Writings by Dr. John C. Rao

Portugal, Austria and Catholic Counterrevolution in Interwar Europe

(Faith and Reason, Spring, 1985, pp. 1-25)

Interwar Europe witnessed political experimentation on a scale that matched, and in some ways even surpassed that of the quarter century following 1789. Both revolutionary and counterrevolutionary movements, using whole nations as their laboratories, competed for the attention of the European audience. Specifically Catholic counterrevolutionary forces were also permitted their brief day in the twentieth century sunlight.

Portugal and Austria were among the few countries coming under the dominion of groups professing commitment to Christian ideals. They did so under different conditions, through the work of strikingly different men, and in the face of incomparably different obstacles. The language of their commitment varied. Each paid little attention to the successes and failures of the other. Yet both, together, reflect a tradition of Catholic thought that reaches back to Joseph de Maistre (1753-1821), a tradition continuously refreshed amidst nineteenth century struggles with “The Revolution”. Studied in tandem, they indicate the common direction of all such thought, the wide divergences of style and emphasis that could exist within it, and, finally, the limitations affecting its potential victory.

Portuguese Catholics felt little affection for the Republic replacing the Braganza Monarchy in 1911. Republican liberalism and anticlericalism, paralleled by the growing influence of nationalist monarchists like Charles Maurras, sapped whatever good will may have existed. Opposition to a ubiquitous secularization was fostered by interpretations of the Fatima visions of 1917, which intimated Portugal’s special role as a dike against the anti-Christian tide in the modern world. Opportunities opened for believers to combat the revolutionary hydra with the coup d’état which in 1926 placed the government in the hands of a junta led by General Gomes da Costa. The entry of Dr. Antonio de Oliveira Salazar (1889-1970) into the government in 1928 as Minister of Finance, and his elevation four years later to the position of Prime Minister, represented a major victory for their cause.

Salazar, who remained in power until 1968, was an ex-seminarian and an influential member of Portuguese Catholic Action. A monkish bachelor all his life, he gained a scholarly reputation as Professor of Economics at the University of Coimbra, whence he was called to political power. Salazar’s actions as Prime Minister so impressed many of his fellow believers that, as his own university argued, “the Catholic world acclaims him as its most eminent citizen”. (1) American Catholic institutions, such as Fordham, granted honorary degrees to a man whom Coimbra described as the “priest and prophet of the new social order”. (2) His reforms continued to be official policy, at least in theory, until the coup d’état which toppled the regime that he inspired in 1974. (3)

Austria, struggling for a raison d’être after the collapse of the Dual Monarchy, nurtured an influential Christian social movement under the leadership of the priest-Chancellor, Fr. Ignaz Seipel. It fell firmly into Catholic hands, however, only after the accession of Engelbert Dollfuss (1892-1934) to Seipel’s position in 1932. Dollfuss, like Salazar, a practicing Catholic and ex-seminarian, was otherwise quite different in character. A gregarious, indeed, ebullient man, he was born of Tyrolean peasant stock, was happily married, and had served during the war with distinction. Dollfuss was no intellectual, though he did gain some reputation as a specialist on peasant problems for the Christian Socials during the 1920’s.

An opportunity for a Catholic counterrevolution in Austria appeared with a parliamentary crisis in 1933, after Dollfuss’ assumption of executive power. The president and two vice presidents of the Austrian National Assembly resigned at this time in a dispute concerning a vote taken upon a controversial proposition supported by the German National Party. Parliament lacked legal procedure for filling simultaneous vacancies in all three chairs. The Chancellor took advantage of the inability to reach a compromise to declare the legislature to be a victim of suicide, and to begin administering the country by decree. A moment had arrived for him, as for Salazar, to correct “the mistakes not of fifteen years merely, but of one hundred and fifty years of intellectual and political delusions.” (4)

Dollfuss’ exuberance made him a danger for the National Socialists, whose desire for political union with Germany was opposed by the Chancellor. The result of their enmity appeared in 1934, with, in Chesterton’s words, “a set of horribly arrogant invaders…entering a place in disguise and butchering a poor little man…who happened to be fighting to keep one little corner of Germany still a part of Christendom”. (5) His work was continued, under increasingly impossible conditions, by Dr. Kurt von Schuschnigg, until the Anschluss of 1938. (6)

Salazar was a rigorous political theorist, and, hence, may be invoked to provide the conceptual framework for what is to follow. Austrian divergences with his thought can be indicated when they appear. Certainly, there could be little disagreement regarding the chief goal that Salazar identified for the movement that he led: a root and branch extirpation of the entire liberal-leftist order of things, and, with it, the whole modern zeitgeist: (7)

We are against class warfare, irreligion and disloyalty to one’s country; against serfdom, a materialistic conception of life, and might over right. We are antagonistic to all the great heresies of today, all the more because we cannot see that any benefit has accrued through their propagation; for they have rather served the new barbarism by sapping the foundations of our civilization….

We are anti-parliamentarians, anti-democrats, anti-liberals, and we are determined to establish a corporative state.

Further attention must be devoted to three points emphasized in this declaration of intent, all of which eternally recur in Catholic counterrevolutionary literature: the materialism and barbarism engendered by modern political and social thought; the need to replace liberal parliamentary government with a more authoritarian system for the attainment of the common good; and, finally, intimately tied to these first two themes, the “corporative” ideal as the essential key to human freedom.

Modern materialism, Salazar insists, stems, ultimately, from an absurd effort to build a social order upon the foundations of “doubt”. (8) This sin, most closely associated with liberal thought, is, he argues, endemic to the Left as a whole, discernable under the most luxuriant ideological foliage. It renders the attempt to fight one branch of “The Revolution” with another of its offshoots a dubious enterprise at best. (9) The abandonment of efforts to uncover the true philosophy of society, through the application of man’s natural rational faculties, had not left the West without a reigning weltanschauung. It had simply handed it over, by default, to the mindless, yet tyrannical guidance of a utilitarian outlook that emphasized might over right, and bodily needs over spiritual and intellectual ones. (10)

Several examples of irrational, materialistic, utilitarianism-by-default may be noted. One is the fact that the average liberal government, after speaking of the impossibility of learning the Truth, finds itself eventually to be compelled to reintroduce some substitute reality on rather flimsy foundations. It recognizes that without this substitute reality, society will crumble. Liberalism was “constrained by its principles to act as if {it} had none”; it was “driven to act inconsistently in order to exist”. (11) Hence, the need for “attributing infallibility to the decisions of a parliament, the verdicts of a court, and the acts of an executive power”, for creating the myth of democratic wisdom, and shaking the policeman’s nightstick at those unwilling to believe. Instead of remaining subject to a law which sought rational or divine pillars, modern man became the slave of matter, in the form of force. Liberalism and the philosophy of doubt inevitably evoked barbarian sanctions. (12)

A second example of the victory of matter over spirit in the modern world, more blatant than the first, was identified in economic theory and practice. Dr. Salazar discussed this point with reference to Portugal’s limited capacity for economic growth.

