Benjamin Brothers, 1995
The Anglo-American alliance has often been called the "special relationship," . Although the two nations had often been antagonistic in the 18th and 19th centuries , a much closer relation developed during the Second World War. The special relationship came about because of the political and military needs of the two nations, primarily Great Britain. The Anglo-American alliance was never absolute; it strengthened and relaxed in accordance with necessities facing the two nations.
The twentieth century dawned on an optimistic Europe. In 1914, the horrors of modern, total war were known only to such small, obscure towns as Gettysburg, Fredricksburg, and Shiloh. European wars had been limited, and of a more genteel, civilized variety during the nineteenth century. And so Europeans cheered when their nations went to war that year. Four years later, the war was over, but at what a cost. The Continent was in ruins, but across the Atlantic, 1918 told quite a different story.
For the first time the United States had landed troops in Europe. The American armies had proved decisive, even though many saw the war as timeworn European power politics. "The United States had maintained a certain aloofness from the Anglo-French cause. It was symbolic that President Woodrow Wilson called the United States an 'associated,' not an 'allied,' power." The United States did not seek to involve herself in the diplomatic intrigues of the European nations, Great Britain not least among them. Despite the temporary wartime cooperation, the actions on the part of the United States during the Great War did not suggest or effect a closer relationship with the United Kingdom. America's isolationist tendencies were still strong; George Washington's commandment to avoid entangling alliances still rang true.
Yet nevertheless, the American Republic was changing along with the world. The United States was now a true world power. Her weighty presence at the armistice negotiations had shown Europe that America was now an international force at least on a level with the British Empire. What the United States lacked in prestige, she made up for in sheer industrial strength, and the young Republic was yearning to wield her newfound power. Sir William Wiseman, an influential British diplomat in Washington, alarmed London with tales of America's growing sense of rivalry with Britain.
A telling sign of the new relationship came during the naval talks of the inter-war period. Great Britain, for over three centuries since 1588, had been the world's leading naval power. The Royal Navy was a presence in ports on six continents, and the British Government operated, even at the beginning of the twentieth century, on the premise that its navy should be at least as large as the collected fleets of the next two largest navies. But in 1921, Great Britain was forced to accept naval parity with the United States, an act that showed, in very concrete terms, the new authority of the United States.
Nor was Anglo-American competition limited to military matters alone. The fiscal crisis of the First World War had forced the British to depend heavily on corporate interests in the United States. Thus, after the war, American influence was felt in a large portion of the British economy, a cause of both concern and embarrassment to Englishmen everywhere. The British economy, largely imperial in nature, depended heavily on the gold standard, which was in turn largely sustained by the City of London's domination of the world's financial markets, and by overwhelming public confidence in the gold reserves of the Bank of England. That the British were forced to seek money from American banks weakened faith in that august institution, and the financial center of the world began to shift to New York City.
When the weakened gold standard was discarded during the Great Depression, many in the United States perceived that act as a British trick, designed to prop up the English economy at the expense of the American. Conversely, many Britons despised the threat caused the British Empire by a dollar-dominated world economy. Even the half-American Churchill, concerned about economic conditions and furious over naval disarmament, spoke in 1928 of the United States as "arrogant, fundamentally hostile to the British Empire, and out to dominate world politics." Such sentiments were far from uncommon in the United Kingdom at this time.
Anglo-American resentment during the economic crises of the Twenties and Thirties was real indeed, and despite efforts to resolve outstanding trade issues, nothing of any significance was accomplished. The United States saw the sterling bloc of the British Empire and her imperial preferences as barriers to world trade. The British, reciprocally, saw American charges of mercantilism as hypocritical at best, given that the average U.S. tariff during the 1930's approached 50 percent. Little would be accomplished through negotiations, and the tensions would remain until the outbreak of the next war.
The ominous portents of renewed aggression would soon overshadow mere grievances of trade, however, and the fates of the two great English-speaking Unions would be quickly forced more closely together. There was considerable uneasiness on both sides, and considerable doubt over how such a closer relationship might be effected. Churchill commented in October, 1937 that, although "ideals of the countries are similar, their interests are in many ways divergent." And he was not ready, as the price for American aid, to subordinate the interests of Britain and her Empire to those of the United States. He "[wanted] to see the British Empire preserved for a few more decades in its strength and splendour." Like poor King Nebuchadnezzar, Churchill saw the handwriting on the wall, and he, like the biblical despot, refused to accept its pronouncement.
Many in His Majesty's Government wished, however, to erase that omen, and to create instead a forgery, to artificially preserve Britain's position as the center of the world. William C. Bullitt, for example, complained in February of 1933 that "while Roosevelt desired the closest collaboration with England [the President] would insist on a true cooperation and would never accept a [more desirable] collaboration similar to the collaboration between the automobile and the chauffeur-- with England in the driver's seat."
Roosevelt's private council on the matter of Anglo-American collaboration cannot, for obvious reasons, be accurately known, but publicly the President repeatedly denounced political commitments and "foreign entanglements." American public opinion would not allow such an alliance as Mr. Bullitt foresaw, unless in time of war, and perhaps not even then. Mr. Roosevelt, considered by many to be an avowed internationalist, was certainly publicly adamant that we continue to follow our traditional foreign policy. In accepting the Democratic nomination in 1936, he declared, "We shun political commitments which might entangle us in foreign wars; we avoid connection with the political activities of the League of Nations."
The League of Nations, and the membership therein of the United States, was of course the idea of President Woodrow Wilson, espoused in his Fourteen Points and at the negotiations for the Treaty of Versailles. Although a slim majority of Americans favored membership in the League, the Wilsonians could not muster the Constitutionally required two-thirds majority, and the Senate rejected the Treaty. Debate on the issue continued for many years, and was throughout the inter-war period a frequently mentioned topic.
Franklin Roosevelt, earlier a mild proponent of the League, whether out of true belief or for political gain, came out rather strongly against the international organization during his bid for the Presidency. Speaking to the New York Grange on February 2, 1932, Governor Roosevelt condemned the League of Nations because "[its] major function has been not the broad overwhelming purpose of world peace, but rather a mere meeting place for the political discussion of strictly European political national difficulties. In these the United States has no part." Others, such as the isolationist Senator Hiram Johnson of California, opposed the League on the grounds that it violated American sovereignty. One of the more frequent targets of the Senator's wrath was the British Empire. The League was structured in such a way that English Dominions like Canada, India, and the Union of South Africa, were all represented, essentially giving the United Kingdom an enormous say in the actions taken by the League, actions which some feared would be detrimental to the security and well-being of the United States.
Suspicions of international entanglements and charges that Britain was out to dominate the world were common. Even Roosevelt took up the isolationist banner, proclaiming in August of 1936 that America was isolationist "in so far as we seek to isolate ourselves completely from war."
The foreign policy debate continued in the United States, and membership in the World Court came under sustained national scrutiny. American traditions were undeniably contrary to the ways of the World Court. The thought of American law being reviewed by an international body, made up of judges over which neither the people nor the Government of the United States had any power, was certainly repugnant. Yet the Wilsonians felt that such a body was needed to make the world safe from war and aggression. They sought to make war illegal.
