Top Secret World War 2: Imperial Japan, Nazi Germany and their Submarine Trade Missions

As allies, Japan and Nazi Germany collaborated together at times during World War 2. One such time was with the Yanagi missions, a series of fascinating submarine voyages undertaken by Imperial Japan to exchange technology, valuable materials and skills with Nazi Germany. These missions make us think – what might have been accomplished had this seemingly hollow ‘marriage of convenience’ placed greater strategic emphasis on collaboration?

Felix Debieux considers this question.

The Japanese I-8 submarine in 1939. It was to take part in the Yanagi missions in 1943.

What if – an alliance of missed opportunity?

When we talk about history, it is hard not to think about the what-ifs, the what-might-have-beens and the what-could-have-beens. Such counterfactual thinking can be traced back to the very beginning of Western historiography, when Thucydides and Livy wondered how differently their own societies might have turned out, “if the Persians had defeated the Greeks or if Alexander the Great had waged war against Rome”. More recently, an anthology published in 1931 included an essay by Winston Churchill titled, ‘If Lee Had Not Won the Battle of Gettysburg’. It imagined an alternative outcome to the American Civil War in which the Confederacy triumphed over the Union. Having read history to a postgraduate level, my impression of the counterfactual approach was pretty much the same as most professional historians. At best it was a harmless bit of fun, at worst it was dodgy, unacademic terrain completely unworthy of serious scholarship. In the somewhat less diplomatic words of Marxist Historian E. P. Thompson: “Geschichtswissenschlopff, unhistorical shit”.

Shit it may be, but that has not halted the imagination of authors who have spawned an entire genre of speculative fiction. One example which succeeded in grabbing my attention is Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle, an alternate history in which Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan overcame the Allies to win the Second World War. Having at last finished watching Amazon’s onscreen adaptation of the story, I was left wondering how the alliance between the two Axis powers functioned in reality. Was it always the antagonistic and frosty partnership portrayed in The Man in the High Castle? You may be surprised to learn, as I was, that despite the vast geographical distances, there are in fact examples of cooperation between the two powers which do not feature prominently in our conventional retelling of the war. One such case is the Yanagi missions, a series of fascinating submarine voyages undertaken by Imperial Japan to exchange technology, valuable materials and skills with Nazi Germany. These missions make us think – what might have been accomplished had this seemingly hollow ‘marriage of convenience’ placed greater strategic emphasis on collaboration? Let’s start by taking a look at the early days of the missions.

Early strategic compatibility

Following Japan’s surprise offensive on Pearl Harbour and Germany’s declaration of war on the United States, the Axis Tripartite Agreement of September 1940 was amended to provide for an exchange of strategic materials and manufactured goods between Germany, Italy and Japan. At the outset, these voyages were made by surface ships and were dubbed Yanagi (Willow) missions by Japan. As the Axis began to lose its foothold in the naval war, submarines naturally came to be seen as a safer transport option.

As early as March 1942, German naval high command – hoping to alleviate pressure on its Kriegsmarine – requested that the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN) launch offensive operations against Allied ships in the Indian Ocean. In April that year, the Japanese agreed to send forces to the east coast of Africa to reinforce their German allies. Shortly afterward, the IJN’s 8th Submarine Squadron was withdrawn from its mission in the Marshall Islands and dispatched to Penang, Malaya.

Commander Shinobu Endo’s I-30 was among the first submarines assigned to the 8th Squadron. On 22nd April, I-30 departed Penang and just a week later assisted in the detachment’s successful attack on British shipping in Diego Suarez, Madagascar. In addition to losing a tanker, the British HMS Ramillies was heavily damaged. Following the skirmish, I-30 set off from Madagascar and was ordered on the very first submarine Yanagi mission.

The first submarine Yanagi mission

On 2nd August, four months after it had departed Penang, Endo’s I-30 entered the Bay of Biscay. Off the coast of Cape Ortegal, Spain, he was met by eight Luftwaffe bombers that provided air cover. Three days later, he was joined by a flotilla of minesweepers and escorted to Lorient — then the largest of five German U-boat bases on the French coast.

This was a historic achievement. Indeed, I-30 was the very first Japanese submarine to arrive in Europe. To mark the occasion, Grand Admiral Erich Raeder, head of the Kriegsmarine; Admiral Karl Dönitz, commander of the U-boat force; and Captain Tadao Yokoi, Japanese naval attaché to Berlin, waited to greet Endo and the crew of I-30. Music greeted them at the Lorient station and Endo was presented with a bouquet of flowers. Meanwhile, the Japanese cargo was unloaded:

• 3,300 pounds of mica.

• 1,452 pounds of shellac.

• Engineering drawings of the Japanese Type 91 aerial torpedo.

The Germans were also keen to offer the Japanese their technological expertise. For example, the Kriegsmarine examined I-30 and concluded that its noise levels were unreasonably high - high enough to be detected by enemy ships or aircraft. The Germans generously fitted I-30 with some improvements, notably a Metox Biscay Cross passive radar detector and new anti-aircraft guns. Footage was also shot during I-30’s floatplane test flights, and stories were released detailing a Japanese naval air corps operating from French bases.

While all of this was going on, Endo travelled to Berlin where Hitler presented him with the Iron Cross. The visit came to an end on 22nd August, when I-30 slipped out of the sub pen and began its journey home. Its cargo included a complete Würzburg air defence ground radar with blueprints and examples of German torpedoes, bombs and fire control systems. Most valuable of all to the mission, the submarine also carried industrial diamonds valued at one million yen and fifty top-secret Enigma coding machines.

A month later, I-30 rounded the Cape of Good Hope and entered the Indian Ocean. Early on the morning of 8th October, the sub arrived back at Penang. Rear Admiral Zenshiro Hoshina, chief of the IJN’s logistics section, waited patiently to receive ten of Endo’s Enigmas. Two days later, I-30 slipped its moorings yet again and headed south for Singapore.

The following morning, I-30 made its way into the port. Indicative of the importance of the mission was the presence of Vice Admiral Denshichi Okawachi of the First Southern Expeditionary Fleet, who was on hand to greet Endo and his senior officers. Understandably desperate to return home after thousands of miles of submarine travel, that very afternoon Endo set sail for Japan. It was perhaps the height of bad luck when, just an agonising three miles from its final destination, that I-30 struck a mine. While the submarine was lost, miraculously Endo and the majority of his crew were rescued. Divers were immediately dispatched to recover I-30‘s cargo, but they found that the Würzburg radar had been destroyed in the explosion and its technical drawings rendered useless by saltwater. In addition, the remaining Enigma machines were lost, an embarrassment that was hidden from the Germans for four months.

Despite the somewhat ignominious conclusion of the mission, officials on both sides of the alliance were clearly excited by what had been learned and the potential of future exchanges. But with so many surface ships sunk by the Allies, how could the mission be scaled up? The Germans had the answer. On 31st March 1943, the Japanese ambassador to Germany, Hiroshi Oshima, cabled Tokyo a recommendation from their allies that large, older U-boats should be converted to carry war materials between Europe and the Far East. Unfortunately for Japan, Oshima’s cable was decoded by the Allies.

The missions continue

On 1st June 1943, I-8 departed Kure, Japan, with I-10 and submarine tender Hie Maru. Commander Shinji Uchino had just been given his orders to proceed to Lorient. Their cargo:

• Two Type 95 oxygen-propelled torpedoes.

• Technical drawings of an automatic trim system.

• A new naval reconnaissance plane.

Nine days later, the mission arrived in Singapore and added to their cargo quinine, tin and raw rubber. On 21st July, nearly two months after departing Japan, I-8 crossed into the Atlantic. The only greeting to welcome the crew this time were terrible storms that pounded the submarine for ten days.

Eventually, the by now very weary Japanese crew received their first contact from the Germans. A sign of the Axis’s changing naval fortunes, a German radio signal alerted I-8 to air patrols searching from the skies above. These patrols forced a change of plan, and - after waiting for five days - I-8 received a second message from their allies: forget Lorient, make for Brest.

Once they crossed the equator, it was not until 20th August that the Japanese rendezvoused with Captain Albrecht Achilles and his U-161 submarine. The next day, I-8 took aboard a German Lieutenant and two radiomen. As with the previous submarine mission, the Germans were keen to make improvements and wasted no time installing a more sophisticated radar detector on I-8’s bridge. Eleven days later, the Japanese finally arrived at Brest – a whole three months after their initial departure from Kure. A German news agency announced that even the Japanese were now operating in the Atlantic!

More bountiful than I-8’s outbound shipment was the cargo it departed from Brest with on 5th October 1943. Indeed, the submarine set sail with:

• Machine guns.

• Bombsights.

• A Daimler-Benz torpedo boat engine.

• Naval chronometers.

• Radars.

• Sonar equipment.

• Electric torpedoes.

• Penicillin.

This time, the Yanagi mission included not just technological but also human resources. Welcomed aboard I-8 were Rear Admiral Yokoi and Captain Sukeyoshi Hosoya, naval attaché to Berlin and to France respectively. Also aboard were three German naval officers, an army officer and four radar and hydrophone technicians. We can only wonder how the dynamics of the Japanese crew were affected by the arrival of their German comrades.

It did not take too long for I-8 to run into trouble. After crossing back over the equator, a position report was transmitted to the Germans but – unfortunately for the mission – the report was intercepted by the Allies. The very next day I-8 was targeted by antisubmarine aircraft, but it succeeded in pulling off a crash-dive escape.

By 13th November 1943, I-8 passed Cape Town. That same day, I-34 – which was travelling to France on a Yanagi mission of its own – earned the unfortunate distinction of being the first IJN submarine sunk by the British. This served as a powerful reminder of the danger posed to the Yanagi missions, and so I-8 was ordered to head straight for Singapore where it arrived on 5th December.

At Singapore, I-8 anchored near to Commander Takakazu Kinashi’s I-29. I-29 had just arrived from Japan and was about to embark on its own long journey. During an encounter between the two submarine commanders, Uchino warned Kinashi of the Allied air patrols and praised the German Metox radar detector that he had received from U-161 back in August. The technological benefits of the Yanagi missions had already started to prove themselves. On 21st December 1943, I-8 arrived back in Japan having finally completed its 30,000 mile, seven-month long journey. Uchino travelled to Tokyo and presented his report to Admiral Osami Nagano, chief of the naval general staff, and navy minister Admiral Shigetaro Shimada.

Experienced hands

Although Commander Takakazu Kinashi was a distinguished submarine captain, he had not yet had the opportunity to participate in any previous Yanagi missions. Earlier in the war he had become Japan’s submarine hero, credited with the sinking of U.S. Navy carrier Wasp in September 1942, and with damaging the battleship North Carolina and the destroyer O’Brien, which eventually sank. His assignment to the Yanagi missions again underscores their strategic importance (at least to the Japanese).

On 5th April 1943, I-29 left Penang carrying an eleven-ton cargo. This consisted of:

• One Type 89 torpedo.

• Two Type 2 aerial torpedoes.

• Two tons of gold bars for the Japanese embassy in Berlin.

• Schematics of a Type A midget submarine and of carrier Akagi, which the Germans wanted to study as they constructed their own carrier Graf Zeppelin.

Twenty days later, I-29 arrived at a predesignated point 450 miles off the coast of Madagascar where it met Captain Werner Musenberg and U-180. The German sub had left Kiel on 9th February carrying blueprints for a Type IXC/40 U-boat, a sample of a German hollow charge, a quinine sample for future Japanese shipments, gun barrels and ammunition, three cases of sonar decoys, and documents and mail for the German embassy in Tokyo. Of strategic significance to the war in Asia, the U-boat also carried an important passenger: former Oxford University student Subhas Chandra Bose, the head of the anti-British Indian National Army of Liberation. The two submarines met on 26th April.

The next day, Bose and his group transferred from U-180 to I-29 and two Japanese officers switched in the other direction. The eleven tons of cargo followed shortly after. Once the exchanges were completed, I-29 turned eastward and U-180 turned back towards France. This experience was valuable to Kinashi when he, himself, finally set off for France in December 1943. In addition to his crew, he carried rubber, tungsten, tin, zinc, quinine, opium and coffee. He also had sixteen IJN officers, specialists and engineers on board. By 8th January 1944, the submarine had left Madagascar.

In early February, Kinashi received a signal from Germany to rendezvous with a U-boat that would upgrade I-29 with superior radar technology. On the 12th, he met U-518 southwest of the Azores. The Japanese submarine took aboard three technicians who installed a new FuMB 7 Naxos detector. Kinashi did not have to wait long to put his new equipment into action. While running along the surface off Cape Finisterre, Spain an RAF patrol plane equipped with a searchlight suddenly illuminated the water around I-29. Reacting with the decisiveness and speed gained through long experience, Kinashi crash-dived the submarine and escaped unscathed. Five days later, I-29 entered the Bay of Biscay, but Kinashi had arrived ahead of his escort and had to spend the night at the bottom of the sea. The next day, German forces escorted the Japanese submarine toward Lorient. Unbeknownst to Kinashi, however, he and his crew were not safe yet.

