The usual treatment of World War II in history books and Hollywood movies has done much to shape the conventional wisdom about this conflict. According to the prevailing narrative, unlike the First World War, the sequel was much better: It was a “good war,” a good war fought by good guys to stop bad guys from taking over the world. It follows that participation in the war by the U.S. (one of the good guys) was a noble undertaking. The actions taken by politicians or “wise men” to involve America in this conflict—despite domestic opposition and regardless of the consequences—must be seen as farsighted, laudable statesmanship.
So goes the standard narrative learned by schoolchildren and movie-goers who remember The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) or any number of other films that deal with World War II.
In her book Those Angry Days, Lynne Olson reinforces this narrative by offering a revisionist account of the “Great Debate” that preceded America’s entry into the conflict. Focusing on the period between 1939 and the point at which the U.S. declared war on Nazi Germany, Olson draws our attention to some of the arguments for and against America’s involvement, as well as the influential people who articulated them. Olson focuses specifically on a clash between two titans: President Roosevelt, representing the interventionists, versus Charles Lindbergh, representing the “isolationists.”
Olson is a skillful storyteller. She depicts in vivid detail the war of words that preceded and, to a certain extent, coincided with America’s participation in a more devastating war of bombs and bullets. She writes in elegant, captivating prose. She resurrects key personalities in the debate, people like Wendell Willkie, Robert Sherwood, and Lord Lothian (Philip Kerr)—people who have been largely forgotten—while relying on opinion polls to support her thesis, a thesis somewhat at odds with conventional wisdom.
Olson’s thesis is that the people who wanted the U.S. to enter the war, the interventionists—a group led by Roosevelt and certain members of his cabinet—convinced a majority of Americans to turn away from their “isolationism” and to support a number of interventionist policies. These policies included the first ever peacetime conscription, the destroyer-for-bases deal, Lend-Lease, and the repeal of key provisions of the Neutrality Act. “In fact, by December 1941,” contends Olson, “the American people had been thoroughly educated about the pros and cons of their country’s entry into the conflict and were far less opposed to the idea of going to war than conventional wisdom has it” (p. xx, emphasis added). Olson argues that this dramatic shift in public opinion—this turning away from isolationism—was achieved before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.
We’ll evaluate Olson’s thesis in a moment, but first I’d like to draw attention to the book’s major shortcoming: Olson’s judgment-distorting bias which leads her to accept a preposterous conclusion.
Olson’s bias in favor of the interventionists is unmistakable, and she evidently allows this bias to cloud her historical judgment. Her bias shines through almost immediately. From the get-go, Olson characterizes the debate as one of interventionists versus isolationists. It should be noted that the word “isolationist” is a pejorative term. It was coined by war propagandists during the First World War and used to smear Americans who took seriously the farewell address of President George Washington. In this speech, Washington warned against entangling alliances with foreign powers, while advocating peace and trade with all countries—a speech that hardly suggests isolation. Of course, the smear also applied to Americans unfamiliar with Washington’s speech but who nevertheless had little interest in being isolated from their families and sent overseas to kill or be killed for reasons that were not altogether clear to them. One may ask: Who are the true isolationists here? In this paper I drop the smears and refer to people who wanted to remain at peace as “neutralists” or “anti-interventionists”—not isolationists.
Olson’s acceptance and use of these smear words indicate that she works within a tradition of historical thought established by war propagandists and court historians committed to defending the government-approved version of history. (For more on court historians, see Harry Elmer Barnes, Perpetual War for Perpetual Peace.) In this tradition, efforts to justify actions of the state are more important than getting at historical truth. Writers who conform to this tradition are prone to double-think, misrepresentation, and convenient omissions of fact. These are the hallmarks of political whitewash, and they are all present in Those Angry Days.
Double-think: a term taken from George Orwell’s 1984, denoting the practice or condition of holding two contradictory beliefs, simultaneously, and accepting both.