No reforms, he argued, could transform Lusitania into Eden. Situated on the edge of Europe, poor in mineral deposits and farmlands, Portugal simply lacked opportunities for development on a scale equaling that of the rest of the continent. (13) Still, it was questionable whether contemporary Europe’s vision of Eden was, in reality, as enticing as imagined. Her rejection of fixed moral principles gave her a purely quantitative measurement of well-being, a utilitarian standard “detrimental to and beneath human dignity”, a subtle infection that ever increased her thirst rather than allowing it to be quenched. (14) European man had been tricked into believing that mountains of artificial and insipid consumer goods had become “dreadful necessities”. (15) The “mechanization of life” was his frightful fate. Cities without souls, architecture without animation, luxuries without pleasure were the final, anti-human consequences of the “liberating” philosophy of doubt. (16)

Any truly solicitous regime, Salazar insisted, must turn its energies towards understanding the true, objective foundations of social order. Only when the real order of things was enshrined in law could justice and freedom be assured, and injury to man’s rational faculties be avoided. Only when the true order of things guided the government could arbitrary methods forcing irrational substitute realities upon whole populations be rejected, along with “totalitarian concepts…which tend to deify the State, the People, a given doctrine or individual”. (17) Again, it was useless to argue that one might make an error in determining the nature of this real order of things. The price of eliminating possible error was the inevitability of backing, by default, into a barbaric, materialistic and anti-rational nightmare. (18)

Prime Minister Salazar was an academician, an admirer of Maurrasian Integral Nationalism, and highly conscious of the a-religious character of the Twentieth Century. Hence, he often emphasized the way in which the Truth that must guide state actions could be determined by rational means. “We wish to organize and strengthen the country by means of principles of authority, order, and national tradition”, he argued in a characteristic passage, “in harmony with those eternal verities which are, happily, the inheritance of humanity and the sustenance of Christian civilization.” (19) The impression given—and it is an impression legitimated by numerous Catholic natural law theorists—is that political science is primarily a secular enterprise. Yet such statements mask the fullness of Salazar’s Christian inspiration.

This becomes more clear in his discussion of the need for spiritual awakening. Any lasting political and social improvements, Salazar insisted, any consistent application of the rational faculties, had to be preceded by a spiritual transformation of the individual. “Noisy” modern civilization could not ensure this, nor could Maurras, with his contention that politics was “the great factor in a people’s life”. (20) Salazar hoped to rebuild the life of the spirit in order to enable the reason to see through the materialist stupidities preventing the attainment of order and peace: (21)

From a civilization which is returning scientifically to the jungle, we are separated unceasingly by spiritualism—fount, soul, life of our History. We shun feeding the poor with illusions, but we want at all costs to preserve from the wave that is rising in the world the simplicity of life, the purity of customs, the sweetness of feelings, the equilibrium of social reactions, the familiar air, humble but dignified, of Portuguese life—and through these conquests or reconquests of our traditions, social peace.
Yet how was this spiritual transformation to take place? Through clearly Catholic means, in recognition of the Church’s role as the “mother of intelligence”. (22) Public schools, recognizing “the singular importance of the Catholic religion in the molding of Portuguese character” would “take adequate precautions for overturning the corruption of morals”, and teach orthodox doctrine “to pupils whose parents or guardians do not lodge a request to the contrary”. (23) Mocidade, the Portuguese Youth Movement, would ensure “that Christian doctrine and morals should be a living force in the minds of the boys, springing from their own personal observation of cause and effect and of conduct of life.” (24) Measures long desired by Catholic counterrevolutionaries were the practical path to spiritual renewal. Hence, the Cardinal-Patriarch of Lisbon’s enthusiastic endorsement of the regime in 1938: (25)
There has been, and is, a spiritual renaissance in Portugal. It is a miracle. The soul of the nation is born again in the grace of its people, who are renewing their energies at the source of all life. The Constitution of Portugal, while not officially Catholic, is based on Catholic principles, guaranteeing the freedom of the family, the Church, of education, and by that freedom, encouraging them to grow.
Chancellor Dollfuss and the movement that he led were also convinced that society could not be built upon doubt, and that the materialism of modern Europe was no answer to man’s problems. They, too, believed that the spirit had to be reawakened in order to stabilize Austria. The chief difference from the Portuguese—a difference dictated by Austria’s pressing need for a mass movement strong enough to resist the allure of Nazism—was the more open Catholicity of their enterprise. Dollfuss argued that Austria’s new “imperial mission”, following the demise of the old Empire, was to give “the example of a real honest attempt at forming a Christian State” (26); to make Catholicism “inherent in our public and political life” and manifest itself “as the formative factor in the development of the State”(27):
I am convinced that it is the will of a higher power that we should maintain Austria, this land of ours, with its glorious history, though now on a smaller scale; I am convinced that this Austria is to give an example to other nations in the shaping of her public life; that we in this land of Austria have a great and valuable service to render to the German people as a whole.

With us, to be German means also to be Christian at the same time. As the German people were once brought by Christianity out of paganism to the highest pitch of civilization, so it is our ambition now once more to realize in our German land a devout, humble, and truly practical Christianity. Perhaps the time may come when what we are striving to bring about in little Austria will also be achieved outside our borders, wherever there is a will and a way.

We intend to renew the spirit of our country in the sign in which western Christendom was delivered from the power of Asia two hundred and fifty years ago; the simple sign of the Christian Cross.

For the Austrians, objective order was to be found in “immutable divine Christian law”. (28) Political reforms were secondary, since “only Christ can save men’s souls, and only He can help society”. (29) “The greatest sin and most heinous crime” that the anticlericals had committed was that of having trained “masses of the people” to become “irreligious egoists”. (30) In recompense, the new Austria would “take care that children in public instructions receive a religious and moral education”, and ensure that every teacher be trained to “regard it as important that Catholic principles should prevail in the education of the people”. (31) To promote the Catholic moral perfection of youth was to promote social improvement and sound statesmanship (32):
We want, with the help of grace and the Sacraments, to become better men. If our Catholic Youth Movement is so guided that {the young} will learn to avoid vice, {and} cultivate truly Christian charity from an inner conviction, then they will become a young and healthy source of an entirely Christian nation….We must arouse within us a truly Christian spirit of endeavor. If we succeed in making ourselves real Christians instead of make-believe Christians, then I have no anxieties about the future.

If they are taught what is the supernatural end of man: if they are told what they must do and what they must avoid; if, above all, they are taught the fundamental precept: ‘Love they neighbor as thyself’; if children are brought up not on mere humanitarian slogans, but on Christian principles, so that they may become men of character, men with a sense of responsibility; then the State is most keenly interested in their education….It is sound statesmanship to foster and encourage a life of religion.

If you, my young friends, talk of taking your part in public life, let me tell you one thing today: just as you can only be a good soldier if you have learned to obey, so you can only take an effective and useful part in public life if you have tested yourselves in the virtues which are in the very blood of the German manhood; if you have honestly tried with the help of the means offered by our religion to become better men….