I-29’s schedule had been earlier decoded by the Allies. British aircraft were dispatched with the aim of sinking the submarine and its German escorts. They found the Yanagi mission off Cape Peas, Spain, but did not succeed in damaging I-29. Later that same day, the submarine and its escorts were attacked by more than ten Allied aircraft but, fortunately for Kinashi and his crew, all the bombs missed.

Cross-cultural encounters and Axis potential

After the two near misses, I-29 arrived at Lorient on 11th March and anchored safely next to Lieutenant Commander Max Wintermeyer’s U-190. Lorient was home to two U-boat flotillas, and the large number of veteran submariners set the scene for some lively cross-cultural encounters. On one occasion, German officers entertained the Japanese crew at a nearby bar. The bar’s rafters were inscribed with signatures of U-boat officers. Eager to get in on the act, I-29‘s Lieutenant Hiroshi Taguchi, Lieutenant Hideo Otani and several other officers added their own signatures to the rafters. After a 30,000 mile trip it must have felt good to make it to dry land and leave a mark of success!

The Japanese were treated to further German hospitality. Indeed, the entire crew were hosted at Château de Trévarez before a special train carried them onto Paris. While his crew enjoyed the sights, Kinashi travelled to Berlin and was decorated with the Iron Cross by the Führer himself. Ever the diligent workers, their German hosts busied themselves with the upgrades to I-29’s outdated anti-aircraft guns. They also loaded aboard:

• A HWK 509A-1 rocket motor.

• A Jumo 004B axial-flow turbojet.

• Drawings of the Isotta-Fraschini torpedo boat engine.

• Blueprints for jetfighters and rocket launch accelerators.

• Plans for glider bomb and radar equipment.

• A V-1 buzz bomb fuselage.

• Acoustic mines.

• Bauxite ore.

• Mercury-radium amalgam.

• Twenty more Enigma coding machines.

Hinting at the more frightening potential of greater Axis strategic collaboration, there is some evidence suggesting that I-29 carried a quantity of U-235 uranium oxide, one of the components needed to assemble an atomic bomb. Loaded with its vital military cargo, I-29 departed Lorient on 16th April.

On 14th July, I-29 passed through the Straits of Malacca and arrived at Singapore. Its passengers disembarked with their sensitive documents and proceeded by air to Japan. Most of the military cargo, however, remained aboard. Initially worried about the sub’s location, Allied code-breakers breathed a collective sigh of relief when they learned of I-29’s arrival in Singapore. Relief, however, quickly turned to alarm when an intercepted message between Berlin and Tokyo revealed the true value of the submarine’s cargo. Now alert to the terrifying potential of I-29’s mission, the Allies worked tirelessly to stop the submarine from reaching Japan.

The Allies were lucky when, on 20th July, Kinashi transmitted his proposed route for the last leg of the trip. The U.S. Navy deciphered the message, and the sub was sunk by torpedoes launched from the USS Sawfish. While the loss of the aircraft engines slowed the Japanese jet program, their blueprints, flown to Tokyo, arrived safely. They were used immediately to develop the Nakajima Kikka (orange blossom) and the Mitsubishi J8MI Shusui (sword stroke) – both based on German designs.

The sinking of I-52

Japan’s hope for further technological marvels now rested on Commander Kameo Uno and I-52, which had left Kure on 10th March 1944 (while I-29 was busy dodging Allied attacks near Brest). In its hold, Uno’s submarine carried strategic metals including molybdenum, tungsten, 146 bars of gold, as well as opium and caffeine. I-52 also carried fourteen passengers including engineers and technicians with ambitions of studying German weaponry. To avoid Allied spotter planes, Uno travelled submerged during the day and only surfaced at night.

After passing the Cape of Good Hope and entering the South Atlantic, on 15th May Uno sent his first message to Germany. By this time the British and Americans had broken the military codes of both Axis powers. Allied intelligence intercepted and deciphered Uno’s reports to Tokyo and Berlin, including his daily noon position reports. When I-52 entered the South Atlantic, the code-breakers quickly relayed its predicted route to a U.S. antisubmarine task force.

On 16th June, I-52 sent a coded transmission, giving its position away off the West African coast. The U.S carrier Bogue, equipped with fourteen aircraft, was ordered to track and destroy the sub. After arriving in the area where the Japanese were supposed to meet a German U-boat, the Americans began around-the-clock efforts to search for the Axis submarines. Although the skies were filled with American aircraft, Uno somehow managed to rendezvoused with Kurt Lange’s U-530 about 850 miles west of the Cape Verde Islands.

The Japanese commander welcomed a Lieutenant Schäfer on board to help navigate the last leg of his journey. Schäfer was accompanied by two petty officers who carried with them an improved radar. Bizarrely, the equipment fell into the sea during the exchange, but a dutiful Japanese crewman jumped in and managed to retrieve it. About two hours after meeting I-52, U-530 submerged and headed for Trinidad, leaving the three German officers aboard the Japanese sub. Again, we can only wonder how the two crews interacted with one another.

The day after his rendezvous with U-530, Uno, confident that he could take advantage of a stormy and moonless night to cloak his location, travelled along the surface in order to reach sooner the sanctuary of a German-occupied port. That evening, Allied forces picked up I-52 on their radar. Flares illuminated the area around the submarine and two 354-pound bombs were dropped, just missing I-52’s starboard side. Although Uno crash-dived and avoided the attack, his location was now compromised.

This game of submarine whack-a-mole could not go on forever. Sonobuoys, which detect underwater sounds, were deployed across a square mile of ocean. These were followed up with homing torpedoes which locked onto I-52’s propeller noises. After a long wait, the Allies heard a loud explosion. Another sonobuoy-torpedo combination later and the Allies got their desired outcome; a large oil slick at the site of the attack was spotted. Nearby, a ton of raw rubber bales bobbed along the surface of the water.

Meanwhile at Lorient, a German ship stood by ready to escort I-52, and diplomats scheduled to return to Japan waited anxiously for their ride home. With them at the dock were tons of secret documents, drawings and strategic cargo, which included acoustic torpedoes, fighter plane engines, radars, vacuum tubes, ball bearings, bombsights, chemicals, alloy steel, optical glass and one-thousand pounds of uranium oxide. The Germans also intended to improve I-52 with a snorkel. By 30th August, the Kriegsmarine finally presumed I-52 sunk.

The end of the Yanagi missions – a strategic oversight?

The question must be asked, why did the Yanagi missions stop? What happening to the initial excitement for military, scientific and strategic cooperation? The answer is a fairly simple one.

With the Americans closing in on the Home Islands and the final showdown of the Pacific war rapidly approaching, the IJN was compelled to devote every available resource to the defence of the Japanese mainland. After the failure of I-52‘s mission, it was no longer practical to send limited submarines on long, perilous journeys to Europe.

Reflecting back, what should we take away from the Yanagi missions? Although the missions are not remembered as much more than peculiar footnotes in the larger story of the Second World War, the threat of an exchange of nuclear materials and state-of-the-art technology was no doubt deemed important by the Allies – important enough for them to invest precious resources in locating, tracking and sinking the submarines before they could make their deliveries. The missions are scarcely known today, but at the time the threat they posed was clear.

The true importance of the Yanagi missions, however, lies in what I believe they represent. While we tend to think of their partnership as an uneasy ‘alliance of convenience’, the missions help us to imagine what Japan and Germany might have been able to achieve had they placed greater emphasis on joined-up, strategic coordination. Indeed, they represent a failure by the two Axis powers to think of the war beyond their own local, expansionist ambitions. Given the nuclear potential of the missions, we are perhaps fortunate that the Axis did not develop their partnership much beyond these largely overlooked submarine convoys.

What do you think of the Yanagi missions? Let us know below.

Now read Felix’s article on how Henry Ford tried to end World War One through diplomacy here.

Bibliography

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yanagi_missions#:~:text=The%20Yanagi%20missions%20were%20a%20series%20of%20submarine,with%20Japan%20%27s%20Axis%20partners%2C%20principally%20Nazi%20Germany.

https://www.warhistoryonline.com/instant-articles/japanese-and-germans.html

https://www.historynet.com/world-war-ii-yanagi-missions-japans-underwater-convoys.htm

https://www.history.navy.mil/about-us/leadership/director/directors-corner/h-grams/h-gram-033/h-033-1.html

https://www.booktopia.com.au/nazi-germany-and-imperial-japan-johanna-menzel-meskill/book/9781412846196.html

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6_4yaH6Y_hQ

Read more – on counterfactual history

https://camdenhistorynotes.com/2020/02/02/what-if-counterfactual-history/

Gavriel, R., 2002, ‘Why Do We Ask ‘What If?’ Reflections on the Function of Alternate History’, History and Theory, vol. 41, no. 4

Sustein, CR., ‘What If Counterfactuals Never Existed?’, The New Republic, 21 September 2014, accessed 27 February 2019, <https://newrepublic.com/article/119357/altered-pasts-reviewed-cass-r-sunstein&gt;

Pain’s Port Arthur: Pyrotechnic Re-enactments of the Russo-Japanese War in the English speaking world (1904-6)

In the early twentieth century, an age before cinema, audiences still wanted thrills. And following the Russo-Japanese War, there were a number of explosive re-enactments in America and the broader English-speaking world of that war. Doctor Robert Brown explains.

A drawing of a Japanese attack during the Battle of Mukden in the Russo-Japanese War.

In a 10 May 2022 article for the Guardian newspaper, ‘I almost got hit’ Ukrainian journalists recounted their stories of how the Russia-Ukraine war turned their personal and professional lives upside-down. Before the war, many such as Kristina Berdynskykh were civilian writers and reporters.  However as the invasion began, these journalists found themselves on the front line of the biggest story in the world, and ‘they became war correspondents overnight’.  They have done heroic and life threatening work, for which the Pulitzer prize board has already awarded them with a special citation.

One night in September 1905 a plucky local reporter for the Minneapolis Journal also took on the role of a war correspondent overnight. He bore witness to the most important siege of the Russo-Japanese war (1904-5), the bombardment of Russian held Port Arthur (Dalian) after a Japanese surprise attack.  Furnished with a long army overcoat and cap, he was instructed to make his way up the Port Arthur battlefront.

After years of bitter contention between the Empires of Russia and Japan over control of the Liaodong Peninsula, Manchuria, Russia occupied the Peninsula and constructed Port Arthur naval base in 1897.  This proved intolerable for Japan, and on 8-9 February 1904 they finally struck, as Admiral Togo launched a surprise attack on the Russian fleet anchored there. The engagement and ensuing siege quickly gained international status as a gruelling cauldron of modern battle.  The spectacle of large naval battles and massive artillery duels became a focal point for media attention, commemoration, and later theatrical re-enactment.(1)

Japanese victory in the Battle of 203 metre hill, overlooking the city harbour, proved a turning point.  From here artillery spotters directed a devastatingly accurate bombardment of the bottled up Russian fleet.  Russia’s Pacific fleet was destroyed or interned, while the Japanese Army systematically mined and captured key Russian forts.  The situation hopeless, Port Arthur finally surrendered.

Such was the hellish ferocity of the bombardment the reporter witnessed that night, that even after escaping unscathed, he, ‘dreamed all night of crashing shot and bursting shell, of sinking warships and whole cities in flames.’ The horror of such a spectacle stayed with him, and even a ‘pencil falling on the floor…and the slamming of a door’ would send him into a post-traumatic ‘hysteria’ of palpitations.(2)

A Carnival of Fire

However something was amiss.  The buildings and warships were somehow made of canvas and wood rather than steel and stone, and the heavy ordnance, was a mixture of dynamite and nitro-glycerine. Those discharging explosives were not Russo-Japanese artillerymen and naval gunners, but some thirty pyro-technists co-ordinated by director Emil Capretz. Finally this was not at Dalian, but located deep in the heart of the American Mid-West at the Minneapolis State Fair in September 1905.  Russia had surrendered Port Arthur in January 1905, and six months later the spectacle of the carnage was being eulogised to baying crowds.

In fact this was ‘Pain’s Port Arthur’, a centrepiece production of James Pain junior and his son Henry J. Pain. The Pain’s Port Arthur spectacles were specifically ‘modelled’ or ‘al fresco’ painted canvas panoramas simulating the Manchurian battle zone, set up outdoors in large pleasure gardens, sports fields or exhibition grounds.  These outdoor panoramas were modelled much like a movie set with large props of wood and plaster, and offered the historical-narrative backdrop against which the massive fireworks displays took place for a viewing public.(3)

The Empire of Pain

The Pain’s in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century oversaw a sprawling continent spanning fireworks empire, the Royal Alexandra Palace Fireworks Company (shortened to Alexandra Palace Fireworks Company in the United States). Their American base of production was at the Greenfield, L. I. fireworks factory, New York. In addition to using their own 10,000 seat purpose built arena at Manhattan Beach, from 1904-6 the show visited Nashville, Chattanooga, St. Louis, Detroit, and Buffalo (New York).(4) On top of this, in addition to re-enactments in London and Manchester, UK, James Pain Junior presided over an ambitious tour of the ‘Port Arthur’ spectacle throughout Australia and New Zealand, stopping off at all the state capitals of Australia in addition to smaller venues.  In 1904-5 director Mr. T. Gaunt, operating under the Pain franchise, was still touring this war spectacle around New Zealand to enthusiastic audiences, warm reviews, and aggressive newspaper advertising.

