Woodrow Wilson

Essential Writings and Speeches of the Scholar-President

Mario R. DiNunzio

• Publisher: NYU Press
• Year: 2006
• ISBN:
  9780814721445
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: North American History
• Index: History

From the Ivy League to the oval office, Woodrow Wilson was the only professional scholar to become a U.S. president. A professor of history and political science, Wilson became the dynamic president of Princeton University in 1902 and was one of its most prolific scholars before entering active politics. Through his labors as student, scholar, and statesman, he left a legacy of elegant writings on everything from educational reform to religion to history and politics.

Woodrow Wilson: Essential Writings and Speeches of the Scholar-President collects Wilson's most influential work, from early essays on religion to his famous “Fourteen Points” speech, which introduced the idea of the League of Nations. Among the last of the presidents to write his own speeches, Wilson left behind works which offer impressive insights into his mind and his age.

Deeply religious, Wilson looked to his faith to guide his life and wrote candidly about the connection. A passionate advocate of liberal learning, he broadcast his ideas on educational reform with missionary intensity. In politics he moved from a traditional nineteenth-century conservative view of government to a progressive, international vision which transformed American politics in the new century. His writings allow us to trace the intellectual struggle that took the nation from a position of neutrality in World War I to its role as a central player on the world stage.

Penetrating and eloquent, the works gathered here represent the best and the most important of Wilson's writings that retain enduring interest. A rich repository of ideas on the American people and America's purpose in the world, these works reveal the thoughts of one of the most acute analysts and actors in the drama of American politics.

1

ON RELIGION

EARLY RELIGIOUS ESSAYS

During the summer of 1873, seventeen-year-old Woodrow Wilson experienced a powerful religious awakening, a conversion experience. Thereafter, what had been a matter of routine observance became a shaping force in his life. A committed Calvinist Presbyterian, Wilson saw God’s hand in the destiny of men. During his sophomore year at Princeton, Wilson wrote a series of notes for publication in the Wilmington, North Carolina Presbyterian. In these brief essays, a young Wilson emphasized militant faith, duty, and orthodoxy, commending them to all and particularly to the statesman. “Christ’s Army” embraced the language of warfare to describe the struggle of the Christian for righteousness against satanic temptations. There is little sympathy for the lukewarm here, for those with “folded arms,” and a heavy emphasis on individual responsibility. Wilson allows “no middle course, no neutrality.” The primacy of religion marked his advice to the statesman, who should be a Christian and a gentleman according to biblical standards. As he did throughout his religious writing, in “The Positive in Religion” Wilson held the Bible as the unfailing and essential guide toward uncompromising obedience of God’s commands. The theme of struggle was again evident in “Christian Progress,” in which he described progress in life as the progress of the soul. These essays appeared in issues of the Presbyterian published from August to December 1876.

Christ’s Army

One of the favorite figures with sacred writers in their references to the inhabitants of this world is that of representing mankind as divided into two great armies. The field of battle is the world. From the abodes of righteousness advances the host of God’s people under the leadership of Christ. Immediately behind the great Captain of Salvation come the veteran regiments of the soldiers of the cross with steady tread, their feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of Peace, girt about with truth, their breast-plates of righteousness glittering beneath the bright rays of their Master’s love, each one grasping the sword of the Spirit. Later come the younger troops all eager for the fray. From the opposite side of the field, advancing from the tents of wickedness, come the hosts of sin led by the Prince of Lies himself, riding upon death’s horse. Behind him a mighty army marshaled by fiends under the dark banners of iniquity. The object of the warfare on the part of the first is to gain glory for their Great Leader as well as the best good of the conquered by persuading them to leave the ranks of the evil one and enlist under their great Redeemer; that of the other to entice as many as will listen to them to go with them by the alluring paths of worldliness to everlasting destruction. The foes meet—upon the great battle field of every-day life. With one sweeping charge the Christian band falls upon the overwhelming numbers of the Prince of Darkness and are met with a cloud of fiery darts from the hands of the Evil One. The battle waxes fierce. Some of the Christian leaders faithfully and eagerly press onward, rallying their broken ranks more vigorously upon every repulse. Others stand with folded arms, only now and then languidly issuing an order or encouraging their followers, and ever incurring the displeasure of their gracious Master by failing to carry out his orders or properly marshal and encourage his forces. The followers of the former, fight manfully, with only here and there a laggard or coward; those of the latter partake of the spirit of their leaders and do little towards gaining the battle. The hosts of sin, ever and anon charging, break through the weak portions of the opposing battalions, and then again quail before the uplifted swords of the Spirit. Here, the plumes streaming from the glistening helmets of salvation are seen among the retreating brigades of sin; there, Satan leads his followers to victory over the dead bodies of many a soldier of the Cross. Thus the battle of life progresses and the army of Saints ever gains ground under divine generalship; now slowly, now rapidly, driving before them with irresistible force the broken ranks of the enemy.

