No Clear and Present Danger
A Skeptical View of the U.S. Entry into World War II
Harper & Row, 1972
Bruce M. Russett
Chapter 2
The
Impending Stalemate in
Europe
The
illusive victory
American
participation in World War II brought the country few gains; the United
States was no more secure at the end than it could have been had it stayed
out. First, let us look at the “might have beens” in Europe. The
standard justification of American entry into the war is that otherwise
Germany would have reigned supreme on the continent, victor over Russia
and Britain. With all the resources of Europe at the disposal of his
totalitarian government, plus perhaps parts of the British fleet, Hitler
would have posed an intolerable threat to the security of the United
States. He could have consolidated his winnings, built his war machine,
established bridgeheads in South America, and ultimately could and likely
would have moved against North America to achieve world domination.
Several links in
this argument might deserve scrutiny, but by far the critical one is the
first, that Hitler would have won World War II. Such a view confuses the
ability of Germany’s enemies to win with their ability to achieve a
stalemate. Also, it tends to look more at the military-political
situation of June 1940 than at that of December 1941, and to confuse
President Roosevelt’s decision to aid Britain (and later Russia) by “all
measures short of war” with an actual American declaration of war. Let me
say clearly: I basically accept the proposition that German domination of
all Europe, with Britain and Russia prostrate, would have been intolerable
to the United States. By any of the classical conceptions of
“power-balancing” and “national interest,” the United States should indeed
have intervened if necessary to prevent that outcome.
For a while it
appeared American intervention might quickly become essential. The
Hitler-Stalin pact of August 1939 guaranteed Germany against any Soviet
interference, and made the attack on Poland militarily safe. Poland fell
before the Wehrmacht in 27 days. After a lull during the winter,
in the spring of 1940 German armies invaded and quickly conquered Denmark,
Norway, Belgium, and the Netherlands. France surrendered in less than two
and a half months. Most of the British expeditionary force to the
continent escaped at Dunkirk, but its heavy equipment was left behind.
Mussolini finally felt sure enough of the outcome to enter the war just a
few days before the fall of France. Hitler began preparation for
Operation Sea Lion, the invasion of Britain.
But then the machine
halted, and prospects changed. By the end of 1941 Hitler had already lost
his gamble to control Europe. In large part this was due to British
skill, courage, and good luck in the summer of 1940. Given German naval
inferiority, Hitler had to destroy the British air force for an invasion
to be possible. But the RAF won the Battle of Britain and Hitler decided
against undertaking Operation Sea Lion; it was too risky.1
From that point onward German relative capabilities for a cross-channel
attack declined rather than improved. The ebb of the tide against Hitler
was very greatly assisted, as an absolutely essential condition, by
American military and economic assistance to the British.
Recall American
initiatives during the first two years of war in Europe. In the fall of
1939 the Neutrality Act was amended to repeal the arms embargo and make
any goods available to all belligerents on a cash-and-carry basis. Thanks
to the British fleet, only the Allies could take advantage of this
measure. The destroyers-for-bases exchange with Britain was agreed upon
in September 1940. Many of the old American warships were of doubtful
military value, but the trade’s symbolism was extremely significant. The
Lend-Lease Act, which was to pour billions of dollars of supplies into
Britain and, beginning later, to Russia, was signed in March 1941. In
July 1941 United States forces occupied Iceland and President Roosevelt
had agreed that American ships would escort convoys—including British
ships—as far as Iceland. Convoying meant that if German U-boats
approached the American escorts were to “shoot on sight” to insure that
the goods got through. These steps played central roles in British
survival. By August Roosevelt and Churchill could meet in a cruiser off Argentia, Newfoundland to discuss military collaboration and, with the
Atlantic Charter, to begin planning for the postwar world.
I do not, therefore,
argue that American nonbelligerent assistance to Britain was a mistake,
quite the contrary. Yet that is just the point—by the end of 1941
Britain’s survival was essentially assured. She might lose some colonies,
her world position would be weakened, perhaps in the long run her
independent existence would be threatened by the Germans in a second round
of war. For the immediate future, nevertheless, Britain would live.