The United States eventually entered the Court, but not before placing a crippling limit on its power over American affairs. Her membership in the World Court was qualified with the proviso that it could not "without the consent of the United States entertain any request for an advisory opinion touching any dispute or question in which the United States has or claims an interest." Americans, however, were not so tolerant of the concerns of other nations. When the United Kingdom attached a similar restriction, pertaining only to her Empire, many in the United States cried foul, claiming that the British were refusing to abide by the rules of international conduct. The essential rejection of membership in the World Court, which Roosevelt had thought to have wide support, both marked and effected a sharp, upward surge in isolationist sentiment.
For evidence I submit the acerbic bitterness with which Governor Roosevelt denounced Europe, and by simple extension, Great Britain, in February of 1932 because of the defaults on American wartime loans: "Europe owes us. We do not owe her. Therefore we should call a meeting of our debtors . . . and demand an understanding. If it were considered advisable in the present condition of world finance to postpone the payment of debts for a while, we should nevertheless insist upon an accord as to when payments should begin and in what amount.
"Europe has indulged herself in an orgy of spending and finds herself at the moment in a crippled financial position . . . She should cease to blame us for all the ills which have followed the reckless course of spending and try to remember the aid we gave to her in time of need; aid for which she was once grateful but now seems to have forgotten."
Roosevelt became so disgusted with the matter, especially after the farcical London Economic Conference of 1933, that he rejected the idea of American intervention and decided that the successful solution of America's problems was far more urgent than international affairs. This would be the "most effective contribution he could make to a new and better world system." Mr. Roosevelt seems to have taken up again the mission of the City upon a Hill, to improve the world by improving America, and showing the world, by our own success, how to escape their miseries. Old-fashioned isolationism was, for the time being, the modus operandi of Washington.
The failure of the world disarmament talks in Geneva during the spring of 1934 strengthened the fervor of the isolationist bloc, especially among those who opposed even symbolic intervention in foreign lands. Perhaps more importantly, Franklin Roosevelt's belief in the ability of the United States to project her power seems to have been greatly dampened, almost to the point of ambivalence on the matter.
In response to the rise of fascism in Central Europe, and of renewed German nationalism, President Roosevelt declared, "In the face of this apprehension the American people can have but one concern-- the American people can speak with but one sentiment: despite what happens in continents overseas, the United States of America shall and must remain, as long ago the Father of our Country prayed that it might remain-- unentangled and free." Indeed, throughout the 1930's, Government officials and newspaper editors, and in fact nearly everyone, rarely touched on the idea of foreign commitment without invoking the adjective "entangled." President Roosevelt was merely stating the obvious when he, in his 1935 State of the Union address, proclaimed that "among our objectives I place the security of the men, women, and children of the Nation first."
Yet as the fights over the domestic legislation of the New Deal faded from memory in the late Thirties, the United States again began to pursue a slightly more proactive foreign policy. The American Government was, in the realm of foreign affairs, primarily concerned with free trade and economic appeasement. The United States was a nation of merchants; it should come as no surprise to note that Roosevelt was actively trying to open markets to American goods. His main obstacle in so doing was the rather recalcitrant attitude of the British Government. As mentioned earlier, the economic philosophy of Great Britain was based on the twin foundations of the sterling bloc and of imperial preferences. These naturally meant tariffs on American exports, about which the British were remarkably obstinate. Such economic bickering would take center stage in Anglo-American diplomacy until overshadowed by the dark storm clouds of war.
As the decade progressed, Mr. Roosevelt, while as always seeking to prevent American involvement in foreign war, tended more and more to the view that American strength and power must be brought to bear against the aggressor nations on the march across the world. On October 5, 1937, Roosevelt, speaking in Chicago, delivered his famous Quarantine speech.
"If [war comes] to pass in other parts of the world, let no one imagine that America will escape, that America may expect mercy, that this Western Hemisphere will not be attacked and that it will continue tranquilly and peacefully to carry on the ethics and the arts of civilization . . .
"The peace-loving nations must make a concerted effort in opposition to those violations of treaties and those ignorings of human instincts which today are creating a state of international anarchy and instability from which there is no escape through mere isolation or neutrality . . .
"There is a solidarity and interdependence about the modern world, both technically and morally, which makes it impossible for any nation completely to isolate itself from economic and political upheavals in the rest of the world, especially when those upheavals appear to be spreading and not declining . . .
"It seems to be unfortunately true that the epidemic of world lawlessness is spreading. When an epidemic of physical disease starts to spread, the community approves and joins in a quarantine of the patients in order to protect the health of the community against the spread of the disease . . .
"War is a contagion, whether it be declared or undeclared. It can engulf states and peoples remote from the original scene of hostilities. We are determined to keep out of war, yet we cannot insure ourselves against the disastrous effects of war and the dangers of involvement. We are adopting such measures as will minimize our risk of involvement but we cannot have complete protection in a world of disorder in which confidence and security have broken down.
"If civilization is to survive the principles of the Prince of Peace must be restored. Trust between nations must be revived . . . Therefore, America actively engages in the search for peace."
Roosevelt realized that two great oceans were no longer sufficient to prevent was from reaching American soil. He felt and believed that the nations of the free world had a duty to keep the peace. The goal of the Quarantine Speech was not to rouse the nation to war, but to encourage Americans to support freedom, not just in America, but around the world.
The country was completely unprepared for Roosevelt's speech. Reaction, except among the most ardent of interventionists, was overwhelmingly negative. Roosevelt had in essence proposed extreme, extensive, and worldwide sanctions against any aggressor nation; sanctions were considered by most merely a back door to war. The president wrote in 1941 of the reaction to his speech: "Unfortunately, this suggestion fell upon deaf ears-- even hostile and resentful ears . . . It was hailed as war-mongering; it was even ridiculed as a nervous search 'under the bed' for dangers of war which did not exist."
The response the following day in the Boston Herald harshly castigated Roosevelt: "But this time, Mr. President, Americans will not be stampeded into going 3,000 miles across the water to save [the very foundations of civilization]. Crusade, if you must, but for the sake of several millions of American mothers confine your crusading to the continental limits of America." Similarly sharp criticisms came from newspapers such as the New York Herald Tribune, the New York Times, the New York Sun, the Chicago Tribune, the New Republic, and the American Mercury, among others.
Just as Mr. Roosevelt seemed to have adopted the interventionist attitude, the British Government seemed to have discovered again the importance of the friendship of the United States. A secret British report in December of 1937 urged Whitehall to carefully consider "the importance from the point of view of Imperial defence, of any political or international action that can be taken to reduce the number of potential enemies and to gain the support of potential allies." The enlisting of allies to come to her aid in the event of such a disaster came to be a main focus of British foreign policy. Winston Churchill had spoken sagely when he, in 1898, had stated that "one of the principles of my politics will always be to promote the good understanding between the English speaking communities. At the same time alliances nowadays are useless . . . As long as the interests of two nations coincide and as far as they coincide, they will be allies. But when they diverge they will cease to be allies . . . Alliances uncemented by mutual interest are not worth the papers they are written on."
From a British point of view, the only nation thus cemented by mutual interest lay separated by 3,000 miles of the Atlantic. The British statesman Lloyd George noted in April of 1929 that he considered "the closest possible friendship between the United States of America and ourselves [to be] a matter of vital importance and ought to be the dominating principle of our foreign policy." Only America offered the potential of an alliance bound and strengthened by mutual culture and language; and increasingly, events in Europe and the Orient made the United States the only truly strong British ally, even given the assumed strength of the French Army. Britain's alliance with the Japanese disintegrated with the rising militarism in that country, until finally abrogated at the insistence of the United States in 1921. Anglo-German relations had been rapidly dampening since the turn of the century, and Russia was alternately teetering on the verge of self-destruction or raving at the sinister, capitalist British Empire, neither conditions being conducive of a beneficial alliance. Although Britons might have questioned the steadfastness of their American ally, there was general agreement that America would abandon isolationism and come again to Britain's aid.
