America Looks at the War

VOLUME 165

NUMBER 2

FEBRUARY 1940

BY RAOUL DE ROUSSY DE SALES

SOMETIME last winter I was told that I should register my name with the State Department under ‘an Act to require the registration of certain persons employed by agencies to disseminate propaganda in the United States and for other purposes.’ My job being that of correspondent in America for a French newspaper, it seemed to me rather unpleasant to register as a propaganda agent. Nevertheless, I went down to Washington and talked with the officials in charge of this new service. ‘The law,’ they told me in substance, ‘never having been put to a test, it is difficult to say who is and who is not a propaganda agent, but our advice to you is to be on the safe side.’

I expressed my objections to being classified as an ‘agent,’ —a rather sinister word, I thought, — but after being questioned by the State Department official, and reading the law carefully, I found that I could not pretend not to be one. According to this law, my only chance of evasion would have been to prove that my activities were strictly limited to sending news to France. If I wrote in American publications, if I lectured and even if I answered questions about France, I could be accused of being a propagandist for my country. Being unable to deny that I have written and lectured in the United States and answered thousands of questions about France, I finally submitted and added my name to a list which contained mostly such suspicious characters as the heads of shipping companies, tourist bureaus, banks, perfume and wine exporters, and so forth.

Every six months I am called upon to renew my declaration and certify that I am still carrying on the dubious activities which the mere fact of the registration implies. To say that this gives me sleepless nights or that my new status of ‘foreign agent’ has alienated any of my friends would be an exaggeration. In fact, the only beneficiary of this Act up to now seems to be the laundryman who lives next door to me and who is also a notary public. He makes fifty cents a year out of me to certify my biannual declaration. But otherwise my life has been unchanged and I have not as yet been called up by the Dies Committee.

Nevertheless, now that there is a war in Europe and now that I am a citizen of one of the belligerent countries, I feel it is my duty towards the readers to let them know the worst before they read any further. Moreover, even if I were not registered as a foreign agent (Number 159), I should still have to make a few admissions before presenting these notes on and about the war.

Copyright 1940, by The Atlantic Monthly Company, Boston, Mass. All rights reserved.

I should have to say that, being French, I am naturally very biased in this distant European brawl. I hope that the English and French will win this war with the minimum of effort and that we shall get rid of Hitler and his friends — but not too soon. I do not want him to retire quietly, as he told Sir Nevile Henderson he might do, and spend the rest of his life in Berchtesgaden with his paint and brush. The whole world already knows that Hitler is a bad painter, but the legend of his political genius should be dispelled, and I cannot think of any better punishment for him than to live long enough to see the world show him up for what he is: history’s masterpiece in the already overcrowded gallery of famous mediocrities.

I should have to admit that, being French, I naturally hope that we get as many allies or friends as we can possibly find. My only reason for having no interest whatsoever in whether or not America keeps out of war is that, as far as I know, there is no room on the Maginot Line or behind it for anybody else but the French and the English at the moment. The Allies do not need men from America, but they need a good many other things, some of which they already have, — such as, for instance, a preponderance of good wishes, — and all manner of supplies.

But I have been spared all these scruples concerning the admissions I might have to make since it is a matter of public knowledge that I am registered in Washington as a ‘foreign agent.’ Anybody has therefore a legal right to be suspicious of anything I may say or write. Every word I utter can be considered as propaganda, and although the notes I have assembled here may look innocent I shall not be at all surprised if they appear to some as loaded with ulterior motives. As a matter of fact, I should probably be unable to prove that they are not. We have all become so obsessed by the word ‘propaganda,’ and so alert at detecting it everywhere, that no one can be sure that his innermost and most personal convictions are not the result of it.

Moreover, the following notes about the war are not intended to clarify the situation as it is today or as it will be when they are published. I make not the slightest pretension of explaining the world we are now living in. It has become, more than ever before in history, a matter of personal opinion. I do not know what is going to happen tomorrow. Will the war last two months, or three years, or a century? I am unable to tell. Were I a commentator on the radio or a columnist, I should be hard put to it and could not keep my job for very long. The following remarks have merely a general character and no particular purpose besides drawing attention to certain attitudes of the Americans towards the European war as seen through the eyes of Agent No. 159.