Indeed, such a conclusion helps to make sense of Hitler’s daring gamble
in attacking Russia in the late spring of 1941. The British had made it
through the worst patch, and only by a long and mutually-exhausting war
could Germany hope to wear them down. At the least, German hopes for a
quick end to the war had been irretrievably lost.
If British survival
into 1941 raised the specter of deadlock or war of attrition to Hitler,
the failure of his attack on Russia brought the specter to life. He had
intended to invade the Soviet Union in mid-May 1941, but things had not
gone well. His ally, Mussolini, had invaded Greece and met with repeated
defeats. Hitler felt obliged to divert German troops from the Russian
front to rescue the Italians and the German flank. His invasion of
Russia, Operation Barbarossa, was thus delayed five weeks until June 22
when, without ultimatum or declaration of war, the troops moved east.
The attack itself
was an admission that the war against Britain had gone badly. By some
interpretations the German invasion of Russia was an attempt to secure the
resources, especially oil, necessary to bring the British down in a long
war of attrition; by others it was an effort to strike the Russians at a
time of Hitler’s choosing rather than wait for the Russians to come in on
the British side later. Surely the prospect of being the weight in
balance at the key moment would have been greatly tempting to Stalin. By
either interpretation the attack accepted great risks, and was the last
try with any hope of success to seize a clear victory.
With the onset of
the Russian winter and Hitler’s inability to take Moscow—Napoleon had at
least managed that—the prospect of German failure was sharp. Looking
back, we now can see that this was in fact the hinge of fate; the
more visible turning a year later was more nearly the outward sign of a
predetermined shift. A man’s health declines from the onset of fatal
disease, not from the moment of medical diagnosis. The battle of
Stalingrad in late 1942 marked the final, visible blunting of Hitler’s
drive to the east, and from then on the military initiative was in Soviet
hands. Even at the beginning of the invasion the Russians were superior
not only in manpower resources, but in tanks and even planes; the
principal difference was the initially far-superior German organization.2
During the first year of the war in Russia German military production
figures were only about one-fourth of what they had been in 1918; in
aircraft, trucks, armored vehicles, artillery, and naval armaments German
production was less than Britain’s.3
Despite widespread assumptions that the Nazis would win easily, by
early-August 1941 Roosevelt was receiving reports, especially one from
Harry Hopkins which he regarded highly, that the Russians would hold out.
The essential point
is that the Russian success, like the British, occurred quite
independently of American military action. During the early years of the
war the quantity of supplies reaching Russia from the Western Hemisphere
was not great; some would surely have gone there during 1942 whether or
not the United States was a formal belligerent, just as they were going in
substantial measure to Britain during 1941. By the middle of 1942
approximately half of the supplies had been sent by Britain. Some of the
American shipments had begun while the United States was still formally
neutral and most of the rest would doubtless have been sent even in the
event of continued military neutrality.4
It seems most
unlikely that the marginal increment that can be attributed to American
belligerency in 1942 was critical to the Russian war effort.
Certainly no allied military action in the west drew significant German
forces away from the eastern campaign. At conferences with Roosevelt and
Churchill, Stalin insisted that he did not regard the North African
campaign as the second front he wanted to distract the Nazis. As
evidenced by actual American conduct of the war in 1942, the immediate
rescue of Russia was not the main purpose. American active participation
surely shortened the conflict considerably, and very probably was the
sine qua non for any clear-cut victory over the Nazis such as did
occur. But for the more narrow purpose of maintaining British and Soviet
independence as centers of resistance to Germany, it is much harder to
make a convincing case for the necessity of American belligerency.
