When President Franklin Roosevelt rose to deliver his State of the Union address on January 6th, 1941, Nazi Germany had already conquered Poland, Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, and France. And yet, with nearly a year to go before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, American public opinion was still decidedly against the war. Fresh from winning an unprecedented third term in office, Roosevelt’s task was to convince the American people to abandon their isolationism and prepare to take on a more active role in the conflict. To that end, he called for increased production at home and “full support of… resolute peoples, everywhere, who are resisting aggression” – a policy that would become the Lend-Lease Act.
But the most iconic part of the speech came toward the end, when Roosevelt sought to remind the American people what they were fighting for. Rather than a peace “dictated by aggressors and sponsored by appeasers,” Roosevelt envisioned a postwar order that would secure “four essential human freedoms”: freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom from want, and freedom from fear.
The historical importance of FDR’s Four Freedoms can hardly be overstated. They would go on to become the basis of the Atlantic Charter, the United Nations, and the U.N. Declaration of Human Rights – spearheaded by his widow, Eleanor. And yet I would argue Norman Rockwell’s iconic paintings do a better job at capturing the essence of American liberty than Roosevelt’s words. Though they present an admittedly idealized view of American life in the nineteen forties – an era with challenges and imperfections of its own – they are nevertheless ideals and virtues worth rediscovering. While FDR spoke in the language of natural rights, Rockwell’s paintings illuminate an even more important foundation of American liberty: that of natural law.
Rockwell’s Inspiration
Roosevelt’s “Four Freedoms” famously did not appear in the speech until its fourth draft. Likewise, Rockwell’s paintings almost didn’t happen. At the time, he was already working on a commission for the U.S. Army’s Ordnance Department, painting a machine gunner in need of ammunition. He wanted to illustrate FDR’s Four Freedoms, but was nearly overwhelmed by the challenge. “It was so darned high-blown,” he recalled, “somehow I just couldn’t get my mind around it.”
His moment of inspiration came at a town meeting, when he witnessed a lone man stand up amongst his neighbors to share an unpopular view. It was at this moment that Rockwell realized he could best convey the Four Freedoms from the perspective of his own hometown, using simple, everyday scenes.
While the Army rejected Rockwell’s proposal for yet another commission, the Saturday Evening Post agreed. When they were finally published, seven months later, they became an overnight sensation; so much so that the Department of Treasury sent them on a national exhibition that raised 133 million dollars for the war effort. Clearly, Rockwell’s paintings had struck a chord.
Freedom of Speech and Religion
Freedom of Speech is the most famous of the set, and for good reason. Rockwell’s town hall man stands heroically amidst an orderly (if disapproving) crowd. His blue eyes fixed on the horizon, he wears no suit or tie; just a tan jacket over a literal blue collar. He is middle class and middle-aged, in every way unremarkable. And that is what makes him (and America) so remarkable: the fact that here even the common man has a say. Bathed in an almost heavenly light, Rockwell seems to be implying that the secret of American greatness lies in just such little acts of courage.
The scene is also notable for its civility, a quality notably lacking from today’s discourse. When my students think about freedom of speech, they envision not townhall meetings, but rather street protests: protests which, in the summer of 2020, often turned to riots. While protest is an important part of freedom of speech in America, Rockwell shows us that the solutions to our problems are more likely to be found in the humble setting of a town hall than either the city streets or the vaunted halls of Congress.
Rockwell’s Freedom of Worship is a simple scene of diverse Americans at prayer. Three faces dominate the foreground: in the righthand corner, a Jewish man in a fez carries a religious book; in the center, an older Protestant woman gazes down with folded hands; and, to the left, a younger Catholic woman gazes up as she clutches her rosary beads.
Two other men can be seen in the second row, and in the back two women – at least one of them Black. Rockwell admitted to adding these last somewhat “furtively,” as The Post had not yet featured African Americans prominently in its pages. With its close-up of different hands and faces, this is the only painting of the set that does not look like a scene that could have actually happened. In fact, the original version was much more realistic, featuring men of different religions and races waiting in a barbershop.
While the painting has been criticized for being “congested,” “didactic,” and “bland,” I am glad Rockwell chose to depict different Americans actually at prayer – hands folded, faces somber – rather than a mixture of religious identities associating in a secular setting. Religiosity is a founding American virtue, one George Washington named as “indispensable.” John Adams famously asserted that our Constitution “was made only for a moral and religious people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other.”
It is therefore both telling and troubling that many Americans today define religious freedom as freedom from, not freedom of. Since the highpoint of the early 1960’s, America has been growing more secular by almost every measure. In 2020, only 47% of Americans said they belonged to a church, down from 70% as recently as 1999. The instruction in religion and virtue that once dominate education has been replaced with progressive platitudes, moral relativism, and radical leftwing activism.