Surely in this great contest there is a part for every one, and each one will be made to render a strict account of his conduct on the day of battle. Will anyone hesitate as to the part he shall take in this conflict? Will anyone dare to enlist under the banners of the Prince of Lies, under whose dark folds he only marches to the darkness of hell? For there is no middle course, no neutrality. Each and every one must enlist either with the followers of Christ or those of Satan. How much more glorious to fight for the divine Prince of Peace, under whose glorious standards, whose shining folds are inscribed with Love to God, he will advance to sure victory and an everlasting reward! All professing Christians are, no doubt, more or less enthused by such thoughts as these, and hope that they can feel themselves soldiers in Christ’s great army; but they do not know that they are such. Why should they not know? If they would be assured of the fact that their names are in the great Roll Book, let them fight for Christ. Ah! but how do this? As you would fight for any other cause. You know your enemies. They are evil thoughts, evil desires, evil associations. To avoid evil thoughts altogether is, of course, impossible. But whenever one of these subtle warriors of evil attacks you, do not fear to test your breastplate; wield with power the sword of the Spirit and with skill the shield of faith. Overcome evil desires, those powerful and ever present enemies, by constant watchfulness and with the strong weapon of prayer, and by cultivating those heavenly desires which are sure to root out the evil one. Avoid evil associations, evil companions. No one can make a good soldier who keeps company with the emissaries and friends of the enemy. These companions can be avoided by avoiding the places where they are to be found and seeking the more congenial and pleasant company of the good and upright, whose companionship will strengthen you in the struggle by making you feel that you are not alone in it. In every minor thing watch yourself and let no fiery dart enter your soul. One who thus faithfully does his duty and purifies himself in the smallest things has little to fear from the foe, and, if he withal leads others by his example and precept to do likewise, and fears not to warn the enemies of the Cross to turn from the error of their ways, he may rest assured that his name is enrolled among the soldiers of the Cross.

A Christian Statesman

There is a growing tendency to confine religion to certain walks of life. To the minister of the Gospel, it is of course considered essential; he must be pure in all his dealings, and his life must be a model of Christian consistency; his conversation must be free from all vanity, and he must in all things set his people a godly example. As the conditions and occupations of life differ more and more from those of the minister, and men’s duties diverge more and more from the duties of a pastor, less and less of religion is generally considered necessary. Religion is thought out of place in the business office; it is thought wonderful for a soldier to be a true Christian; a lawyer is too often justified in a lie; and we would be tempted to smile at hearing of a praying statesman. This belief is in direct opposition to the Scripture views of religion. In the Bible a saving faith in Christ is represented as an ornament and help to the business man; an unfailing aid to the soldier who is fighting in a just cause; the true dignity and motive of the lawyer, causing him to uphold truth and justice, and always to strive to deal out the law with an equal hand; and above all, as the first requisite for a statesman, upon whom rests so heavy a responsibility, both to God and man. This last phase of the subject, is the one we wish to present to thoughtful minds by a very brief statement of the principles bearing upon it.

Although there are principles of duty to his party and to the cause he has espoused, still no statesman should allow party feeling to bias his opinions on any point which involves truth or falsehood, justice or injustice. He should search for truth with the full determination to find it, and in that search he should most earnestly seek aid from God, who will surely hold him responsible for the course he pursues. When he has arrived at what he is convinced is the truth, he should uphold that truth, both by word and deed, irrespective of party. In no case should he allow expediency or policy to influence him in the least, if the support of the measures which seem expedient or politic, involves a support of untruth or injustice. And let no statesman think that by silence or refraining from acting on any subject or question, he can escape responsibility. When he does not actively advocate truth, he advocates error. Those who are not for truth are against it. There is here no neutrality.

On the other hand, when the statesman has become convinced that he has arrived at the truth, and has before his mind the true view of his subject, he should be tolerant. He should have a becoming sense of his own weakness and liability to err, and, while supporting with the utmost vigor what he considers to be the truth, he should treat his opponents with due forbearance, and should avoid all personal attacks, which show a want of real argument, and which will only engender useless and unchristian enmity.