Restraints in the naval war
What then would have
been the most likely outcome had the United States remained formally
neutral while shipping arms and economic assistance to Germany’s
opponents? First, it seems very unlikely that Hitler would have declared
war on the United States. True, he did feel provoked by American naval
action against German forces in the North Atlantic. In the autumn of 1941
American warships were escorting American and British freighters with
orders to destroy any German submarines or raiders encountered. Yet even
then Hitler instructed his submarines to protect themselves, but to
instigate no attacks on American shipping. He would deal with this
problem only later, after Russia had been beaten. Germany had lost one
war by bringing America in against it. The Tripartite Pact with Italy and
Japan declared that the members, “undertake to assist one another with all
political, economic, and military means, if one of the three Contracting
Parties is attacked by a Power at present not involved in the European War
or in the Chinese-Japanese conflict.” Despite naval action that he might
have interpreted as attack, Hitler made no attempt to invoke the alliance.
American “aid short of war” to the allies was surely less damaging to the
Axis than active participation would be.5
It is of course true
that Germany, not the United States, ultimately made the Atlantic war
overt. Four days after Pearl Harbor, Hitler declared war on America. He
was not strictly required to do so by the terms of his alliance since
Japan struck first. The alliance had always been considered as a
deterrent to keep America out of the war by confronting her with a
two-front conflict if she tried to deal with just one opponent at a time.
Even the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal accepted this explanation.
We probably never
will understand this decision fully, rooted as it must have been in
Hitler’s psychopathology. But it does seem that by December 1941 Hitler
had become convinced that conflict between himself and the United States,
arising out of the Atlantic naval engagements, was imminent in any case.
Under those circumstances he could not afford to lose the goodwill of
Japan, and in fact for a long time hoped that the Japanese would
reciprocate his gesture by turning also on the Russians.6
Thus he took the step that sealed his downfall.
Had America remained
in the status of twilight belligerence Germany probably would not have
been defeated, though as I have argued above, neither could it have won.
Probably World War II would have ended in some sort of draw and
negotiated settlement, or would have continued on for a decade or two with
occasional truces for breathing spells—not unlike the Napoleonic Wars. Or
perhaps most likely is some combination of the two, in which the
negotiated peace was uneasy and soon broken. What I imagine, then, is a
very long and bloody war, longer and even more bloody than the one that
really was fought, with protracted savage fighting in east and central
Europe.
Just where the truce
line would have been drawn no one can say, of course, but it might well
have approximated the present border of the Soviet Union. The Russians
might have recovered all their original territory plus the gains of 1939
(from Poland, Rumania, and Finland, and the three Baltic states). Quite
likely they could have controlled Bulgaria and Rumania, but the rest of
East Central Europe probably would have been German or German satellites
as it was in 1941 at the beginning of Operation Barbarossa. Again, the
details are speculative, but matter little. I doubt that the Soviets
would have had to yield more than this, and if anything stood a greater
chance of driving the Germans still further back. But this hypothetical
boundary marks to me the greatest plausible German advance, and so
provides an outer limit to the argument I shall develop further below. In
any case, my assumption is that this “settlement” could have been reached
only after a mutually exhausting war that would have left the Russians
even more battered than they were from their victory in 1945, and the
Germans hardly better.
In the West, Britain
was both impregnable to German invasion and too weak to invade the
German-held continent by herself. The North African campaign was
important, especially to British postwar colonial hopes, but by 1942 was
not the sort of effort that could bring defeat to either side. The
undersea war in the North Atlantic was more dangerous to the British, but
Hitler was nevertheless trapped in it. If pursued too vigorously, it
would bring the Americans into the war. And if American shipping was in
large part left immune from attack, British supply lines could not really
be cut. The British surface blockade of the continent might have been
more effective, but a similar kind of war had not been enough against
either Napoleon or the Kaiser, and certainly was not in reality enough by
itself to bring Hitler down in 1945. So stalemate there too seems by far
the most plausible outcome. Hitler had persistent notions of forming an
Anglo-German “partnership.”7
Perhaps the British,
under Churchill, would not have signed a formal compromise peace, as they
indeed had refused to do in 1940 despite Hitler’s apparent willingness.