II

Like most — if not all — observers of American opinion, I was wrong in my predictions made before the war as to what the reactions of the American public would be when the war actually broke out. I thought that the pent-up animosity against Hitler which expressed itself with such violence during the last few years would reach a climax. The Americans, more than any other people in the world, and certainly more than the English and the French, had shown over a period of years a remarkable awareness and intelligence concerning the real nature of Hitlerism and its dangers. All the events from the reoccupation of the Rhineland onwards had been predicted by American students of foreign affairs with an accuracy which should dispel, I think, the still popular notion that Americans do not understand Europe. They do, and proved it, and history will probably show that one of the tragedies of these times is that the blindness and incompetence of European statesmen and leaders are all the more unaccountable since all they had to do to have their eyes opened was to read the cables of a dozen American correspondents in Europe during the last four or five years.

In view of this awareness of the American public and its intensity of feeling concerning the approaching conflict, I thought that the emotional character of the people of this country would manifest itself very violently as soon as the war broke out. I did not think that the United States would declare war on Germany, but I was quite convinced that the neutrality law would be amended at once and the embargo lifted without any difficulty.

As everyone knows, nothing of the sort happened, and the reaction at the outbreak of the war was infinitely more complex and more interesting than anything that could have been foreseen. If this is a ‘queer war,’ the attitude of those who do not take part in it is no less queer, and any effort of rationalization of what we see happening around ourselves and in ourselves can only be tentative. What we feel, you and I, about this war is still very obscure, and the chances are that we shall have to wait some time to find out why we felt and thought as we did at the end of 1939.

The most striking trait about the American reaction during the first weeks of the war was of course the ‘Keep the United States out of war’ panic. I call it a panic because it did indeed take the aspect of a slightly hysterical stampede away from a danger which never was very great. It is true that before the war began all polls of public opinion said that, in spite of the fact that nine out of ten Americans rejected the idea of going to war, three out of four were quite sure that America would be dragged in sooner or later. The average American apparently visualized himself as the Greeks did: his will was set one way, but he felt that the gods would be stronger than his will. What might be called the ‘coefficient of fatality’ turned up in Dr. Gallup’s polls and others with an amazing constancy.

Today this coefficient of fatality is much reduced. The Americans seem to have realized that if they go to war they will not be dragged into it, but, for some reason not now predictable, will have decided to do so. But while the panic lasted — approximately during the first six weeks of the war — they gave the impression of struggling desperately against an inner urge to succumb to some force stronger than themselves. Isolationists and their opponents acted as if the American people might be tempted to go to war the way a man who was once addicted to drink is suddenly seized with terror at the sight of a bottle of whiskey. This attitude was not so much one of normal abhorrence for a form of human activity which is extremely unpleasant, to say the least, as of mystic dread, as if going to war were a sin. One of the basic elements of Americanism — which is a permanent diffidence and protest against Europe as a whole — found a new expression: in spite of the desire to see Hitler defeated, and in spite also of the general conviction that the Allies had to go to war to achieve this end, the very fact that war existed in Europe reawakened the traditional tendency of the Americans to condemn Europe en bloc because it was at war.

The animosity against Hitlerism or any other form of dictatorship did not subside. Hitler was branded as the one man responsible for this calamity. But at the same time many honest people, in an effort to justify America’s attempt at neutrality, marshaled all the arguments they could think of to demonstrate that England and France must be guilty too, and that once more the responsibility for the war should be equitably divided between both sides. The hostility to Nazi doctrines and methods and the desire to see them eradicated from the world was suddenly tempered, or rather repressed, when Americans found themselves facing the logical consequence of the determination to resist Hitler.

The press and many prominent leaders of opinion praised the American public for its coolness and self-restraint. Many articles were written to show that this time Americans were not being carried away by their emotions and their partisanship; that for once they were using their heads.