Struggle against barbarism and materialism in modern life also meant encouraging only that measure and quality of economic progress that left a nation’s spiritual life, intellectual goals, and esprit de corps intact. Hence, as Salazar indicates, capitalism had to disappear. It had failed to recognize that “the statesman, the judge, the lawyer, the doctor, the priest, the artist, the professor, the man of learning are not mere ornamental flowers of a surface civilization”. (33) Liberal capitalism had created “villains”, plutocrats who “do not recognize the rights of labor, moral exigencies, or the laws of humanity”. (34) Economic rules of the game there might be, but it was crucial to remember that these had to bend “in accordance with the community aim”, or, as Dollfuss argued, “to the law of love” (35). Individual property, although “a rational imposition of human nature”, and “one of the essential bases of social preservation and progress”, could not be allowed to work against the nation as a whole. (36) Its use had to be modified in such a way as to aid as many Portuguese as possible to become property owners themselves, and to act in a Portuguese fashion. Portugal, Dr. Salazar claimed, had to be reconstructed into “a more humane and Christian country”, where “excessive and inhuman” economic ambitions were discouraged; a “middle land”, one “where neither multi-millionaires nor paupers are possible”. The best means of restoring property was abandonment of atomistic liberal capitalism in a way that did not encourage its collectivistic, materialist counterpart: socialism. (37)

Two methods of achieving the desired goal were emphasized by the reformers. These corresponded to the two remaining themes indicated above: anti-parliamentarism and restoration of the corporate ideal. Both are so closely entwined as to require their simultaneous discussion.

Anti-parliamentarism is obvious in both the statements and actions of the Austrian and Portuguese reformers. Dollfuss claimed to feel the “finger of God” in an enthusiastic peasant response to his announcement, after the suicide of the Austrian Parliament, that “nobody can say when it will be allowed to take up its dubious activities again”. (38) And as far as Dr. Salazar was concerned (39):

The truth is that I am profoundly anti-parliamentary. I hate the speeches, the verbosity, the flowing, meaningless interpolations, the way we waste passions, not round any great idea, but just about futilities, vanities, nothingness from the point of any national good….Of course, there are occasional ideas of value, but it is mostly just fine phrases, just words!
Aversion to liberal parliamentarism was due to the fact that it symbolized the fraudulence of modern claims to defend human freedom. Catholic counterrevolutionary thought understood man to be capable of perfecting his personality, living as he ought to live, and becoming “free” in the traditional sense of the world, only through a recognition of his social nature. The individual’s elevation could take place solely in the framework of all the various associations “which spring up and are spontaneously organized in the heart of the nation”, these “natural extensions of and supports to human activities” (40):
Human institutions are not ‘chains’ for man to break through, impediments hampering the fulfillment of his aims. They are barriers to the vagaries of his liberty, a shelter for the frailty of his nature, a sure guidance amid the hesitations of his conscience, an aid to enable him to obey the laws imposed upon him.
Each of these “corporations”—families, churches, guilds, etc.—matured man through the duties that they imposed upon him, and the vistas that they opened up to him. Each performed a specific function which could not as effectively be performed by any other body. Each mediated between the individual and the community as a whole, and for the benefit of both. (41)

The State, in this counterrevolutionary system, was meant to be both strong and limited, something which the revolutionary thought to be a paradox. Its guidance by the moral law and human reason rather than by individual whim made its foundation both firm and conscientious. Its submission to an historical community, the nation, which stood above the individual corporations, compelled it to see “everything in the light of its duty and capacity to save the interests of all”. The State had to be vigorous enough to make an “unequivocal statement of responsibilities and duties”, and to harmonize inevitable clashes among the various associations. (42) Yet the very vibrancy of the numerous meditating institutions was a constant protection against the State’s becoming Leviathan. One had to be blind to the evidence of history, Dr. Salazar concluded, not to recognize that traditional corporate societies, harmonized through the action of a strong, rational State, had been beneficial to man (43):

The medieval institutions, attesting the cooperation between the sovereign and the subject, produced a well-balanced community enjoying the benefits both of liberty and authority. Under the traditional monarchy, a strong government did not run counter to civic freedom, which in politics, economic life, and society ensured the rights of the individual.
Catholics argued that modern “atomism”, a “chemical solution of humanity into individuals, into grains of dust equal in value, into particles”, had actually ruined prospects for personal and social perfection. (44) This “false conception of individualism”, which dismantled corporate life in the name of human liberation, left man in an unnatural, solitary condition. (45) It released him, “manacled and powerless”, either into the hands of strong and vicious individuals, who unconsciously profited from society’s destruction, or into the grips of the God-State, which had been called upon to effect the end of corporate life. (46)

Perhaps a better expression of the counterrevolutionary view would be to say that the individual was handed over to a God-State, which was then manipulated by the strong and the vicious. This, indeed, is what the liberal parliamentary system appeared to guarantee to many Catholic thinkers. The liberal State was a “fiction created chiefly under the erroneous principles of the last century”. (47) It created a civil order subject to atomistic individuals “artificially disassociated from the interests and preoccupations which gave them their true place in the social scene”. (48) It thus represented no real popular will. Limited by no moral law, it could do what it wished, guided by private and occult groups who were enabled to throw responsibility for their crimes onto “The People” as a whole. Hence, it fashioned the worst of possible systems, one in which the State did not make an unequivocal statement of responsibilities and duties, and one in which the true holders of authority were disguised and could not be held accountable for their actions at all.

Two developments symbolized this degeneration of the State in the eyes of both Salazar and the Austrians. One was the replacement, in the parliamentary order, of true associations by the “Party”. The political party was nothing other than a “big employment agency where one struggled to queue up for the distribution of offices awarded when one’s party was victorious”. (49) The party was anti-national, keeping the population in a “state of feverishness and permanent excitement” which it “wasn’t natural to expect from all men at all times”. (50) It left the State in a “gloomy and mean melancholy” by magnifying “matters of secondary importance…into scandals {true or false} that completely absorbed both time and effort”. It posed as a friend of the people “to lead them to an agitation which {they} themselves {did} not desire”. (51) Parties rejected a specific proposal, as Schuschnigg complained, “not because of its demerits, but simply because it was supported by the other side”. (52)

Parties were aided by another negative force, the Press. This stimulated idle “democratic curiosity” in order to sell papers. It betrayed its proper mission to provide “the spiritual food of the people”. (53) Also a tool of “private and occult interests”, it helped create a fraudulent public opinion that “complained of evils that do not exist”. (54)

The common good dictated the demolition of this system. An “authoritarian government” (55), a dictatorship of “Reason and Intelligence” (56) was required. Such a government would allow for “no arrangements or compromises” (57). It would be guided by a clearly pinpointed executive who would be set above the entire government and become “the moving force in the life of the State”. (58) Executive organs would have “much wider powers than those which they employ at the present time” (59). The State had to be authoritarian, because “in innumerable cases the interest of the Nation and the interests of the regime become practically inseparable” (60). By breaking down the instruments of the liberal State, the dictatorship would be doing a favor to the population as a whole. No longer would government be “slaves to the opinion of the masses, which is different from, and of a much lower category than the true mind of a nation” (61). No longer would the statesman betray his conscience by flattering the stupidity of the mob. Truly popular government required a system which was neither influenced nor directed by the so-called masses, who cheer one day and “may rise up in rebellion next day for equally passing reasons”. (62)