Great Britain was more accommodating of American isolationism, and was not as offended by it as were many other nations, especially France. The British were able easily "to comprehend America's outlook precisely because it was not entirely foreign to their own tradition." The United Kingdom had for centuries played the nations of Europe off one another, avoiding when possible confrontations, and relying on her prestigious fleet to maintain the security of the Empire. The renewed aggression of the Thirties did not effect any major change in this traditional policy of "splendid isolationism"; the British were still attempting to play the role of peacemaker. Quite simply, the British were "in the remarkable position of not wanting to quarrel with anybody because we have got most of the world already, or at least the best parts of it, and we want only to keep what we have got."
But keeping what they had proved to be enormously difficult. The British had acquired their Empire in a haphazard manner, taking a few choice pickings after each of her wars. The British Army was not prepared to hold down or patrol territory; rule was maintained by bluff. "British policy-makers in the 1930's were preoccupied with the disparity between Britain's commitments and her capabilities." Britain could suppress India and her African colonies; she could not defend them in a war against the collective, mechanized armies of Germany, Italy and Japan. One main political goal, then, of British diplomacy was the securing of an ally which could provide significant military support; in the case of the United States, potential industrial strength made up for the of the United States Army.
Churchill had in June of 1935 written that "the first and surest of all methods of maintaining the peace of the world would be an understanding between Great Britain and the United States whereby they would together maintain very powerful air forces and navies decisively stronger that those of other countries put together, and secondly that they would use these forces, as well as the whole of their influence and money power, in support of any state which was the victim of unprovoked aggression." Although it was wishful thinking on Churchill's part, the idea underscored the growing sentiment of governmental opinion at the time.
Why, however, did Churchill single out the United States? Why were the British so drawn to the "Dominion gone wrong"? For years, the British had operated under the principle that if Americans didn't need them, they didn't need Americans. Accordingly, in British schools, American history ended with the Revolutionary War. Was it then only necessity that compelled Great Britain into the transatlantic alliance? More probable is the claim that the British saw in the United States a culture very akin to their own, and in complete contrast to the raging nation-states of the Continent. Churchill wrote with clear reference to the United States: "The greatest tie of all is language." It was a common thought in England that "the ultimate policy of Britain and the United States of America must be identical if civilization is to hold together."
Many saw the United States and the United Kingdom, the two great English-speaking nations, and the two great powers of the world, holding up the torch of civilization, saving the world from destruction. American diplomats began to notice the renewed British amiability. Roosevelt's British Ambassador, Mr. Robert Bingham, relayed to the President on several occasions the increasingly pro-American stance of His Majesty's Government. He wrote on March 22, 1933 of a "marked and unmistakable" change for the better in the British opinion of the United States. In 1934 he again wrote that "all thoughtful people here [in the U.K.] believe that the only hope for peace in the world lies in cooperation between the British and ourselves, and . . . they eagerly desire it." Furthermore, he, in November of 1936, informed Roosevelt of "a wide-spread, persistent, increasing feeling" that the British should improve relations with the United States.
Many in the American Government were amazed at the "progressive and almost bewildering friendliness that cannot pass unnoticed." Norman Davis, Roosevelt's "roaming ambassador" during the decade, based his activities "on the premise that the existence of the British Empire is essential for the national security of the United States and that while we should not follow the Great Britain nevertheless we should not allow the Empire to be endangered."
Even so, distrust and bitterness persisted in some quarters. "Anglo-American concord will one day save the world, but that day has not yet arrived. There is still suspicion and hesitation on both sides," wrote Frank Ashton-Gwathin of the British Foreign Office in March of 1938. Roosevelt himself often joked about being impeached if such agreements were made public, for the American public was not willing to base their national defense on the survival of the British Empire. Roosevelt replied to Ambassador Bingham's sunny messages in a rather gloomy manner: "Many years ago I came to the reluctant conclusion that it is a mistake to make advances to the British Government; practical results can be accomplished only when they make advances themselves. They are a funny people and . . . can be counted on, when things are going well with them, to show a national selfishness towards other nations which makes mutual helpfulness very difficult to accomplish." According to William Rock, that mistrust, in matters both economic and political, was as great a factor in the Anglo-American relationship as was any "spirit of cooperation or clearly recognized identity of interest."
Mistrust there may have been, and misunderstandings certainly arose between the two nations, stemming from differences in opinion in a whole number of international incidents during the 1930's, including the World Disarmament Conference in Geneva, German remilitarization of the Rhineland, and the Civil War in Spain. U.S. opinion was also critical of a separate Anglo-German naval agreement in June of 1935, and of British recognition of Italian conquests in East Africa. I contend however that these squabbles were insignificant; moreover, these incidents show that disagreements between the two Governments were only superficial. Although important, they were largely concerned with principle and not procedure. Both Governments seemed to accept as a given the premise that they, as the leaders of the free world, must halt and check aggression; they disagreed on how best to accomplish this. If Roosevelt and Chamberlain did not always see eye to eye, they were by now at least on the same page.
The East African question, however, is important in another manner, because it effectively illustrates the policy of appeasement, a policy that would be at the center of Anglo-American debate. In response to the British move, the President stated on January 17, 1938 that "a surrender by His Majesty's Government of the principle of non-recognition at this time would have serious effect upon public opinion in this country." Secretary of State Hull likewise lectured the British Ambassador: "The desperado nations would capitalize it as a virtual ratification of their policy of outright treaty-wrecking and the seizure of land by force of arms." Roosevelt feared that such a policy would have dire consequences in the Orient, where Japan could see the British move as acquiescence to the conquest of Manchuria. This could open the door to advances into Southeast Asia, where both Great Britain and the United States had significant interests, and where both would be forced to respond to Japanese action.
The British tended to see the criticisms as unjustified moral preaching, in accordance with the British view of America as a "brash, young, inexperienced, and ultra-sensitive nation-- with an inferiority complex towards Great Britain-- whose people were lacking in culture and sophistication." There was, so the story goes, in the 1930's a young American travelling by rail across England for the first time. Upon seeing the quaint, small-scale scenery, he remarked to the man opposite him, "I guess the whole of England could be stuck into one corner of Nebraska." The Englishman looked up and replied, "But to what end, young man."
This anecdote shows the cultural differences that had emerged over two centuries. The American conception of greatness was one of size; theirs was a great continent. The British, with a fierce sense of national pride, at least in those days, were not predisposed to admit that their great nation, under whose dominion lay a quarter of the earth, was little more than a scattering of islands in the North Sea. The British, reports Mr. Rock, "did not understand the springs of American behavior and were quick to dismiss it as crude and immature." Therein lay some of the differences between the two peoples. The British Government saw itself as the Peacemaker, adjudicating international disputes and solving crises with astute diplomacy. The United States, however, saw in herself the moral authority of the world, perhaps a vestige of her Puritanical roots. Principles mattered as much as, if not more than, the political developments with which His Majesty's Government was so concerned. Where the British saw a tactful concession that would bring peace, Americans saw a dereliction of moral duty, surrender to aggression.