But in 1940 the British still could play for big stakes. They might
lose, but also, if they could hold off the immediate German invasion, they
had some very high cards with which to bid for ultimate victory. There
was still the possibility of Russian entry on their side, and the United
States remained to kindle memories of 1917. Later these cards would have
lost their value, with a stalemate on the eastern front and, as we
hypothesize, a determined American aloofness from actual entry into war.
If Churchill would not have made the peace some other leader might have
been given the chance. And even a deescalated but still belligerent
stalemate would have had much the same effect from an American
geopolitical viewpoint—the assumption of explicit negotiation and
compromise is by no means necessary.
Under these
conditions, Britain would have been left independent—economically
weakened, and shorn of some colonies, but still a sovereign center of
significant power. Russia would also have remained independent, probably
with much the same boundaries as we now see (though no part of East
Prussia, and fewer “satellites”), Germany would of course have emerged
with enormously enhanced strength on the European continent, initially
control-ling essentially everything from Iberia to somewhere in the
vicinity of Poland. (Sweden and Switzerland might either have been
occupied or left cowed but independent; there is no way of knowing which.)
The upper limit to the population of this empire would have been
somewhere around 330 million—almost exactly the number currently in the
Soviet orbit.
That population,
nevertheless, would have been much more highly skilled than that of
eastern Europe and equipped with greater physical capital; in principle it
would have posed an appreciably greater ultimate threat to the rest of the
world than would the same number of people under communist rule. Yet the
situation in principle need not have been that way in fact. Some
substantial proportion, perhaps as much as a quarter, would have been more
directly under the control of Mussolini’s Italy; while Rome and Berlin
might have remained allied, it is hard to imagine perfect cooperation.
Nationalism in general would surely have been as great a bane to Hitler
as it has been to the Soviet Union. Ruling highly-educated and urbanized
West and Central Europe would hardly have been easier for the Germans than
a similar task has proven for the Russians. Particularly since Germans
accounted for only about a quarter of the population of this area, in fact
the task would probably have been still harder. George Kennan has pithily
expressed this sentiment, relevant especially where the “master” nation is
much in the minority, by quoting Gibbon: “There is nothing more contrary
to nature than the attempt to hold in obedience distant provinces.” Kennan
applied this dictum to both German and Russian prospects for continental
domination.8
Divisiveness,
conflict, and schism have to be made part of any image of a
German-dominated continent. So too must the need for reconstruction,
after a devastating war with the Russians in much of the area and a
draining blockade imposed by the British. It would have been quite a
while before Hitler could have marshalled the resources of Europe for any
serious further drive either east or west.
Contemporary alarms
Some contemporaries
of course took a more alarmist view, especially immediately after the fall
of France. A Fortune magazine survey of American in July 1940
found that 63 percent expected that an Axis triumph would bring an
immediate German attempt to seize territory in the Western Hemisphere; 43
percent expected an imminent attack on the United States.9
American army generals feared a Nazi invasion of South America, and to
forestall it wanted a major base in Trinidad.10
The continued resistance of Britain calmed such alarm for a while, though
it was to be revived in somewhat similar form in 1942 with the
anticipation of German aerial attacks on American cities and towns.
Seacoast areas were allotted major antiair-craft units. Blackout
regulations were widely enforced. School children were taught how to
crouch against basement walls clenching corks between their teeth in the
event of bombardment. Fiorello LaGuardia, then head of the Office of
Civilian Defense, wanted 50 million gas masks.11
All of this of
course seems more than a little absurd in light of known—then as well as
now—German capabilities. Not a single German bomb ever did fall in North
or South America. Any kind of troop landing required naval and logistic
support utterly beyond Hitler’s reach. After all, it was not until two
and a half years of war, with vast shipping and naval superiority, and a
base in Britain, that the Allies felt able to cross even the English
Channel in an invasion the other way. The bogeyman of Nazi troops in
America had no more substance than that, several years later, of Russian
landings.