May I say that I cannot join in these praises, nor feel great admiration for this restraint and reasonableness. My lack of enthusiasm may be attributed to the fact that I am a citizen of a belligerent country; indeed, it may be deemed impertinent of me to pass any judgment at all on such matters at the moment. But, be that as it may, here are my motives: —

If American opinion had shown itself as cool-headed and as impartial before the outbreak of the war as it did after September first, there would be nothing to say. Ever since Hitler began his series of ‘peaceful’ conquests, it was perfectly possible for American opinion to take into consideration Hitler’s own justifications of his actions. One could lend an ear to his complaint that threat and the system of the fait accompli were the only way for him to obtain what he wanted. It was possible to blame England and France, not for their weakness, but for their obstinacy in refusing to accept with good humor Hitler’s mission of peace and justice. American opinion, in other words, could have shown itself more detached — more neutral, if you like — from the very day that Hitler walked into the Rhineland.

But it didn’t, and for three or four years before the actual outbreak of the war no voice was louder in its condemnation of Hitler and Hitlerism than the voice of America. While certain groups in England and France were foolishly but perhaps honestly trying to deal with the Nazis as if they were not as bad as all that, Americans were practically unanimous in denouncing the French and British governments as cowards and traitors to the cause of civilization. The least that was said about Mr. Chamberlain, M. Daladier, and their ministers was that they were blind fools in not seeing that the only thing that could stop Hitler was force — which means war.

Events proved that the Americans were right in the end. England and France finally had to go to war, precisely for the reasons that the Americans had predicted they would have to, and precisely for the purpose of stopping Hitler, somehow, somewhere.

This decision having been taken, one might have supposed that the Americans would have applauded loudly, or at least given an encouraging pat on the back to Mr. Chamberlain and M. Daladier. The vast audience of 130 million could have been expected to cheer and perhaps breathe a sigh of relief now that there was a chance of seeing the villain of the play receive his punishment.

But this did not happen; or, to be exact, only a small section of the audience applauded. The rest, — the great majority, — although still as hostile to the villain, still as desirous of seeing him licked, were plunged in the most unexpected and surprising abyss of confusion. England and France were now called the ‘Allies,’ and grim memories were brought to the surface by that word. All the mischief that they had committed between 1914 and 1917 through their propaganda was recalled and refreshed. All the arguments that the post-war American historians had marshaled to prove that the United States had been dragged into the first World War against, its will and its better judgment were dug out of the archives. The sinister figures of Clemenceau, Lloyd George, Colonel House, and so forth, became alive and formidable again. It was suddenly discovered that England and France had finally gone to war purely for selfish motives and only when they had their backs to the wall.

Senator Borah made a speech to demonstrate the atrocious egotism of these two so-called democracies that had permitted the sacrifice of Ethiopia, Austria, and Czechoslovakia and only resolved to fight when their own security was threatened. And he concluded that the true duty of America was therefore to let them go to hell and resolve to be even more selfish than they.

Simultaneously many other speeches were made and many articles written to prove that this war would be the end of civilization anyhow, and that it did not matter much after all which side won because democracy and civilization would in any eventuality be saved in America.

In other words, strenuous efforts were made to demonstrate, now that the fight was on, that not one side alone should be blamed, and to remind the Americans that the French and the English were greatly responsible, through their past errors, for having produced Hitler and therefore the war.

This tendency to find fault with both sides could be attributed to the sense of fairness and sportsmanship of the Americans, and nobody but a fool, looking back on the history of the past twenty years, could say that the French and English made no mistakes and that the Germans were always wrong. But the point is that this violent outbreak of American impartiality reached its peak precisely at the moment when the English and French finally made up their minds to accept the consequences of doing what nine Americans out of ten had urged them to do — and wisely so — for the last three or four years.

III

The attitude of the liberals was the most interesting of all. Any man who adopts a certain philosophy of life has to pay for it. The liberal bears a cross just like the fanatic, but the cross of the liberal is particularly troublesome because it means living most of the time in a maze of totally insoluble problems. The liberal, who by definition should enjoy the exquisite peace of mind that flows from the principle of tolerance, is in reality condemned to living in a nightmare of suspicion and doubt. His faith having no support but his own judgment, his religion no dogma, he steers his course through uncharted seas, never sure that the land in sight is not teeming with cannibals, or that the friendly-looking ships he meets on the way are not camouflaged pirates ready to seize him and sell him as a slave.