Olson takes a number of nonsensical positions—positions rendered untenable by her own research, thus requiring double-think to maintain. For example, consider page xx of the Introduction. There, Olson agrees with “historians” Langer and Gleason, whom she quotes approvingly, that there is “ample evidence” that Roosevelt “‘recoiled from the prospect of war, was determined to spare no effort to keep this nation out of it, and devoutly hoped that, by one means or another, he would succeed’” (p. xx). She later restates her position when she writes, “For the previous two years [prior to the sinking of the Reuben James], Roosevelt had been juggling threats from both Japan and Germany, trying to avert a showdown with the two as long as possible” (p. 407, emphasis added). I emphasize “avert a showdown” as opposed to provoke a showdown. On page 294, Olson reinforces the idea by stating, “…neither [Roosevelt nor Hitler] wanted to provoke an incident that might lead to war.”
Casual observers might be excused for entertaining such an idea, that is, if they only consider the president’s campaign speeches of 1940 and the rhetoric of “defense” used to frame his policies. The historian, however, makes use of a broader range of evidence, including an array of primary sources containing information previously unavailable, to get beyond mere words and appearances and arrive at a better understanding of the past. To her credit, Olson succeeds at getting beyond presidential rhetoric—up to a point. In doing so, she provides a wealth of information concerning Roosevelt’s actions and political maneuvering prior to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. What I find remarkable about this information, however, is how absolutely devastating it is to the position Olson is trying to defend. The evidence is ample indeed! But the evidence supports a conclusion opposite to the one held by Olson.
Despite all his rhetoric to the contrary, Roosevelt apparently had no intention of keeping the U.S. neutral, and he worked behind the scenes to find a politically feasible way of bringing the country into the war.
For evidence supporting this conclusion, consider the following items:
1). Roosevelt’s replacement of neutralists in his cabinet with prominent warmongers, namely Skull and Bones member Henry Stimson (Secretary of War) and the hawkish, multimillionaire owner of the Chicago Daily News, Frank Knox (Secretary of the Navy) (pp. 204-205). On page 275, we read about Stimson’s view of Lend-Lease as a means to war, despite this program having been sold to Americans as a purely “defensive” measure. We also read about Knox expressing his eagerness for war, despite his public pronouncements to the contrary. Roosevelt then orders his secretaries to refrain from publicly voicing their honest takes on Lend-Lease (Ibid.).
(Note: One might think that a president who “recoiled from the prospect of war” would surround himself with people who shared his anti-war views. Moreover, evidence of presidential connivance regarding the real purpose of Lend-Lease is hardly consistent with the view that Roosevelt was doing his best to keep the country out of the war.)
2). Roosevelt’s statement to Winston Churchill during the Atlantic Conference that he “planned to ‘look for an incident which would justify him in opening up hostilities.’” Roosevelt made “similar statements to several of those in his inner circle” (p. 400).
(Note: Does this sound like someone who is trying to “avert a showdown” or provoke a showdown?)
3). Roosevelt’s decision to occupy and station troops in Iceland. Although Roosevelt characterized the occupation as a purely “defensive” move, even Olson finds it “understandable” that “some considered [Roosevelt’s] rationale a bit outlandish” (pp. 347-348).
(Note: Yes, indeed. For a man determined to keep his country at peace, moving troops into Iceland does seem a bit outlandish.)
4). Roosevelt’s decision to permit convoying of merchant ships carrying armaments destined for England and the Soviet Union through the Icelandic “back door,” while adopting a “shoot on sight” policy (pp. 348-349, 396-397). Previously, the president had acknowledged that convoying would eventually lead to shooting, and “shooting comes awfully close to war” (p. 292). I should also mention that Roosevelt’s Secretary of the Navy, Frank Knox, stated that he considered convoying to be an “act of war” (see Charles Beard, President Roosevelt and the Coming of the War, 1941, pp. 30-31).
(Note: Olson would have us believe that Roosevelt pursued policies in the Atlantic that, by his own estimation, would probably lead to shooting—and “shooting comes awfully close to war”—while authorizing a “shoot on sight” policy—all in an effort to avert a showdown and keep the country out of the war.)
5). Roosevelt’s misleading accounts of the attacks on the Greer and the Kearney, in which the president failed to mention the provocative actions taken by these two ships prior to their being attacked by German submarines (Olson, p. 396; see also Beard, President Roosevelt and the Coming of the War, 1941, pp. 142-149).