This is not to say
that ultimately a German victory might not have posed some such dangers,
nor to imply any certainty about limitations to Hitler’s intentions. A.
J. P. Taylor paints Hitler as essentially a classical German statesman
without real ambition to dominate Europe; Alan Bullock sees ambition, but
directed largely toward Eastern Europe and certainly not toward the new
world.12 We need not accept
either of these views. Other writers grant that the documents have turned
up no German plan before December 1941 for a military attack on the United
States, but contend that such plans might well have developed ultimately.
One does show some Hitlerian ravings and notions of ultimate war with
America, beginning in October 1940. This same author emphasizes that the
mere absence of plans is no proof that Hitler did not have, or could not
have developed, the intent.13
At this point the argument of those who posit the possibility of a later
threat becomes impossible to refute. One must ask realistic questions
about German capability, not intention.
Very possibly a
stalemate would not have marked the end of Hitler’s ambitions, but that is
not really the point. For some time at least, Germany would not have been
supreme as an immediate menace to the United States. One further step in
still another war would first be required—the ultimate victory over
Britain and/or Russia, and if that should in fact be threatened, the
United States could still have intervened then, and done so while allies
existed. By the end of 1941 the pressure for such intervention had really
passed for that war. Even those who most heavily stress the dangers of
Nazi subversion in North and South America grant that “There still would
be ominous eddies, but by the summer of 1940 the Nazi cause was in retreat
in the new world.”14
Two important “might
have been” qualifications need to be acknowledged before one can be at all
satisfied that the strategic scenario I have sketched is sufficiently
plausible. The first is the possibility of a separate peace on the
eastern front, another Hitler-Stalin pact, more durable and more dangerous
than the one of August 1939. Certainly both leaders were unscrupulous and
firmly in control of their governments; the possibility cannot be
dismissed. But what kind of an agreement? Simply to call off the war and
accept a compromise settlement? That in fact is what we have hypothesized
in the above scenario, no different except that possibly the agreement
could have come “too soon” before both were sufficiently bled to cut into
their power to threaten others.
An agreement to
become cobelligerents against the British, with Stalin changing sides,
does seem implausible. For strategic reasons if for no others, Germany
was a far greater threat to Russia than was Britain. Britain, with a navy
but only a small army, was far distant from the great and nearly
self-sufficient Russian land-mass; Germany, with a great army, was
Russia’s neighbor. Once they had drawn each others’ blood to the extent
they had in the first six months of war, could they conceivably have
trusted each other sufficiently in a negotiated peace for the Germans to
turn their forces westward? So long as the Nazi political and military
machines were intact, could the Russians have undertaken serious ventures
that would reduce their screening forces against another German attack?
Given the mental states of the two dictators, could they really have
maintained a stable alliance relationship for very long? Stalin was
paranoid enough not to trust anyone, certainly not Hitler. But he would
have had to be a raving maniac actively to help Hitler bring down
Germany’s last opponent.
The
Bomb
The other potential
flaw is The Bomb. Lacking the immense pressures of actual participation
in World War II, the United States might not have pressed its nuclear
research program so hard. Without question fewer resources would have
been put into the Manhattan project, and explosion of the first bomb
delayed. Might it have been postponed long enough for Germany to get its
own bomb first, and in sufficient quantity to tip the military balance
from stalemate? The possibility cannot be dismissed, but it does not
appear to be a strong one. The American nuclear effort received its first
military money in 1940, and already had made important progress before
Pearl Harbor. Though delayed, achievement of a bomb in America probably
would have occurred by 1946 or 1947. As was discovered by their somewhat
surprised conquerors in 1945, the Germans were not at all close to getting
their own bomb; the western allies had feared they were farther along than
they proved to be.