Hence, it was crucial to eliminate political parties, control the power of the Press, and abolish parliamentary rule. The first was fairly easy to accomplish. Groups “formed for political aims and organized for the conquest of power and the seizing of the State” were formally abolished. (63) This, as both Salazar and the Austrians insisted, included Catholic political parties as well as others. Such parties were also subject to the innate corruption of this false institution, and better dispensed with than maintained. Their current members were urged to “transfer their activities to the realm of purely social action”. (64) “Even our political phraseology will need revision”, Salazar insisted, since “most of the words we are accustomed to use in our politics refer only to the past and will be inapplicable to the present. The old ideas, habits, political machinery and everything else will have to go” (65). Division had to give way to a superior love for the common good:

We can quite understand that there may be people with an independent outlook, who without necessarily being any members of any political party, would occasionally disagree on this or that point. However, opposition parties, even if they should be friendly and kindly disposed…waiting for the Government to fall, are things of the past.

We do believe the party system to be a thing of the past. But we do not think it would be in the interests either of the German peoples in general or the Austrian race in particular to replace the party system with a Party State….If differences of opinion should arise…and threaten to cause a split in our ranks, the quarreling parties should shout in one breath: ‘Long live our country’.

Similarly, “liberties” had to be regulated “with a view to their effective exercise as real freedoms and not the pomps of an abstract ideal that experience would again show to be unattainable”. This entailed censorship. (66) Irritating and unjust to the few serious journalists as this might be, only censorship could ensure the expression of true public opinion. (67) “In any case”, Salazar complained: (68)
I think it is very extraordinary that many should be so irritated by the barriers set up by constituted authority (who at least may be supposed to have the welfare of the community at heart) and yet do not raise their voices in protest against the enslavement of thought by huge capitalist organizations, by private and occult interests, by the brute force of wealth.
Both Salazar and the Austrians were conscious of the dangers of the dictatorship involved. The Portuguese Prime Minister warned of the temptations to which this regime “on the road to fulfillment” might be subject, especially if its officials were not “saints and heroes”. (69) It could easily end by becoming a goal in itself. (70) The Austrians sought to establish a “clear dividing line between authoritarian government and forcible dictatorship” (71). “As in the peasant’s home, the farmer must rule the household”, Dollfuss explained, “so the public administration needs a ruler”. Yet, “as in the peasant’s household that rule must not be arbitrary if progress is to be made, so also in the government of the state there must be no arbitrary rule”. (72) And one thing was clearly recognized by most contemporary Europeans: that the Portuguese and Austrian systems in no way entailed the creation of some reign of terror. (73)

The State’s duty was to cry, with Maurras, “all that is national is ours—all this national by virtue of the end in view and of its spirit…”. (74) The State had to resurrect the power and effectiveness of institutions that were central to human and national character. It learned what these were through the natural law and through history. Only by encouraging them could individual madness be prevented, license avoided, and incipient totalitarianism thwarted. Corporations, each in their own field, could do properly what the State could not.

Certainly, both Portugal and Austria were true to their word in leaving the family a wide autonomy. “The basis of all society”, Dollfuss declared in 1934, “and especially of every society organized on Christian principles, must be the family”. (75) Salazar called it the primary organic element of the political order. The Portuguese Constitution insisted that it would do everything to maintain its strength. (76) A “Family Defense League” was developed which sought to counter such concepts as feminism. Public recognition was given to the need for familial control of education. (77) Indeed, Salazar, who was opposed to female participation in civil life in general, encouraged female social action in the realm of education. Hence, his support for the Mother’s Movement for National Education. (78) “Everything is based on the family as the {primary} unit of life in society”, the Cardinal-Patriarch explained, in praise of the regime. (79)

The Church was also ensured corporate freedom, her autonomy sealed by the Austrian (1933) and Portuguese (1940) Concordats. Canon Law was recognized as binding on priests. Church rights to acquire property were admitted. Taxes could be levied by Church officials. Full and consistent protection was offered to her by the State. Catholics in Portugal were so completely recognized as being part of a unique corporation that divorce was not permitted to them by civil courts. Either they were part of a distinct entity with its own laws and commitments, the State reasoned, or they were not. And if they were not, why, then, had they contracted a canonical marriage in the first place? (80) Austria was seen by many as being so favorable to the Church as to be guided directly from Rome. Schuschnigg attributed this contention completely to anticlerical sources: (81)

The idea that the government was getting orders from the Vatican, or that the Vatican sought to exercise influence upon the administration, has been spread by the invention of fantastic stories, the purpose of which was to becloud public opinion, and prepare the ground for a feud against religion which might then be directed to political ends.
One step that neither country would take was that of officially reestablishing Roman Catholicism as the national religion. This was avoided, partly in recognition of the existence of non-Catholic groups within the body of the nation, and partly due to the desire to avoid resurrecting past conflicts. (82) It was one thing, the argument went, to be guided by the Truth. It was quite another for a single corporate entity, the Church, to be given extraordinary privileges within the State. All that the Church required was the kind of full corporate freedom that corporatism in general promised; nothing more and nothing less. Salazar, criticized severely by many of his fellow Catholics for his failure to relent on this point, defended himself vigorously: (83)
Such things can and must be so….It must be so because political activity corrupts the Church, either when she wields it or suffers its effects, and it is to the general good of all that sacred things and persons be handled as little as possible by profane hands or agitated by mundane interests and passions. I consider it dangerous for the State to arrogate to itself such power that it can violate heaven; equally do I think it unreasonable that the Church, on the grounds of the higher value of spiritual interests, should seek to increase her actions to the point of interfering with those things which the very Gospels declare to belong to Caesar.

Both sides would have failed to have learned the lessons of the past if they had not become aware how privilege can corrupt, how protection can lead to the trimming of essential liberties; how a religious policy can deviate from the defense of the interests of the Church and seek other ends which impair the legitimate action of the State, and which, therefore, the latter cannot countenance.

It is important to grasp the full import of Salazar’s argument. This can only be achieved by understanding it in the context of his other pronouncements. Salazar does not mean that the State ought to make believe that Catholic teachings do not concern it. Rather, he is speaking of the serious danger of what I have elsewhere labeled “back-door secularization”, through which Catholic Action becomes too closely tied with purely political parties, decisions or ideologies. Salazar was partly worried that the proclamation of the reestablishment of the Church would convince Catholics that Portugal had been magically purified by this basically rhetorical action alone. The State could then justify all its future decisions by insisting that it was, after all, Catholic, because a document claimed that this was so. All its measures would take on a doctrinal flavor, as though Catholics must agree with them as articles of faith. Similarly, the State could find that its legitimate autonomy would be hampered by the clergy’s attempt to guide the so-called Catholic government, even though the priestly charism gave it no special protection in such an enterprise. Better that the Church should devote her energy to putting her own house in order; this alone would give her proper influence over the State, as a teacher. Were she to equate the New Portugal with Catholicism, then the body of the faith would have to be expanded to incorporate positions on all kinds of issues on which the Magisterium had no supernataurally-granted right or need to speak.

