Did That Really Happen?

Counterfactual history is the ultimate “What if?”. In the anything but counterfactual “Born Equal: Remaking America’s Constitution, 1840 -1920”, legal historian Akhil Reed Amar summarized the nature of the contrafactual thought experiment as follows:

“We can never know the answer [to a contrafactual proposition] with anything approaching certainty because history happened (and is continuing to happen) in one big jumble. The historian cannot enter a scientific laboratory and remove the [historic event] and then observe what happens in this alternative universe. But it is possible for the historian to probe actual historical evidence and offer defensible conjectures.”  

I am no historian but appreciate the way that counterfactual arguments shed light on future events that did happen. As such, I am going to play the game.

As we all know, on December 7, 1941, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor starting American involvement in WWII. On December 8, Franklin Roosevelt appeared before Congress delivering his immortal “day of infamy” speech. Roosevelt asked that Congress declare a state of war between the United States and the Japanese Empire (what a concept). War was declared against Japan 33 minutes later.

Roosevelt did not ask for a declaration of war against Germany on December 8, and, in fact, never mentioned Germany in his speech. Authorization was sought solely in respect of Japan, not its allies. Four days later Germany declared war on the United States for “a series of provocations”. Later that same day the United States Congress (not the President) returned the favor.

My contrafactual question is what would have happened if Germany had not issued its declaration but remained ostensibly neutral in the U.S. war against Japan, similarly to how the U.S. remained ostensibly neutral in Germany’s war against Great Britain. Would there have been the support for a declaration against Germany if they hadn’t acted first? What would the impact have been if the U.S. delayed entry in the European war?

There is no doubt that Roosevelt thought the U.S. should be involved in the war against Germany. However, Roosevelt was hamstrung. The Neutrality Act of 1939 and other existing laws forbade direct aid to the combatants, though it did allow the sale of arms and other materiel on a “cash and carry” basis. Roosevelt thereafter initiated the “lend/lease” program to support the British. It was extended to the Soviet Union in November of 1941. This was likely a large part of the “provocations” that induced the German declaration.

If Roosevelt was dead set on entering the European war, why didn’t he ask Congress for such support when war fever was at a pitch after the Japanese attack? After all, Germany was Japan’s ally and while there was no evidence of direct German involvement in Pearl Harbor they backed the Japanese actions. To answer that we need to look at the state of American society in the years leading to the war.

The “Greatest Generation” cheerleaders like to paint a picture where U.S. citizens recognized and recoiled from the brutality of the Nazi regime as it grew throughout the 1930’s and, as such, were poised to take up arms in a democratic crusade in December of 1941. The truth is much more complex.

The 1930’s depression was as politically disruptive as it was economically devastating. Many thought that republican government had to be replaced. In the 1950’s America became familiar with those who had looked to the communist experiment of the Soviet Union as a template for the U.S., but just as many looked to the fascist societies of Germany and Italy for guidance.

For these proto fascists, Hitler stood as a bulwark against communist incursion. He also promoted a top-down economic plan that seemed attractive to many struggling with the depression. Organizations like the German-American Bund, the Silver Legion of America and the Black Legion praised Hitler and his policies.

Numerically these groups were relatively small, yet their followers far outstripped those that joined. For example, the Christian Front of Father Coughlin was not large, yet his radio program espousing their views attracted an estimated 30 million listeners per week. We can only assume that many, if not most, agreed with his never-ending antisemitic, pro-fascist screeds.

The America First Committee of Charles Lindbergh, formed in 1940, boasted over 800,000 members. While its main theme was that the U.S. should stay out of the European conflict, many of those that led the organization were clearly sympathetic to the Nazis. Lindbergh himself famously opined that Germany can “dam the Asiatic hordes” and praised Hitler as a “great man”.

Hitler’s eugenics-based policies were not the impediment to support we suppose. They were largely based on an American “scientific” consensus. The Eugenics Record Office run by Harry Hamilton Laughlin was a powerful force in American politics, instrumental, along with sister organizations, in the restrictive immigration policies of the 1920’s. Laughlin bragged that the 1935 Nazi “racial hygiene laws” were based on model legislation he had drafted.

Sympathy with Hitler’s policies reflected the depth of antisemitism in 1930’s America, bolstered by these eugenic theories. While many Americans were shocked by events like Kristallnacht, distrust of Jews was widespread. The popularity of antisemites like Coughlin and Henry Ford echoed public opinion. Many that rejected their virulent rhetoric, or the Nazi behavior, believed that Jews were a major problem. Numerous historians have opined that antisemitism in the U.S. was at its peak in the 1930’s.

This was reflected in popular culture. Even though all the predominant studios in Hollywood were led by Jews, only one, Warner Brothers, regularly put out anti-Nazi films prior to December 1941. The other studios were dissuaded from doing so partly because they did not want to alienate the lucrative German market, but also because they were afraid of a domestic backlash.