Chamberlain and his administration did not feel that appeasement was the slothful cousin of cowardice. To them, twentieth century war had become the ultimate evil. Too many had died on the battlefields of Flanders in 1914-1918 to allow them to feel otherwise. Appeasement, Chamberlain felt, was neither imprudent nor stupid, but a necessity for the prevention of war. And in 1937, most Englishmen agreed with him. When Britain announced on March 14, 1938, a policy of Italian appeasement, the stage was set for a transatlantic showdown. Lord Halifax, in making the decision, hoped that the President would agree to cooperate, and that this would make a "real contribution towards world appeasement." Roosevelt did not follow along, but rather gave a reply that was cool at best: "[The Government of the United States] does not attempt to pass upon the political features of accords such as that recently reached between Great Britain and Italy, but this Government has seen the conclusion of an agreement with sympathetic interest because it is proof of the value of peaceful negotiations."
The British went ahead with appeasement not only because they felt it the prudent thing to do, but also because they felt that the potential weaning of fascist Italy from the Rome-Berlin Axis offered more to the security of the British Empire than the potential goodwill of the United States. Thus, to Chamberlain, American ill will towards the appeasement of a government as odious as Mussolini's was an affordable price to pay in order to cultivate Italy not into neutrality. Britain's policy during the later half of the 1930s was to concentrate on European power politics, hoping that the prevention of war would make eventual American aid unnecessary.
From records of the British Government, three main propositions determined the British attitude towards the United States. There was a deep cynicism about any possibility of immediate, reliable help. There was an inclination to expect such help in the long-term. There were underlying fears that such American aid might compromise British interests, her Empire, or even her independence.
Despite the pessimism and the suspicions of both nations, there was nonetheless a detectable movement, both in Britain and in the United States, to the view that eventual friendship and alliance in war were both necessities and certainties. In early 1939, President Roosevelt began pushing harder for a freer hand in foreign affairs, so that he could more fully bring to bear against aggressor nations across the world the weight of the United States of America. In January of that year, in his State of the Union address to the Congress, the President claimed that the neutrality laws "may operate unevenly and unfairly-- may actually give aid to an aggressor and deny it to the victim." Although Roosevelt did not then ask for a repeal of the legislation, there had clearly been a shift of direction, arguably a fundamental one, in the foreign agenda of the Roosevelt Administration.
When asked the next month to lay out his foreign policy, however, Roosevelt stated that the United States would "obviously" remain clear of any "entangling alliances," that the United States would continuously seek the maintenance of world trade, and that the United States would try to limit armaments and lobby for the "political, social, and economic independence" of all nations in the world. In an approximately one minute reply to another question, the President used the word "bunk" four times when referring to reports of a stronger foreign policy against aggressor nations.
Such talk may make it easy to dismiss Mr. Roosevelt's international outlook on world events. But his actions belie his words. In May, at the President's urging, the House debated a "neutrality resolution" eliminating the American embargo on the "sale of arms, munitions, and implements of war to foreign belligerents." Although the bill passed, the isolationists and pacifists had amended the bill so as to make it worthless.
The White House then launched an intensive summer campaign to convince the Congress to enact meaningful reform on the issue. Secretary of State Cordell Hull sought common ground with the isolationists, and tried to deflect talk of possible American belligerency. According to the Roosevelt Administration, American foreign policy had four main tenets. The first and foremost concern of the United States was its own peace and security. The Government would also avoid "being drawn into wars between other nations." We would "at all times avoid entangling alliances or involvements with other nations." Finally, in the event of a war, the United States would adhere to strict neutrality, and within the constrictions of that neutrality, conduct affairs so as to keep the United States at peace.
On the day when Britain went to war, Roosevelt proclaimed, "This nation will remain a neutral nation." But when the revised "neutrality" legislation, having passed through the Congress, came to the President's desk on November 4, 1939, Roosevelt authorized the sale of munitions to the warring nations.
The debate was no longer on a theoretical level. The United States did not remain idle throughout the year 1939, even with the neutrality laws still on the books. German actions in Central Europe forced the United States off the fence it had been trying to straddle since 1918. On the Ides of March, the Third Reich annexed the whole of Czechoslovakia, and in the process violated the principle of self-determination, previously exploited by Berlin to maximum effect, both in Austria and in the Sudetenland. Hitler's Germany also disregarded international obligations and voided its own promises made on Czech sovereignty.
Chamberlain spoke lightly of the German action, and when confronted with national outrage, defended himself for his role in the Munich conference. Roosevelt refused to recognize the Anschluss, an action taken without joint action from either the British or the French: "The Government of the United States has on frequent occasions stated its conviction that only through international support of a program of order based upon law can world peace be assured.
"This Government . . . cannot refrain from making known this country's condemnation of the acts which have resulted in the temporary extinguishment of the liberties of a free people."
The British, above all else, seemed almost driven to inaction by the importance of the crisis. The Chamberlain government seemed to become infected with lethargy, causing Roosevelt. to remark that, "What the British need today is a good, stiff grog, inducing not only the desire to save civilization, but the continued belief that they can do it. In such an event they will have a lot more support from their American cousins."
The British certainly were trying to get that support. They displayed considerable concern over the effects their actions would have on popular opinion in the United States. The British now had an obvious and very great interest in American belligerency, an interest made more so by the fall of France in 1940. The Deputy Chief of the Naval Staff went so far as to state, "We want to make it difficult, not easy, for the United States to remain neutral in a war between Germany and ourselves." Many thought that "the United States will not only talk but do a great deal, and do it quickly, if we have no more Munichs. We nearly lost the U.S.A. over that; but if we now make it clear that henceforth we really are going to stand up, we can have much more confidence in the U.S.A. Anyhow, it is our only chance."
Although we now know that Roosevelt had no intention of entering the war immediately, the German leadership also fell for the bluff. Lord Halifax reported that the Germans were greatly disturbed by the "almost weekly utterances of the President, and had convinced themselves that the United States would come to the aid of Britain and France, not in two years, but probably in two days." Although it is possible that the Germans were engaged in diplomatic deception, the evidence would certainly tend to suggest that they were not.
Herr Ribbentrop, the German foreign minister, argued, likely with great sympathy, that the United States must be kept out of the war in Europe. He believed that only a tripartite agreement with Tokyo could effectively deter the United States from supporting the Allies. The German government saw war with Britain and France as "inevitable" in two to three years, and felt that a German-Japanese alliance would frighten the United States into deeper isolation.
The United States had, however, no intention of joining the Allied cause; that act was deemed by Americans as both unnecessary and unwanted. The President and the Administration still agreed, in 1939, that the British and the French could certainly defeat Germany, even if a protracted conflict ensued. Except for fear of Nazi intrigues in Latin America, the United States had no reason to fear German aggression; a direct attack against the United States seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Roosevelt also knew it to be politically impossible to send another American Expeditionary Force to Europe, unless a "massive German invasion of Britain led to a wave of emotion in the U.S.A."
British military planners recognized this fact, and counted on President Roosevelt to shape and mold public opinion. They could expect nothing substantial from the United States until popular opinion supported it, and they could do nothing to help quicken that shift. Evidence will indicate that there was no meaningful communication between the two governments, even in the tense days of August 1939. Both London and Washington decided to let matters develop before acting. But we should note that a lack of cooperation does not preclude mutual sympathy or interest. Political independence can be commensurate with moral unity, of which there was plenty in the United States. Public opinion overwhelmingly supported Britain in her struggle against Nazi Germany, although there was no such push to aid her.