The liberals all over the world, but particularly in America, are bearing their cross of confusion with increased uneasiness these days. The flower of American intellect, they led the world crusade against Hitler and Fascism. Bravely they accepted the eventuality of war. Freedom, they said, is worth dying for. They sang the glory of the Ethiopians and of the Chinese. They wept over Austria. They mourned the treachery that lost Spain to Franco and Czechoslovakia to Hitler. When the showdown approached, last August, they began to waver. The cross of confusion weighed on their shoulders.

Most radio commentators and most correspondents abroad are liberals, and as the August crisis developed we began to note certain quivers in the voices and in the writings of those whose task it was to tell us what was going on.

With laudable honesty they clung to their rudder. They leashed themselves to Objectivity. They weighed and balanced and measured everything in or out of sight: Hitler against his generals, Bonnet against Daladier, Siegfried against Maginot, Chamberlain against Chamberlain, the war of nerves against the nerves of war. . . .

As events moved on rapidly and relentlessly, the liberals felt a growing sense of alarm at the sight of the dilemma which confronted them. They could not rejoice at the idea that war had come — although it was the only possible way of saving liberalism — because it is no fun to be called a warmonger. On the other hand, they could not recommend another Munich which would obviously have consecrated the domination of Hitler and Germanism.

And so, with no small amount of awkwardness, they soft-pedaled their war cries and made up their minds that in view of the complexity of the situation at home and abroad the best thing to do was to be very reasonable.

At the time of writing they are still being very reasonable, and the whole of America with them. It is true that public opinion is no less neutral today than it has been for years. Polls continue to show that practically nobody wishes Hitler to win this war, and the Administration reflects this sentiment without much objection from anyone now that the quarrel which ended in the adoption of the new neutrality law has temporarily subsided. But this American reasonableness which accepts the paradox of avowed partiality within the technical observance of neutrality needs some clarification.

First of all, there is the question of vocabulary.

Great crises frequently occur for no other reason than that certain words become obsolete or unsuited to the things they attempt to describe.

As an example we could take the word ‘neutrality’ itself. It has been observed by many writers that the debate in Congress over this problem was made extremely difficult by the fact that the real aim of the discussion was to find a way to prevent the United States from being embroiled accidentally in this war, and not at all to preserve neutrality. Neutrality implies indifference and detachment, and practically everybody admits that this country is neither indifferent nor detached. In fact, the development of the war to date seems to indicate that there are no neutrals except perhaps the Laplanders. The so-called neutrals can be classified in various categories, but such a classification implies another criterion than indifference or detachment.

For instance, the neutrality of countries such as Switzerland, Belgium, and Holland is the result of pressure from the outside. It so happens that for the moment the Allies and Germany have not been able to figure out any way by which they would gain more from forcing these three countries to abandon their neutrality than from allowing them to remain as they are. Risks are too great. So these three countries are really neutral in this sense, that they cannot afford to be otherwise without frightful dangers.

Slightly more powerful nations, like Sweden and Norway, have retained a certain amount of free will in the determination of their relation towards the belligerents. This is mostly due to their geographical position and to the fact that they produce things needed by both sides. But it is easy to imagine that certain circumstances could deprive them of this faculty of choice.

Large countries like Italy, Japan, and especially Russia and the United States, cannot possibly be called neutrals for the simple reason that it is very difficult for the belligerents to prevent them from expressing their views freely. Italy and Japan may find it expedient to assume a certain appearance of neutrality because they have not yet made up their minds on which side to jump. But the United States and Russia have obviously taken sides for reasons of their own and without outside pressure. Each one accuses the other of being un-neutral, and for once both are right.

Now the attitude of all these countries is described by the one word ‘neutrals,’ and an incredible amount of sophistry is needed to make the word fit. But no sophistry will stand up against reality, and as long as we insist on using a vocabulary that does not fit the situation we shall be in trouble. Wars and revolutions have often been caused by the mere misuse or insufficiency of words.

