No Clear and Present Danger
A Skeptical View of the U.S. Entry into World War II
Harper & Row, 1972
Bruce M. Russett
Chapter
1
Isolationism Old and New
The
“lessons” of history
Whatever criticisms
of twentieth-century American foreign policy are put forth, United States
participation in World War II remains almost entirely immune. According
to our national mythology, that was a “good war,” one of the few for which
the benefits clearly outweighed the costs. Except for a few books
published shortly after the war and quickly forgotten, this orthodoxy has
been essentially unchallenged.1
The isolationists stand discredited, and “isolationist” remains a useful
pejorative with which to tar the opponents of American intervention in
foreign lands.
Such virtual
unanimity on major policy matters is rare. World War I long ago came
under the revisionists’ scrutiny. The origins of the cold war have been
challenged more recently, with many people asking whether the
Soviet-American conflict was primarily the result of Russian
aggressiveness or even whether it was the inevitable consequence of
throwing together “two scorpions in a bottle.” But all orthodoxy ought to
be confronted occasionally, whether the result be to destroy, revise, or
reincarnate old beliefs. Furthermore, this does seem an auspicious time
to reexamine the standard credo about participation in World War II.
Interventionism is again being questioned and Americans are groping
toward a new set of principles to guide their foreign policy. Where
should we intervene and where withdraw; where actively to support a
“balance of power” and where husband our resources? A reexamination of
the World War II experience is deliberately a look at a limiting case—an
effort to decide whether, in the instance where the value of intervention
is most widely accepted, the interventionist argument really is so
persuasive. We should consider the World War II experience not because
intervention was obvious folly, but indeed because the case for American
action there is strong.
I do not, of
course, argue that one can readily generalize from the choices of 1941 to
those of 1950 or 1970. The world has changed, and many of the favorable
conditions that once made isolationism or “continentalism” a plausible
policy to some have vanished, perhaps forever. I feel ambivalent about
the contemporary meaning of the theme developed here, in view of the
manifest changes of the past 30 years and the more or less
“internationalist” policy preferences that I have shared with most
Americans for many years. But almost all of us do on occasion invoke the
“lessons” of Manchuria, Munich, the Spanish Civil War, or Pearl Harbor; or
for that matter Rome and Carthage or the Peloponnesian Wars. We therefore
owe it to ourselves to look critically at this historical experience, too.
I think the theme of this essay needs stating even at the risk that some
people may apply it inappropriately.
Furthermore, a new
look at World War II is in some real sense merely an extension of
arguments that have been raised against contemporary American intervention
in Southeast Asia. The intervention has been justified both on moral
grounds—the need to save a small country from communist dictatorship, and
on strategic grounds of American self-interest—the need to prop up
dominoes and prevent the extension of a hostile power’s sphere of
influence.
And the opponents of
that intervention have included among their arguments some that recall the
debates of 1941: America cannot be the world’s policeman stepping in to
halt everything we might consider to be aggression or to resist
governments whose philosophies or policies we consider repugnant. Nor
from a pure self-interest viewpoint would such critics accept our action
in South Vietnam. It is a small country, far away. Its entire national
income is equivalent only to the normal growth of the United States
national income in a single month. Communist rule in that state, or even
in its immediate neighbors as well, would make but an insignificant
difference to the global balance of power. In any case, the forces of
nationalism render very dubious an assumption that a Communist government
would represent a dependable long-term gain for China or Russia.
Thus, in an
important way the record of discussion in 1940 and 1941 is being replayed
now. Opponents of contemporary intervention may well find ammunition by
pointing out the inflated nature of the interventionists’ rhetoric
preceding World War II. If in the cold light of the seventies the
original arguments seem excessive, then how much more misleading must be
the recent versions? Or on the contrary, if a man is sure that the
Southeast Asian operation was a mistake, can he still justify the World
War II experience? Perhaps his continued acceptance of the latter should
cause him to rethink his extreme opposition to the American interventions
of the last decade.
An
unnecessary war
The theme of this
brief book should already be apparent, but I will state it explicitly here
before going further: American participation in World War II had very
little effect on the essential structure of international politics
thereafter, and probably did little either to advance the material welfare
of most Americans or to make the nation secure from foreign military
threats (the presumed goals of advocates of a “realist” foreign policy).
(By structure I mean the basic balance of forces in the world, regardless
of which particular nations are powerful vis-à-vis the United
States.) In fact, most Americans probably would have been no worse off,
and possibly a little better, if the United States had never become a
belligerent. Russia replaced Germany as the great threat to European
security, and Japan, despite its territorial losses, is once more a major
power. The war was not clearly a mistake as most of us now consider the
Vietnam War to have been. Yet it may well have been an unnecessary war
that did little for us and that we need not have fought. Moreover, it set
some precedents for our thinking that led too easily to later
interventions—interventions that might have been challenged more quickly
and more effectively in the absence of such vivid memories of World War
II.
We shall first
review the events in Europe and the North Atlantic which led to widespread
sentiment that Hitler had to be opposed by whatever means were necessary.