When war came, the Chamberlain government was replaced by that of Winston Churchill. His friendship with the President of the United States would encourage and lead one of the greatest cooperative efforts in the history of diplomacy or war. On September 11, nine days after Churchill joined the Cabinet as First Lord of the Admiralty, and eight days after the British declaration of war, President Roosevelt sent a letter to Churchill informing him that "I shall at all times welcome it if you will keep me in touch personally with anything you want me to know about . . ." Beginning with that letter, and ending with the President's death in 1945, Roosevelt and Churchill would exchange over seventeen hundred letters, ranging from the comic to the classified, and indicating a deep friendship as well as a diplomatic conversation.
Despite profound sympathy for the British cause, and despite German fears, Roosevelt addressed the United States Congress on September 13 and declared American neutrality: "Destiny first made us, with our sister nations on this hemisphere, joint heirs of European culture. Fate seems now to compel us to assume the task of helping to maintain in the Western world a citadel wherein that civilization may be kept alive. The peace, the integrity, and the safety of the Americas-- these must be kept firm and serene."
As was the case in the First World War, however, the British were soon forced to take measures seen by them as deplorable necessities of total war, but by those in the United States as violations of American sovereignty. The Royal Navy began to search American merchant vessels for contraband and British intelligence began to intercept international mail. President Roosevelt was forced to inform Churchill of the American public opinion on February 1, 1940: "I would not be frank unless I told you that there has been much public criticism here. The general feeling is that the net benefit to your people and to France is hardly worth the definite annoyance caused to us. That is always found to be so in a nation which is 3,000 miles away from the fact of war." The amiable manner in which the disputes were settled is in certain contrast with 1914, when American outrage over similar British actions did not fully subside until after America entered the war. The situation was defused with some compromise on both sides, and the main focus of the "special relationship" again shifted to the war itself.
The United States, while sympathetic to the British cause, continued "harping . . . on the need for London to admit the errors of empire." It was the unofficial opinion of the Roosevelt Administration that such action would significantly influence American public opinion towards the idea that the United States should throw in her lot with Great Britain. Such talk infuriated the British Government, which complained of "the usual combination of inaction and lectures on the high moral plane." Many in Whitehall doubted the importance of American help in any event, and agreed incredibly with the British Cabinet in January of 1940 that a neutral Italy was more in the interest of the British Empire than was the industrial, political, and military might of the United States of America.
The lectures on morality continued throughout the winter, as the United States Government tried to bring the warring sides together, ignoring the fact that neither the British nor the French wanted such action. American sentiment supported an American peace, but few wanted responsibility for it. Washington tried to conduct peace talks but did not attempt to dictate terms to Europe, a prudent policy indeed, since we were in no position to dictate terms to anyone.
In January, Roosevelt made overtures to the Vatican concerning peace talks, an action that the British Foreign Office called "ominous." The culmination of Roosevelt's efforts was the Welles mission; the American diplomat visited the warring capitals in an attempt at a negotiated settlement. The British response was bitter. They saw the United States as indifferent to the British cause; in this they were partially right. Vansittart summarized the British opinion: "Roosevelt is ready . . . to risk the ultimate destruction of the Western Democracies in order to secure the re-election of a Democratic candidate in the United States." Despite the exaggeration, the hostility towards the Welles mission was palpable. Chamberlain was closer to the truth when he reported to the Cabinet that the President would try to stop the war at the expense of embarrassing, even humiliating, the Allies. It infuriated many Britons that America was more concerned with pretentious and idle talk of peace than with the predicament of her English ally.
Talk of peace died out with the end of the Sitzkrieg in 1940. The operations of that spring revealed all too plainly the weakness of the British Empire. Global overstretch had haunted British strategists from decades, and now the paper tiger was being put to the test. The situation was dim indeed, even before the collapse of France, Britain's one reliable ally. Churchill remarked to an aide on May 26, 1940, nearly one month before the French armistice, that "if we could get out of this jam by giving up Malta and Gibraltar and some African colonies, I would jump at it."
Churchill recognized the British predicament, and soon it would become obvious to everyone, as the German war machine tore across the Continent, seizing with remarkable quickness the Scandinavian nations of Denmark and Norway. On May 10, German envoys accused the Dutch and Belgian Governments of planning an attack on the Ruhr, and the countries were occupied within hours. The British Expeditionary Force in Flanders was cut off at Dunkirk, and 300,000 men were forced to return to the British Isles, leaving behind virtually all of their heavy equipment, and too many of their friends. British leaders feared a German annexation of undefended Ireland, a move that would have been a strategic coup de grace for the Third Reich.
Unchecked, German panzers raced on to Paris as French resistance crumbled, and as the B.E.F. withdrew to regroup. The British Government frantically tried to keep the French fighting, but to no avail. On June 10, they even offered to form a joint Anglo-French union, entailing common citizenship and joint organs of government. Nothing came of the offer, and the French Government, operating from Bordeaux, sued for peace on the 17th. Five days later, armistices were concluded with Germany and Italy. Britain stood alone.
The main object of British foreign policy became the securing of American aid. The British Government recognized early on that the key to American aid was American public opinion, and even before the fall of France, Chamberlain's Administration had shown a growing concern over sentiment in the United States. Fearing negative reaction in America, Chamberlain had halted operations in the Baltic during the winter, and had refused to mine Norwegian harbors on February 29. That action delayed, perhaps fatally, the positioning of British troops in Norway to resist a German invasion. British anxiety over American opinion merely increased with each German victory, and with each Allied disaster.
Before the fall of France, all evidence will show, neither country sought a full-scale commitment; indeed, neither saw it to be necessary. His Majesty's Government wanted to avoid dependence on the United States; the Roosevelt Administration feared that the United States would be dragged into yet another war. Limited cooperation, they believed, would be sufficient to check the German threat. It would not be, however, and we can note with irony that the fears of both governments were realized.
In 1940, the goal of the Roosevelt Administration was to provide arms and a "moral uplift" to Great Britain. The President urged wholehearted American aid to accomplish this, short of an American declaration of war. The United States was actively aiding and abetting the Anglo-French cause. We had by the summer of 1940 abandoned all pretense of neutrality. The Axis Governments in Tokyo and Berlin recognized this fact, and were forced to accept it-- one of the prime fears of the German High Command was American entry into the European war. Many in Berlin held German actions towards the United States in World War One to blame for the German defeat; they were probably correct.
Contrary to popular opinion, however, Roosevelt was not secretive about new American commitments. He refused Churchill's requests for secret, personal agreements in both 1940 and 1941, the duration of American neutrality. All American actions were only taken after they were given Congressional approval in open debate. President Roosevelt cannot be accused of leading or pushing an unwilling Republic to war.
The communication between Churchill and the President, however, was substantial. Although no secret agreements were made between them, both military and political discussions were pursued. Churchill, for his part, lobbied Roosevelt hard for aid short of war. "The voice and force of the United States," he wrote the President, "may count for nothing if they are withheld too long . . . All I ask now is that you should proclaim nonbelligerency, which would mean that you would help us with everything short of actually engaging armed forces."