In short, let his faith be in Christ his Saviour, let his truth be truth which is in accordance with the Bible’s standard, and let his whole conversation and life be such as becomes a Christian and, therefore, a gentleman.

The Positive in Religion

Decision of character has always been most justly admired. A man is universally praised for being earnest in whatsoever undertaking he engages, and we are even sometimes attracted to the character of one who is determined in the pursuit of evil, who seems to be wrapped up in his wicked calling. We find ourselves instinctively admiring the bandit or highwayman who dies courageously and who not only does not give any sign of repentance, but even maintains his innocence to the last. Up to modern times the Christian who was a Christian “not in word only but in deed and in truth” was much admired. In this age of ours there is a growing tendency to depreciate all positivism in religion. Men say that the harsh tenets and severe doctrines of our fathers should now be replaced by more loving principles and milder teachings—that we should be allowed to put our own interpretations upon the teachings of the Bible, and simply to follow the dictates each of his own conscience. Men are apt to style this so-called “harsh” Christianity of our fathers and of the early saints of the church puritanism, whereas it was the true Christianity in which alone safety rests and salvation is sure; the Christianity of which puritanism was the mockery. No one can conceive of a more lovely and gentle character than that of Christ, and yet no one ever enforced God’s commands—the commands which are now called harsh—with more vigor. We are not misinterpreting the commands of the God of Love when we say that his every command is to be obeyed in every particular, and that his severest commands are not inconsistent with his attribute of love. In every instance of disobedience which the Bible has given for our warning and instruction, the offender has been punished for not obeying God’s commands to the very letter, even when his pretexts and excuses were more plausible and just than those of modern free-thinkers. Nothing is more injurious than the efforts of some men to prove that the service of Mammon is perfectly consistent with the service of God, and that, when God says “ye cannot serve God and Mammon,” he means that you can. The key to the whole gospel lies in this promise: “Who will render unto every man according to his deeds: to them who by patient continuance in well doing seek for glory and honor and immortality, eternal life.” Can we think that we are conforming ourselves to the image of Christ while we are endeavoring to conform ourselves more and more to the image of the world? Can we think that we are continuing patient in well doing when we are making the actions of the world the criterion by which to judge of the propriety of our daily walk and conversation as Christians? No; he is not a Christian who is one outwardly, but he is a Christian who is one inwardly, whose praise is of God and not of man. Nor is this view of religion by any means a gloomy one. By carrying sour faces, throwing out texts of Scripture upon all occasions appropriate or inappropriate, by making religion thus an offensive thing, we offend God. A gloomy and despondent Christian is as strange a sight as a criminal mourning over a pardon, and is just about as sincere. When positivism again characterizes religion we are safe, and then only.

Christian Progress

Addison, in his thoughtful essay on the immateriality of the soul, has made use of this beautiful figure: “The soul considered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer to another to all eternity without a possibility of touching it: and can there be a thought so transporting as to consider ourselves in these perpetual approaches to Him, who is not only the standard of perfection but of happiness.” In this essay, which forms one of the most pleasing numbers of the Spectator, this genial writer seems to view the soul in its relations to its creator, rather in a philosophical light than in the light of revelation, and in its more specially religious bearings. He takes a pleasing glance at the possibilities and noble resources of the soul, and views it as something which was meant for, and is capable of almost infinite development in power and virtue. To a thoughtful reader, however, he suggests many a thought pregnant with deep meaning. He suggests that approximation to the divine character which is possible to every Christian who molds his life after the perfect pattern with which our Lord has furnished us. But he does not seem to realize the difficulty which attends soul-progress. Turning to our Bibles we can study this subject by the aid of the light of inspired teachings. The Bible everywhere represents the Christian life as a progress, a progress of the soul. But, although it always speaks of the Christian’s journey as a pleasant one, since it is the only road in which true happiness can be found, it never describes it as a path strewn with flowers, but rather as one attended with and obstructed by many difficulties. In order to advance, the Christian must needs strain every muscle. This strain, though necessary at all times, is not, of necessity irksome, as God’s all-powerful arm is ever around us, and the darkness which surrounds us is seldom so dense as to shut out the radiance of the Almighty’s loving smiles. We can conceive of no more constant or eager striver after perfection than the apostle Paul, and yet even he said: “Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” All through his epistles he expresses this same distrust of himself, and gives vent to fears, lest his carnal mind should gain the mastery. In one place he says: “But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.” If this mighty soul, whose chief and only aim was to “walk worthy of the high vocation wherewith he was called,” was troubled by such fears as these, what should be the feeling of the listless, half-souled follower of Christ! As the followers of this mighty Prince of Light we are ever under the stern necessity of fighting for our own safety, as well as the general advance of Christian doctrine. He who pretends to fight under the great banner of Love, should rejoice that there is no armor for his back, that to retreat is death, and should thus go forward with an eagerness and will which no slight cause can turn from their object.