All of this leads me to believe that Roosevelt would have had a hard time getting Congress to issue a declaration of war against Germany just because of Pearl Harbor. It is likely that was why he did not even try, despite his predilections. Without a declaration from Germany the America Firsters may well have argued that the Japanese attack was even more reason to stay out of the European conflict. Instead of sending materiel to Britan and the USSR, all U.S. resources should be devoted to exacting revenge on the Japanese. Such arguments would likely have gotten a sympathetic hearing.

It would probably have taken a direct provocation from Germany, like the attacks on American shipping that had much to do with the U.S. entry into WWI, for Roosevelt to act. Those provocations would likely have been forthcoming. Hitler was rash (an understatement) and could not have held back for long. His peremptory declaration of December 11, 1941, is ample evidence of that. It is hard to imagine the U.S. staying out of the European war for any significant period of time.

Such a delay in the declaration was unlikely to have a significant impact on the outcome of the war. Commencement of hostilities against Germany did allow for an acceleration of badly needed U.S. aid to the U.S.S.R., but it is inconceivable that Roosevelt would have abandoned Germany’s foes even without a formal declaration, irrespective of public opinion. Regardless, it is improbable that Hitler could have prevailed on his eastern front, and to lose the eastern front was to lose the war.

So, if my conclusion is that the impact of Germany refraining from declaring war on the U.S. in December 1941 was minimal, what was the point of this? First, once this question imposed itself on me, I wanted to see it through. To be honest, I was not sure where I was going to come out when I started writing. I had to lay it out and see what emerged.

Second, I want to destroy the myth that the “Greatest Generation” was a far-sighted anti-Nazi monolith. The WWII generation did step up and do its duty when called upon, but it was not ideological. The mood was nationalistic, and the hatred for the Nazis was typical of that for any enemy, and probably less than that for the Japanese. There was no great out poring of sympathy for persecuted Jews until the full extent of the Nazi genocidal programs became known. And there certainly wasn’t any sense among white troops that the war should impact U.S. race relations.

Third, and most importantly, I think that the period shortly before WWII sheds light on the current divisions in this country. The Nazis made the overt antisemitism of people like Coughlin and Ford untenable. People saw where such rhetoric could lead. Similarly, the eugenics consensus evaporated. It was no longer a theory that could be blithely put forward as gospel.

While the reaction to Nazi atrocities may have altered public discourse, it would be ridiculous to think that millions just changed their corresponding views. People would not have put aside their prejudices just because airing them was no longer fashionable. Yes, the Eugenics Record Office and its ilk disappeared, but the race-based doctrines it espoused were firmly implanted.

It was also verboten after WWII to cite Nazi Germany or Mussolini’s Italy as exemplars for U.S. governmental policy. Proponents of a more top-down and less democratic structure had to find other ways to argue their cause. Those energies were largely channeled into the anti-communist scares of the 1950’s.

The Civil Rights movement and the unpopular Vietnam war drove those tendencies further underground. For a while it seemed that the better angels of our nature had won out. The echoes of the right-wing movements of the 1930’s now seemed fringe and out of touch.

We now must face the fact that these views never went away. Many in this country believe that an executive driven government is the answer to perceived chaos. The prejudices that drove the support for Coughlin, Ford and Lindbergh may have morphed somewhat, but they are still strong.

It is human nature to believe that our own times are the most riven with discord. We see the past through rose-colored glasses inventing a world that was united, upstanding and pure. If we could only return to that golden age, we would be fine.  

The truth is that the battles endemic in the founding of this country, leading to the Civil War and then continuing through the 20th Century must be fought again and again. When the current divisions simmer down one way or the other, and they will, we must never allow ourselves to believe that the ingrained beliefs driving these divisions have been forever set aside. History – factual history – says otherwise.

[For further reading see: Looking for the Good War: American Amnesia and the Violent Pursuit of Happiness by Elizabeth Samet; The Abandonment of the Jews: America and the Holocaust 1941-1945 by David Wyman; War Against the Weak: Eugenics and America’s Campaign to Create a Master Race by Edwin Black].

Ms. Frankenstein?

I recently went to hear Quiara Alegria Hudes speak about her new novel, “The White Hot”. Ms. Hudes is best known for her play “In the Heights”, and the subsequent film screenplay, as well as for her memoir “My Broken Language”. She was also the screenwriter for Lin-Manuel Miranda’s animated movie musical “Vivo”.

Ms. Hudes explained that she wanted the chief protagonist in her novel to be an anti-hero, someone you rooted for despite a series of questionable life decisions. In crafting this character, she looked to other anti-heroes in literature. She cited the works of Toni Morrison as especially influential, then added that she also drew inspiration from Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”.

I was a bit taken aback by the reference to “Frankenstein”, as I never considered the good doctor or his progeny as anti-heroes. It was what Ms. Hudes said next, however, that really blew me away. Very matter-of-factly she opined that “Frankenstein” was about motherhood, but that Mary Shelley had to make the two main characters men because the times would not accept the story if they had been women.