We must both confront the strategic arguments and consider on what
grounds strategy could be subordinated to moral conviction that Nazism had
to be deposed. Next we must look at what transpired in the Pacific, since
many Americans still believe that while war with Nazi Germany was in large
part by American initiative, we had no choice with Japan. After all, the
United States was attacked at Pearl Harbor. Why then agonize over the
question whether war with the Japanese was desirable? We shall then
examine more closely some of the parallels, in the process of
decision-making and in the arguments employed, between intervention in
World War II and recent American interventions justified by cold war
analyses, and close by asking what other perspectives might have avoided
error both then and more recently.
Many readers surely
will be uncomfortable with the book’s theme, and even offended by it. For
example, it can hardly be easy for a man who spent two or three of his
prime years fighting World War II to think that his sacrifice had little
point. Moreover, the moral outrage against Nazism that we all share makes
it difficult to separate ethics from an objective assessment of the threat
Germany and Japan actually posed to American national security. To
suggest that the two must be kept analytically distinct—even if in
the end one sees the former as justifying intervention after all—is to
risk being considered at least a first cousin of the Beast of Belsen.
Yet it is precisely
moral considerations that demand a re-examination of our World War II
myths. Social scientists have accepted too many assumptions uncritically.
Too few Americans, especially government officials, really looked very
hard at their beliefs about the origins of the cold war before about five
years ago, or seriously considered “economic” interpretations of foreign
policy. Recently, however, we have been illuminated as well as blinded by
an occasion we could not ignore. On watching the fireball at Alamogordo
in 1945 Robert Oppenheimer mused, “I am become death, destroyer of
worlds.” Vietnam has been to social scientists what Alamogordo was to the
physicists. Few of those who have observed it can easily return to their
comfortable presumptions about America’s duty, or right, to fight in
distant lands.
One serious problem
in reevaluating American foreign policy before World War II stems from its
distance in time. How do we treat the knowledge we gain from actually
observing the intervening thirty years? Is it fair to judge the friends
and opponents of Franklin Roosevelt with the advantages of 20-20
hindsight? Certainly we must keep separate what they knew or could have
known, and what was unavoidably hidden from them. From captured documents
we now see more clearly the motivations of some Axis leaders than
contemporaries could have; we know with just what strength the Soviet
Union emerged in Central Europe after the elimination of German power. If
they exaggerated the then-present danger how can we be too condemning?
Nevertheless, the
purpose in reconsidering World War II is not to judge, but to learn. In
retaining our own humility it is fair to insist on a degree of humility in
our leaders of all eras. Many of those who advocated war against Germany
and Japan were very sure of themselves and their visions; the same could
be said of many “cold warriors.” They supported acts which left millions
dead and changed all our lives. Some considered Hitler not only a devil,
but to have near God-like powers enabling him to walk across the water to
North America. The “yellow horde” was ready to invade from the other
side; I remember being told how the Japanese coveted California. Both
recall more recent images of the Russians as ten feet tall. In fact, our
alleged vulnerability to the Axis threat was often used to justify
continued involvement and active opposition to apparent Soviet
expansionism in the postwar world. Without seeking judgment or
scapegoats, perhaps we still can learn by identifying even the most
excusable errors of others.
My intention here is
to be provocative and not to set forth revealed truth. The argument is
not one subject to the principles of measurement and the strict canons of
hypothesis-testing—the mode of inquiry with which I feel most comfortable.
Nevertheless the subject is too important to leave untouched simply
because the whole battery of modern social science cannot be brought to
bear on it. Similarly, there is an intellectual dialectic, driven by the
need of most thinkers to relate their ideas to established thought
patterns, that requires a new view to be stated forcefully and
one-sidedly. Hamlets do not make revolutions. Hence we shall proceed to
the argument, though the reader—and sometimes the writer too—will
doubtless have reservations.
Although I have
tried to give some evidence to support the more controversial statements
of fact, full documentation would be out of place in such an essay. The
need is not to uncover new facts from the archives, but to look again at
the old facts from a different perspective. Some of my interpretations
will be challengeable, and many readers may decide that despite my
arguments the war still was worthwhile. Any retrospective analysis of
“might-have-beens” is subject to all the perils of conjecture. We more or
less know what did happen as a result of American participation in the
war, and can only speculate on what would otherwise have happened. But
that reservation cuts two ways, since those who will disagree with this
book’s interpretations are also forced into speculation.
In any case, I think
defenders of American intervention will find that their case ultimately
rests on other, and less confident, grounds than most have previously
accepted. I suspect that no reader will ever again view World War II in
quite the same way as before. A new look should at least clear aside many
previous exaggerations of the kind of threat foreign powers could then and
now present to the United States.
Notes
1
For a few years the now-prevailing orthodoxy had not yet crystallized, and
a substantial minority of the American population remained skeptical. For
example, a Gallup poll in October 1947 asked, “Do you think it was a
mistake for the United States to enter World War II?” The response was No
66%, Yes 24%, No Answer 10%. Reported in Hazel Erskine, “The Polls: Is War
a Mistake?” Public Opinion Quarterly 34, no. I (Spring 1970): 137.
Forward to
Chapter 2: The Impending Stalemate in Europe
Back
to
Preface