(Note: Why would a peace-loving president tell lies that are likely to incite calls for retaliation? One might think that a peace-loving president would simply tell the truth. For, as everyone knows, truth is the first casualty of war.)
6). Olson’s account of a covert British intelligence operation that set up shop in the RCA building at Rockefeller Plaza in New York, with the knowledge and approval of Roosevelt. Led by spymaster William Stephenson, the operation was known as the British Security Coordination (BSC). The BSC was designed to discredit prominent neutralists in the press and manipulate public opinion in support of interventionist policies. According to Olson, “Stephenson’s unconventional outfit planted propaganda in American newspapers, spied on isolationists groups, dug up political dirt on isolationists in Congress, and forged documents that, when brought to public attention, helped foment anti-Nazi sentiment” (p. 116).
Roosevelt not only approved of the BSC; he also ordered the FBI to assist “Stephenson’s unconventional outfit.” According to Olson, “FDR directed that ‘there should be the closest possible marriage between the FBI and British intelligence’” (p. 118). For the ugly details of this marriage, see pp. 118-119, 330-332.
An example of BSC propaganda was the widely publicized South American map. The map seemed to be a revelation, showing how Germany “planned to carve South America and much of Central America into five vassal states” (p. 402). But the map was bogus, fabricated by the BSC and given to Roosevelt. Roosevelt—in good faith or in bad—then announced the map’s existence to the American people, who were led to believe that the map was authentic. The BSC thus stoked fears that Hitler would use South American bases as stepping-stones to an invasion of America (p. 403).
An indirect and revealing reference to the BSC can be found on p. 157. There, Olson describes the strategic thinking of that lovable British ambassador, Lord Lothian. Olson writes, “The ambassador knew what a tightrope he must walk, speeding up Americans’ awareness of their country’s potential danger while concealing from them the fact that that awareness was a product of British propaganda (emphasis added).”
(Note: A curious reader might ask: To what extent did British propaganda “educate” Americans about the pros and cons of entering the war? One might think that a peace-loving president would be unreceptive, if not hostile, to a secret British plan to bring America into the war by means of deception, that is, by propagandizing and psychologically conditioning—I mean [cough cough] “educating”—Americans to support their involvement in yet another European conflict.)
7). The inescapable conclusion that America’s entry into the war, complete with mounting casualties, was an accomplished fact months before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, due in large part to Roosevelt’s secret and not-so-secret “defensive” moves in the Atlantic (see items 3, 4, and 5 above). Olson states, “Over the next month [following the Greer incident in early September], American destroyers operating under battle conditions shepherded fourteen convoys, numbering 675 ships, across the stormy North Atlantic.” Olson continues, “The U.S. Navy had thus become the country’s first armed service to go to war, albeit one that was still undeclared” (p. 397, emphasis added).
(Note: This is a stunning admission. Here, Olson undermines her own portrayal of Roosevelt as a man of peace doing his best to keep the country out of the war. She then pretends that her observation of the “undeclared war” has no bearing on her position. The implication, however, is clear: By at least early September 1941, the Great Debate had turned into a farce. According to Olson, Roosevelt had taken the country into war through the Icelandic “back door,” without a declaration of war by Congress. Having just made this observation, Olson proceeds to tell her story without comprehending how this observation destroys her argument. Furthermore, Roosevelt’s war-making in the Atlantic puts the Great Debate in an entirely different light. If the country was already at war, as Olson contends, then the Great Debate over whether the country should go to war served the propagandistic function of giving lawmakers and the public the false impression that they still had a say in the matter, as if they were participants in a functioning democracy.)
Let’s recap. We can sum up Olson’s position as follows: 1) Roosevelt surrounds himself in his cabinet with interventionists who are practically licking their chops for war; 2) tells Churchill that he plans to look for an incident that would justify him in “opening up hostilities”; 3) occupies Iceland and secretly allows the convoying of merchant ships carrying armaments to Britain and the Soviet Union—convoying being deemed an “act of war” by the Secretary of the Navy; 4) tells the Secretary of War to shut up about his views on Lend-Lease being a means to war —at least in public; 5) lies to Americans about what really happened to the Greer and the Kearney, portraying these ships (falsely) as victims of unprovoked aggression, while 5) tripping over himself to accommodate a British conspiracy to propagandize the public and psychologically prepare Americans for a war he had already committed them to—and he did all this in a Herculean effort to keep the country out of war, according to Olson.