As a tentative contribution to the verbal elucidation of this problem, I would suggest a classification somewhat on the following lines: —

Holland, Belgium, Switzerland: compulsory neutrals
Sweden, Norway, Spain: public-service neutrals
Italy, Japan: wait-and-see belligerents
United States: noncombatant belligerent

IV

At this point the reader may think: ‘At last Registered Agent No. 159 is showing himself up. The idea of applying the word “ belligerent” to the United States proves how much the English and French misunderstand the firm and sincere desire of the Americans to remain at peace. It’s always the same thing: propaganda, always propaganda to drag us into the war.’

The only answer that I could make to this is that I have not the faintest idea of what the British and French governments actually want of America at the moment, and I have a suspicion that they have no clear notion of the part they would like the United States to play either in the ulterior phases of the war or in the settlement of the peace.

Naturally they prayed for the lifting of the embargo. They got it. Naturally also they hope for the continuation of American sympathy. They probably will have that too, barring unforeseen events. Beyond that, I doubt that they have any definite idea of what they want of America. I think they have realized — perhaps better than the Americans themselves — that this war has no relation with the last one. Many Americans are still obsessed by the precedent of 1914-1918, which explains why so many people shake their heads suspiciously, muttering ‘Phony war.’ The Europeans who are in the midst of this war are rapidly learning that it can only be called ‘phony’ because it is fought differently from the last one. All wars are ‘phony’ to start with, up to the point when actors and spectators understand that they are not fighting the last war a second time.

As a matter of fact, Walter Lippmann has been the first to point out that this war is much more regular than the last one, and that it is in the true tradition of classical warfare, when battles were merely the verification of long preparation and calculation to bring about defeat of the enemy. He quotes Condé, Turenne, Marlborough, and Napoleon, who relied for victory on clever manœuvring much more than on the blind struggle of millions of men such as we saw in the last war.

Moreover, this preparatory manœuvring which brought victory or defeat was not confined to the battlefield. There is no more profitable reading at this time than the Life of Marlborough by Winston Churchill. In ten years of campaign, Marlborough fought only four battles. But that is not all: during those ten years of war diplomatic negotiations and also a good deal of secret intrigue were carried on between the belligerents. Marlborough did not spend all his efforts on the battlefield. Most of the time he was busy keeping the alliance together. During the last two or three years of the war a strong faction of the British Cabinet — the Cliveden set of the time — was busy undermining the power of Marlborough and trying to make a separate peace with France. Marlborough himself was conducting strange negotiations with inside groups at the Court of Louis XIV. England finally betrayed her allies and repudiated brazenly one of the main aims of the war, which was the return of Spain to the Empire.

If American commentators had had to describe what was going on during that war, I don’t think the word ‘phony’ would have been adequate to express their distrust and indignation at the amazing behavior of all those who took part in it. And yet the major purpose of the war, which was to set a limit to Louis XIV’s expansionist policy, was achieved. France ceased being a serious bidder for the domination of Europe for some ninety years, which is quite a while.

V

The traditional diffidence of America towards Europe as a whole is expressing itself once more with great vigor and finding justifications in the war. Propaganda is described as the latest and most dangerous weapon invented by Europeans to undermine American integrity and divert this country from its historical mission.

Curiously enough, Allied propaganda is dreaded much more than that of the Reich — the reason being that the Americans do not fear to be moved by the latter, but are very much afraid that the English and the French may succeed once more in trapping them in their clever nets.

This is due to the fact that, as everybody knows, there is a whole school of thought in this country which believes strongly that the main reason why America went to war in 1917 was the efficiency of Allied propaganda. These people forget, of course, that between 1914 and 1917 German propaganda was no less intense; but the issue is judged by the result.

Today the situation is different in this sense, that the pro-German element in the country is very weak. German propaganda is active, nevertheless, and rather obvious. Allied propaganda, on the other hand, is either hopelessly incompetent or so subtle that no one can detect it. But that does not allay the suspicion of many Americans. Quite the contrary.