Before 1904 the Pain Company already had a fine tradition for battles and sieges.  Although biblical themed glories and disasters such as Last Days of Pompeii were roaringly popular, Manhattan Beach audiences were fed a rich diet of nineteenth and twentieth century conflicts, and particularly sieges.  The Siege of Vicksburg in the American Civil War, the Siege of Sebastopol in the Crimean War, and even the burning of Moscow by Napoleon in 1812 among others proved consistently popular. The American bombardment of Tripoli against the Barbary Pirates was specifically more popular with American audiences.(5)

This activity points to a massive public appetite for simulated mock warfare in the pre-cinema era.  To historian’s frustration, the ephemerality of these spectacles obscures their importance in the historical record.  Firework panoramas and scenery were designed to be destroyed or thrown away.  Poor record keeping in the Victorian and Edwardian entertainment business means that often all that survives are the newspaper advertisements and the odd precious event program.

Madison Square Carnage

For all the decades of frenzied advertising and glowing reviews across the English speaking world, in reality Pain’s as a global fireworks empire had been living on borrowed time. At around 10pm on the night of the 4 November 1902, at the celebrations of the election of William Randolph Hearst as New York congressman, a gigantic fireworks explosion had ripped through Madison Square, and decimated a nearby crowd of people watching Pain’s performance.  An inquest was immediately set up, and ten of Pain’s employees were arrested.(6)

The ‘Madison Square Disaster’ killed fifteen and injured over a hundred, and left a trail of carnage, with blood and pieces of flesh littering the ground for a two block radius.(7)  The investigation initially blamed Mayor Low and the Board of Aldermen for approving an ordinance on 25 October, to allow the display of fireworks within the city of New York until the 10 November.(8) However three parties were claimed to be liable.  Hearst himself had through his agent arranged the firework display, and the Pain Fireworks Company employees had set off the explosion. In the end the City of New York, according to the Brooklyn Daily Eagle, had to pay out over half a million dollars in damages.(9) In August 1904, again one of Pain’s workers died in an explosion in the combustible chemicals mixing shed at the Manhattan Beach grounds.(10)

After the disaster Henry Pain was showered with lawsuits.  The technical deadline to compensate the dead and injured was 1911, but by that point Henry’s assets had been devalued by the accident, and he had insufficient funds. Leaving the United States to avoid arrest he sold the company to Central Fireworks who had previously been a partner.  A holding company with several other firework manufacturers under their wing, they eventually sold Pain’s America to the Unexcelled Firework Company. Pain’s pyrotechnics largely came to a halt when the First World War was declared in 1914.(11) The Company does continue to operate to the present day as Pain’s Fireworks, based in Salisbury, England.

Conclusion

Much as with the Russia-Ukraine war, the Russo-Japanese war elicited a flurry of sympathisers, sceptics and charlatans across the western world and other bystander nations interpreting and tracking the conflict for their own commercial or geopolitical ends.  Commercial interests in particular drove the Russo-Japanese war to loom large in the Western imagination. Edwardians were raised on a diet of escalating great power rivalry exacerbated by the British Harmsworth newspaper company’s campaign to propagate Germanophobia among the British public. Hysterical future war fiction such as William Le Queux’s million-copy selling The Invasion of 1910 (1906) imagined a German attack on London and H.G Wells’ The War in the Air (1908) explored frightening new weapons technologies. In this cultural atmosphere the spectacle of all out mechanised war in Manchuria shifted tickets and memorabilia like nothing except the major cricket or football fixtures. The war was narrated and even objectified by creative and savvy entrepreneurs throughout the English speaking world even as the conflict was progressing.

Through the Pain family’s bombastic firework re-enactments of the siege of Port Arthur, the article explored a snapshot of pre-cinema culture which sought to provide audiences with unsubtle yet fascinating simulacrum and mock warfare. In 2022, Japan supported Ukraine and joined in imposing sanctions on Russia. Entangled with the ongoing Russo-Japanese dispute over possession of the Kuril Islands, tensions have been turned up into downright antagonism once again. A Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs official, Hideki Uyama, even compared Russia’s invasion of Ukraine to the occupation of the islands. At the very least then diplomatic fireworks between the two powers are back on the playbill.

What do you think of the pyrotechnic re-enactments? Let us know below.

Now read Robert’s article on the Liverpool City Council investigation of the Chinese community here.

References

1 R.M Connaughton, p.115

2 The Minneapolis Journal (Minneapolis, Minnesota) · Fri, Sep 8, 1905 · Page 20

3 Mimi Colligan, Canvas Documentaries, p.142

4 The Chattanooga News (Tennessee) 16 May, 1905, St. Louis Globe-Democrat (Missouri) 3 November, 1904, The Yale Expositor (Michigan), 1 September, 1905, Nashville Banner (Tennessee) 22 May, 1905, Buffalo Morning Express and Illustrated Buffalo Express (New York) 11 July, 1905

5 Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 28 August 1904

6 The Brooklyn Daily, 5 November 1902

7 The Brooklyn Daily, 5 November 1902

8 Ibid

9 The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 2 December 1902

10 The Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 24 August, 1904

11 Ralph Hyde, Dictionary of Panoramists of the English-Speaking World (2015, unpublished, but donated to the The Bill Douglas Cinema Museum)

The Modern Greek State: 1914–1922 – Greeks Divided

On March 25, 2021, the Modern Greek State celebrated the 200th anniversary of the War of Independence, which ultimately led to its establishment. It is thus an excellent opportunity to reconsider some of the main events of Greek history over these 200 years and how they shaped the character of modern Greece.

This series of articles on the history of modern Greece started when the country was celebrating the 200th anniversary of the War of Independence. There was not much to celebrate one hundred years earlier though, when the first centenary was completed. Indeed, in 1922 Greece suffered probably the worst catastrophe of its modern history. Its origin can be traced back to after the triumph of the Balkan Wars. Thomas Papageorgiou explains.

You can read part 1 on ‘a bad start’ 1827-1862 here, part 2 on ‘bankruptcy and defeat’ 1863-1897 here, and part 3 on ‘glory days’ 1898-1913 here.

King Constantine I of Greece in the early 1920s.

I After the Balkan War was over

Defeat is an orphan, whereas victory is claimed by many fathers. King Constantine and his entourage of officers at the general staff, blamed by the Military League for the defeat at the Greco-Turkish of 1897, (Papageorgiou, History is Now Magazine, 2021) saw their redemption at the triumph of the Balkan Wars. Their approach though was that of complete denial of any credit to the prime minister Venizelos. The latter and his environment, similarly, but more moderately, exalted their contribution against the deficiencies of the pro-royals. (Malesis, 2017)

This was a rather petty quarrel and a bad sign for the future in view of the effort required to integrate the recently acquired territories. Significant minorities (the census of April 1913 shows that in Thessaloniki, for example, out of the 157,000 inhabitants, 39,956 were Greeks, 61,439 Jews, 45,867 Muslims, 6,263 Bulgarians and 4,364 Europeans and other ethnicities) (Papadakis (Papadis), 2017) constituted a potential problem that could be solved neither easily nor quickly. Furthermore, efficient exploitation of the new lands required the build of infrastructure in areas recently devastated by war. The fiscal sufficiency though was slim. By 1913, expenses for military operations amounted to 411,485, 000 drachmas in addition to 280,000,000 of collateral costs. The nation’s public dept had risen by 755,000,000 drachmas. These were dizzying figures considering the state of the Greek finances at the time (GDP before the war is estimated at 735,000,000 drachmas).

The prevailing expectations in Western Europe about the future of the Greek State, after its victorious military campaigns, allowed for the takeout of a 500,000,000 francs loan in February 1914, under favorable terms, to settle the pending depts. Nevertheless, the budget of the same year amassed a deficit of 170,000,000 drachmas, while immediate needs to be covered (not included in the budget) were estimated at over 300,000,000 drachmas. Thus, even before the outbreak of the First World War, issuance of the whole 500,000,000-franc loan proved impossible. The government turned to the National Bank and internal borrowing to supplement the required funds.

In any case, the needs could not be met with continuous borrowing. Payments of salaries and pensions were not being made on time and this gave room to the opposition to criticize the government. Even basic military needs, like the supply of food to the army, were only possible thanks to the advances from the National Bank. (Kostis, 2018)

II The First World War (WWI)

Thus, the outbreak of WWI found Greece facing significant challenges. These suggested that staying neutral was probably the most preferable option. At the beginning of the war, this was also the preference of the Central Powers and the Entente. Both were wooing Bulgaria and the Ottoman Empire to join their ranks and taking up their foe during the Balkan Wars could hinder their efforts. King Constantine favored neutrality also for strategic reasons (exposure to a possible naval blockade by the British Empire in case of an alliance with Germany). (Rizas, 2019)

On the other hand, Greece was bound by an alliance with Serbia (Papageorgiou, History is Now Magazine, 2022) which was under attack from Austria-Hungary since July 1914. Furthermore, when the Ottomans and Bulgarians signed treaties of alliance with Germany in September 1914 and September 1915 respectively, (Glenny, 2012) Venizelos, convinced that the British Empire would prevail, saw an opportunity for further territorial gains, if Greece joined the Entente.

The defeat of Germany, though, was by no means a certainty, especially during the early stages of the war. By the end of 1917 Soviet Russia concluded an armistice with the Central Powers followed by the Treaty of Brest – Litovsk with favorable terms for the latter. It was the late entry of the USA into WWI that tilted the scale in favor of the Entente. (Efthimiou)

Thus, steering the country within this complicated framework of international relations by carefully considering Greece’s fiscal and military capacity as well as its political (diplomatic) options required the setting of clear goals and a close collaboration between the prime minister and the head of state and the army. Venizelos and Constantine did exactly the opposite.

At first, Venizelos suggested that the Greek army should undertake the landing at the Dardanelles in February 1915, in return for territorial gains in Asia Minor promised by the Entente. The king seemed fascinated by the idea (considering a possible capture of Constantinople, where his synonymous emperor Constantine died, when the city was taken by Turkey in 1453), but the pro-royal chief of staff Metaxas considered the campaign too risky, leaving the northern border exposed to a Bulgarian attack and resigned his post. Venizelos then proposed the limitation of the Greek participation to only one division raising the king’s doubts about the success of the undertaking. Finally, Constantine refused to give his approval and Venizelos resigned. (Mavrogordatos, 2015)

The prime minister’s Liberal Party, though, won again in the elections of May 1915. The opposition, gathered around the king, refused to interpret the result as a vote for the participation to WWI proposing that it only showed the people’s trust to Venizelos. The king’s refusal to complement led Venizelos to resign again in September and abstain from the new elections of December 1915. (Malesis, 2017)

Meanwhile Bulgaria joined the Central Powers and the attack on Serbia was imminent. To implement the Greco-Serbian alliance treaty Venizelos, in the brief period before his resignation, invited the Entente to send troops to aid the Serbians through the port of Thessaloniki. The revocation of the invitation by the pro-royals and Greece’s protest could not prevent the landing of French troops in October 1915. (Mavrogordatos, 2015)

The presence of the allied forces in Thessaloniki allowed for the formation there of the National Defense Committee by Venizelos’ supporters aiming to confront the Bulgarian threat and align foreign policy with that of the Entente. When the Bulgarians took the Greek fortress of Ruper in May 1916 and later advanced in Eastern Macedonia by August, the government in Athens did not react in the name of a questionable neutrality as foreign armies were now clearly violating national sovereignty. This caused the armed reaction of the National Defense Committee on the 17th of August and when the city of Kavala was lost to the Bulgarians on the 29th, Venizelos, although hesitant at first, decided to lead the revolt. (Malesis, 2017)

Thus, Venizelos was now leading yet another revolt and the country was split in two with one government in Athens in charge of the ‘Old Greece’ and another one in Thessaloniki in charge of the ‘New Greece’ (territories acquired after 1912 except Epirus). (Mavrogordatos, 2015) The military presence of the Entente helped Venizelos to reunite the country though. On November 18, a detachment of 3,000 allied troops landed in Piraeus and advanced to Athens, but they were repelled by forces loyal to Constantine. After that, the royalists turned against Venizelos’ supporters in Athens killing dozens of them, arresting others and committing all kinds of atrocities. On the 26th, the allied fleet implemented a strict naval blockade of the ‘Old Greece’ causing food shortages and other catastrophic consequences for the population. Eventually, the king was forced to leave the country in June 1917 leaving his son Alexander at his place but did not resign. (Malesis, 2017) Venizelos returned to Athens and ‘resurrected’ the parliament elected in May 1915 (thus described as ‘Lazarist’). It was time for his supporters to retaliate against the opposition. Venizelos might have united the country again territorially, but the Greeks were now divided to Venizelists and Anti-Venizelists.

