populist blame game.”113
Ibid., 15–18, chaps. 6, 7, quotations at 17, 18 (italics in original), 247.
Ibid., 235, 245–50.
The following is speculation. It is not clear why these twentieth-century hinge points occurred,115
Ibid., 157–58, 250–53, 274–75, for the author's own speculation on the matter.
Higgs 1987, chap. 7, quotation at 123. See also Gerring 1998, 157.
One of the most detested moves, an excess-profits tax, was only temporary, but a precedent was set.
Brownlee 1996, 63.
Gerring 1998, 152–55.
The Democrats' shift around 1950 had a complicated background, but World War II and its aftermath seem to have supplied both a moral jolt and a cognitive jolt. In highlighting the shame of American race relations, the war spurred the Democrats into a new ethic of “rights-based liberalism” that would cascade into multiculturalism in succeeding decades.120
See, for example, Brinkley 1995, 170.
Ibid., 171.
Higgs 1999, 606.
We tend to assume that interests or preferences are the basic building blocks of an analytic political science. That is sensible, yet it risks analysis that is either unhelpfully truistic or unhelpfully abstract. Where do interests or preferences—or the agendas, programs, ideologies, movements and parties that ordinarily accompany them in the real world of politics—come from? One answer is events, of which wars and their aftermaths supply spectacular, although of course not the only, kinds of instances.123
On the idea of wars creating interests, see Wood 2000.
With both interests and preferences, it is difficult to proceed further without noting that wars can generate new, widely accepted causal stories. Such stories supply roadmaps to the achievement of old or new interests or preferences, or else new reasons to adopt new preferences. The new stories derive from the experience of the wars. Consider, for example, a story from the mid-1810s: The best way to shake free of the alarming national vulnerability just experienced is to build a stronger U.S. political economy, and the best route to that is the “American System.” From the late 1910s: Immigrants cause destabilizing political trouble. Among farmers after World War I: Government crop supports can cause prosperity. During and after World War II: Expensive scientific research is a key to national strength; racial discrimination at home causes trouble for the United States abroad;124
Keynesian-style economic management works; a globalist strategy is needed for U.S. defense policy.Another route to war effects is the engendering of new organizations—which often champion new interests or preferences or implement the lessons of new causal stories. Such new units can be directly governmental institutions such as the House and Senate Appropriations Committees, the FBI's General Intelligence Division, the Bureau of the Budget, the Council of Economic Advisors, or the Central Intelligence Agency. They can be units chartered by the government, such as the Second Bank of the United States, or fostered by the government, such as the new universe of trade associations during World War I. New organizations, which, like new statutes, tend toward stickiness, are particularly good at rendering the effects of wars long-lasting. Yet path dependency can apply in the cases of interests, preferences, and causal stories also.125
As instances of causal stories, consider the lessons drawn from Munich and Pearl Harbor that were carried forward from World War II.
In the realm of primitive building blocks, there is a case for ranking events as the equals of interests and preferences in a seriously explanatory political science.126
An elaboration of this argument appears in Mayhew 2004.
To take events seriously is to aim for longitudinal analysis, but also for comparative analysis. Any specialist of American politics might realize, for example, that most of the country's wars and all of its depressions have been transnational, not just national, events. As a result, cross-national, not just United States–specific, evidence can help to illuminate their causes, characteristics, and effects. Possibly this point is obvious to non-American scholars, but research by Americans about American politics can be insular. In writing this paper, I found the transnational patterns of women winning the vote and certain Allied ruling parties incurring electoral devastation in connection with World War I especially illuminating. I did not come across well-developed comparative literatures on subjects like these. There may be an opening.
Since 2001 the United States has been engaged in a war—or at least warlike circumstances—that could have long-lasting effects. Those might include a durable policy change regarding civil liberties, a new issue regime centering on terrorism, and the Republicans' reversion to their nineteenth-century stance as a state-centered party of order.
Lasting policy changes and new issue regimes in the United States deriving from wars
Surge and interactive realignment in U.S. presidential elections, 1836–1964