And so we come to a stupefying, impossible conclusion. Olson’s position restated: Roosevelt believed he could keep America out of the war by taking precisely those “defensive” measures that plunged the country directly into that war, “albeit one that was still undeclared”—just as Charles Lindbergh and other anti-interventionists had predicted.
That’s bold.
How Olson reconciles this conclusion with the results of her own research, specifically the tidbits mentioned above, is beyond this reader’s comprehension.
I don’t know how to explain Olson’s inconsistency except to say that she must take for granted the moral superiority of the interventionist cause. It is this bias, I believe, that distorts Olson’s historical judgment and causes her to resort to double-think, however unconsciously, to maintain her position. After all, the U.S. had to enter the war to stop a genocidal maniac from taking over the world… right?
Olson conveys this sentiment when she asserts, “The news of the Holocaust exposed, once and for all, the speciousness of Lindbergh’s argument that the war was a clash of rival imperialistic states, with both sides undeserving of U.S. support” (p.436). In other words, Roosevelt and the interventionists were right all along. If the anti-interventionists were right about anything, it was that America’s entry into the war would bring with it the lamentable, yet tolerable, curtailment of civil liberties (see Ibid.). In the end, however, Roosevelt did the right thing. Her only criticism of Roosevelt seems to be that he didn’t take the country into war sooner.
Let’s examine Olson’s assertion in the light of the evidence presented in her book and elsewhere. Was Lindbergh wrong about the war being a clash between rival imperialistic states?
While discussing the events leading up to the attack on Pearl Harbor, Olson writes: “In the summer of 1941, Japanese forces occupied Indochina, a major source of rubber, and demanded army bases from strategically situated Siam (now Thailand). There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that British and Dutch possessions in the Far East—Malaya, Burma, Singapore, Hong Kong, and the Dutch East Indies—were all in peril. In response, Roosevelt announced an immediate freeze on all Japanese assets in the United States” (p. 410).
Let’s get this straight. Japan, an imperialistic state, was threatening the Far East “possessions” of two other imperialistic states, the Netherlands and Great Britain—the latter struggling to maintain the largest empire in world history. And let’s not forget France, Italy, and the Soviet Union: all belligerents that were interested in expanding, or at least maintaining, their extraterritorial possessions. By her own account, then, Olson affirms Lindbergh’s statement. However, Olson apparently forgets what she just wrote and denies the correctness of Lindbergh’s statement. Olson is caught in self-contradiction (once again).
–Objection! While this aspect of Lindbergh’s argument may be true, the U.S. was still morally obligated to enter the war to stop Hitler. And because they were opposed to Hitler, the Allies deserved U.S. support!
Answer: I couldn’t disagree more. We have already seen that Olson can only arrive at her position by carefully omitting certain facts (aside from the awe-inspiring feats of Orwellian double-think on display). Let’s review some of these omissions, specifically those regarding one of the Allies.
A). Germany was not the only imperialistic state to invade Poland in September of 1939. Sixteen days after Germany invaded Poland from the west, the Soviet Union invaded from the east. Hitler and Stalin had previously signed a nonaggression pact, and they proceeded to divide Poland between themselves “in peace.”
Curiously, Olson does not utter a single word about the Soviet invasion of Poland. Although she does mention the “quasi-alliance” between Germany and the Soviet Union, she does so only in passing, without providing any details (see p. 95), carefully sweeping the matter under the rug.
B). By the time the Soviet Union became a Lend-Lease recipient of U.S. aid, Joseph Stalin had already established himself as a homicidal psychopath. While the murder of 6 million Jews in Nazi concentration camps has received worldwide attention, somehow the deliberate starving to death of 7 million Ukrainians by Stalin seems to have slipped down the memory hole.