Following the fall of France in June of 1940, the Allied position on the high seas was precipitate. The loss of the French fleet forced the Royal Navy to divert capital ships into the Mediterranean, lest the Italian Navy enter the Atlantic. Even more dangerous was the possibility that the Germans would receive the French Navy as a condition for peace, or that they would merely seize it at a later time. On June 11, 1940, Churchill proposed that Great Britain and the United States begin joint naval staff conversations "in regard to fleet movements both in the Atlantic and the Pacific." Roosevelt declined, but it future naval operations were often taken with regard to the British position, even if no formal agreement had been made.
American anxiety over possible naval disparity fueled renewed appeals for American aid to the British. William White's interventionist committee presented what was a common conviction: "If we have the good will of the Allies when they are defeated, which seems likely, we can make arrangements to get their fleets. If we have their fleets, we can defy Hitler with our fleet in the Atlantic Ocean and theirs in the Pacific Ocean. If we do not help the Allies, if we turn our backs on them, they will see no reason for helping us by giving us their fleets. In which case, if these fleets go to Hitler, he will have the power to take the British possessions in the West Indies. These islands control the Panama Canal. In a few months, he could build air and naval bases and make much trouble for us. If we let him move in after defeating the British, he would be violating the Monroe Doctrine. He will not move in without the British or French fleets. But he will move in with them and war will be certain."
American military planners became concerned over the potential danger to the security of the United States that would manifest itself should the Third Reich ever come to control the French fleet. The President on June 17 sent a message to the Bordeaux Government informing the French that "should the French Government . . . permit the French Fleet to be surrendered to Germany, the French Government will permanently lose the friendship and goodwill of the Government of the United States."
The note was harsh at the urging of Prime Minister Churchill, for the British were no less worried about the future of the French fleet than was the United States. Their apprehensions notwithstanding, however, it is clear that the French had no intention of surrendering their navy, and that they would have rejected any armistice which forced them to cede any part of it to Germany. The danger to the United States was minimal, though. Berlin was already aware that the United States would not permit the transfer to German control of any French possessions in the New World, and they were not yet inclined to anger the United States. For the British, the threat was very real and very imminent. Were the Germans to acquire the French fleet, or even a small portion of it, they would have the logistic support for an immediate invasion of a nearly defenseless United Kingdom, since the lion's share of the British equipment trapped in Flanders. Given, therefore, the circumstances of the situation, the action taken by the Government of the United States can best be viewed as an action taken in the interest of Great Britain.
There was only one question that dominated the American political scene in 1940. Did the security of the United States depend in part on the continued survival of an independent Britain? Isolationism ran strong in the country, and stronger still in the United States Senate, where Gerald Nye of North Dakota argued: "Will helping the Allies keep us out of war? The President thinks that it will. I am sure it would not. We deny that the British Navy [is] America's first line of defense. We deny that the United States can make the world safe from Hitlerism by becoming the silent partner of the British Empire."
Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts furthered the point: "I contend . . . that even if Germany were victorious and desired to conquer the United States, she could never do so. Our national safety is not at stake." 1940 was of course an election year, and both party platforms eventually endorsed, although not without considerable debate, the proposition that the United States should freely aid Great Britain. Although both Roosevelt and the Republican nominee Wendell Wilkie rejected absolutely a declaration of war, both repeatedly insisted on American neutrality and the inviolability of the Monroe Doctrine and believed that it was the duty of the United States to, within the limitations of international law, provide aid, military and otherwise, to nations fighting for their freedom.
Former President Herbert Hoover outlined, on June 25, 1940, a suggested policy that was widely agreed upon. First, the "immediate dangers" to the United States could not be exaggerated. Second, the state of preparedness of the United States military must be "competent." And finally, the United States must supply arms to nations defending their freedom against aggression provided that no action would "take us to war."
Then, in the autumn of 1940, came the Blitz. The Luftwaffe had been relentlessly targeting air bases across southern England for weeks, and the Royal Air Force was tired, short on supplies, short on men, and on its last legs. Then, inexplicably, Hitler ordered his air force to raid British cities, especially London. The beleaguered men of the R.A.F. survived and regrouped to fatally cripple the Luftwaffe in the skies over London. Not only was the operation a tactical failure for Germany, it gave a huge psychological boost to Great Britain. Across the Atlantic, sympathy for the British soared, as U.S. journalists, nearly all of them pro-Allied, gave the American public the impression that all London was ablaze. The speeches of Winston Churchill were broadcast in the United States, where they received as much attention as those of President Roosevelt. The fortitude of the British impressed even the most avowed isolationists, and public support for aid to Britain increased dramatically.
The President told the nation in late 1940 that "the people of Europe who are defending themselves do not ask us to do their fighting. They ask us for the implements of war." London had asked the United States for old destroyers, to help contain the German threat in the Atlantic. On August 2, the American Cabinet, based on the report of U.S. Naval Intelligence, agreed that the destroyers could be crucial to the continued survival of Great Britain. For any such agreement to be accepted on Capitol Hill, however, there needed to be concrete benefits to the security of the United States. It was eventually decided that, in exchange for U.S. destroyers, Britain would lease to the United States numerous island bases in both Newfoundland and the Caribbean. Many in the United States Government saw a destroyers-for-bases deal as advantageous to both nations. America would be providing substantial aid to Great Britain, as well as greatly enhancing the defensive position of the United States in the Atlantic, making the Caribbean a national lake.
It was not reassuring to the British, however, that so much of their national security depended so heavily on action by the United States, and it was made none the more so by the fact that American action was not assured. "Willy-nilly," wrote British statesman William Butterworth in December of 1940, "the United States holds one end of the Scales of Fate on which balances precariously the future of the British Empire. . . The British Government is aware that it is not in a position to resist quid pro quo demands from the United States, the British are not ready givers. . . But the fact remains that they will in the last analysis stand and deliver."
Mr. Butterworth was correct; Great Britain was in no position to bargain with the United States. They were forced to satisfy American interests if their own were to be saved. The Prime Minister wrote Mr. Roosevelt in August of 1940 to inform the President that the official policy of His Majesty's Government was "to make the United States safe on their Atlantic Seaboard beyond a peradventure." Obvious in the letter is the British provision for American security. Equally obvious, considering the global naval situation, is a tacit line of demarcation, granting the Atlantic as mare Britannicum and obtaining in the Pacific mare nostrum. The British Fleet would hold the Axis in the Atlantic, and in the Pacific the United States Navy would rule the seas. Indeed, in April of 1940, the United States Pacific Fleet, normally stationed in San Diego, had been sent for maneuvers to Pearl Harbor. Roosevelt had also seriously considered sending a portion of the Fleet to Singapore, and several capital ships made a courtesy visit to Canberra. The Japanese, reports Mr. Gleason, were "duly impressed with the presence of the American Fleet so far from its usual base," and the show of force can be considered a success.
The United States, during the summer of 1940, did begin to involve itself more and more with the tumultuous events surrounding her shores. Even so, President Roosevelt had no clear mandate for such action, and lacking that, his options were fairly limited. 1940 was of course an election year, and Roosevelt hoped that the coming election would provide him with the needed popular mandate. Roosevelt would win that year with nearly fifty-five percent of the popular vote.