The prime minister’s harsh measures included the exile of this opponents (his former adjutant Metaxas and the leader of the Anti-Venizelists Gounaris, for example, were sent to Corsica) and the cleansing of the public sector, including that of justice and the church, as well as the army from the opposition supporters. Nevertheless, during the last phase of WWI Greece managed to field 10 divisions, that is about 180,000 men, that performed well in the Macedonian front, where they constituted about 1/3 of the total allied forces. To compensate for the late entrance in the war and in order to have the best possible treatment during the peace negotiations in Paris, Venizelos also sent the 1st Army Corps (23,000 men) to fight against the Communists in Ukraine in January 1919. (Malesis, 2017). The campaign was unsuccessful for the allies and they withdrew in April of the same year. The Greek communities in the Crimean suffered the retaliation of the Bolsheviks and many of their members were forced to seek refuge in Greece. Nevertheless, for Greece, the worst was yet to come.

III The Asia Minor Campaign

The story of the Greek expansion to western Asia Minor goes back to 1914. It was offered by the Entente in exchange for Greek concessions to Bulgaria of some of the territorial gains of 1912-1913 so that the latter would join the allies. These amounted to about 5,000 square kilometers including the port city of Kavala affecting 35,000 Greeks living in the area. In return, Greece was claiming a territory of about 125,000 square kilometers with the city of Smyrna at its center and a significant minority of 810,000 Greeks. (Stamatopoulos, 2020) By the end of the war, though, no concessions were necessary as Bulgaria was on the side of the defeated.

Such offers, backed by mostly secret treaties, in order to lure one country or the other to their side, was a standard tool used by both camps during WWI. In April 1915, for example, southwestern Asia Minor was also promised to Italy with the treaty of London. (Stamatopoulos, 2020) The overall situation in the Middle East was further complicated by the antagonism between Great Britain and France as the Sykes – Picot agreement was challenged by the Young Turks of Mustapha Kemal, who was not willing to comply to any agreements of the defeated Ottoman Empire he deemed as harmful for the interests of the Turkish nation. To make things worse, President Wilson, representing the late entrant USA at the peace negotiations of Paris, was not aware of this covert diplomacy and was thus indifferent to any claims over peoples unless those peoples wanted them. (Churchill, 2021)     

Nevertheless, Italy proceeded with the occupation of Antalya in southern Asia Minor. The claims and ambitions of the Italians to lay hands upon the Ottoman Empire resulted to a complete breach between them and President Wilson. This led to a temporary withdrawal of Italy from the peace conference in Paris. When reports reached the conference that the Italians were going to proceed further with the occupation of Smyrna, combined with stories of Turkish maltreatment of the Greek population, it was proposed that the Greeks should be allowed to occupy Smyrna at once for the purpose of protecting their compatriots there. (Churchill, 2021) Although Venizelos was earlier warned by the chief of the British General Staff Sir Henry Wilson that he could not rely on any military or financial aid for the undertaking and that this would result in a long war with Turkey  and a rapid depletion of Greece’s financial and human resources, he decided to take the offer. (Richter, 2020)

At the time of the Greek landing in Smyrna, on May 15, 1919, the Ottoman Empire was under the spell of defeat in WWI. It was surrendering arms and munitions. But as soon as Greece, the enemy of generations, landed its troops, Turkey arose and the leader of the Young Turks, Mustapha Kemal, was furnished with the powers of a Warrior Prince. (Churchill, 2021) Not unfairly. Whereas the Greeks had the sea on their backs and Smyrna was not protected by any natural defensible border, Kemal could exploit the strategic depth of Anatolia, where he could safely withdraw, after every strike. (Mavrogordatos, 2015) Furthermore, Italy was clearly hostile to the Greek presence in Asia Minor and France also opted for collaboration with Kemal in exchange for peace in Syria, now under the French Mandate. (Wikipedia, 2022)   

Thus, Greece was alone when the treaty of Sevres was signed in August 1920. The treaty ceded Thrace to Greece, which was also to possess the Gallipoli Peninsula, most of the Aegean islands, and to administer Smyrna and its hinterland until a plebiscite could be held there. The British prime minister Lloyd George favoured the Greeks, but the imposition of the treaty on the Turks was entirely up to the Greek army, now showing signs of strain under the influence of protracted financial, military and political uncertainties. (Churchill, 2021)

The situation was difficult, and Sir Henry Wilson again describes Venizelos as hopeless and desperate during this period. ‘The old boy is done’, he remarked. (Llewellyn Smith, 1999) In the internal front the national schism continued to fuel despicable acts of hate. Two days after the signing of the Treaty of Sevres, Venizelos himself narrowly escaped an attempt against his life by two royalist soldiers in a Paris railway station on his way home. His decision to call general elections in November 1920 allowing also for the return and participation of the exiled opposition is still a point of controversy. Venizelos’ opponents claim that he was looking for a way to abdicate his responsibility for the outcome of the Asia Minor Campaign. If this was the case, he was successful, because he lost and now it was the royalists that had to find a solution.

Winston Churchill, who was later to experience himself a surprising electoral defeat after the triumph of WWII (Gilbert, 1991), gives a different account though. On October 2, 1920, Prince Alexander (at this point king of Greece) was bitten by a monkey during a walk in the royal garden. The wound festered and after three weeks Alexander died. It was decided to offer the throne to Prince Paul of Greece. The latter was living with his exiled father in Switzerland and, as Churchill puts it, was inspired to reply that he could only accept after the Greek people had at an election definitely decided against his father. This forced a General Election.

Venizelos, with the Treaty of Sevres that expanded the triumph of the Balkan Wars, felt confident. He was willing that the issue should be put crudely to the electorate: Were they for the restoration of Constantine or not? But he did not make sufficient allowances for the strain to which Greece had been put; for the resentments which the allied blockade to make Greece enter WWI had planted; for the many discontents which arise under prolonged war conditions; for the oppressive conduct of many of his agents, when during his continuous absence for the peace negotiations the Greek people lacked his personal inspiration and felt the heavy hand of his subordinates; for the complete absorption of his opponents to party politics and for their intense desire for office and revenge. Eventually, he lost. (Churchill, 2021)

The only sane policy arising from Venizelos’ defeat would have been to reduce promptly and ruthlessly the Greek commitments in Asia Minor, negotiating also for the safety and well-being of the Greek minority there. The pro-royal officer Ioannis Metaxas made suggestions along these lines. (Stamatopoulos, 2020) After all, the return of Constantine further dissolved all Allied loyalties to Greece as the king was a bugbear for them second only to the Kaiser himself. Nevertheless, the new regime, under prime minister Gounaris, was determined to show Greece how little Venizelos had had to do with its successes that far. They would strike Mustapha Kemal at the heart of his dominion. They would have the army march to Ankara. (Churchill, 2021)

What about the army then? Winston Churchill again gives a vivid description of the Greek army during the campaign to Ankara (which partly applies for the Greek people as well). He writes: ‘Imagine an army of two hundred thousand men, the product of a small state mobilized or at war for ten years, stranded in the centre of Asia Minor with a divided nation behind them; with party dissensions in every rank; far from home, and bereft of effectual political guidance; conscious that they were abandoned by the great Powers of Europe and by the United States; with scant food and decaying equipment; without tea, without sugar, without cigarettes, and without hope or even a plan of despair; while before them and around them and behind them preyed and prowled a sturdy, relentless and even more confident foe’. And he continues ‘over the Greek Army in Asia Minor there stole an ever-growing sense of isolation; of lines of communication in jeopardy, of a crumbling base, of a divided homeland, and of an indifferent world’. (Churchill, 2021) Nevertheless, the Greek army remained in martial posture for upwards of three years in Asia Minor. But, after the triumphs of the Balkan Wars and WWI, eventually it was defeated. On September 16, 1922 the last Greek Soldiers left Asia Minor. The Hellenism of Asia Minor followed them to escape the Young Turks’ atrocities.

IV Conclusions

Carl von Clausewitz in his classic On War defines the ‘Culminating Point of the Attack’ as that at which the forces remaining are just sufficient to maintain a defensive, and to wait for peace. Beyond that point the scale turns, there is a reaction; the violence of such a reaction is commonly much greater than the force of the blow. Everything then depends on discovering the culminating point by the fine tact of judgment. (Clausewitz, 1997) His fellow Prussian Otto von Bismarck did exactly that, when, after fighting against the Danes, then the Austrians and finally the French to achieve the unification of Germany in 1871, he stayed put in spite of expectations to storm the rest of Europe. (Steinberg, 2011) A more recent example is Menahem Begin, who, instead of provoking a civil war during Israel’s War for Independence, decided to take the blows of David Ben-Gurion without responding and remained in political exile for thirty years until he became prime minister in the end of the 1970s. (Gordis, 2016)

Obviously, the Greeks did not posses such qualities. As we have seen, civil wars were common during their War of Independence (and more came after that), and now political party quarrels that led to the national schism brought Greece beyond its culminating point of attack, deep in Asia Minor, after ten years of mobilization and war starting in 1912 with the Balkan Wars.

Who was responsible in the present case? Churchill criticized the United States, Britain and France for requesting the presence of the Greek Army in Anatolia, where it had been the foundation of allied policy against Turkey for three years only to fall victim to inter-Allied intrigues at the end. The way for the dissolution of all Allied loyalties to Greece was paved by the Greek people’s choice, at the moment of their greatest hopes and fears to deprive themselves of Venizelos, the commanding personality who had created the situation Greece found itself into and who alone might have carried it to success. (Churchill, 2021)

Several Greek commentators take the same stance (Mavrogordatos, 2015) although there are cases of harsh criticism against Venizelos and his policies and more favourable for the king (Kakouri, 2017). Others blame both Venizelos for his disregard of hard facts (e.g., Greek minority of only 20% of the total population in the disputed area, lack of natural defences etc.) that led to the disaster and the king for not opposing the advance to Ankara - even though he was convinced that the whole undertaking of the Asia Minor campaign would be fatal for Greece. (Stamatopoulos, 2020)

Indeed, in the period discussed here both Venizelos and the king (personally and as head of the anti-venizelists) offered bad service to their country. We have seen in previous parts of this short history of modern Greece that division, violence and civil war characterized its early years. Parliamentarism helped relax the tensions, but now the two rivals were resorting to the old methods again. Not only did they allow/cultivate violence for the (also physical) extermination of the opposition, not only did they allow/pursue foreign intervention for the support of their cause, but they did it with a ‘messianic’ attitude of infallibility that resulted in a complete disregard for the consequences on Greece and its people. This legacy, as we will see, tormented Greece in the following years. In contrast, in the short period of two years (1912-13) that Venizelos and Constantine managed to work together Greece triumphed.      

What do you think of the period 1914-22 in the Modern Greek State? Let us know below.

References

Churchill, W. S. (2021). The world crisis, Volume IV, The aftermath 1918-1928. London : Bloomsbury.

Clausewitz, C. (1997). On War. Ware: Wordsworth Editions Limited.

Efthimiou, M. (n.d.). Global History IV: The Man Against Himself - Part B. Center of Open Online Courses (www.mathesis.cup.gr). Crete University Press, Heraklion (in Greek).

Gilbert, M. (1991). Churchill, A life. London: Heinemann.

Glenny, M. (2012). The Balkans 1804-2012, Nationalism, War and the Great Powers. New York: Penguin Books.

Gordis, D. (2016). Israel, A concise history of a nation reborn. New York: Collins Publishers.

Kakouri, A. (2017). The two beta. Athens: Kapon.

Kostis, K. (2018). History’s Spoiled Children, The Formation of the Modern Greek State. London: Hurst & Company.

Llewellyn Smith, M. (1999). Ionian vision, Greece in Asia Minor 1919 - 1922. Michigan: The Univeristy of Michigan Press.

Malesis, D. (2017). Defeat - Triumph - Catastrophe, The army in the Greek State from 1898 to 1922. Athens: EPICENTER (in Greek).

Mavrogordatos, G. (2015). 1915 The National Schism. Athens: Patakis (in Greek).

Papadakis (Papadis), N. E. (2017). Eleftherios Venizelos. Chania - Athens: National Research Foundation ''Eleftherios Venizelos'' - Estia Bookstore (in Greek).

Papageorgiou, T. P. (2021, September 5). History is Now Magazine. Retrieved from http://www.historyisnowmagazine.com/blog/2021/9/5/the-modern-greek-state-18631897-bankruptcy-amp-defeat#.YVH7FX1RVPY

Papageorgiou, T. P. (2022, January 20). History is Now Magazine. Retrieved from http://www.historyisnowmagazine.com/blog/2022/1/20/the-modern-greek-state-18981913-glory-days#.YhPK6JaxW3A

Richter, H. A. (2020). The Greco-Turkish war 1919 - 1922, From the dream of the ''Great Idea'' to the Asia Minor disaster. Athens: Govostis Publications (in Greek, also available in English by Harrassowitz Pub. - 2016).

Rizas, S. (2019). Venizelism and antivezinelism at the beginning of the national schism 1915-1922 . Athens: Psichogios publications S.A. (in Greek).

Stamatopoulos, K. M. (2020). 1922 How we got to the catastrophe. Athens: Kapon Editions (in Greek).