C). The Nazis learned a thing or two from the Soviets. Concentration camps and mass extermination of civilians had been instrumental in the plan to “purge” Soviet society of undesirables (see The Soviet Story ). During the “Great Purge,” Stalin murdered over 700,000 people and imprisoned over a million others.
Roosevelt warmly referred to Stalin as “Uncle Joe.”
D). WWII resulted in a huge territorial expansion of the Soviet Union and its sphere of influence, which encompassed much of Eastern Europe and half of Germany.
U.S. involvement in the war thus had the effect of putting down one murderous regime, while raising another murderous regime to new heights. Let’s face it. The big winner of the so-called good war was Stalin.
Imagine if the U.S. had remained neutral. Americans could have sat back and watched the two Evil Empires bleed each other to death. Neutrality would have spared the lives of 417,000 Americans, and it may have precluded the Cold War, the military-industrial complex, the Cuban missile crisis, the Vietnam War, etc.—not to mention the incalculable misery, death, and destruction suffered by the peoples forced to live under Soviet domination in the bloc countries. (I know this is all counterfactual, but it’s worth thinking about. Otherwise, what would be the point of doing history?)
In the light of these facts, one might reconsider the idea that the U.S. simply had to enter the war to help Stalin stop Hitler. One might ask whether World War II can reasonably be called a “good war.” At the very least, these facts complicate—if not demolish—the conventional view of the Second World War.
More omissions by Olson: Olson fails to consider the extent to which Roosevelt and certain members of his administration deliberately provoked Japan into firing the first shot. Roosevelt’s sanctions against Japan ultimately denied Japan the oil it needed to continue its war against China. The Japanese must have viewed the sanctions as an act of war, since “[b]y the end of November 1941,” Olson writes, “both the U.S. and British governments expected a major Japanese attack at any moment”… (p. 411). (Was it really a surprise attack if they were expecting an attack at any moment?)
In an apparent attempt to achieve consistency with the claim that Roosevelt tried to keep the country at peace, Olson somehow taps the innermost thoughts of Roosevelt and, without a single strand of evidence, asserts that the president did not intend to cut off Japan’s oil supply—at least not immediately—because he wanted to “keep his options open and the Japanese at the negotiating table” (pp. 410-411). Yet, Roosevelt refused to meet with Prince Koyone, Japan’s Prime Minister, who was desperately trying to reach a peace settlement with the U.S.
Readers of Olson might not know what I’m talking about, because Olson omits this important piece of information. Curious readers who want to learn more about Konoye’s peace initiatives (and Roosevelt’s rejection) should pick up Charles Beard’s President Roosevelt and the Coming of the War, 1941 (see p. 189- 192; 496- 504), which is a good starting point.
Thus, Olson would have us believe that Roosevelt, at the crucial moment, lost control of his State Department. We are supposed to believe that Cordell Hull, Roosevelt’s Secretary of State, was completely out of touch with Roosevelt’s desire for negotiations with Japan. Hull then openly defied Roosevelt by allowing Japan’s oil supply to be cut off. This implausible scenario seems to conflict with Olson’s previous statements about Hull and his reluctance to cut off oil to Japan, lest hostilities break out (see p. 409).
Again, Olson’s story collapses into incoherence. It doesn’t add up. Something’s missing here.
For evidence that Roosevelt pursued policies designed to provoke Axis Powers, and for an account of the circumstances surrounding the “surprise” attack on Pearl Harbor and the suspicious behavior of Roosevelt and members of his inner circle—see the following:
1). Harry Elmer Barnes’s Perpetual War for Perpetual Peace, edited by Harry Elmer Barnes (see Chapter 4, pages 231-268).
2). John Denson’s “Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the First Shot: A Study of Deceit and Deception”, in Reassessing the Presidency, edited by John Denson (Chapter 16, pages 453-527).
3). Charles A. Beard’s President Roosevelt and the Coming of the War, 1941.
4). John T. Flynn’s “The Final Secret of Pearl Harbor”
Let’s get back to Olson’s thesis.