Churchill cabled the President shortly after he had been elected to an unprecedented third term. The message provides an invaluable insight into the conditions of the time. "Unless I have misread both your own speeches and the attitude of the public opinion as disclosed in the recent election, the United States has now reached the settled conviction that its own security and future, as well as the future of democracy, is inseparably bound up with the independence of the nations of the British Commonwealth. . . . The plain fact is that control of the Pacific by the United States Navy and of the Atlantic by the British Navy are now indispensable conditions upon which the security of both our countries depends."
The winter of 1940-1 marked a turning point in the history of the Anglo-American alliance. Up until this time, they had been bound by the restraints of public ambivalence; they had not been motivated by undeniable need. Both conditions were removed rapidly; the world in January of 1941 did not resemble the world of January, 1940. In early 1940, the Maginot Line was still the ultimate defensive weapon. By 1941, however, the Allies had been driven from the Continent.
Churchill wrote the President on December 7, 1940 to highlight the common cause of democracy, and to appeal for American aid: "If, as I believe, you are convinced, Mr. President, that the defeat of the Nazi and Fascist tyranny is a matter of high concern to the people of the United States and to the Western Hemisphere, you will regard this letter . . . as a statement of the minimum action necessary to the achievement of our common purpose." There followed a rather elaborate discussion of British war aims, and suggestions on how America could help. And repeating a fairly common theme, the Prime Minister continued: "It seems to me that the vast majority of American citizens have recorded their conviction that the safety of the United States as well as the future of our two democracies and the kind of civilisation for which they stand are bound up with the survival and independence of the British Commonwealth of Nations. Therefore I submit with very great respect for your good and friendly consideration that there is a solid identity of interest between the British Empire and the United States."
As the year came to a close, Roosevelt talked with the American people on December 29. He "reviewed . . . that gallant fight of the British people . . . against the Axis Powers in Europe and the Orient." The President warned the nation that "our own future security is greatly dependent on the outcome of that fight. . . Thinking in terms of today and tomorrow, I make the direct statement to the American people that there is far less chance of the United States getting into war, if we do all we can now to support the nations defending themselves against attack by the Axis."
There was no such outrage as followed Roosevelt's Quarantine Speech in 1937; the United States was now undoubtedly and openly aligned with the Allies. It was Roosevelt's desire in 1941 that the United States aid the British Isles with arms and not armies. He preferred to remain officially neutral, not only for obvious political advantages, but also because American entry into the war would lead to a "potentially disastrous cutback in supplies to the Allies" as the American military rearmed itself. Roosevelt also feared that entry into the war would encourage the Japanese to strike in the Pacific. A "neutral" United States could help control the seas, and could effectively and efficiently supply the British military.
On December 17, 1940, President Roosevelt told the nation that "quite aside from our historic and current interest in the survival of democracy in the world as a whole, it is equally important from a selfish point of view and of American defense that we should do everything possible to help the British Empire to defend itself." Roosevelt asserted that "a nation can have peace with the Nazis only at the price of total surrender." And so, on January 10, 1941, the famous Lend-Lease bill was introduced into the House of Representatives as, ironic enough, H.R. 1776.
Reaction in the British Isles was more than positive. The Parliament agreed that the idea was "very attractive," while Chamberlain's Secretary of War said that "the evils of this war will have been almost worthwhile," if the British were successful in securing American aid and alliance. Churchill himself on February 9 appealed to the American public at large, saying "Give us the tools and we will finish the job."
The Lend-Lease Bill reached the President's desk with remarkable ease, passing in the lower chamber on February 8 by a 260-165 margin, and in the Senate a month later, 60-31. Churchill wired Roosevelt on March 9: "Our blessings from the whole of the British Empire go out to you and the American nation for this very present help in time of trouble." The first appropriations bill under the new law was proposed on March 12, and passed twelve days later.
Lend-Lease was an immediate success. Before two weeks had passed, American industry had provided for Great Britain 5,400 airplanes, 400,000 Thompson sub-machine guns, 3,400 Universal carriers, 5,500 heavy guns, as well as ammunition for them, sixty patrol bombers, and 180 Navy fighters. No action taken by Washington to date had even come close to providing the concrete and substantial aid to the Allied cause than did Lend-Lease.
Churchill continued, however, to privately lobby Roosevelt for American belligerency, knowing that such an action would ensure an eventual Allied victory, even if Japan entered the war in the Pacific. "If all Europe, the greater part of Asia, and Africa became by conquest or agreement under duress a part of the Axis system," he wrote, "a war maintained by the British Isles, the United States, Canada, and Australia against this mighty conglomeration would be a long, hard, and bleak proposition. Therefore, if you cannot take more advanced positions now or very soon, the vast balances may be tilted heavily to our disadvantage. Mr. President, I am sure you will not misunderstand me if I speak to you exactly what is in my mind. The one decisive counterweight I can so to balance the growing pessimism . . . would be if the United States were immediately to range herself with us as a belligerent power." President Roosevelt quietly ignored the Prime Minister's eloquent appeal, and he informed Churchill that he would not repeat the secret agreements of the last war, a move which the President viewed as one of Mr. Wilson's "most egregious blunders." The President said that he would enter into no covenants "except as authorized under the terms of the Lend-Lease Act."
The cooperation between the world's two great nations could come at no better time, for the Japanese were again beating the drums of war in the Orient. Japan wanted their "fair share" of the Pacific, a sphere of influence to rival those of Europe and America. Tokyo was unanimous in the opinion that Japan must have its Lebensraum. But London, Amsterdam, and Washington were equally determined to maintain theirs.
The Japanese began to menace the security of American interests in the Pacific, and tensions there inevitably began a slow and steady rise. By 1941 the line in the sand was drawn; it remained to be seen only when the Japanese would cross it. On April 13, 1941, the Tokyo Government completed a non-aggression pact with the Soviet Union, leaving only the British Empire and the United States as adversaries in a Pacific war.
American policy in the Pacific was the support of the British Empire, to help deter a Japanese attack on British possessions while the British were engaged in Europe. The largest part of the American fleet was sent to the Pacific, at British urging, and the United States was willing to go further than might be expected to secure the British Empire in the Orient.
Some in the Roosevelt Administration saw economic sanctions against Japan as a way to gain leverage in the situation. But there was justifiable fear that, if the United States cut off Japan's supply of raw materials, the Japanese would look elsewhere for them, most likely in the Dutch East Indies and neighboring British holdings, resulting in the least desirable of all confrontations, one wherein the United States was neutral and Great Britain at war with Germany, Italy, and Japan. Roosevelt could not ignore or acquiesce to Tokyo's aggression, however, and so he, on July 26 froze all Japanese credits in the United States. On August 24 he cautioned Tokyo that further aggression would cause the United States "to take immediately any and all steps necessary to safeguard United States interests." A week later Winston Churchill declared that the British Empire would support the United States in the Pacific at all cost.
Negotiations with the Japanese had been taking place throughout the year, but no progress was being made, although Roosevelt tried both appeasement and intimidation. The policy of the Japanese Government was a devious one of "talk and expand." Neither the United States nor Great Britain could effectively deliver an adequate response, for fear of war, however, and appeasement failed as surely in the East as in the West.
But on August 17, President Roosevelt informed the Japanese Ambassador, Mr. Nomura, that if Japan took "any further steps in pursuance of a policy or program of military domination by force or threat of force of neighboring countries," the United States would "be compelled to take immediately any and all steps which it may deem necessary toward safeguarding the legitimate rights and interests of the United States and American nationals and toward insuring the safety and security of the United States." The utterance, almost identical to the one of August 24, is harsh enough in its language to be considered an ultimatum.