There seems never to
have been formulated a feasible plan for producing any fission device that
could be expected to aid in bringing a German victory . . . Until the very
last we could hardly believe that the Germans’ fission studies were
achieving nothing of military significance.15
Furthermore, there
are very few examples in modern warfare between industrial nations where
one state achieves a decisive military advantage over the other with a new
weapon. Even given military secrecy, weapons development is
dependent upon a scientific base that is international and largely
a matter of public information. Hence, any large industrial state has
access to this base for military applications. And since the stages of
procurement and installation normally take so long even after a weapon is
developed, an initially laggard state has a good bit of time to catch up
before the other has the weapon in sufficient quantity to change the
military balance critically. Certainly during World War I none of the
major innovations, such as tanks or gas, gave a decisive advantage to
either side, although if procured secretly in great quantity and then
unleashed they did have that potential. Nor was the actual use of atomic
bombs in 1945 such a deviation from the above principle as it may seem.
The United States had only two bombs in August 1945, and used both.16
They were enough to induce surrender (but just barely) by an already
beaten opponent, but could not have had that effect against an
economically and militarily still viable state.
Thus:
1) Even without the
great pressures of actual participation in World War II, the United States
(or Britain) might very well have developed the atomic bomb before Germany
did anyway. This of course assumes that the United States was truly
carrying on a major program of rearmament and preparedness, perhaps
equivalent to the eight-to-ten percent of gross national product (GNP)
spent on defense that has been typical of the last two decades. But the
whole discussion, not just the point about the atom bomb, depends on this
assumption.
2) Should the
Germans have made the bomb first, they were unlikely to do so with
sufficient lead time over the Americans and British to procure bombs in a
quantity that could determine the outcome of the war. Delivery vehicles
would have constituted an additional problem to the Germans. In 1945 they
were still possibly as much as a decade away from a capability of bombing
the United States effectively. (The same was proved true of the
Russians.) One must admit that the tight little islands of the British
were most vulnerable, and there is a chance, small but real, that German
atom bombs, perhaps delivered by V-weapons, could have been critical
there. But perhaps the strongest caution against exaggerating the effect
of a possible German bomb comes from recalling how little confidence many
American governmental officials later had in the military utility of their
own bomb. For several years after World War II, and despite the American
nuclear monopoly, they feared they could not deter Russia from military
adventures.
If we do acknowledge
some possibility that American aloofness from combat could, despite
my arguments, have led to a very bad outcome, a clear-cut German victory,
we should also acknowledge the perhaps equal chance that the Nazis might
have been soundly defeated by the British and Russians alone. After long
years of economic blockade and slowly-building Soviet strength, ultimate
German defeat is not utterly implausible. Maybe Britain, with Canadian
help, would have gotten the bomb first. Also, it is quite conceivable
that Hitler would have been overthrown. The July 1944 attempt on his life
was, after all, a very close thing, a matter of a couple of feet in the
placement of the briefcase bomb under his table. A long, wearing war
going beyond spring 1945 would undoubtedly have generated new pressures
for his removal.
Two aspects of this
argument should nevertheless be made clear. First, some of it is being
made with all the advantages of hindsight; while the general outline might
have been clear to Franklin Roosevelt at the end of 1941, it may be unfair
to expect, retrospectively, that he should have foreseen the stalemate
outcome. Perhaps the most important component in the stalemate thesis is
the German defeat at Stalingrad, and no one could have relied upon that.
A no-win solution should have appeared as a very possible ending to the
war, but with the incomplete returns before Pearl Harbor, depending on it
would have seemed to pose great risks. (On the other hand, no political
figure at that time really foresaw the chance that Germany might develop
atomic weapons, which becomes a hindsight argument in justification of
intervention.) The most important flaw that one can find in Roosevelt’s
policy is one for which he has been often and roundly denounced—the
failure to comprehend how unavoidably American intervention, if
successful, would bring Russia into Central Europe to fill the vacuum left
by defeated Germany. The demand for unconditional surrender was to make
this inescapable.