Steinberg, J. (2011). Bismarck, A life. New York: Oxford University Press.

Wikipedia. (2022). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sykes%E2%80%93Picot_Agreement

Wikipedia. (2022). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandate_for_Syria_and_Lebanon

Perils, Panics and Pandemics: The Liverpool City Council investigation of Chinese Communities in 1906-07

In the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic in February 2020, something troubling started happening to Britain’s Chinese community. Some people started blaming people of East Asian appearance of spreading the virus. In that context, Doctor Robert Brown looks at a panic in 1906-07, involving ugly, unsubstantiated allegations against the British Chinese community in Liverpool.

A Chinese woman and child in the 1920s UK. Source: Harry B. Parkinson, available here.

In February 2020, the shriller voices in Britain amongst a suspicious and poorly informed public began blaming any Chinese Britons or people of East Asian appearance they could find for the spread of the virus.(1)  The community became a focal point for a moral panic that pathologized them as a biological threat to the body politic.  Jenny Wong, Director of the Manchester Chinese Centre recounted to the Manchester Evening News the numerous complaints she received about Chinese children excluded from interacting with other children because parents saw them as ‘virus carriers’.

Suspicious stereotyping towards Chinese communities in the UK and throughout the English speaking world is nothing new, although the tropes driving these stereotypes may mutate.   Around 113 years prior to the pandemic another Manchester based newspaper, the Sunday Chronicle, on December 2, 1906 had broken a hysterical scare story about the activities and vices of Chinese migrants in England’s North West, clustered around Liverpool. According to reports, these Chinese had been spotted dealing drugs and dragging young white girls into prostitution. The article examines the moral panic this generated.  Local outrage against the Chinese was whipped up to the point where Liverpool City Council felt compelled to intervene by conducting a detailed investigation of Chinese activities in Liverpool.  Their findings paint a fascinating picture of official confusion and paranoia about the perceived degenerative physical and moral impact of interracial contact between European and Chinese bodies.

Eugenics, Elections and the Chinese Question in Edwardian Britain

By 1906, suspicions toward Chinese immigration in Britain and the ‘White men’s countries’ of the empire were at an all time high.  Trade Unions and politicians in Australia and South Africa had already laid the groundwork for controversies in Britain.  In attempts to protect their ‘white’ workers from labor competition, they successfully pushed the narrative that Chinese immigrants were fundamentally not compatible with European communities.  In 1905 this came to a head in Transvaal colony, South Africa, where anger about the British government’s importation of Chinese mine workers drove the progressive criminalization of Chinese activities. The feedback from this hit Britain hard in the 1906 General Election. The Liberal Party won a thumping landslide against the incumbent Conservative and Liberal Unionists, partly by claiming the Tories had given ‘South Africa for the Chinese’, and partly by promising to stop the importation of Chinese labor in Britain from escalating.(2)

This political unrest unfolded against an anxious hum of background noise in the popular science and the eugenics movements regarding a perceived biological ‘degeneration’ of the British population. The Departmental Committee on Physical Degeneration (1904) noted that a shocking proportion of working class recruits for the Second South African war had to be rejected as physically unfit to serve.(3)  According to some eugenicists, such as the Liverpudlian physician Robert Reid Rentoul, the physical decline of Britain’s population was caused by interracial marriage, and could be solved by segregating or excluding non-whites from the country. In Race Culture; or, Race Suicide? (1906), Rentoul claimed that, ‘terrible monstrosities’ were ‘produced by inter-marriage of…the white man with the Chinese’ and that naturalisation of foreigners was ridiculous since Africans were dangerous ‘perverts’ and ‘nymphomaniacs’.  While his arguments against racial equality probably did not reach the ears or breakfast tables of the working classes of the North West, his intellectualisation of anti-Chinese prejudice certainly reflected anxious stereotypes about immigrants expressed on street level.(4)

Sensationalist publications about Chinese communities in Britain had certainly not helped.  If anything, articles such as Hermann Scheffauer’s The Chinese in England (1911), for Harmsworth’s London Magazine had helped flesh out constructions of Britain’s Chinatowns as opaque dens of evil and subversion connected in a global web with larger Chinese enclaves in Melbourne and San Francisco. Even worse, The Yellow Danger (1898) by West Indian author Matthew Phipps Shiel was a highly popular and xenophobic ‘yellow peril’ science fiction novel depicting a Chinese invasion of Europe led by the ‘yellow Napoleon’ Dr. Yen How. Littered with ‘germ’ metaphors equating hordes of Chinese shock troops with an infectious plague, the British ironically beat back the invasion by using biological warfare. Chinese prisoners injected with a deadly disease were used to infect and cripple their own armies. These anti-immigrant, ‘germ-phobic’ tropes reflected the nastier anxieties toward the Chinese in Edwardian Britain.

Liverpool City Council’s Investigation

In response to one such article ‘Chinese vice in England’ in the Sunday Chronicle, a special meeting of Liverpool City Council was called on December 12, 1906.(5)  The ‘sensational character’ of the accusations against Chinese workers in Liverpool had stirred up public outrage that could only be assuaged by the ‘closest investigation’.(6)  The Chronicle claimed Chinese owners of laundries and lodging houses were engaged in the organized seduction and corruption of teenage white girls. This stirred a local belief that a sinister and inscrutable ‘oriental’ menace was in their midst, and the City Council clearly took this seriously enough to form a commission comprised of clergymen, local newspaper editors and two doctors to gather evidence and write a report.(7)  Published on July 26, 1907, the report on ‘Chinese Settlements in Liverpool’ included a section on the ‘morality of the Chinese’.  It began by refuting a local rumor that the Chinese on Liverpool’s Pitt Street ‘were in the habit of giving sweets impregnated with opium to children’.

Far greater concern was expressed in the investigation of Chinese ‘relations with white women’.  On the one hand, it was noted that several white British women had married Chinese men, and that, ‘the women themselves stated that they were happy and contented and extremely well treated’.(8) On a darker note however, was the reportedly widespread corruption of English girls from ‘respectable’ backgrounds who became ‘acquainted’ with Chinese men, mercilessly groomed to ‘drift into what can hardly be described as otherwise than prostitution’.(9)  In three cases it was claimed, ‘the girls taken advantage of were under 16 years of age at the time’.  Although there was no record of complaints being made, and insufficient evidence for such cases to be brought to trial, the commission was adamant that the, ‘evidence of seduction of girls by Chinamen is conclusive…the Chinese appear to much prefer having intercourse with young girls, more especially those of undue precocity’.(10)  This exposed a prominent anxiety of Edwardian society that young white women in their associations with ‘men of colour’ were the ‘unwitting revolutionaries’ in a biological sense, for the overthrow of Britain’s white ‘race culture’.(11)

Recommendations of the Report

The report recommended that the Liverpool Watch Committee be warned of the ‘Chinese danger’ so that law enforcement could be vigilant in future.  The report was similarly alarmed about the possibility of ‘miscegenation’, the increase in ‘mixed race’ children arising from the Chinese control of brothels. However no formal evidence of Chinese men running brothels in Liverpool could be substantiated despite the allegations that all laundries acted as fronts for the sex trade.(12) In a letter to the undersecretary of state at the Home Office on December 8, 1906 entitled ‘Chinamen in Liverpool’, the Liverpool Head Constable had tasked his officers with taking a census of the Chinese residing in Liverpool who ‘seemed to be in regular employment’.  The figures listed, ‘15 Englishwomen married to Chinamen, 4 English women cohabiting with Chinamen, and 2 English women employed in Chinese laundries’. A ‘half-caste’ (mixed heritage) Chinese-English woman also ran a brothel with her Chinese husband, and was arrested for this in July 1904.  In the Head Constable’s opinion there was:

At present a great outcry on the subject, mostly due to a lying article in the Manchester Sunday Chronicle, but there is no doubt a strong feeling of objection to the idea of the ‘half-caste’ population which is resulting from the marriage of the Englishwoman to the Chinaman, but I cannot help thinking that what is really at the bottom of most of it is the competition of the Chinese with the laundries and boarding house keepers.(13)

As in the Transvaal, in Liverpool there was an official awareness that commercial interests were partly at play in pushing racialized anti-Chinese talking points and feeding the insecurities of the working classes to stifle business competition. This foreshadowed a far bigger panic in the 1919 race riots against Chinese and other non-white shipping workers in Britain.

Conclusion

Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, there was talk of a second Cold War between China and the West. We will see this narrative grow and mutate in global media discourse over the coming years.  However the debacles of 1906-7 and 2020 also teach us that international anxieties can have more localized consequences. They potentially catalyse regional panics about Chinese communities and Chinese influence that can lead to ugly rumours and uglier results.  It also tells us that germ-phobia, stereotypes surrounding ethnic groups and anxieties about immigration have become entangled in Britain to create a toxic atmosphere in which false information and hatred flourishes. In the modern world citizens have frequently treated the nation-state like a body vulnerable to infection. Developing scientific solutions and vaccines to cope with the covid pandemic has been a painful learning curve, and so too will de-toxifying and disentangling the language linking borders, pathogens, and the contemporary Chinese question.

What do you think of the events surrounding the panic and subsequent report in 1906-07 in Liverpool?

References

1 https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2020/feb/09/chinese-in-uk-report-shocking-levels-of-racism-after-coronavirus-outbreak

2 See Appendix I.

3 Geoffrey Russell Searle, The Quest for National Efficiency: a Study in British Politics and Political Thought 1899–1914 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1971), Geoffrey Russell Searle, Eugenics and Politics in Britain 1900–14 (Leyden: Noordoff InternationalPublishing, 1976).

4 Robert Reid Rentoul, Race Culture; or, Race Suicide? : (a plea for the unborn), (London, Walter Scott, 1906), p.3-5.

5 Sunday Chronicle, 2nd December 1906, ‘Chinese vice in England’.

6 City of Liverpool, Report of the Commission appointed by the City Council to enquire into Chinese Settlements in Liverpool, 26 June, 1907, HO 139147/15

7 Sascha Auerbach, Race, law, and “The Chinese Puzzle” in Imperial Britain, (Palgrave Macmillan, New York, 2009), p.50

8 City of Liverpool, Report of the Commission appointed by the City Council to enquire into Chinese Settlements in Liverpool, 26 June, 1907, HO 139147/15

9 Ibid, p.7

10 Ibid, p.6

11 Henry Reynolds, Nowhere People, (Penguin, 2005), P.35

12 City of Liverpool, Report of the Commission appointed by the City Council to enquire into Chinese Settlements in Liverpool, 26 June, 1907, HO 139147/15, p.7

13 HO 45/11843, Part 2

American Tanks and Tank Destroyers of World War II: A Flawed Necessity?

American tanks and tank destroyers played an important role in the later years of World War 2. Here, Daniel Boustead looks at the most important of these tanks and the role they played in some key battles.

A Sherman tank during the Allied Invasion of Sicily in July 1943.

American Tanks and Tank Destroyers in World War II are very well known to the public and historians. The inferiority of these weapons was a direct result of government and U.S Army policies and doctrine. Extensive research has been done about the technical mediocrity of these weapons. The logistics and transportation of these weapons played a role in their technological inferiority. Very little could be done to improve the American Tank and Tank Destroyer’s marginal effectiveness. In contrast, Airpower and Artillery were the most effective Anti-Tank weapons. 

At the end of World War I the U.S Military was trying to re arrange the peace time army.  The Cavalry, Infantry, and Artillery branches of the U.S. Army viewed the Tank and the infant American Tank Corps as a threat and an encroachment to their turf and authority!. In 1919 General John J. Pershing (said in testimony before Congress) that the American Tank Corps “should not be a large organization”(1). General John J. Pershing also said (during his 1919 testimony) “it should be placed under the Chief of the Infantry as an adjunct to that arm”. Pershing’s testimony resulted in a significant event. In 1920, the U.S Congress passed the National Defense Act of 1920, which eliminated the infant Tank Corps. It also placed the Tank Corps under the Chief of Infantry as adjunct to that arm of the U.S. Army. This act seemingly destroyed any hopes for a future independent armored force. In October, 1931, the U.S. Army Chief of Staff Douglas MacArthur disbanded the “Mechanized Force”. He also ordered the Infantry and Cavalry branches to separately devise their own distinctive tanks and rules for their use(2). The resulting “Infantry tanks” would be used to accompany men on foot at a slow pace. In contrast, the light and under-gunned “Cavalry tanks” conducted reconnaissance and exploited enemy weakness. Mildred Gille said about General MacArthur’s decision, “When MacArthur saw fit to split the development of mechanization, the association of the two branches automatically resolved into an internecine competition for money, men and equipment”. The rivalry stifled any technological development in tanks. 3rd Armored Division member, Belton Cooper, recollected “As a young ordnance ROTC cadet in August, 1939, I was shocked to find that our total tank research and development budget for that year was only $85,000. How could the greatest industrial nation on earth devote such a pittance to the development of a major weapons system, particularly when World War II was to start in two weeks?”(3).

World War II

The M4 Sherman Tank was heavily influenced by the polices in 1942 from the Army Ground Forces Development Division (4) The Army Ground Forces Developmental Division had two primary criteria for a new weapon: “battle-need” and “battle-worthiness”. 

