Schueller’s workers would see their share of profits until their
families were certified as living “properly.”
Schueller was a great admirer of Ford, and his
economic and social theories were heavily influenced by Fordism. 41 And Fordism led to a particular kind of
politics. Unlike most businessmen, whose interest in their workers ceased once
they had left the plant, Ford and Schueller’s form of extended paternalism
effectively turned their businesses into mini–welfare states. And in the chaotic
world of the 1920s and thirties, it seemed logical that what worked for their
businesses might also work in the wider political arena.
Ford first dipped his toes into political waters in
1918. He ran for the United States Senate, as a Democrat, but was defeated in a
viciously corrupt campaign. In 1923 there was talk of drafting him to run for
president. But he hated public speaking so much, and was so bad at it, that
after his one and only failed attempt at a political rally, he determined never
again to risk a comparable humiliation. “I can hire someone to talk for me that
knows how,” he said. “That talking thing is a gift. I’m glad I never acquired
it, and I’ll never try again.” 42 Nor did he
need to. Why humiliate himself at the hustings when he could practice his
theories upon a captive audience and a captive population?
Untrammeled by the need to accommodate public
opinion, what had begun as a benign dictatorship soon changed into something
altogether unpleasant. Ford’s Sociological Department, begun in a genuine spirit
of philanthropy, was after a few years replaced by a Service Department, which
sounded equally altruistic but whose function was very different. Set up to
coordinate the protection of the plant, the Service Department soon transmuted
into a network of spies, informers, and enforcers who terrorized the Ford
factories and suppressed all dissent. Labor organizers were beaten, strikes were
broken brutally, protesters were sacked: one ex-member of the Service Department
referred to it as “our Gestapo.” 7 43 Indeed, Hitler was a fervent admirer of Ford. Mein
Kampf was written with Ford’s autobiography, My
Life and Times , and philosophy—“an absence of fear of the future and
of veneration of the past”—much in mind. 8
Schueller, too, was an unashamed authoritarian: as
he put it, “An elected leader is already less of a leader.” 44 He thought democracy should mean government for all, but not by all. Running a modern state was too difficult to be left to anyone the masses
might choose. 45 However, when it came down to
picking actual men, he showed himself to be somewhat uncertain. The list of
leaders he admired included Stalin, Mussolini, Franco, Hitler, Horthy, Atatürk,
Pilsudski, Roosevelt, Chamberlain, and Daladier—that is, pretty much every
available one, elected or otherwise. From which we can only conclude that the
mere fact of making it to the top was evidence, as far as he was concerned, of
the right stuff. Similarly, although he did not at this stage think France
should ally herself with Germany—on the contrary, his great concern was the
unpreparedness of the French army—as a committed authoritarian he could not help
admiring Hitler’s style. Hitler hadn’t pandered to the trade unions with a New
Deal like Roosevelt in the United States, or with a forty-hour week and
unemployment pay like Léon Blum in France. Instead, he had taken all the men he
could get hold of and put them to work, creating a formidable military power.
France, Schueller felt, should do likewise. Nevertheless, despite his dislike
and distrust of the unions (a dislike wholeheartedly reciprocated), he continued
to employ union men, and did not persecute them as Ford did.
Of course Schueller and Ford were not alone in
being attracted by the idea of dictatorship. They were probably unique, outside
the ranks of politicians, in actually running, to a greater or lesser extent,
their own state; but
families were certified as living “properly.”
Schueller was a great admirer of Ford, and his
economic and social theories were heavily influenced by Fordism. 41 And Fordism led to a particular kind of
politics. Unlike most businessmen, whose interest in their workers ceased once
they had left the plant, Ford and Schueller’s form of extended paternalism
effectively turned their businesses into mini–welfare states. And in the chaotic
world of the 1920s and thirties, it seemed logical that what worked for their
businesses might also work in the wider political arena.
Ford first dipped his toes into political waters in
1918. He ran for the United States Senate, as a Democrat, but was defeated in a
viciously corrupt campaign. In 1923 there was talk of drafting him to run for
president. But he hated public speaking so much, and was so bad at it, that
after his one and only failed attempt at a political rally, he determined never
again to risk a comparable humiliation. “I can hire someone to talk for me that
knows how,” he said. “That talking thing is a gift. I’m glad I never acquired
it, and I’ll never try again.” 42 Nor did he
need to. Why humiliate himself at the hustings when he could practice his
theories upon a captive audience and a captive population?
Untrammeled by the need to accommodate public
opinion, what had begun as a benign dictatorship soon changed into something
altogether unpleasant. Ford’s Sociological Department, begun in a genuine spirit
of philanthropy, was after a few years replaced by a Service Department, which
sounded equally altruistic but whose function was very different. Set up to
coordinate the protection of the plant, the Service Department soon transmuted
into a network of spies, informers, and enforcers who terrorized the Ford
factories and suppressed all dissent. Labor organizers were beaten, strikes were
broken brutally, protesters were sacked: one ex-member of the Service Department
referred to it as “our Gestapo.” 7 43 Indeed, Hitler was a fervent admirer of Ford. Mein
Kampf was written with Ford’s autobiography, My
Life and Times , and philosophy—“an absence of fear of the future and
of veneration of the past”—much in mind. 8
Schueller, too, was an unashamed authoritarian: as
he put it, “An elected leader is already less of a leader.” 44 He thought democracy should mean government for all, but not by all. Running a modern state was too difficult to be left to anyone the masses
might choose. 45 However, when it came down to
picking actual men, he showed himself to be somewhat uncertain. The list of
leaders he admired included Stalin, Mussolini, Franco, Hitler, Horthy, Atatürk,
Pilsudski, Roosevelt, Chamberlain, and Daladier—that is, pretty much every
available one, elected or otherwise. From which we can only conclude that the
mere fact of making it to the top was evidence, as far as he was concerned, of
the right stuff. Similarly, although he did not at this stage think France
should ally herself with Germany—on the contrary, his great concern was the
unpreparedness of the French army—as a committed authoritarian he could not help
admiring Hitler’s style. Hitler hadn’t pandered to the trade unions with a New
Deal like Roosevelt in the United States, or with a forty-hour week and
unemployment pay like Léon Blum in France. Instead, he had taken all the men he
could get hold of and put them to work, creating a formidable military power.
France, Schueller felt, should do likewise. Nevertheless, despite his dislike
and distrust of the unions (a dislike wholeheartedly reciprocated), he continued
to employ union men, and did not persecute them as Ford did.
Of course Schueller and Ford were not alone in
being attracted by the idea of dictatorship. They were probably unique, outside
the ranks of politicians, in actually running, to a greater or lesser extent,
their own state; but
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