Even less does this
argument imply criticism of Winston Churchill’s basic policy. For the
United States, the continued independence of Britain was to provide the
margin, the buffer, to make nonintervention an acceptable strategy. As
long as Britain was there, to serve as an ally and absorb the initial
impact of any German attack in a later round, conceding a compromise peace
to Hitler raised only tolerable risks. The United States was distant,
possessed great resources for a mobilization base, and would not be
immediately harmed in any serious way by German domination of much of the
continent. But Britain had none of these luxuries. Even should one
accept A. J. P. Taylor’s view of Hitler’s intentions, the consequences of
new German strength carried great risk. Utter destruction of the
traditional European balance of power and German presence on the other
side of the Straits of Dover would be too much to bear. Britain would
then be in the front lines, and she had to fight for a peace that would
leave her a greater margin. For Britain, equivalent resources in Russian
hands almost a thousand miles away would pose a little less threat than in
possession of the more proximate Germans.
A
moral imperative?
Finally, we ought to
confront the argument that sheer morality demanded American intervention
against Hitler. I have deliberately left this issue aside, defining our
concern to be only with the structure of the international system, the
relative weight of power facing the United States and its potential
allies. My argument has accepted the “realist” one that fears the
concentration of great power in other hands regardless of the apparent
goals, ideology, or morality of those wielding that power. Concern with
the morality of others’ domestic politics is an expensive luxury, and
evaluations all too subject to rapid change. (Consider, for example, the
wobbly course of many Americans’ attitudes toward the government of Chiang
Kai-shek.) By this view one should be indifferent between Stalin and
Hitler except as one of them possessed greater power.
Yet some would
maintain that Hitler was just too evil to tolerate, that the United States
had a moral duty to exterminate him and free those under his rule.
Without question to most of us, Hitler was indeed a very evil man. His
murder of approximately ten million civilians (in addition to the six
million Jews there were others: Poles, Gypsies, and other alleged
untermenschen) can hardly be ignored, and I do not doubt that he would
have been capable of even greater atrocities had he lived longer and ruled
a wider area.
Still, in this
context Hitler must be compared with Stalin, who was hardly a saint, and
who as a result of the complete German collapse in 1945 emerged from the
war with an immensely greater empire. We must remember the terror and
paranoid purges of his rule, and such examples of Stalinist humanity as
the starvation of millions of kulaks. The worst Nazi crimes emerged only
in 1943 and later at Nuremberg. German “medical experiments” and
extermination camps were unknown to the world in 1941. Though the Hitler
regime had anything but a savory reputation then, the moral argument too
is essentially one made in hindsight, not a primary motivation at the time
war was declared. Nor in fact did the war save very many Jews. Hardly
more than 20 percent of European Jewish population alive at the time of
Pearl Harbor survived at the end.17
War-time opportunities to bargain with the Nazis for Jewish lives were
ignored.
I personally find it
hard to develop a very emphatic preference for Stalinist Russia over
Hitlerite Germany, but chacun á son gout. In cold-blooded realist
terms, Nazism as an ideology was almost certainly less dangerous to the
United States than is Communism. Marxism-Leninism has a worldwide appeal;
Nazism lacks much palatability to non-Aryan tastes. But if in the end one
wants to argue that the horrors of Nazism were too great and so warranted
American intervention, that is a perfectly reasonable position so long
as one states it clearly. A powerful argument may be that in Western
Europe-France, the Low Countries, Scandinavia, Italy, and Germany
itself-stalemate under Nazi occupation would have meant social
transformations that might have doomed for many years the culture of
parliamentary democracy. It could be rescued by American intervention (as
Eastern Europe could not) providing that the intervention came soon.
While the survival of democracy on the continent was not central to
American strategic or material interests, many of us, this author
included, would deplore its loss. At the same time, a purely moral basis
for war must not be confused with the objective threat to American
national security that Germany did or did not constitute.
Notes
1
In fact there is reason to believe that Hitler never had much faith in Sea
Lion, recognizing the great hurdles in its way. See F. M. Sallagar, The
Road to Total War: Escalation in World War II (Santa Monica,
California: Rand Corporation, R-46S-PR, Ig6g), pp. 68-80.