“Battle-need” meant that the new equipment had to be essential, not merely desirable. This policy was articulated by. Lt. General Leslie McNair. McNair was insistent that the Army should not be burdened with too many weapon types since the U.S. Army would be fighting thousands of miles from the continental United States and could not afford to complicate logistics. As a result, the U.S Army was unwilling to adopt a specialized tank with heavier armor for the infantry support role.

“Battle-worthiness” meant that the design had to be capable of performing its intended function but to be sufficiently rugged and reliable to withstand the rigors of combat service without excessive maintenance demands.

The M4 Sherman Tank perfectly fit the criteria of “Battle-need” and “Battle-worthiness”. These policies of “Battle-need” and “Battle-worthiness” meant that the Army Ground Forces did not favor the development of new tanks. This was until the combat situation forced them to do otherwise.

In Army Ground Forces or the AGF manual issued in September 1943 stated, “the primary role of the tank was not to fight enemy tanks, but to destroy enemy personnel and automatic weapons” (5). To have denied the infantry armor protection would have resulted in men being senselessly slaughtered by machine gun fire. Until 1945, the US Armor doctrine reflected the interwar school of thought that tanks existed to support Infantry, and the Cavalry’s preference for using them as weapons of exploitation to hit the enemy’s weak rear. These decisions led to the development of the Sherman Tank. However these policies also lead to the deaths of thousands of Tank and Tank Destroyer Crewmen.

In contrast the enemy armored threat was to be solved by the individualized tank destroyer battalions (6). The primary Tank Destroyer of the war was the M10 Gun Carriage. Another important American Tank Destroyer was the M18 Hellcat (7). The M18 Hellcat also was used in combat in Europe and the Pacific (8). The M36 Jackson Tank Destroyer also served in Europe(9).

Specifications

The hull front armor of the King Tiger II Tank was 150 millimeters thick(10). The King Tiger II’s 88 Millimeters KW.K 43 L/71 gun, using the shell of Pzgr. 39/43 could penetrate the front Gun Mantlet of the Sherman Tank at 2,600 meters at a side angle of 30 degrees (11). The King Tiger could also penetrate the front turret of a Sherman Tank using the same ammunition at a range of 3,500 + meters at a side angle of 30 degrees.

In contrast, the Sherman Tank equipped with either the 75 Millimeter gun or the 76 Millimeter gun was unable to penetrate the frontal armor of the King Tiger II Tank from a side angle of 30 degrees. The German JagdTiger Tank Destroyer had a fixed armored body that had 250 millimeters of front armor inclined at 75 degrees (12). The Sherman Tank, either equipped with the 75mm gun or the 76mm gun, was also unable to defeat the frontal armor of the JagdTiger based on front shot at a 60 degree angle (13).

The M-18 Hellcat Tank Destroyer was protected by thin armor and an open top turret which exposed the crew to fire from aircraft (14). The M18’s 76mm gun fired a shell that could seldom kill heavily armored German panzers in one shot. Even the M26 Pershing Tank when it fired the T44 HVAP shell could only penetrate 244 millimeters of homogenous armor at range of 500 yards at a 30 degree angle (15). The M26 Tank would have had some difficulty in destroying the JagdTiger.

In a December 6, 1944, article titled “Plan No Changes in Sherman Tank”, an unnamed War Department Official spokesmen said, “Should our tanks be as heavily armored as the German ones, this would bring up almost insurmountable difficulties in transportation, since many of the tanks now are still being landed on beaches” (16). In addition, Army Regulation 850-15 stated “American Tanks had to be able to fit into landing crafts, and to cross hastily built or repaired temporary bridges. Army Regulation AR 850-15 (which was revised in August, 1943) limited U.S. Tanks to 35 tons (17). The M26 Pershing Tanks’ weight was roughly 45 tons, and the Sherman Tanks average weight was 35 tons. In contrast the German King Tiger Tank was nearly 70 tons (18).

Attacks

On July 11, 1943, at Gela, Sicily, Naval gunfire rescued American tankers and infantry pinned down by fire from Nazi Tiger I Tanks(19). Sergeant Harold Fulton said of airpower “I could write all day telling of our tanks I have seen knocked out by more effective guns. Our best (anti-tank) weapon, and the boy that has saved us so many times, is the P-47 (Thunderbolt fighter-bomber, used to support Allied Tanks” (20). 

On the dates of September 22, 27, 28, and October 2 and 7, 1944, a series of five bombing raids hit the Henschel plant. This is where the King Tiger II was being produced (21). These five raids resulted in destroying 95% of the total floor area of the Henschel Plant. Another bombing raid on the Henschel Plant on December 15, 1944, delayed further recovery. Heavy bombing raids on the Kassel vicinity on October 22 and 23, December 30, 1944, and January 1, 1945, further delayed King Tiger II production. The Allied Bombing campaign from September 1944 to March 1945 caused the loss of at least 657 King Tiger II’s out of 940 that were originally planned to be built.

The American government and military decisions both contributed to these weapons’ deficiencies. Logistics and transportation prevented the weapons from being as formidable as their German counterparts. Thankfully, Tank and Tank Destroyer crews were saved by outstanding Air Power and Artillery.

What do you think of American tanks in World War II? Let us know below.

Now, you can read World War II history from Daniel: “Did World War Two Japanese Kamikaze Attacks have more Impact than Nazi V-2 Rockets?” here, “Japanese attacks on the USA in World War II” here, and “Was the Italian Military in World War 2 Really that Bad?” here.

References

Bryan, Tony, Laurier, Jim and Zaloga, Steve J. New Vanguard 35: M26/46 Pershing Tank 1943-1953. Oxford: United Kingdom. Osprey Military of Osprey Publishing Ltd. 2000. 

Cooper, Belton Y. Death Traps: The Survival of an American Armored Division in World War II. Novato: California. Presidio Press. 1998. 

DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WWII. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing, Ltd. 2017. 

Doyle, David. Legends of Warfare Ground: M18 Hell-Cat 76mm Gun Motor Carriage in World War II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing, Ltd. 2020. 

Doyle, Hilary and Spielberger, Walter J. The Spielberger German Armor and Military Vehicle Series: Tiger I and II And Their Variants. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2007. 

Doyle, Hilary, Jentz, Thoms L, and Spielberger, Walter J. The Spielberger German Armor and Military Vehicle Series: Heavy JagdPanzer, Development, Production, and Operations. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2007. 

Doyle, Hilary L and Jentz, Thomas L. Germany’s Tiger Tanks: VK 45.02 to Tiger II: DESIGN, PRODUCTION, & MODIFICATIONS. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 1997. 

Jentz, Thomas L. Germany’s Tiger Tanks: Tiger I & Tiger II: Combat Tactics. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 1997. 

“M-18 Tank Destroyer “Hellcat””. U.S. Army Heritage & Education Center: Army Heritage Trail Experience a Walk Through History. Accessed on April 3rd, 2022. https://ahec.armywarcollege.edu/trail/Hellcat/index.cfm.

Footnotes

1 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WWII. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing, Ltd. 2017.  42.  

2 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing, Ltd. 2017. 46. 
3 Cooper, Belton Y. Death Traps: The Survival of an American Armored Division in World War II. Novato: California. Presidio Press. 1998. 295. 

4 Bryan, Tony, Laurier, Jim and Zaloga, Steve J. New Vanguard 35: M26/46 Pershing Tank 1943-1953. Oxford: United Kingdom. Osprey Military of Osprey Publishing Ltd. 2000. 4 to 5. 

5 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 105.

6 Bryan, Tony, Laurier, Jim and Zaloga, Steve J. New Vanguard 35: M26/46 Pershing Tank 1943-1953. Oxford: United Kingdom. Osprey Publishing Military of Osprey Publishing Ltd. 2000. 4. 

7 Doyle, David. Legends of Warfare: Ground: M18 Hell-Cat 76 mm Gun Motor Carriage in World War II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2020. 8. 

8 Doyle, David. Legends of Warfare: Ground M18 Hell-Cat 76 mm Gun Motor Carriage in World War II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2020. 64. 

9 DeJohn,, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 234 to 236 

10 Doyle, Hilary L and Spielberger Walter J. The Spielberger German Armor and Military Vehicle Series: Tiger I and II and their Variants. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2007. 204

11 Jentz, Thomas L. Germany’s Tiger Tanks: Tiger I & Tiger II: Combat Tactics. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd 1997. 14

12 Doyle, Hilary and Spielberger, Walter J. The Spielberger Germany Armor and Military Vehicle Series: Tiger I and II and their Variants. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2007. 153. 

13 Doyle, Hilary, Jentz, Thomas L. and Spielberger, Walter J. The Spielberger German Armor and Military Vehicle Series: Heavy Jagdpanzer: Development, Production, and Operations. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2007. 185

14 “M-18 Tank Destroyer “Hellcat” “. U.S. Army Heritage & Education Center: Army Heritage Trail Experience a Walk Through History. Accessed on April 3rd, 2022. https://ahec.armywarcollege.edu/trail/Hellcat/index.cfm. 

15 Bryan, Tony, Laurier, Jim and Zaloga, Steven J. New Vanguard 35: M26/46 Pershing Tank Pershing 1943-1953. Oxford: United Kingdom.  Osprey Military of Osprey Publishing Ltd. 2000. 10. 

16 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 215. 

17 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 274. 

18 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 334. 

19 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 135 to 136. 

20 DeJohn, Christian M. For Want of a Gun: The Sherman Tank Scandal of WW II. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 2017. 266. 

21 Doyle, Hilary L and Jentz, Thomas L. Germany’s Tiger Tanks: VK 45.02 to Tiger II: DESIGN, PRODUCTION, & MODIFICATIONS. Atglen: Pennsylvania. Schiffer Military History of Schiffer Publishing Ltd. 1997. 59 to 60. 

Mao Zedong’s Childhood — A Telling Catalyst

Mao Zedong is often considered the main perpetrator of the Great Chinese Famine, the harrowing ramification of a series of incompetent and shortsighted policies that engendered the deaths of tens of millions of people. A good majority of the blame is often put on Mao, owing to his brutal and ruthless behavior and little regard for human life. But what is it that forged such a malevolent personality? What about him leads some to believe he was instead a benevolent ruler? To understand one’s inherent mindset and actions, many often look at his upbringing to determine how it affected his character. This brings forward the question: to what extent, good or bad, did Mao’s childhood affect who he became?    

David Matsievich explains.

Mao Zedong, from circa 1919.

Mao’s Parents

It is imperative that we first discuss the background of Mao’s parents. Mao’s ancestors came from the valley of Shaoshan, in Hunan, having lived in this humid region for five-hundred years. Mao’s father, Yi-chang, was born in 1870 to a peasant family. He was a hard-working man. After leaving the army, which he had joined to pay off family debts, he brought back home savvy business ideas, beginning to sell top-quality rice to a nearby village, in time becoming the richest man in his village. He was able to afford a six-room house, although the rooms stayed furnished with only the most basic structures: wooden beds, wooden tables, wooden chairs, some mosquito nets, etc..

Before all of this, however, when Yi-chang was fifteen, he married Wen Qimei, or literally “Seventh Sister Wen”. Wen Qimei, being merely a girl, was not given a name, so as she was the seventh sister of the Wen clan, she was duly given her title. Her betrothal to Yi-chang was arranged for a practical purpose: the Wen family resided in a village ten kilometers away from Shaoshan, but they had a deceased relative buried in a grave in the latter which had to had rituals be undertaken from time to time; therefore, having someone from the family in the area would be ideal. 

Early Childhood and Education

Born into a rural community of traditionalists on December 26, 1893, Mao was the third and only son to survive his infancy. His given name, Tse-tung, or Zedong, literally means “to shine on the East”. Auspicious names were reflective of parents’ expectation that their children would be successful in life. However, in order to not tempt fate with such a grandiose name, he was given a pet name by his mother — “the Boy of Stone,” Shi san ya-zi. After an elaborate ritual, somewhat like a “baptism”, at a rock deemed to be magical, he became “adopted” by the rock. He expressed his fondness for this name even in his older years.

Until the age of eight, he lived with his mother at the Wens’ village. He was loved by all his family there, and his uncle even became his Chinese equivalent of a godfather. Life was happy and careless, Mao only doing mild farm labor like gathering pig fodder and taking the buffalo for a walk by a shaded pond. It was in this idyllic village that he began learning to read.  

He returned to Shaoshan only to attend primary education. Mao had to learn by rote the Confucian classics, then an essential part of education in China, at which he was exceptionally talented. He was known by his pupils as a diligent and smart student, gathering a good foothold in Chinese history and learning to write legible calligraphy. Mao absolutely adored reading, flipping through pages well into the night when the entire village was asleep.

Father and Son

Nevertheless, he was a very recalcitrant and obstinate child. He was expelled from at least three schools for disobedient behavior. When he was ten, he ran away from his first school because, he claimed, his teacher was strict and harsh. This — and Mao’s dislike for menial laborious work — put him at odds with his father. The hatred of physically demanding work was especially what engendered the conflict between father and son: Yi-chang only obtained his wealth through hard labor, and he expected his son to do the same. 