One of the most crucial undertakings in the entire enterprise of rebuilding corporate order, one upon which the greatest stress was placed by the reformers, was that of introducing it into economic life. (84) State interference in economics, beyond obvious measures such as the control of foreign investment, ownership of basic industries fundamental to national survival, and general principles regarding minimum wages and maximum prices, could be disastrous. “Real progress can only be achieved when the State is prepared to abandon all forms of activity which can best be performed through private channels”, Salazar argued; “the maintenance of healthy social conditions depends on allowing a wide margin of liberty to private initiative…”. (85) There existed a real danger with bureaucratic regulation that “gradual extension of such control may embrace spiritual and intellectual values, the emotions and family life”. (86)

A modern corporate system, a modified replica of medieval guild life, could, Salazar believed, solve many problems simultaneously. Through it, the State could be enabled “to reap the benefits of all its productive forces and to uphold private property, personal initiative, and legitimate competition…”. (87) A commercial life with corporate institutions would mean an “auto-economy”, a “self-directed economic system”. The State could intervene in this only “to see that the law was duly observed” (88), and, then as a “teacher or trainer”, or a “representative of the mass of consumers, whose interests it would harmonize with those of producers” (89). Unrestricted capitalism, Italian and German statism, socialism and communism, might all be avoided in one fell swoop. (90)

The Austrians emphasized the same benefits, but, again, always in a more openly pious tone. “The plan”, Kurt von Schuschnigg wrote, was “that by progressive development, the State would be relieved from dealing with those affairs which the corporations were in a position to deal with themselves in their own sphere of influence”. (91) Austrian corporatists laid stress on the value of the guild as an instrument for ending the class struggle. (92) Dollfuss indicated that the employer and worker would be linked together in it like the peasant and his helpers round the dinner table after a day’s work on the farm. Their union would be still more firm, he added, if, as in the peasant’s family, their day were ended with the Rosary. Guild solidarity would ensure the worker’s sense of dignity, and, indeed, would give him a kind of property of his own to cherish. The humanity and intimacy provided by the guild, its incorporation of the “law of love” (93), its efficacy as a religious instrument of perfection, appealed to his Christian conscience. (94) Indeed, Dollfuss always associated the Austrian corporative effort with Pope Pius XI’s encyclical letter, Quadragesimo anno (1931), which he went so far as to commend to the League of Nations from the speaker’s podium at Geneva. (95) This encyclical, he said, contained the “principles of a reform of society which {was} to lead to the overcoming of materialism and the solution of the social question irrespective of religious creed”. (96) The end result of corporate order was that “all would take pleasure in {their} work…and realize that it {was} harmony and not the stirring up of dissension among men that {made} everybody happy and contented”. (97)

Dollfuss claimed that Austria’s efforts to realize this seemingly utopian vision would be useless unless “the whole people {became}, as it were, actuated with the new spirit which {was} to animate the new Constitution”. (98) Yet too many opponents of Catholic corporatism haunted the Austrian political scene to make this saturation possible. National Socialists, for whom Dollfuss’ Christian Austrian mission was a serious obstacle to Anschluss, were uncoooperative. The Chancellor’s non-Catholic allies in the Heimwehr, a nationalist organization which also called for a corporate State, were susceptible to Nazi propaganda, and little moved by religious rhetoric.

Dollfuss exerted much energy trying to win to his cause supporters of the Social Democratic Party whose power he had crushed, and whose leaders viewed him as a “clerico-fascist”. “We meet you not with contempt or distrust”, he insisted in one of his many speeches to labor. (99) We have established a “fundamentally Christian” constitution, containing “all the elements of the best and purest social philosophy” (100). We wish to provide not merely the necessities of life, but also “the power to believe that Christian charity is truly a living thing which embraces all men”. (101) There is, the recurring theme runs, no need for class struggle in a corporate society: (102)

At a time when the employment of labor was organized wholly according to Liberal and Capitalistic principles, it was intelligible—though unjust according to our Christian conceptions—that on the other side class warfare should have been taken as the basis for the defense of the worker. But if among employers of labor there is a sincere readiness to cooperate in the new political, economic, and social constitution, a readiness to take as the foundation of social and economic life the relation of man to man, viewed at a new angle and regarded as the source of mutual duties and obligations, then the antithesis of class warfare no longer exists, and labor must seriously consider whether it is not its duty to show a sincere readiness to cooperate in the new order of things.
The political situation in Austria may, as Erik von Kuehneldt-Leddihn once wrote to me, have made the corporate experiment in that country a “dead letter” from the beginning. (103) The Portuguese, protected by their somewhat isolated geographical position from the vicissitudes of interwar turmoil, had more chance to construct the corporate economic order carefully. Here too, however, results were mixed, any good ones completely negated by the military coup of 1974.

Salazar urged the introduction of the corporate economy slowly, “so as to try a system which has not yet been adequately tested: (104)

All new establishments which lack experience…must be built up slowly and laboriously. It is always difficult to apply novel principles to old societies with ingrained habits and a different outlook. Indeed, it is so difficult as to appear impossible to those persons who cannot brook delay….Revolutions, to be profound and human, require many years of resolute application and genuine revolutionary laws, for only when the real mind of the people is attained can the movement be said to have reached its objective. In the same way, though it is not absolutely impossible to regulate production, and to set up definite boundaries and channels of development, the effective and affective collaboration of the various classes and branches of production in a country where competition and speculation were reckoned inseparable from trade, can be secured only with great difficulty and with endless patience.
A rather detailed framework for this slow but steady establishment of corporative order, an outline frequently altered, was in place by the mid-1930’s. (105) “Pre-corporative” programs were undertaken and propaganda campaigns mounted. Ultimately, each given enterprise in industry was to possess a workingman’s syndicate (Sindicato nacional) and an employer’s association (Gremio). These would repudiate all the classic instruments of the liberal capitalist order, such as lock outs and strikes, as well as reject the Marxist concept of class warfare. The various syndicates of a specific large-scale industry were to be linked together in “federations”, and the employers’ associations into “unions”. All, together, would, in the last analysis, be joined in a given guild. Functions such as aiding the sick and serving as clearing houses for employment would also be performed by these entities. Labor courts, under the guidance of the National Institution of Labor and Providence, would settle disputes that might develop.