During the debates in Congress on neutrality a Congressman said it was true that Allied propaganda was practically nonexistent, but — said he — just wait till we lift the embargo and you will see what happens.

I even heard a friend of mine saying that the French had adopted the most deadly propaganda of all, which was the absence of propaganda. I did my best to reassure him by pointing out that we hoped to receive instructions from France some day, somehow, and said I was sure that when that day came French propaganda would be buzzing at last in such a way as to outshine everything that had ever been seen before.

VI

I should like to end these remarks with a brief reference to the very important subject of the attitude of America towards peace. The subject would require a good deal more study than I have time or competence for, and I can only refer to it here in relation to the general reaction of this country towards Europe since the war broke out.

First of all, it is quite obvious that most thinking people are much more interested already in the peace of the future than in the events of the war, although the war is only a few months old. This may be due to the fact that the war, from the spectators’ point of view, is much less interesting than had been expected. For twenty years we have been told that World War II would be a tremendous and terrifying amplification of World War I. We were prepared for devastating battles, for the destruction of whole cities, for the massacre of millions of innocent civilians, and so forth. Up to the time of writing, nothing of the sort has happened, and newspapers and the radio find it pretty difficult to keep our interest alive in the non-spectacular methods of this war. Humans being what they are, there is a sense of disappointment in discovering that the great calamity that was supposed to destroy civilization everywhere except in America has caused up to now so little visible damage. Of course, all this may change any day, but for the moment the more or less outspoken impression of the public could be summed up as follows: ‘You Europeans are so hopelessly decadent and rotten that, now that you have started a war the obvious result of which will be to finish you all off, you can’t even put your heart into it. Well, then, if that’s the way you feel, why don’t you make peace?’ So, many people think the war should stop.

Another reason why many Americans are anxious to stop the war as soon as possible seems to be that they do not think the Allies have formulated their aims clearly enough. The unfortunate leaders of England and France who for years have been deafened and shamed by the indignant cry of America’s best minds, ‘Why don’t you stop Hitler?’ are now being asked by these same Americans, ‘What are you fighting for?’ And when they answer, ‘Well, we are trying to stop Hitler,’ they are told that this is purely negative and that they must find a better reason than that for fighting.

Docilely, it seems to me, the Allies — and especially the British — have tried to comply. Before we have even started the wrecking of civilization in Europe we are discussing the new world which will arise from the smoking ruins-to-be, and it would seem that many of the best minds in the United States are anxious to take part in the debate. America, who fought in the last war but deserted the peace, seems now inclined to consider the reverse experiment: to keep out of the fighting but plunge into the peace.

Theoretically, nothing but good can come out of such an intention if it develops into something practical, and if the people of the United States as a whole, having avoided being entangled in the war, accept the idea of being entangled in the peace. If this is to be the program of America, if active coöperation with Europe and a sharing in the responsibilities of maintaining the new world order (whatever that may be) becomes part of the American mission, very profound changes have to take place not only in the minds of the Europeans but also in the minds of the Americans. Most of my American friends who are becoming passionately interested in the new order upon which the peace of the world may rest say that it implies revolutionary changes in the conceptions of the Europeans. That is true. But it implies also a no less revolutionary change in the ideas of the Americans. When the time of making peace comes, they may find themselves confronted with a much more complicated and momentous problem than the ones they have had to face up to now. The slogan ‘Keep the United States out of war’ will be replaced by a ‘Keep the United States out of peace’ infinitely louder and considerably more pathetic.

The last war was a fairly simple affair on the whole, and the majority of the Americans have dismissed it by deciding that they made an error in having anything to do with it. They have proved to their own satisfaction that they were wise in deserting the peace by showing the mistakes of those who were left to make it work.

It probably will not be so easy, however, to escape the consequences of this war, whether one takes a direct part in it or not. It is too complicated, its ramifications too far-reaching. To build the peace may be much more difficult and take much more time than to win the war. It may not be the work of this generation, and we may never know in our lifetime anything that we shall be able to call peace.