Mao despised his authoritative father, who would hit him whenever he did not comply. Some scholars even put forward that Yi-chang was abusive towards Mao and his mother. Whatever the case, Mao likely never forgave his father, whom many years later, when Mao was chairman of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), he said he would have liked to be treated as brutally as all other political prisoners, had Yi-chang still been alive.

But Mao, as reflected in his future years, was never a submissive man; he fought back. On one occasion, as Jung Chang writes in her book The Unknown Story: Mao, after Yi-chang berated his son in front of guests, Mao ran from his father to a pond and threatened to jump in if his father came any nearer; Yi-chang relented. However, other scholars claim a different outcome; instead of backing down, Yi-chang demanded that Mao kowtow to him, which Mao did, in exchange for avoiding a beating. Two different realities offer two different implications. If we trust the latter, it would be further proof of the severity, and perhaps abusiveness, of Mao’s father, which might evoke sympathy for Mao. But if we are to choose the other, we are shown that Yi-chang did indeed love his son — and that Mao’s unscrupulous cleverness and opportunistic mindset developed at a young age. “Old men like [Yi-chang] didn’t want to lose their sons,” Mao allegedly said. “This is their weakness. I attacked at their weak point, and I won.” Either way, it was an unpleasant father-son relationship.

Yi-chang wanted to tame Mao, to make him docile and responsible. His resolution was to have his son marry his niece, after whom Mao would have to take care of, a mild “white elephant”. And so in 1908, Mao, at the age of 14, married Luo, 4 years his senior. (For the same reason as Wen Qimei, Luo was given not a name but rather a title: “Women Luo”). Mao had no affection for her. “I do not consider her my wife…” Mao said to journalist Edgar Snow in 1936, “and have given little thought to her.” He didn’t even live in the same house as her. She died barely a year later in 1910 (from natural causes, of course). In an article written years later, Mao decried his forced marriage with Luo, and all arranged marriages in general: “This is a kind of ‘indirect rape.’ Chinese parents are all the time indirectly raping their children…” This hatred of paternal authority naturally turned his father into an arch-nemesis. 

A Loving Mother

A pious follower of Buddhism, Mao’s mother became even more devout to the Buddha so that he would protect her only surviving son hitherto. Unlike with his father, Mao’s relationship with his mother was endearingly harmonious. Neat and kindhearted, she was also tolerant, indulgent, and, according to Mao, never raised her voice at him. At a young age he followed her around everywhere, attending Buddhist rituals and visiting Buddhist temples. In emulation of her, Mao espoused Buddhism, although he later forsook it in his later adolescence. His love of her was a complete polar opposite of the hate for his father. In October, 1919, Mao, in his twenties, was horribly distraught to learn of his mother’s death. Yet only a few months later, when Yi-chang was on his deathbed and wished to see his son for the last time, Mao coldly refused to come visit him. He was indifferent to his father’s death.

Once again another controversy opens up, this time about Mao’s absence at Qimei’s death. The generic argument is that Mao simply wasn’t there, away at studies or work, simple and believable. But Jung Chang proposes a more contrived and unpleasant motive: selfishness. Mao had always perceived  his mother as a healthy and clean woman; he did not want that idyllic image to be spoiled by his now ailing mother. He supposedly said to a close staff member, “I wanted to keep a beautiful image of her, and told her I wanted to stay away for a while… So the image of my mother in my mind has always been and still is today a healthy and beautiful one.”

He had agreed with his understanding mother to this arrangement. Mao did indubitably love her very much, but so did he his own interests.

Mao’s childhood: a catalyst?

More attention is usually focused on Mao's later stages of life, like in his early adulthood, when he “became” a communist, and especially later adulthood, when he was chairman. But it cannot be denied that childhood in essence is the foundation for later acts of life. For one, Mao’s ardent hatred and snubbing of traditional customs, like arranged marriage and filial piety, prompted him to espouse the newfangled Chinese Republican values in the early 20th century — and especially develop some very radical ideas of his own — culminating in his notorious communist image, although, as Jung Chang claims, with an “absence of heartfelt commitment” in this new ideology.

It is widely believed among Mao's supporters, past and contemporary, that his Shaoshan peasant background contributed to his empathy and astute concern for peasants in his party years. Mao himself purported that he indeed benevolently cared for the rural and marginalized people of China. Is this true? Jung Chang provides a concise answer: no. There is no sufficient evidence to prove he felt about them this way in her earlier days. Although he had referenced them in a few of his writings, there is no tangible or strong emotion in them to indicate sorrow or sympathy for peasants. In fact, he voiced more emotion on the “sea of bitterness” that was being a student, of which he was one. Mao additionally claimed that his emotion was first roused by the execution of a certain P’ang the Millstone Maker, although there are no records corroborating the existence of such an individual.

It’s safe to conclude that in order to attain a better understanding of Mao’s outlook on the world, it’s worth examining all stages of Mao’s life, not least his college years, where his egotism and fringe ideas were first transcribed on paper. But what qualities did transfer over from his childhood? From what we can confirm, his stubborn behavior is definitely reflected in his later attitude to the CCP leadership; his defiance of his orthodox-viewed father encouraged his adoption of the novel ideas and ideologies, such as democracy, republicanism, and communism, flooding into the country into early 20th century China; and his early-discovered love of books correspondingly prompted him to absorb one after another these recently translated socio-political writings, ranging from moderate to extreme. Although Mao’s childhood was perhaps not the most major period in his life, nor the one in which he adopted communism, it was to a fair degree a stepping stone to his controversial career.  

What do you think of Mao’s early life? Let us know below.

Now read David’s article on the Medieval European Jewish State here.

References

Chang, Jung, and Jon Halliday. The Unknown Story: Mao. Anchor Books, 2005. 

Spence, Jonathan. “A Child of Hunan.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 2000, https://archive.nytimes.com/www.nytimes.com/books/first/s/spence-mao.html. 

Snow, Edgar. “Interview with Mao.” The New Republic, The New Republic, https://newrepublic.com/article/89494/interview-mao-tse-tung-communist-china.

Henry Ford’s “Ship of Fools”: Ending the First World War through Citizen Diplomacy

In 1915 American industrialist and business magnate Henry Ford launched an amateur peace delegation aimed at stopping the First World War raging across Europe. Although it turned out to be disaster rand subject to ridicule, the mission offers an important example of the unorthodox ways in which private citizens have sought to broker peace.

Felix Debieux explains.

A December 1915 Punch cartoon "The Tug of Peace". It ridicules Ford’s peace mission to Europe.

When we think about ‘diplomacy’, a number of images spring to mind. Official-looking statesmen in grey suits, facing off across long tables as they discuss the terms of treaties, ceasefires and trade. This image is a narrow one, and places a great deal of importance on the work of nation states. We might call this ‘Track One’ diplomacy, that is to say the kind of diplomacy conducted in official forums by professional diplomats. There is, however, a second track. Indeed, ‘Track Two’ diplomacy – sometimes referred to as ‘backchannel diplomacy’ - refers to the non-governmental, informal and unofficial diplomacy of private citizens, major corporations, NGOs, religious organisations and even terrorist groups. 

Easily overlooked, this second track has sought to shape major historical events – often at times where government-to-government diplomacy is perceived as inadequate, ineffective or to be failing in some way. This was certainly the case with American industrialist and business magnate Henry Ford, who in 1915 launched an amateur peace delegation aimed at stopping the First World War raging across Europe. Although it turned out to be complete disaster ridiculed mercilessly by the contemporary press, the mission offers an important example of the unorthodox ways in which private citizens have sought to broker peace.

A humanitarian industrialist

While Henry Ford’s motives for involving himself in international diplomacy have been disputed, Ford certainly held sincere pacifist sentiments and, from early 1915, had begun to condemn the war in Europe. Indeed, unlike the jingoism readily found among other automotive industrialists like Roy D. Chapin and Henry B. Joy, Ford described himself as a pacifist and aired his frustration with both the war and the profiteering associated with it. This caught the attention of two prominent peace activists, who approached Ford with an ambitious proposal: launch an amateur diplomatic mission to Europe and broker an end to the war.

The two peace activists play a crucial role in this story. The first was Hungarian author, feminist, world federalist and lecturer Rosika Schwimmer. Closely associated with a number of movements including women’s suffrage, birth control and trade unionism, Schwimmer from the very outset of the war had advocated for neutral parties to mediate a peace. In 1915, she successfully persuaded the International Congress of Women at The Hague to support the policy. Her companion was Louis P. Lochner, a young American who had acted as secretary of the International Federation of Students. In 1914, Lochner had been appointed as Executive Director of the Chicago-based Emergency Peace Federation, and – like Schwimmer – called for neutral nations to mediate an end to the war. Both were fervent champions for world peace, and they hoped to persuade Ford to throw his resources behind their proposal.

While their eventual meeting with Ford was a success, the proposal put to the industrialist was not entirely honest. Indeed, Schwimmer claimed to possess key diplomatic correspondence which proved that there were neutral and belligerent nations receptive to her idea of mediation. The documents, however, cannot be described as anything other than a complete fabrication. Nevertheless, they were enough to persuade Ford that there was appetite in Europe for negotiations and so he agreed to finance a peace mission. “Well, let’s start”, he said. “What do you want me to do”? 

Chartering a mission to Europe

With Ford sold on the idea of neutral mediation, Lochner suggested that they seek the endorsement of President Wilson. The President could establish an official commission abroad until Congress made an appropriation. If this ‘Track One’ diplomatic route was to fail, Lochner explained, then the President could back an unofficial mission to undertake the work. Ford supported the idea, and seemed excited at the promise of good publicity. Indeed, the industrialist revealed a natural flair for epigram, thinking up such pithy pronouncements as: “men sitting around a table, not men dying in a trench, will finally settle the differences”. 

On November 21, 1915, Ford, Schwimmer and Lochner lunched with a group of fellow pacifists. Everybody in attendance approved the plan of sending an official ‘Track One’ mediating mission to Europe and, if that failed, a private ‘Track Two’ delegation. To set the plan in motion, Ford and Lochner would travel to Washington to secure President Wilson’s backing. Possibly jesting, Lochner suggested to the group “why not a special ship to take the delegates over [to Europe]?” Ford immediately jumped at the idea. While some members of the group thought it ridiculously flamboyant, Ford liked the idea for that very reason. Almost immediately he contacted various steamship companies and, posing as “Mr. Henry,” asked what it might cost to charter a vessel. In no time at all, Ford had chartered the Scandinavian-American liner Oscar II. 

The very next day, Ford and Lochner arrived in Washington for an appointment with the President. The meeting began well enough, with Lochner observing how “Mr. Ford slipped unceremoniously into an armchair, and during most of the interview had his left leg hanging over the arm of the chair and swinging back and forth”. After exchanging pleasantries, Ford outlined the mission, offered to finance it, and urged the President to establish a neutral commission. While he approved of the principle of continuing mediation, the President explained that he could not anchor himself to any one project and, regretfully, that he could not support Ford’s plan. This was not what Ford had prepared himself to hear. He explained that he had already chartered the ship, and had promised the press an announcement on the following day. “If you feel you can’t act, I will”, he said. While Wilson did not budge from his initial position, this was not enough to deter Ford. “He’s a small man”, Ford said to Lochner as they left the meeting. An unofficial, ‘Track Two’ mission this was going to be.

Casting a net

Eager reporters began to arrive at Ford’s hotel. The industrialist opened his press announcement with a simple question: “A man should always try to do the greatest good to the greatest number, shouldn’t he?” He continued: “We’re going to try to get the boys out of the trenches before Christmas. I’ve chartered a ship, and some of us are going to Europe”. When pressed for more detail about the voyage, Ford explained that he was going to bring together “the biggest and most influential peace advocates in the country”. Some of the heavyweights he listed included Jane Adams, John Wanamaker, and Thomas Edison. 

The voyage, unsurprisingly, made front page news in both New York and around the country. While it is not clear what kind of coverage Ford expected, the reaction he did receive was generally derisive. Among his harshest critics was the Tribune, which ran with the headline:

GREAT WAR ENDS

CHRISTMAS DAY

FORD TO STOP IT

Other commentaries were more direct in their criticism. The New York Herald, for instance, described the mission as “one of the cruellest jokes of the century”. This was echoed by the Hartford Courant, which remarked that “Henry Ford’s latest performance is getting abundant criticism and seems entitled to all it gets”. Usually more sympathetic towards Ford, the World deemed the mission an “impossible effort to establish an inopportune peace.” 

Ridiculed though it was, the mission – even before setting sail – was at least generating the kind of publicity which Ford craved. This, however, only disguised the huge logistical problems which the organisers of the project faced. Indeed, having announced 4th December as the date of embarkation, Ford had left only nine days to assemble an entire delegation. This was not only unrealistic, but also put the project on the back foot from the very outset.