2
William L. Langer and S. Everett Gleason, The Undeclared War, 1940-1941
(New York: Harper & Row, 1953), p. 533.
3
See Albert Speer, Inside the Third Reich (New York: Macmillan,
I970), p. 2I3, and Burton Klein, Germany’s Economic Preparations for
War (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, I959), esp. p. 99.
4
See Herbert Feis,
Roosevelt,
Churchill, Stalin
(Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1957), p. 78. Robert
Huhn Jones, The Roads to Russia; United States Lend-Lease to the Soviet
Union (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1969) contends that
although quantitatively not great, the particular composition of American
aid may have been critical.
5
Among the many proponents of the generally-held opinion that Hitler wanted
badly to avoid war with the United States at this stage are Paul W.
Schroeder, The Axis Alliance and Japanese-American Relations, 1941
(Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1958), pp. 47-72; James V.
Compton, The Swastika and the Eagle (Boston: Houghton Mifflin,
1967), pp. 161-73; and Saul Friedlander, Prelude to Downfall: Hitler
and the United States, 1939-1941 (New York: Knopf, 1967).
6
Hans L. Trefousse,
Germany
and American Neutrality, 1939-1941
(New York: Bookman, 1951).
7
Sallagar, Road to Total War, p. 66.
8
George F. Kennan, Memoirs, 1925-1950 (Boston: Little Brown, 1967,
pp. 129-30. Kennan also argued, contrary to the widespread belief of the
late 1940S, that Russia was not a serious military threat to the United
States requiring rearmament or establishment of NATO. See Chapter 17 of
Memoirs, and the section by Hammond in Warner Schilling, Paul Hammond and
Glenn Snyder, Strategy, Politics, and Defense Budgets (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1962).
9
Cited in Manfred Jonas, Isolationism in
America
(Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1966), p. 213.
10
Mark Skinner Watson, Chief of Staff: Prewar Plans and Preparation
(Washington: Department of the Army, 1950).
11
Richard R. Lingeman, Don’t You Know There’s a War On? The American Home
Front, 1941-1945 (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1970), p. 36. In the
winter of 1944-45 the commander of the Atlantic fleet ordered deactivated
air raid wardens back to their posts, saying V-bomb attacks were not only
“possible but probable,” p. 267.
12
A. J. P. Taylor, The Origins of the Second World War (New York:
Atheneum, 1966); Alan Bullock, Hitler: A Study in Tyranny (New
York: Harper and Row, 1962, rev. ed.).
13
Alton Frye, Nazi
Germany and the
American Hemisphere, 1933-1941
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967), and Compton, Swastika and the
Eagle.
14
Frye, Nazi
Germany,
p. 130. Hitler’s psychic ability to pursue his grandiose aims successfully
is also in doubt. One historian concludes, “Throughout his life, Adolf
Hitler flirted with failure and involved himself unnecessarily in
situations that were fraught with danger.” R. G. L. Waite, “Adolf Hitler’s
Guilt Feelings: A Problem in History and Psychology,” Journal of
Interdisciplinary History I, no. 2 (1971): 239.
15
Arthur H. Compton, Atomic Quest: A Personal Narrative (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1956), p. 225. See also Speer, Inside,
pp.225-29·
16
A third was being completed, but was not ready until after the Japanese
capitulation. Richard C. Hewlett and Oscar E. Anderson, The New World,
1939-1946 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press,
Ig62), p. 405.
17
According to Raul Hilberg, The Destruction of the European Jews
(Chicago: Quadrangle, 1961), p. 767, approximately 970,000 survived in
Eastern Europe outside the Soviet Union. Perhaps another 700,000 on the
continent of Western Europe were spared.
Forward to
Chapter 3: A Hobson’s Choice for Japan
Back
to
Chapter 1: Isolationism Old and New
Back
to
Preface