Special institutions, such as the National Foundation for Joy in Work, were also formed, partially to spread propaganda for the New Order. They were created to stimulate “the atmosphere of pure idealism” in which the syndicates were created; “to keep burning the flame of enthusiasm and of confidence which the social concept of the new Corporate State rekindled in the soul of the working classes”. (106) Their function was also to “aid the leisure of the Portuguese workers in such a way as to ensure for them the greatest physical development and the raising of their intellectual and moral level”. (107) Casas de Povo in rural regions, and Casas dos Pescadores, among fishermen, were designed for similar purposes, the aim of preserving national traditions always being emphasized. Hence, with respect to the latter: (108)

With regard to education, it will be the duty of these associations to set up schools for the children of fishermen so as to give them a good all-round education which, in time, will contribute to the raising of their standard of living; local traditions and customs will be piously preserved and proper respect will be paid to those religious beliefs which are so strong in the hearts of the fishing population of Portugal.
Two major problems continuously afflicted the Portuguese in their corporate endeavors. The first was the statism that Salazar himself dreaded. A system designed to lessen State interference in daily life seems to have permitted its intrusions to have grown. This tendency was already clear in the pre-corporative stage of the plan. Ministers of Agriculture and Commerce and Industry were allowed to intervene regularly in corporate life. An Undersecretary of State for Corporations, operating under the aegis of the National Institute for Labor and Providence, was ubiquitous. A Corporative Council that included Salazar and many other ministers became the ultimate watchdog of the entire system. Bureaucratic interference on such a major scale was, perhaps, inevitable, given the fact that the reformers were attempted to reintroduce artificially something which had grown up spontaneously in the Middle Ages. In any case, they themselves often recognized how “inorganic” their construct was. Salazar admitted that “floods of complaints” came into his office regarding bureaucratic errors and staff inefficiencies. Although he claimed not to be surprised by such criticisms, he did express concern that “they should be repeated without any satisfaction being given”. (109)

A second problem, giving the lie to the enthusiastic language of much Portuguese propaganda, was that of lack of coooperation. Salazar indicated, in 1937, that he was pleased enough with the growth of syndicates. These had understandably grasped their aims and duties, given that “those who own little are always unselfish”. Gremios, however, he complained, left much to be desired. “Instead of entering into the spirit of the corporative state”, he argued, some “may have tried to drive away probably competitors” through their structures. (110) Indeed, a number of people, he chided, “have thought that the corporative organization would be a means of multiplying middlemen, removing competition, and safeguarding against all comers the positions acquired by some…”. (111)

Lack of cooperation in agriculture was especially blatant and irksome. It had proved to be extremely difficult to fit Portuguese agriculture into the corporate structure, due to uncertainty regarding its organization on a geographical or crop basis. By 1937, however, farmers’ associations were established on a district foundation. These were then gradually combined into regional entities. Bitterness due to ineffectiveness was always near the surface. Salazar called farmers “by nature selfish and self-sufficing”. (112) Farm workers could not see the need for cooperation with those outside of their districts, and landlords would not pay the minimum contribution demanded for participation in the corporate entity. Proprietors, ultimately, were obliged to take part in agricultural bodies, since, “in matters of this kind, experience has taught that it is not good enough to trust man’s better nature”. (113) Still, by the end of the thirties, “no perfect form” of agricultural order had been discovered. (114) None would ever be found.

This renewed corporate order was meant to give a more sound representation of the popular will than any atomistic parliament. Hence, its structure was to be reflected in the political order: (115)

It is our intention to establish the social and corporative State in close correlation with the natural constitution of society. The families, the parishes, the municipalities, the corporations wherein all citizens co-exist in possession of their fundamental juridical liberties, are the components of the nation and as such should have direct intervention in the constitution of the supreme bodies of the State; this is the most accurate definition of the representative system.

This Constitution must take account of the natural organization of the people, ensure that all estates alike will have an active part in the conducting of public affairs, while avoiding all those obstructions to legislation arising from the inadequacy of the present Constitution. Such popular representation, being the symbol of the organic life of the community, thus does justice to the State as the visible expression of that organic life.

Accordingly, as the latter develops, the state will more faithfully reflect the nation as an organized whole, while the part played by the individual in the creation of such assemblies will correspond more closely to the part he plays in the national life as head of a family, producer, member of a Church, or in his connection with education, public assistance, or sport. This may be described as the ‘Policy of Real Life’.

Salazar, for whom parliaments were designed for “ratification of the general fundamentals of juridical rules” (116), made it clear that this representation would be purely consultative: (117)
In the first place, whatever may be the scope of vested interests in the corporations, there will always be lacking in them the representation of national interests….Secondly, because it would be most dangerous without the long preparation acquired by experience, for a particular interest to be defended by, or its activities defined, either by other vested interests or in collusion with them.
The result was that both Portugal and Austria established limited corporative representative institutions. Portugal did not manage to abolish its traditional parliament completely, much to Dr. Salazar’s regret: (118)
In fact a parliament frightens me so much that while I recognize the necessity of our new Constitution, I am just a little afraid of what may come of it. There are three months of the year when you’ve got to listen to parliamentary debates….The present Council of Ministers is good enough for me: it is a small parliament in a way, and it is also useful and does something.
Nevertheless, a Corporative Chamber, including representatives of Lisbon and Oporto, various state administrative agencies, presidents of corporations and other national interests was created. A ceremonial Head of State, chosen through families, was also established.

Austria formed a Bundesversammlung composed of four distinctive consultative organs representing economic activities, provinces, cultural entities, and national interests as a whole. This advised the Bundestag, which was itself made up of representatives of the Bundesversammlung. A ceremonial Head of State, elected by Bürgermeisters from across the country, presided over the whole structure. (119)

New forms of articulating popular interest in government, based on the principle of national solidarity, were also forged. (120) The Mocidade, the Portuguese Legion (121), and the National Union under Salazar; the Fatherland and Patriotic Fronts in Austria, were all expressions of this desire to stimulate non-partisan concern for the affairs of the nation: 120

The National Union was established on a ground sufficiently broad in outlook to admit all Portuguese of good will, irrespective of their political and religious needs, provided only that they should accept the existing institutions and be prepared to defend the principles of our national reconstruction.

Whatever happens…the National Union must not give up its purely national and patriotic mission, and allow itself to become imbued with the spirit of partisanship. It would be criminal and even ridiculous to have yet another party the object of which would be to oppose the principle of party.

The Patriotic Front does not represent a single movement of reconstruction. Freed from the party restrictions of former times, we want to unite all men, irrespective of party, who recognize Austria as their Fatherland, in order to renovate this country constitutionally, socially, and economically.

He who wears this ribbon {of the Fatherland Front} pledges himself to bring it about that every individual member and every organization in the Patriotic Front shall have one end in view: Austria.

The Fatherland Front will be built on the leader principle….The Fatherland Front aims at non-partisan union of all patriotic Austrians to serve the peaceful, cultural, and economic development of a free, independent Austrian state.

These groups, like corporate entities and the attempt to develop corporative parliaments, were often ineffective due to statism, partisanship, and improper preparation. (123)

There is no doubt that there were enormous problems with the Portuguese and Austrian experiments, from both a Catholic as well as a purely political standpoint. Several of these have been indicated above. They would not have been human experiments if such problems had not existed.

Nevertheless, insofar as anything could be done to Christianize the political order in Twentieth Century Austria and Portugal, both these nations attempted it. Insofar as anything could be done to achieve a Catholic cleansing of modernity without falling into the same ideological and intellectual errors as the enemy, Salazar appears to have outlined it.