According to Olson, the neutralists represented the majority view at the beginning of the Great Debate. By December 1941, however, Americans had been so propagandized or “educated by events” that public opinion shifted in favor of intervention. I have to emphasize that this shift occurred “before” the attack on Pearl Harbor, because the timing of the shift is a major selling point of Olson’s book.)
Olson supports her thesis by reference to public opinion surveys, mostly Gallup polls. In doing so, she questions neither the validity nor methodology of these surveys. There is no discussion of the measures taken by these polling organizations to address sources of error inherent in any national, scientific survey; or precisely what questions were asked; or whether the findings were statistically significant and generalizable to the larger population. Since Olson’s revisionist thesis is the crux of her book, one might think she would devote some space to a critical evaluation of the evidence, instead of simply taking poll results at face value. (We’ve seen how pollsters can get it wrong.)
Nor does Olson consider the possibility that some of these surveys might have been manipulated—rigged like the 1940 Republican national convention, which resulted in the nomination of another pro-war presidential candidate, Wendell Willkie. On pages 179-182, Olson documents the rigging of Willkie’s nomination at the behest of what might be called the Eastern Establishment. This story within a story is both fascinating and revealing. If the powers-that-be are capable of manipulating a major party’s national convention in order to ensure continuity of policy, regardless of who wins the election, then it seems a fairly simple matter to have the numbers fudged on a few surveys. And when the celebrated pioneer of public opinion polls, George Gallup, is also an outspoken interventionist and Roosevelt supporter, then those strings might be more easily pulled.
Olson, however, fails to address poll-rigging as a possibility, despite the fact that this line of inquiry has been pursued by others, e.g., Thomas Mahl in his book Desperate Deception. Instead, Olson uncritically accepts the validity of the polls which conveniently support her thesis, without scrutinizing them or commenting on their methodology.
Nor does Olson reconcile her thesis with the fact that only about a third of Americans who fought in World War II enlisted voluntarily. Two-thirds had to be conscripted (i.e., kidnapped). Clearly, those Americans forced to fight were less than enthusiastic about the interventionist cause. Olson would also be hard-pressed to explain the 14,000 civilian labor strikes that slowed down production of essential war materials during the war. The millions of workers who participated in these strikes evidently had reservations about the war effort. And let’s not forget the 110,000 Japanese-Americans who were rounded up and interned in “relocation centers.” (It’s interesting to note how the U.S. government, in fighting its enemies, becomes more like them.) For a contrarian view of the unpopularity of World War II, see Thaddeus Russell’s A Renegade History of the United States, pp. 277-284.
For these reasons, I find Olson’s thesis unconvincing. Olson would have us believe that Roosevelt represented the “will of the majority” by leading the country step-by-step into war, while doing his best to keep the country out of war—because he was a lover of peace. This argument makes no sense.
Olson’s revisionist history is really a continuation and refinement of war propaganda. Like a good court historian, she seems to be more concerned about justifying actions of the state than getting at the truth—in this case, Roosevelt deliberately misleading the country into war.
Despite all the maddening double-think, misrepresentation, and omission of relevant facts, the book does have value. For me, the most valuable part is Olson’s discussion of the BSC and the underhanded attempts by its staff, in cahoots with Roosevelt and the FBI, to propagandize or “educate” Americans into supporting interventionist policies. I also appreciate Olson’s account of the rigging of the 1940 election, which gave Americans the illusion of choice in the voting booth: Voters could have either pro-war candidate A or pro-war candidate B.
The implications of the fraudulent 1940 election are staggering. They indicate a concentration of power that remains largely hidden from the public—a “deep state” power that uses deception and backstage maneuvering to achieve its goals.
Reflecting on this historical moment and the fact that we never make a clean break with the past, one might ask: How much more concentrated and deadlier must this hidden power be today? How are things going in America? It seems reasonable to suspect that the disturbing trends we see around us are less the result of organic, spontaneous development and more the result of machinations of Machiavellian power elites and deep state operatives steering society in a certain direction, perhaps even orchestrating “events” behind the scenes—the kind of events which can “educate” the people.
It’s too bad Olson fails to appreciate the implications of her own research. Of course, it’s also possible that she totally understands, and she’s just happy to play make-believe in her role as court historian for our would-be rulers.