Ms. Hudes moved on, but I was stopped dead in my tracks. The Frankenstein story has been ubiquitous throughout my life. I was first introduced to it through the James Whale 1931 movie when I was about 10 and my sister insisted that we watch the Saturday evening creature feature. I was entranced then and have remained so.

I have read Shelley’s book at least 4 or 5 times, always finding additional nuance and depth. It took me a few readings to appreciate how the story structure, with a lost man being chased across an arctic landscape narrating his plight, infuses the plot with tension. I also grew to grasp the subtlety in the character of the “creature”.

In addition to reading the book, I consumed every Frankenstein movie version I could find. From the Whale sequel to his original, “The Bride of Frankenstein”, through all the lesser Universal progeny, such as “Son of Frankenstein” and “The Ghost of Frankenstein”. Then there were the more modern takes, such as Kenneth Branagh’s 1994 film “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein”, which stuck to the structure of the novel, and the stage version with Benedict Cumberbatch and Johnny Miller alternating roles.

There are also lighter takes, such as “Young Frankenstein”, which I consider the ultimate movie parody and one of my all-time favorite films. Silly offshoots, such as “The Munsters” and “Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein”, while not as clever, were also devoured. In all, Wikipedia lists 469 known feature films, 236 short films, 93 TV series and 394 TV episodes that feature some version or interpretation of Frankenstein, and while I have not seen most of them, I have seen many.

In just this last year, I reveled in Guillermo de Toro’s magnificent Frankenstein, which followed the novel’s lead, but added its own refinement to both the maker and his creation. I also saw Hammer productions 1957 “The Curse of Frankenstein”, in which the monster is nothing but. In addition, I read Christopher Moore’s “Anima Rising”, which uses the “Bride” as the main protagonist, somehow plopped down in 1890’s Vienna and hooking up with Gustav Klimt.

It seems with every distillation of the story a new interpretation emerges. Is it a warning that there are, or should be, limits to scientific exploration? Is it an admonishment against playing God? Is Shelley telling us that monsters are not born, but made? Is it a plea to celebrate difference rather than fear it? Is it a Christian allegory, with the creature as a stand-in for Satan?

As far as I know Shelley never provided a guide to her intent. There is, however, a clue in the subordinate clause in the title. The full title of the novel is “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus”. While that should be helpful, it creates more questions than it answers.

Quick reminder. Prometheus was a Titan who defied Zeus by stealing fire from Olympus and giving it to humans. That gift was a mixed bag. It can be viewed as the dawn of independence from the Gods for us mortals and the birth of civilization. But Prometheus fate was a warning against the dangers of unbridled human striving. After all, Prometheus punishment for his theft was to be bound to a rock for eternity, having his liver eaten by an eagle, only to grow back so that it could be eaten again the next day.

Assuming that Baron Frankenstein was the stand in for Prometheus, the punishment for his arrogance is clear. After all, he is doomed to being pursued by his creation through the most inhospitable landscape on earth. Just like for the Titan, there is no respite. But what was the Doctor’s gift to mankind? Are we to see his experiments in fabricating life as a boon to humanity akin to fire? That seems farfetched in light of the outcome. Somehow, I just can’t make the analogy work.

Considering these questions and the comments made by Quiara Alegria Hudes I realized that I should look into who exactly Mary Shelley was, something I am ashamed to say I have never done. When I have thought of her at all, I have pictured Elsa Lanchester in Whale’s “Bride”, coyly telling the manic duo of Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron that there was more to the initial story. In my mind she might as well have been an anonymous scribe. She was anything but.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (nee Godwin) was the daughter of political philosopher William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft, whose 1792 book “A Vindication of the Rights of Women” was and remains of seminal importance in the struggle for gender equality. Unfortunately, Wollstonecraft died when Mary was 11 days old. She was raised by her father, and her stepmother, who, in classic fairy tale fashion, purportedly favored her own children to Mary. What is non-refutable is that Mary hated her stepmother.

Mary and Percy Bysshe began seeing each other when she was 16 and he 21 and already married. The couple ran away, fleeing Mary’s family. She soon became pregnant, having a girl who did not survive. Over the next few years, she had a son who lived but also experienced the premature death (aren’t they all) of three other children.

Even this criminally brief and incomplete synopsis of what was an extraordinary life, reinforces Hudes’ argument that “Frankenstein” was more of a personal statement than I ever considered. Perhaps the Doctor did not want to play God, but mother. At any rate, his journey clearly reflects the psychological complexities of parenthood. It is highly improbable that Shelley, with her complicated history, wasn’t aware of this.

Like all great art, Frankenstein stands up to multiple interpretations. It is why the story has remained a cultural touchstone for over 200 years and withstood variations, both good and bad. Considering it in light of Shelley’s personal circumstances just adds another very intriguing wrinkle. It may be time to pick the book up once again.

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