The Great Depression was the worst economic crisis in U.S. history. From 1931 to 1940 unemployment was always in double digits. In April 1939, almost ten years after the crisis began, more than one in five Americans still could not find work.

On the surface World War II seems to mark the end of the Great Depression. During the war more than 12 million Americans were sent into the military, and a similar number toiled in defense-related jobs. Those war jobs seemingly took care of the 17 million unemployed in 1939. Most historians have therefore cited the massive spending during wartime as the event that ended the Great Depression.

Some economists—especially Robert Higgs—have wisely challenged that conclusion. Let’s be blunt. If the recipe for economic recovery is putting tens of millions of people in defense plants or military marches, then having them make or drop bombs on our enemies overseas, the value of world peace is called into question. In truth, building tanks and feeding soldiers—necessary as it was to winning the war—became a crushing financial burden. We merely traded debt for unemployment. The expense of funding World War II hiked the national debt from $49 billion in 1941 to almost $260 billion in 1945. In other words, the war had only postponed the issue of recovery.

Even President Roosevelt and his New Dealers sensed that war spending was not the ultimate solution; they feared that the Great Depression—with more unemployment than ever—would resume after Hitler and Hirohito surrendered. Yet FDR’s team was blindly wedded to the federal spending that (as I argue in New Deal or Raw Deal?) had perpetuated the Great Depression during the 1930s.

FDR had halted many of his New Deal programs during the war—and he allowed Congress to kill the WPA, the CCC, the NYA, and others—because winning the war came first. In 1944, however, as it became apparent that the Allies would prevail, he and his New Dealers prepared the country for his New Deal revival by promising a second bill of rights. Included in the President’s package of new entitlements was the right to “adequate medical care,” a “decent home,” and a “useful and remunerative job.” These rights (unlike free speech and freedom of religion) imposed obligations on other Americans to pay taxes for eyeglasses, “decent” houses, and “useful” jobs, but FDR believed his second bill of rights was an advance in thinking from what the Founders had conceived.

Roosevelt’s death in the last year of the war prevented him from unveiling his New Deal revival. But President Harry Truman was on board for most of the new reforms. In the months after the end of the war Truman gave major speeches showcasing a full employment bill—with jobs and spending to be triggered if people failed to find work in the private sector. He also endorsed a national health care program and a federal housing program.

But 1946 was very different from 1933. In 1933 large Democratic majorities in Congress and public support gave FDR his New Deal, but stagnation and unemployment persisted. By contrast, Truman had only a small Democratic majority—and no majority at all if you subtract the more conservative southern Democrats. Plus, the failure of FDR’s New Deal left fewer Americans cheering for an encore.

In short the Republicans and southern Democrats refused to give Truman his New Deal revival. Sometimes they emasculated his bills; other times they just killed them.

Senator Robert Taft of Ohio, one of the leaders of the Republican-southern Democrat coalition, explained why he voted against much of the program: “The problem now is to get production and employment. If we can get production, prices will come down by themselves to the lowest point justified by increased costs. If we hold prices at a point where no one can make a profit, there will be no expansion of existing industry and no new industry in that field.”

Robert Wason, president of the National Association of Manufacturers, simply said, “The problem of our domestic economy is the recovery of our freedom.”

Alfred Sloan, the chairman of General Motors, framed the question this way: “Is American business in the future as in the past to be conducted as a competitive system? He answered: “General Motors . . . will not participate voluntarily in what stands out crystal clear at the end of the road—a regimented economy.”

Taft, Wason, and Sloan reflected the views of most congressmen, who proceeded to squelch the New Deal revival. Instead they cut tax rates to encourage entrepreneurs to create jobs for the returning veterans.

After many years of confiscatory taxes, businessmen desperately needed incentives to expand. By 1945 the top marginal income tax rate was 94 percent on all income over $200,000. We also had a high excess-profits tax that had absorbed more than one-third of all corporate profits since 1943—and another corporate tax that reached as high as 40 percent on other profits.

In 1945 and 1946 Congress repealed the excess-profits tax, cut the corporate tax to a maximum 38 percent, and cut the top income tax rate to 86 percent. In 1948 Congress sliced the top marginal rate further, to 82 percent.

