CHARLES A. LINDBERGH: THE HISTORICAL RECORD

The Lindbergh Foundation was established in 1977 to honor the enduring mission of Charles A. and Anne Morrow Lindbergh: the balance of technological progress with the protection of the natural world. That mission stands on its own merits. This statement addresses, directly and without equivocation, aspects of Charles Lindbergh’s public record that require honest acknowledgment.

The Prewar Years: Context and Conduct

In the mid-1930s, Lindbergh traveled to Germany at the request of the United States Army Air Corps to assess the growing capabilities of the German Luftwaffe. His reports were submitted to the U.S. government and informed American military planning. These were not the acts of a sympathizer; they were the assignments of a trusted aviation authority. In October 1938, at a dinner at the United States Embassy in Berlin hosted by the American Ambassador, Hermann Göring presented Lindbergh with the Service Cross of the German Eagle, on behalf of Adolf Hitler, in recognition of his 1927 transatlantic flight. The presentation was unannounced. The American Embassy raised no objection. The same medal had been given to Henry Ford four months earlier and to IBM chairman Thomas Watson; it was a standard instrument of German diplomatic ceremony. By that point in his career, Lindbergh had accumulated more than a dozen major honors from governments around the world — among them the U.S. Medal of Honor, the Distinguished Flying Cross, France’s Legion of Honor, and ceremonial awards from sixteen countries visited during his 1927–28 goodwill tours. He treated the German decoration as he treated the others: he never wore it, and eventually donated it to the Missouri Historical Society in St. Louis, where it resides today alongside the rest of his papers and memorabilia.

Returning to the United States in 1939, Lindbergh became the most prominent public voice of the America First movement, which sought to keep the nation out of European conflict. At the time, opinion polling showed that a substantial majority of Americans shared this view, shaped by the trauma of World War I and the hardships of the Great Depression. Lindbergh’s position was consistent with prevailing isolationist sentiment across the political spectrum.

The Des Moines Speech: Where the Record Demands Accountability

On September 11, 1941, Lindbergh delivered a speech in Des Moines, Iowa in which he identified three groups he believed were leading the United States toward war: the British, the Roosevelt Administration, and Jewish Americans. He argued, among other things, that Jewish Americans had disproportionate influence over American media and government, and that their own interests — understandably, given the persecution they faced in Europe — inclined them toward intervention.

These were not fringe views in the America of 1941. They drew from a long tradition of nativist and isolationist rhetoric that was neither uncommon nor uniformly recognized as prejudiced by many who held it. That historical reality does not make the statements acceptable. The Lindbergh Foundation is unambiguous on this point: the characterization of any group — by religion, ethnicity, or national origin — as a threat to American interests is wrong. It was wrong then, even if it was not universally understood to be so. It is wrong now.

Lindbergh himself maintained that he was not prejudiced, but was simply stating facts as he saw them. Whether that self-assessment reflects genuine conviction, political calculation, or a failure of moral imagination is a question historians continue to debate. What is not debated is the harm the speech caused — to individuals, to the Jewish community, and to Lindbergh’s own legacy.

The Wartime Record: A Complicated Man in Full

After Pearl Harbor, Lindbergh sought immediately to serve. Although President Roosevelt declined to reinstate his Army commission, Lindbergh found other means. He helped develop the Willow Run bomber plant, flew combat missions as a civilian adviser in the South Pacific, and used fuel-management techniques from his 1927 transatlantic flight to nearly double the operational range of the P-38 Lightning — a contribution that saved American lives. He later supported the Nuremberg trials and remained a senior figure in American aerospace for decades.

These facts do not erase the Des Moines speech. Nor does the Des Moines speech erase these facts. Lindbergh was a man of his time — extraordinary in some dimensions, flawed in others, and in at least one public moment, plainly wrong in a way that caused lasting harm.

The Foundation’s Position

The Lindbergh Foundation does not seek to minimize, explain away, or rehabilitate the portions of Charles Lindbergh’s record that warrant criticism. We present the full record because we believe an honest accounting of a complex historical figure serves the public better than silence or selective memory. The Foundation’s work — in STEM education, environmental stewardship, and the future of flight — is not contingent on Charles Lindbergh having been a perfect man. It is rooted in a mission that stands independent of his personal failings.

Those who come to this Foundation with questions about his record will find them answered here, plainly and in full. Those who come to this Foundation for its work will find that work continues, as it has since 1977, in the spirit of what Charles and Anne Morrow Lindbergh — together — stood for at their best.