But, ultimately, as this brilliant thinker repeatedly indicated, the Christian statesman faced two almost insurmountable difficulties in a land like his own in the present age. One was the fact that small nations were practically helpless in setting goals for themselves when the large powers were indifferent and hostile to them. And more importantly still, the western world had lost its taste for truth, honor, and glory. Perhaps forever. (124)


(1) Segretariado da Informacao Nacional, Bulletin (August, 1938), p. 20.

(2) Ibid.

(3) Hugh Kay, Salazar and Modern Portugal (New York: Hawthorn, 1969), pp. 1-50 for a description of Salazar’s career.

(4) Bundeskommisariat für Heimatdienst, The New Austria (London, 1937), p. 8; Luiz Teixeira, Profile of Salazar (Lisbon: Segretariado da Propaganda Nacional, 1938), p. 63.

(5) London Times, 2 August, 1934, editorial page.

(6) J.D. Gregory, Dollfuss and His Times (London: Hutchinson & Co., Ltd., 1935), pp. 1-100, 189-191; Gordon Brook Shepard, Dollfuss (London: Macmillan & Co., Ltd., 1961), p. 186; Johannes Messner, Dollfuss: An Austrian Patriot (London: Burns, Oates & Washbourne, Ltd., 1935), p. 22; Dr. Kurt von Schuschnigg, My Austria (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1938), pp. 93-94.

(7) Salazar, Doctrine and Action, translated by Robert Edgar Broughton (London: Faber & Faber, 1940), pp. 26, 29.

(8) Antonio Ferro, Salazar: Portugal and Her Leader, translated by H. de Barros Gomes and John Gibbons (London: Faber & Faber, Ltd., 1939), p. 29.

(9) Teixeira, p. 63.

(10) Doctrine and Action, pp. 24, 269; Teixeira, p. 58.

(11) Ibid., p. 269.

(12) Teixeira, p. 58.

(13) Salazar, The Principles and Work of the Revolution (Lisbon:

(14) Segretariado da Propaganda Nacional, 1943), p. 14.

(15) Doctrine and Action, p. 157; Teixeira, p. 51; Christine Garnier, Salazar: An Intimate Portrait (New York: Farrar, Strauss & Young, 1954), p. 109.

(16) Doctrine and Action, p. 156.

(17) Ibid., p. 154; Ferro, p. 47.

(18) Segretariado da Propaganda Nacional, Portugal: The New State in Theory and in Practice (Lisbon, 1938), p. 9.

(19) Doctrine and Action, pp. 96, 207-209, 219-221, 280; Portugal: The New State, pp. 9, 12, 17; Ferro, pp. 113, 176, 178, 247-248; Teixeira, pp. 58; Garnier, p. 207.

(20) Doctrine and Action, p. 229.

(21) Ferro, pp. 247-248.

(22) Freppel Cotta, Economic Planning in Corporative Portugal (London: P.S. King & Son, Ltd., 1937), p. 185; Ferro, pp. 17, 23-25, 83; A. Salazar, The Road for the Future (Lisbon: SIN, 1962), pp. 179, 207; Teixeira, pp. 18, 59; Doctrine and Action, pp. 132, 229; Visconde de Alcobaca, What Portugal Owes to Dr. Salazar: A Debt of Gratitude (Lisbon: Editorial Imperio, 1935), p. 17; Bulletin (March, 1938), p. 14.

(23) Ferro, p. 29; Bulletin, VI (March, 1938), p. 14; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 14.

(24) Doctrine and Action, p. 163; Sydney Ehler and John Morrall, eds., Church and State Through the Centuries (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1954, p. 510; Bulletin (May, 1940), p. 9.

(25) Bulletin, (July, 1939), p. 5.

(26) Bulletin (March, 1938), p. 14.

(27) Shepard, pp. 99, 187; Messner, pp. 96-99.

(28) Messner, p. 158; Also, pp. 99, 90, 181; See, in addition, Doctrine and Action, p. 246.

(29) Schuschnigg, p. 90; Messner, pp. 55, 181.

(30) Shepard, p. 187.

(31) Messner, pp. 62-63.

(32) Ibid., p. 162; Ehler and Morrall, p. 503.

(33) Messner, pp. 28-29, 162, 178; Also, pp. 12 and 145; Gregory, p. 340.

(34) Teixeira, p. 50.

(35) Doctrine and Action, pp. 120-121, 195-198; Messner, pp. 68, 113.

(36) Ehler and Morrall, p. 513; Messner, p. 113.

(37) Cotta, p. 13 for Charter of National Labor.

(38) Ferro, pp. 48-49; Salazar, Road for the Future, p. 148, 157-158; Doctrine and Action, p. 58.

(39) Shepard, pp. 102-103; Schuschnigg, pp. 124, 137-138, 141-142; Dollfuss, p. 108.

(40) Ferro, p. 244.

(41) SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 7; Doctrine and Action, pp. 30, 52, 232-233, 247, 272-273; Salazar, Salazar, Prime Minister of Portugal Says (Lisbon: SPN), pp. 28, 32; Road for the Future, pp. 83, 138; Ferro, p. 27; Messner, p. 72. Quotation is from Teixeira, Portugal: The New State, p. 59.

(42) Doctrine and Action, p. 99; Principles and Work of the Revolution, pp. 8-14; SPN, p. 9; Messner, p. 125; Oesterreichischer Bundespressedienst, The Constitution of the Federal State of Austria (Vienna, 1937), p. 15.

(43) Doctrine and Action, p. 183; Schuschnigg, p. 271; Also, Doctrine and Action, pp. 59, 96, 126-127, 219, 249, 251, 288-289; Principles and Work of the Revolution, pp. 8-14, 24-25; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 24; BFH, The New Austria, p. 5, Salazar, pp. 91, 107.

(44) Doctrine and Action, p. 30; Quotation from SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 7.

(45) Mgr. Ketteler, in Ralph Bowen, German Theories of the Corporative State (New York: McGraw Hill, 1947), p. 85.

(46) Doctrine and Action, p. 286; Also, pp. 20, 106; Teixeira, p. 41; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 11.

(47) Teixeira, p. 61; Also, Doctrine and Action, pp. 247, 252-253; Salazar, My Deposition (Lisbon, 1949), p. 14; Also, Teixeira, p. 59; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 17.

(48) Doctrine and Action, p. 120; Portugal: The New State, p. 11.

(49) SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 11; See, also, Doctrine and Action, pp. 106, 292; Schuschnigg, pp. 98-99.

(50) Ferro, p. 145; Schuschnigg, p. 25.

(51) Garnier, p. 206.

(52) Doctrine and Action, pp. 92, 247; Also, Mack Walker, ed., Metternich’s Europe (New York: Walker & Co., 1968), p. 121.

(53) Schuschnigg, p. 153; Also, pp. 98-99; Ferro, p. 176; Messner, p. 134; Road for the Future, pp. 121, 193; My Deposition, p. 13; Doctrine and Action, pp. 12, 14, 29, 292; Salazar, Prime Minister of Portugal Says, p. 60; Teixeira, p. 41.