Those rates were still high, but they were the first cuts since the 1920s and sent the message that businesses could keep much of what they earned. The year 1946 was not without ups and downs in employment, occasional strikes, and rising prices. But the “regime certainty” of the 1920s had largely returned, and entrepreneurs believed they could invest again and be allowed to make money.

As Sears, Roebuck and Company Chairman Robert E. Wood observed, after the war “we were warned by private sources that a serious recession was impending. . . . I have never believed that any depression was in store for us.”

With freer markets, balanced budgets, and lower taxes, Wood was right. Unemployment was only 3.9 percent in 1946, and it remained at roughly that level during most of the next decade. The Great Depression was over.

Still, if that’s what you think, you’re wrong.

The latest entry in the genre, Thomas Woods and Kevin Gutzman’s Who Killed the Constitution?, is something different. It’s well worth your while.

Unlike some other writers, Woods and Gutzman don’t just place the blame for our present situation on a handful of bad Supreme Court decisions. Instead, they show how, in the twentieth century, all three branches of the federal government have spun out of control, completely abandoning any pretense that the Constitution constrains them at all.

Woods and Gutzman demonstrate how the executive branch claims virtually unlimited power. President George W. Bush damaged the constitutional fabric significantly, and the authors demolish the dubious constitutional scholarship of Bush’s court intellectual, law professor John Yoo. They point out, too, that presidents never have trouble finding “scholars” like Yoo to rationalize their power grabs.

But the authors also show that Bush did not do much of anything new. All presidents since at least Harry Truman have assumed they could make war without a declaration from Congress. In fact, most presidents since Theodore Roosevelt have assumed, as he did, that they can do anything they want in the absence of a specific constitutional restriction on their power. (Gene Healy’s recent book, The Cult of the Presidency, reviewed in the March Freeman, offers much additional detail on this subject.)

A Litany of Abuses

One chapter in particular illustrates this by exposing one of the worst, but most overlooked, government crimes in U.S. history: Franklin Roosevelt’s confiscation of everyone’s gold. This discussion also gives the authors an opportunity to offer an important bit of economic education as they explain why gold was used as money in the first place.

You might expect the chapter titled “Roads to Nowhere” to offer a familiar list of pork-barrel projects funded by Congress. Instead, the authors show that the federal government shouldn’t be funding roads at all, no matter where those roads go. Early presidents assumed they would need a constitutional amendment to fund “infrastructure” projects. Unfortunately, today they just assume it’s within their power and that assumption goes unchallenged.

Other chapters explore topics such as the Commerce Clause, which the courts have used to justify almost anything Congress does; the military draft, which violates the Constitution’s prohibition of slavery; presidential “signing statements” (written pronouncements by a president on signing a bill, often with the intent to modify the statute and especially to nullify its application to the executive branch), and President Truman’s attempt to nationalize the steel industry.

Two of the boldest chapters deal with what the authors call the “third rail of American jurisprudence”—Brown v. Board of Education and its aftermath. The authors show how Brown had no basis in the Constitution—and that the Supreme Court justices behind the decision knew it. Yes, the book’s authors actually say it: the Fourteenth Amendment’s text does not actually prohibit school segregation.

Even if that’s so, why attack this sacred cow when most everyone today opposes segregation anyway? Because if the Supreme Court can so utterly disregard the Constitution and the very idea of law in this decision to reach its own policymaking goals, then there really is no Constitution to speak of anymore. And that’s the point. As they say in their introduction, “the Constitution is dead.”

Beyond Redemption

Refreshingly, they don’t argue that the Constitution might be revived by electing the right people or bringing the right lawsuits. Indeed, they even suggest that our sorry result might have been inevitable—not only with this particular Constitution, but with any written constitution. After all, what do you expect will happen when you let federal officials determine the limits of the federal government’s power? That’s true regardless of who’s in office, or what they might say before being elected. Woods and Gutzman write: “People in power exercise all the power they can get, even after they have howled in the wilderness against legislating judges, imperial presidents, and the death of states’ rights.”

The authors also quote Lysander Spooner, who put the problem best when he wrote in the nineteenth century that the Constitution “has either authorized such a government as we have had, or has been powerless to prevent it. In either case, it is unfit to exist.”