Freedom from Want and Fear
While freedom of speech and freedom of religion can be found squarely in the U.S. Constitution, the same cannot be said of freedom from want (defined by FDR as “economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants”) or freedom from fear (“a world-wide reduction of armaments… such that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor”). While both are admirable goals, the latter is almost laughably unattainable in the nuclear age, which Roosevelt just barely escaped. We are never completely secure from external threats, nor is peacetime prosperity a guarantee. It is here that Rockwell does Roosevelt his biggest favor, as his paintings provide a much better representation of American liberty than Roosevelt’s words.
Rockwell’s Freedom from Want shows a family of several generations gathered around the table to enjoy a Thanksgiving feast. At the center, an aproned matriarch proudly presents a roasted turkey, while the patriarch looks on in approval.
In class, I asked my students why Rockwell did not simply paint a single man by himself, eating a combo meal from McDonalds. This question earned a few laughs. More importantly, it helped them see the painting for what it was: a celebration more of faith and family than a full belly. The connection to Thanksgiving brought us back to the Mayflower Pilgrims celebrating a successful harvest after that first deadly winter, and to Lincoln’s establishment of a national holiday in the midst of the Civil War. Like the painting, both historical events remind us that we ought to be grateful for the blessing in our lives – and that we owe that gratitude first and foremost to God. Thanksgiving is also a uniquely American holiday. It’s not that other nations don’t aspire to peace and plenty, but rather that America has been uniquely blessed to enjoy so much of both – a fact our ancestors never ceased crediting to Providence.
Freedom from Fear shows a mother and father tucking in their two young children for the night. The children’s eyes are already closed, suggesting they have had no problem falling asleep. However, the father holds a newspaper with the headline “Bombing Kills… Horror Hits…” – a powerful reminder that while adults will always have to deal with uncertainties and dangers, we can at least strive to protect our children from such worries. While my students agreed that children should be sheltered from adult concerns, most regretted that they had not been.
The past three years have provided a clear reminder that freedom from want and from fear are at best goals, not rights. We are entitled neither to prosperity nor security, which we must earn through the sweat of our brow. Even still, much lies beyond our control. Flood and famine, war and disease can strike at any moment. We thus ask God for our daily bread and deliverance from evil – not the federal government or the United Nations.
Family is at the heart of both latter Rockwell works, the importance of which few would dispute. And yet, like religiosity and civility, it too is in decline, as witnessed by the cratering birth rate.
Natural Law
In summary, while Roosevelt spoke of universal human rights to be safeguarded through global institutions, Norman Rockwell shows us a uniquely American conception of liberty — one grounded in natural law. Cynics debate whether Rockwell’s America ever existed, or whether it was hopelessly idealized. But when I look around my own hometown, I see Rockwell’s America every day. I saw it recently at my church’s annual Lebanese festival, where thousands came to enjoy food, family, and dancing. With our own congregation a diverse blend of Italian, Hispanic, Anglo, and Middle Eastern Catholics, it was as much a celebration of American values as the many immigrant communities who have helped to form it.
Most powerfully, I see it in my two sons — whose old-school childhoods more closely mirror Rockwell’s paintings than many of their peers. There is a reason Rockwell featured children so prominently in his paintings; their is an innocence about them (even when they misbehave) that speaks to us all — to our hopes and dreams.
I see it at my youngest son’s Little League games, as he huddles with his teammates in his gray pants, red belt, and ballcap. During one recent game, it occurred to me: This is what those D-Day veterans stormed the beaches for. They braved 1,300 yards of enemy fire so that these kids could play a game of baseball. Any one of them seeing this today would consider it worth it.
And yet, not every contemporary American scene is so picturesque. One could just as easily point to our open southern border, rising crime rate, and celebration of perversion as clear signs of American decline. It is no surprise there have been attempts to “update” Rockwell’s vision of the Four Freedoms to reflect America’s changing social mores. Neither should it surprise us that every branch of the American armed services has recently failed to meet its recruitment goals.
While there must be many reasons for this trend, a marked decline in virtue and elevation of vice certainly play a role. The average twenty-year-old might tolerate the Marxist political views and drag shows that have come to define our culture, but he is not prepared to die for it. Why should he? As one World War II veteran recently lamented,
“People don’t realize what they have… the things we did and the things we fought for and the boys that died for it, it’s all gone down the drain. Our country is going to hell in a handbasket. We haven’t got the country we had when I was raised, not at all. Nobody will have the fun I had. Nobody will have the opportunity I had. It’s just not the same. And that’s not what our boys, that’s not what they died for.”
Carl Spurlin Dekel, Silver Star recipient
Our country is not currently at war, and we should all be grateful for that. But as FDR reminds us, it is always important to have something worth fighting for. Moreover, we owe a debt to the thousands of American soldiers who have already fought and died for our freedom, to be worthy of their sacrifice. A country is more — it must be more — than a certain number of people who happen to inhabit the same geographic area. We must be united by a core set of values, and committed to the quintessential American virtues that made us great to begin with. With his brush, Rockwell showed us what these were, and perhaps could be again.
The Front Porch Philosopher 
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