Churchill considered an actual ultimatum to be the best response to the Japanese threat, but Roosevelt objected on Constitutional grounds. Whatever its merits, it was a non-issue. The Japanese themselves admit that even the sternest of ultimata would have been totally ignored by General Tojo's Government, which on October 17 replaced the more moderate regime of Prince Fumimaro Konoye.
Whatever the threat to the United States-- and it was certainly substantial-- at the brunt of any assault would be the British Empire, and especially the White Dominions of Australia and New Zealand. Unfortunately, no British leader fully comprehended the danger presented by the Japanese. Churchill himself was particularly naïve to the actual balance of power in the area. He believed in November of 1941 that the arrival in Singapore of two capital ships, the H.M.S. Repulse and the H.M.S. Prince of Wales, would deter the Japanese. In any event, the British were not prepared to send any significant forces to the theater any time soon, for they could not afford to strip them from areas already under attack, and Whitehall had already judged the defense of the Suez more important than Australasia.
Given these circumstances, it is not surprising that both Australia and New Zealand opened direct diplomatic relations with the United States for the first time in 1940, and that they pushed the United States for joint defenses. John Curtin, the Australian premier, declared that "Australia looks to America, free of any pangs as to our traditional links of kinship with the United Kingdom." Not only does the event show the inability of Great Britain to hold her Empire, it also shows a new order emerging: the Pacific was now mare nostrum. So serious was the discrepancy between Britain's commitments and her capabilities, officials in both London and Washington spoke seriously, if not realistically, of American sovereignty over the British Empire.
The British were convinced that they must support the United States in the Pacific no matter what, although they clearly had more to lose, because they saw cooperation with the United States as the only way to prevent the dreaded scenario of an Anglo-Japanese conflict. Churchill wrote that "if Japan attacked the United States without declaring war on us, we should at once range ourselves at the side of the United States and declare war on Japan." Churchill on November 10 assured Roosevelt that "the British declaration would follow within the hour."
Such was the best foreseeable occurrence, believed the British Government. They much preferred a U.S.-Japanese conflict, which the British would join, to an Anglo-Japanese engagement, with the American role unknown. Nevertheless, British strategists, from August of 1941, had worked under the assumption that the United States would go to war if the British Empire was attacked.
On November 17, the U.S. Ambassador warned the President that a Japanese attack should be expected in the Pacific "at any moment." On November 28, Roosevelt and his military advisers had agreed that the United States would have to fight if Japan struck any British or Dutch possessions, although the Administration did not inform the British of this commitment until December 1, when the President assured them "that any British commitment would have full U.S. support."
War was imminent, but both Washington and London expected the blow to come in Thailand or the Netherlands East Indies, and not on American soil, for common sense dictated that the Japanese would seek to avoid a confrontation with the United States. But Roosevelt had prudently advised the Prime Minister on October 15: "The Jap situation is definitely far worse, . . . you and I have two months of respite in the Far East." Fifty-three days later, the United States of America entered what would become the second-bloodiest war in her history.
The Senate passed the declaration of war 82-0, and in the House the declaration was approved 388-1. Roosevelt told Churchill that "today all of us are in the same boat with you and the people of the Empire, and it is a ship which will not and cannot be sunk."
America instantly united against the infamy, and isolationist groups disappeared overnight. Senator Gerald Nye, one of the most ardent of the isolationists, proclaimed that "there is nothing left for Congress to do but declare war." In that way, the Japanese attack was an unquestionable failure. Had they attacked British possessions, the United States would have gone to war, and with her Fleet intact. But public opinion might have been divided. Would a situation similar to that in Korea or Vietnam have arisen, if an ambivalent public had not been roused to martial patriotism? It is a question that will never be answered. We do not hesitate to classify the strike on Pearl Harbor as a tactical blunder, but was it not a strategic success?
The loses of early 1942 filled Churchill with pessimism: "When I reflect how I have longed and prayed for the entry of the United States into the war, I find it difficult to realise how gravely our British affairs have deteriorated by what has happened since December 7. We have suffered the greatest disaster in our history at Singapore, and other misfortunes will come thick and fast upon us."
The Prime Minister of Great Britain was thus forced to stand before the House of Commons on January 27, 1942 and proclaim the utter weakness of the British Empire. "There has never been a moment, there never could have been a moment," declaimed Churchill, "when Great Britain or the British Empire, single-handed, could fight Germany and Italy, could wage the Battle of Britain, the Battle of the Atlantic, and the Battle of the Middle East-- and at the same time stand thoroughly prepared in Burma, the Malay Peninsula, and generally in the Far East." The story of the war, from the tragedies of early 1942 to the victories of 1945, is quite familiar, and I will avoid a repetition of it here.
Suffice to say, that during the war, the United States and Great Britain were forced to combine their efforts in order to secure an eventual peace. As Francis Loewenheim writes, "Never before in history had two allies come as near to success in pooling their resources, in meshing their military and diplomatic efforts, and in planning and carrying out a common strategy as did the two great English-speaking nations between 1939 and 1945."
Churchill commented in September of 1943 on success of the alliance: "[it was] a blessing that Japan attacked the United States and thus brought America wholeheartedly and unitedly into the war. Greater good fortune has rarely happened to the British Empire that this event which has revealed our friends and foes in their true light, and may lead, through the merciless crushing of Japan, to a new relationship of immense benefit to the English-speaking countries, and to the whole world."
Militarily, the Anglo-American alliance was an unqualified success. If there is to be criticism, it should be brought to bear on the post-war strategy of Churchill and Roosevelt, for only there was strength and commitment lacking. Both leaders were fairly uninterested in post-war planning, and the British Foreign Office often warned of "the clash of our short-term and long-term interests." Churchill, the evidence suggests, did not care about social forces of the kind that would dominate much of the post-war world. Roosevelt, according to his close aides, had grown disenchanted with world affairs, and sought to return to the domestic policies of his first two terms.
The diplomatic plan of Churchill and Roosevelt was never as grand as the military. Both the President and Prime Minister largely ignored the moral questions or the ideological nature of the war. Churchill refused any compromise on the fate of the British Empire, even threatening his resignation to end discussion with Roosevelt over the independence of India in 1942. Churchill failed to see that "war was becoming revolution." The conflict had stirred sentiment for independence in the Third World, and the British would be caught unaware.
Neither did President Roosevelt realize what the magnitude of the anti-imperialist tide in the aftermath of the war would be. Although he, as a good American, opposed the idea of imperialism in theory, he would not have been troubled at the idea of, in the case of the British and the French, the continuation of the status quo ante bellum.
We will never know how Roosevelt would have responded to the crises of the post-war world, because of his unfortunate death on April 12, 1945. But the President had on March 17 written Prime Minister Churchill with the message: "Our friendship is the rock on which I build for the future of the world so long as I am one of the builders." That friendship was both personal and national, and showed the importance that Roosevelt placed on continued Anglo-American leadership in the world.
I hope that I have succeeded in outlining the relationship between the two great English-speaking nations. The alliance, as Churchill suggested in 1898, was made possible by the common interests of the United States and the British Empire. It was forged by the fire of political necessity, and its strength was such that it defeated the gravest threat that the free world has ever faced.