American Isolationism

        Few events in American history conjure up more feelings of pride and patriotism than that of World War II. We here at Dad History poke fun at the notion that a dad who is “in to” history is most commonly obsessed with the conflict. While this is all in good fun, as that era of global history is in many ways the defining moment of the 20th Century, the period of American foreign policy that preceded the attack on Pearl Harbor is just as fascinating. As Americans, we view our role in the war as heroic, and rightfully so. The people of modern day Russia do the same, referring to the event as the “Great Patriotic War” and go to great lengths to celebrate their efforts every year with speeches, parades, and feasts. What many Americans may not recognize is the difficult path our country walked in order for public opinion to support the war. It may have turned on a dime, but the swing was so significant that it is worth recalling the deep nature of our people’s reluctance to join. 

World War I defined foreign policy for a generation of Americans. While it did not reach the levels of national regret that later 20th century conflicts would obtain, the war was disheartening for many. Soldiers returned bearing the physical and mental scars of the first truly mechanized war. The government provided very little for veterans (unemployment amongst veterans was notable, healthcare was limited, pensions were not provided, etc.), something that is foreign to us today. Much of the population questioned why we had entered the war in the first place, as the results of the conflict were unsatisfying for a country that sent over 100,000 young men to their deaths. To say that Americans had little appetite for being involved in the affairs of other countries moving forward is an understatement. In many ways, we shunned the very notion of being a global power, rejecting President Wilson’s brainchild called the League of Nations, the precursor to the UN. The Great Depression only amplified these sentiments, as the country dealt with a domestic crisis that made the idea of focusing on anything other than the problems facing the American people domestically a non-starter. 

Yet as all of these thoughts implanted in the minds of the populace, events began unfolding that would one day force the United States government to violate decades of popular sentiment. To put it in simple terms, fascism was afoot around the globe, and the ambitions of dictators would begin testing America’s commitment to its founding principles. That is not to say that our country’s entrance into WWII was entirely altruistic. We were assaulted by a foreign power who pulled off the single most deadly attack in American military history. The decision was essentially made for us, despite the will of the people. As Americans learned of Japanese expansion starting in the early 1930s and the imperialist attitudes of Hitler, public sentiment was decidedly against the United States playing any role in combating their efforts. Public polling from Gallup measured America’s reaction to the major events of Hitler’s war on Europe. After Nazi tanks rolled into Poland, how many Americans believed we should place boots on the ground? Sixteen percent. A quarter of people polled were even uncomfortable with the federal government selling the Polish food. How about a year later, when having seen what happened to the Poles, what did our country think about the invasion of France? A resounding ninety-three percent of Americans said “absolutely not” to the question of declaring war on Germany. 

Even our greatest historical allies, the British, had trouble extracting assistance from the government. Prescient Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill famously admired each other, and the war itself is full of great anecdotes about their relationship, through letters and clandestine in person meetings (drinks, many drinks). However, Roosevelt was intimately aware of how far his people could be pushed towards intervention, which was clearly not very far at all. This is why US aid to the British came in fits and starts, oftentimes featuring less than adequate supplies and costly time delays in deliverance. This frustrated Churchill, who watched FDR use the powers at his disposal to circumvent Congress in sending supplies, thus keeping a vote out of the hands of the American people. Groups like the America First Committee, led famously (or infamously) by decorated American aviator Charles Lindbergh, used rallies and literature to keep up the isolationist drumbeat. And yes, some of this was fueled by all too common anti-semitic views held by some Amercians like Lindbergh (check out Ken Burns’ new film, America and the Holocaust for a deep dive).

            I love studying history that complicates the narrative. Were we truly a lion for democracy world wide? Rising up to slay the giants who threatened the liberty of our allies? Hardly. The role we played was significant, decisive even, but it was not a selfless act for the love of freedom. There is simply nothing wrong with recognizing that fact as a people who celebrate our past and are proud of our role at that moment. Myths bind a nation together, and they sure help us set aside our differences in times of stress. Our military's role in the conflict is no myth, but many Americans may be foggy on the rationale behind our involvement. Other than WWI, isolationism was the rule, not the exception of American foreign policy in the first half of the twentieth century. I recently read and recommended Robert Kagan’s book The Ghost at the Feast, which provides a broad retelling of the various reasons why the United States had such a protectionist streak. Republican Party politics, mass immigration, rising nativism, economic crisis, and the mistrust of foreign governments all contributed to the American withdrawal from the global scene. Kagan uses the history he outlines to make the argument that America is a force for good in maintaining the world order, and that when we decide to isolate ourselves, the world is far more unstable than if we choose to intervene. I cannot claim to fully agree with Kagan’s thesis, as much of the latter half of the 20th century has complicated the idea that the United States' attention and intervention in foreign affairs is always a force for good. But one does not have to look further than the war Russia is waging on Ukraine to see the power of this idea on full display. Our attention and support has, up until this point, kept Ukraine afloat and even in some ways victorious. The fact that Russian missile barrages have not resulted in a decimated Kiev is a testament to not only the Ukrainian will to persist but also on how effectively they are utilizing the anti-missile technology and intelligence provided by our military. I have no way of gaming out where this conflict is headed, but I think it will be somewhat interesting to make a comparison fifty years from now between the moment we are living in and the decades preceding the second world war. Will the historical narrative become another one of our great myths? Or will it just be another blip in the history of US foreign policy?