THE CLERGYMAN AND THE STATE

At the General Theological Seminary in New York in April 1910, Wilson offered a meditation on religion and politics. As his own conversion to progressivism in politics advanced, he saw the need for religion to supply a “clear standard of moral judgement” to political thought. The Church, he thought should set the standard of behavior for statesmen and offer a guide for reform. In this he was not alone; the Social Gospel was one of the strong roots of the Progressive movement, and religious influence in American reform movements had a long history. The new demands of modern life, he thought, dictated an important role for the Church. Wilson wrote of “the Church” here in the broadest sense, embracing both Protestant and Catholic in a kind of ecumenical appeal for all clergymen to stand in judgment and to hold society to the highest moral standards. He was not receptive, however, to Christian Socialism, a significant movement among some American churches during the Progressive era. Wilson’s thoughts were printed in The New York Churchman.

It is evident to us all that within the past few years there has been an extraordinary awakening in civic consciousness, and, beyond this, an extraordinary awakening of the public mind with relation to the moral values involved in our national life. We are now witnessing the dawn of a day when there will be a universal revaluation of men and of affairs. There is no mistaking the present dissolution of political parties; no mistaking the fact that you cannot restore the enthusiasm of our existing parties by turning backward in any respect and merely recalling the formulas, or shouting the slogans, of past campaigns and past transactions. The Nation is not looking over its shoulder, nor acting in retrospect; it has its eyes on the future.

And because of this, the Nation has to grapple, on an extraordinary scale, with the newness of the day in which we live. The elements of our modern life are so new that we are bewildered when we try to form moral judgments regarding them. For example, how difficult it is now to assess an individual, in view of the fact that he does not now act as an integer, but as merely a fraction of modern society, inextricably associated with others in the conduct of business, and dominated by corporate responsibility. It is impossible that he should exercise, except within a very narrow circle, independent judgment. And therefore the old forms of moral responsibility we find it very difficult to apply. For, in order that we should be morally responsible, there must be freedom of individual choice, and that is so much circumscribed, narrowed, and confined by the divisions of modern life that we are groping to find a new basis, a new standard, and a new guide of responsibility, by which we shall walk, and to which we may hold our consciences square.

* * *

Every pulse ought to be quickened by such an age; and it is in the guidance of such a day that the clergyman’s obligations lie. Every age has had its own misgivings about the Church. The prevailing temptation, the persistent temptation of the Church, is to ally itself with certain social interests. The temptation has been not to be democratic in its organization, in its sympathies, in its judgments.

In looking back through the history of political society, I have often been struck by the circumstance that the polities of the middle ages would certainly have broken down for lack of administrative capacity if it had not been for the Roman Catholic Church. It supplied administrative ability to all the chancelleries of Europe during that long period when Europe was aristocratic, and not democratic. For the Church in that period was democratic in that it had its rootage in the common people. No peasant was so humble that he could not become a priest; no priest so obscure that he might not rise to be the Pope of Christendom. All sources of power were supplied in the organization of the Church. The political capacity of Europe renewed itself constantly by drawing upon that all-inclusive institution. While aristocracy was decaying, the people were feeding fresh blood into the great Church.

So long as the Church—any Church—retains this conception, keeps the sources of its strength open, it will not only serve itself, but will serve society as perhaps no other organization could conceive of serving. It will then keep true to its fundamental conception, the fundamental conception of Christianity: that there is no difference between man and man in respect to his relationship to his God. We do not arrange the pews of our churches on this principle. We do not arrange the worship of our churches on this principle; and in proportion as we do not, we lose, and deserve to lose, the confidence of the great mass of the people, who are led by our practices to believe that Christianity is not for the obscure, but for the rich and prosperous and contented.

It seems to me perfectly clear that an extraordinary opportunity is afforded by the present day to the Church; to the whole Church, whether Protestant or Catholic, an opportunity to supply what society is looking for; that is, a clear standard of moral measurement, a standard of revaluation, a standard of re-assessment, of men and affairs.

When I ask myself how the Church is going to do this, the first thing that is apparent is that the Church must do it through the example of her ministers. They must devote themselves to those ideals which have no necessary connection with any form or convention of society whatever, but which take each human soul and make it over and weigh it in the scales of revelation. I have known a good many ministers in my ...