(54) Salazar…Says, p. 28; Doctrine and Action, pp. 30, 52, 247.

(55) Ferro, p. 28.

(56) The New Austria, p. 5.

(57) Doctrine and Action, pp. 38, 127.

(58) Ibid., p. 143.

(59) Ibid., p. 251.

(60) Doctrine and Action, pp. 99-100.

(61) Ibid., pp. 106-107; Road for the Future, p. 184.

(62) Ferro, p. 34.

(63) Ibid., p. 37; Also, Messner, p. 139; The New Austria, p. 22.

(64) Ferro, pp. 95-96.

(65) Dollfuss, in Shepard, p. 108; Ferro, p. 142.

(66) Ferro, pp. 100, 255; Schuschnigg, in Messner, p. 56; Schuschnigg, in The New Austria, p. 54; See, also, Ferro, pp. 95-96; Doctrine and Action, pp. 90, 144-145; Road for the Future, pp. 196, 211-213; Bulletin, XII (April, 1939), p. 6.

(67) Road for the Future, p. 9.

(68) Ibid., p. 142; Ferro, p. 152.

(69) Ferro, p. 28.

(70) Doctrine and Action, pp. 238, 147.

(71) Ibid., pp. 81-84.

(72) Schuschnigg, p. 271.

(73) Messner, p. 135.

(74) See Road for the Future, p. 209; Doctrine and Action, p. 219; Ferro, pp. 65-66, 178 for further Portuguese arguments.

(75) Road for the Future, p. 168.

(76) Messner, p. 135.

(77) Doctrine and Action, p. 101; Ehler and Morrall, p. 510; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 13.

(78) Ferro, pp. 235-237, 301; Bulletin (May, 1940), p. 9; Doctrine and Action, p. 209; Ehler and Morrall, p. 510; Road for the Future, p. 207; Garnier, pp. 7-8.

(79) SPN, Portugal: The New State, pp. 14, 54.

(80) Bulletin (March, 1938), p. 14.

(81) Bulletin, XXVI (May, 1940), pp. 9, 6-7; Also, Doctrine and Action, pp. 139-140; Ehler and Morrall, pp. 502, 514-515; Ferro, p. 234.

(82) Schuschnigg, pp. 256-257; also, p. 269; Dollfuss, p. 233; Messner, pp. 160, 173; Julius Braunthal, The Tragedy of Austria (London: Victor Gollancz, Ltd., 1948), pp. 205-208; Cicely Hamilton, Modern Austria as Seen by an Englishwoman (London: J.M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., 1935), pp. 84-85.

(83) Garnier, pp. 162-164, 168; Teixeira, p. 40.

(84) Bulletin, XXVI (May, 1940), p. 5; Garnier, pp. 162-164, 168; Teixeira, p. 40.

(85) Doctrine and Action, pp. 122, 193-194, 343; Ehler and Morrall, p. 513; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 12; Teixeira, pp. 48-51.

(86) Doctrine and Action, pp. 122, 168, 343.

(87) Doctrine and Action, p. 343; Also, pp. 16, 120, 122, 145, 166-167, 196-197, 249, 342; Teixeira, p. 56; Principles and Work of the Revolution, p. 24; Cotta, p. 13; Dollfuss, p. 20; Messner, p. 60.

(88) Doctrine and Action, pp. 22-23; 160.

(89) SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 9; Doctrine and Action, p. 23.

(90) Cotta, p. x; Also, Doctrine and Action, pp. 145-146, 161, 342.

(91) Doctrine and Action, p. 22; Also, pp. 39, 166; My Deposition, p. 18; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 14; Cotta, p. 12; Bulletin (February, 1938), pp. 10-11; (March, 1938), pp. 4-5.

(92) Schuschnigg, p. 270.

(93) Braunthal, p. 189; Messner, p. 153; Also, Doctrine and Action, pp. 39, 164.

(94) Messner, p. 145.

(95) Messner, pp. 135, 145, 129, 154; Also, 60, 153; Dollfuss, in Gregory, p. 329; Dollfuss, p. 31.

(96) Messner, pp. 119, 122; Schuschnigg, p. 213.

(97) Schuschnigg, p. 213.

(98) Messner, p. 130.

(99) Ibid., p. 165.

(100) Ibid., p. 74.

(101) Ibid., p. 153.

(102) Ibid., pp. 67-68.

(103) Ibid., 67-68.

(104) Braunthal, pp. 186, 194; Joacquin Azpiau, S.J., The Corporative State, translated by the Rev. William Bresnaham, OSB (St. Louis: B. Herder Book Co., 1951), pp. 83, 121; The New Austria, p. 22; Schuschnigg, pp. 82-137, 208; Hamilton, pp. 25-26; Messner, p. 149 for the Austrian dilemma.

(105) Doctrine and Action, p. 21; Ferro, p. 17.

(106) Ferro, p. 276; Morrall and Ehler, p. 513; SPN, Portugal: The New State, pp. 38-39, 41; Cotta, pp. 16-17, 19-21, 21-22, 153.

(107) Bulletin, I (May, 1937), pp. 8-9; X (February, 1938), pp. 63-64, 77-85; 102-103, 110-111; Cotta, pp. 155-160 164-169.

(108) Ferro, p. 19; Cotta, pp. 155-160, 169-171.

(109) SPN, Portugal: The New State, pp. 40-41; Ferro, p. 19; Bulletin, II (August, 1937), pp. 11-12; Doctrine and Action, pp. 29, 160; Bulletin, I (May, 1937), pp. 8-9; (August, 1938), p. 3; Cotta, pp. 161-163.

(110) The Road for the Future, p. 90.

(111) Ferro, pp. 20-21.

(112) Ibid.

(113) Ferro, p. 19.

(114) SPN, Portugal: The New State, pp. 40-41; Ferro, p. 19.

(115) Portugal: The New State, p. 40; Also, Bulletin (August, 1937), pp. 11-12; Cotta, p. 103; Doctrine and Action, pp. 29, 160, 243.

(116) Doctrine and Action, p. 103; Messner, p. 139; Doctrine and Action, p. 39; Also, Ferro, p. 242.

(117) Doctrine and Action, pp. 99-100.

(118) Ibid., p.253.

(119) Ferro, p. 244.

(120) Ehler and Morrall, pp. 503-507; OB, The Constitution of Austria, pp. 41-45; SPN, The Constitution of Portugal, pp. 24-28, 38-42; Messner, pp. 143-144; Garnier, p. 100.

(121) Road for the Future, pp. 123-124.

(122) Bulletin, (May, 1938), p. 8; SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 50.

(123) Doctrine and Action, pp. 133, 109; Messner, pp. 101-102; Braunthal, p. 190; Also, SPN, Portugal: The New State, p. 50; Bulletin (May, 1938), p. 8; The New Austria, p. 56; Dollfuss, pp. 72-74.

(124) Shepard, pp. 107, 168; Schuschnigg, p. 282; Hamilton, pp. 84-85; Braunthal, p. 189.

(125) Garnier, pp. 7, 83; Salazar, Road for the Future, p. 78.

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