Wasting no time in racing towards an impossible deadline, invitations were sent out at once to prospective delegates. The general response provided only further ammunition for the jeering press. Indeed, within just one day of Ford’s press announcement, John Wanamaker and Thomas Edison clarified that they would not be joining the voyage. While Jane Addams confirmed that she, at least, did plan on joining, it was hard to ignore the avalanche of refusals. These included distinguished figures such as William Dean Howells, William Jennings Bryan, Colonel E. M. House, Cardinal Gibbons, William Howard Taft, Louis Brandeis, Morris Hillquit, and many others who would have lent their credibility to the project. 

Nevertheless, the net was cast wide enough that some notable peace activists were able to join. Leading suffragette Inez Milholland and publisher Samuel Sidney McClure signed up for the mission, along with more than forty reporters. Also committing to the cause was the Reverend Samuel S. Marquis, a close friend of Ford’s. In the end, the delegation was as large and distinguished as Ford could reasonably expect to assemble within such a tight timeframe. Indeed, the fact that so many were willing to abandon their commitments with only nine days’ notice, in some cases at their own expense, pointed to the prestige and appeal which they believed the mission carried. 

All aboard!

The Oscar II set sail from Hoboken, New Jersey on December 4, 1915. Much to the delight of the press, arrangements began to unravel just days before embarkation. On December 1, Jane Addams – one of the mission’s key delegates – fell unexpectedly ill and had to pull out of the voyage. This was a major blow, and no doubt undermined the leadership of the expedition. It was not enough, however, to deter a crowd of roughly 15,000 people from gathering to watch the Oscar II leave the dock. As the band started to play “I Didn’t Raise My Boy to Be a Soldier”, Ford appeared and was met with resounding cheers. 

There was certainly no shortage of entertainment to occupy the press. Indeed, just before the ship's departure, a prankster placed a cage containing two squirrels on the gangplank. An accompanying sign read "To the Good Ship Nutty". This was followed by a man who leapt into the water, and proceeded to swim after the ship as it left the dock. Once hauled ashore, he declared that he was “Mr. Zero” and explained that he was “swimming to reach public opinion.” Oblivious to the commotion, the crowd continued to wave and cheer. This clearly made an impression on Ford. As Lochner observed:

“Again and again he bowed, his face wreathed in smiles that gave it a beatific expression. The magnitude of the demonstration—many a strong man there was who struggled in vain against tears born of deep emotion—quite astonished and overwhelmed him. I felt then that he considered himself amply repaid for all the ridicule heaped upon him.” 

As the Oscar II faded out of sight, Americans waited to see what effect she might have. 

What nobody foresaw was just how soon the delegation would descend into squabbling and infighting. Much of this was triggered by President Wilson’s 7th December address to Congress, in which the case was made for military prepardness and an increase in the size of the US army. This proved to be an incendiary development, with the activists simply unable to agree on their collective response. Indeed, some aboard the Oscar II felt very strongly that the delegation should deprecate preparedness and call for immediate disarmament. Others, however, would not countenance criticism of either the President nor Congress. McClure made his position quite clear:

“For years I have been working for international disarmament. I have visited the capitals of Europe time and time again in its behalf. But I cannot impugn the course laid out by the President of the United States and supported by my newspaper”.

While some among the delegation understood this position, there were those on the voyage who were not so tolerant. Schwimmer, for instance, accused McClure of corrupting the delegation. Lochner went further still, asserting that supporters of preparedness who had joined the voyage must have simply come along for the “free ride”. Such comments only served to stoke disunity, and were lapped up by the ship’s reporters who narrated the infighting in day-to-day stories. “The dove of peace has taken flight,” cried the Chicago Tribune, “chased off by the screaming eagle”. Such reports were accused of having magnified the dispute. “The amount of wrangling has been picturesquely exaggerated,” wrote the activist Mary Alden Hopkins. “A man does not become a saint by stepping on a peace boat.”

While himself strongly opposed to preparedness in any form, it was in the end left up to Ford to patch things up. For him, the success of the voyage was paramount and, if that meant working alongside peace-lovers who supported a degree of preparedness, then so be it. Ford signed a statement, which outlined what he saw as the incompatibility between peace and prepardness but – more importantly – emphasised that all delegates on the mission were welcome. The damage, however, was already done. Indeed, delegates were very aware that their closely-held principles were being savaged in the press. “The expedition has been hampered at every step by the direct and indirect influence of the American press, by the Atlantic seaboard press,” declared one of the passengers.

As the Oscar II continued to steam across the Atlantic, the situation aboard went from bad to worse. An outbreak of influenza spread through the ship, resulting in one person dying and many others falling sick. Ford also fell ill, and retreated to his cabin in hopes of avoiding reporters. This led to a rumour that he might have secretly died, and so a group of the ship’s less considerate reporters forced their way into his quarters to check on the veracity of the story. At the same time, reporters had become highly suspicious of Schwimmer and the diplomatic correspondence she claimed to possess. After some negotiation, Schwimmer agreed to show her evidence but, angered by their comments, cancelled the exhibit. The Hungarian expressed her frustration by locking the reporters out of the Oscar II’s wireless room. By this point the group looked desperately forward to their planned arrival in Norway, where they had been promised a grand welcoming party. Like many other aspects of the mission, however, their expectations were not realised. 

Land ahoy! 

In the early hours of December 18, the Oscar II docked in Oslo. A handful of Norwegians came by later that morning to welcome the delegation, but this was nothing like the rousing welcome they had been promised. The reception was in fact much cooler, with many Norwegians generally supportive of military preparedness and sceptical towards the mission – particularly Schwimmer. Indeed, Norwegians felt that it was inappropriate for a citizen of a belligerent power to play a leadership role in the peace mission of a neutral country. Further still, Norwegians were generally pro-Ally and believed that peace could only be attained after Germany’s military strength had worsened. Onlookers were surely disappointed when a very sick Ford, who insisted on walking from the dock to his hotel, collapsed and went to bed. The most distinguished member of the delegation would make no further public appearances while in Norway.

Regretfully, Ford’s health showed no signs of improvement. He “was practically incomunicado”, recalled Lochner, who suspected that Ford’s friend, Samuel Marquis, was trying to talk the industrialist into returning to America. “Guess I had better go home to mother”, Ford eventually said to Lochner, “you’ve got this thing started now and can get along without me.” Lochner strongly objected, believing that Ford’s presence was critical to the success of the mission. This was to no avail, and on December 23 Ford began his long journey back to the US. 

The effect this had on the rest of the delegation is rather predictable. Some felt depressed, disheartened and perhaps even a sense of betrayal. Lochner attempted to re-motivate the group: “before leaving, [Ford] expressed to me his absolute faith in the party and… the earnest hope that all would continue to co-operate to the closest degree in bringing about the desired results which had been so close to his heart—the accomplishment of universal peace”. While certainly commendable, Lochner’s efforts to soften the blow fell short. After all, everybody knew that Ford was the only one among them who commanded the stature needed to impress and energise the representatives of neutral nations. Though he continued to support the mission both morally and financially, the activists who Ford left behind inevitably splintered further apart. Nevertheless, the disjointed delegation was able to claim one success: the establishment of the Neutral Conference for Continuous Mediation. 

Held in Stockholm, the Conference - attended by representatives from the US, Denmark, Holland, Norway, Sweden, and Switzerland - sought to encourage neutral governments to mediate an end to the war. On May 18, 1916, the Conference issued a manifesto asking belligerent nations to participate. The manifesto laid out three general activities: mediation between belligerents, propaganda to build public support for peace, and scientific study of the political problems. The Conference even managed to meet with the Danish Secretary of Foreign Affairs, its first formal recognition by a European government. Ultimately, however, there were no further successes that the activists could point to. Indeed, their quick work to develop a program failed to gain traction in the parliaments of the neutral nations; no action at all was taken by any of the targeted governments. By March 1, 1917, with the US moving closer to entering the war, Ford made the decision to discontinue the Conference. The total bill for the peace mission? Half a million dollars - $10,100,000 in 2022.

A total failure? 

How should we evaluate the peace mission? Former US Senator Chauncey M. Depew famously reflected that “in uselessness and absurdity” the peace mission stood “without equal”. This, perhaps, is the easiest assessment of the delegation’s efforts. Indeed, without ever agreeing on how they intended to achieve peace, the group failed to persuade any neutral nation to adopt a policy of mediation. In the process, those who boarded the Oscar II were subjected to relentless ridicule and criticism. This was always about more than bruised egos, with some believing that the ridiculousness of the mission risked the credibility of their deeply-held principles. The Baltimore Sun, for instance, judged that "all the amateur efforts of altruistic and notoriety-seeking millionaires only make matters worse".

Nevertheless, Ford himself asserted that the peace ship was a success. It "got people thinking” about peace on both sides of the Atlantic, he claimed, and “when you get them to think they will think right”. Was he hurt by the level of ridicule he was subjected to? It is impossible to say, but he later reminded people that at a time when no serious effort was made to bring the war to an end, he stood up and acted. “I wanted to see peace. I at least tried to bring it about. Most men did not even try”. Ford’s positive assessment of the peace mission was surely influenced by its commercial outcomes. Tellingly, he described the expedition as the “best free advertising I ever got”. 

Indeed, Ford was very much attuned to the commercial benefits of a highly publicised journey to Europe. Lochner, in fact, concluded that publicity was the only definite part of Ford’s thinking. “If we had tried to break in cold into the European market after the war, it would have cost us $10,000,000. The Peace Ship cost one-twentieth of that and made Ford a household word all over the continent”. While for the activists peace was everything, for Ford this was also an investment - an opportunity to advertise his benevolent character across Europe and America. After the war, Ford would go on to become the largest manufacturer of Liberty Motors for aircraft, blurring the boundaries he had once set between profiteering and pacifism. 

A rounded assessment of the peace ship would not be complete without considering its long-term impact. Indeed, it should be remembered that ideas stimulated during the mission eventually wound up in President Wilson’s Fourteen Points, a statement of principles for peace to be used in negotiations to end the war. Notably, the list included a commitment to transparent peace treaties, free from the greedy tentacles of private deals struck on the side. This was an idea thought up by activists who had participated in the peace mission. Though they might have failed to bring an end to the war, these ‘Track Two’ citizen diplomats can claim a legacy of sorts, pioneering alternative modes of peace-building less dependent on government leadership. 

What do you think of the ‘Ship of Fools’? Let us know below.

Now read Felix’s article on Henry Ford’s calamitous utopia in Brazil: Fordlandia here.

References

Open War Aboard the “Peace Ship", J. Mark Powell.

The Peculiar Case of Henry Ford, The University of Michigan and the Great War.

Henry Ford And His Peace Ship, American Heritage, Volume 9, Issue 2, February 1958.

The “Peace Ship”: An Early Attempt at Citizen Diplomacy, Read the Spirit.

The Peace Ship: Henry Ford’s Pacifist Adventure in the First World War, Barbara Kraft, New York, 1978.

The Odyssey of Henry Ford and the Great Peace Ship, Burnet Hershey, New York, 1967.

Second Track / Citizens' Diplomacy: Concepts and Techniques for Conflict Transformation, John Davies, Edward Kaufman, eds., Maryland, 2002.

The Washington Post’s Leader for Decades: The Life and Times of Katharine Graham

Few people have had such a profound impact on the American political and journalistic consciousness as Katharine Graham. Her major role was leading the Washington Post from 1963 until 1991. David Huff explains.

Katharine Graham in 1975, available here.

Overview

Born Katharine Meyer in 1917 in New York City, she was the daughter of Eugene Meyer, who was an American businessman and publisher of the Washington Post newspaper, which he acquired in 1933. After attending Vassar College, she transferred to the University of Chicago, where she received her B.A. degree in 1938. After college, she worked for a year as a reporter for the San Francisco News. After briefly employed in San Francisco, she joined the editorial staff of The Washington Post. In 1940, she married Philip Graham, who was a graduate of Harvard Law School.

In 1946, Philip Graham assumed the position of publisher of the Post. He served as publisher and later co-owner of The Washington Post and its parent company, The Washington Post Company. During his years with the Post Company, Graham helped The Washington Post grow from a fledgling local paper to a national publication and the Post Company expand to own other newspapers as well as radio and television stations. Tragically, however, Phillip Graham committed suicide in August 1963 after suffering from manic depression. As a result, Katharine Graham was transformed from a reticent widow to publisher and chief executive of The Washington Post. Strong-minded, gifted and engaging, Ms. Graham recognized the extraordinary talent of other outstanding individuals in the publishing community. She hired Benjamin Bradlee first as managing editor and then as executive editor to handle the newsroom operations of the growing and well-respected newspaper. Under their tutelage, the Post confronted major crises—the Pentagon Papers and the Watergate Crisis—that no one could have foreseen. Yet, Graham and Bradlee both possessed strong instincts and judgment, a tenacious and unequaled work ethic, and outstanding interpersonal skills that enabled them to survive these political tribulations.

The Pentagon Papers Controversy

In 1967, former Secretary of State Robert McNamara commissioned a study known as The Pentagon Papers, which was the history of the Vietnam War and the decisions made therein by American foreign policy makers from 1945–1967. As the Vietnam War escalated, with more than 500,000 U.S. troops in Vietnam by 1968, military analyst Daniel Ellsberg—who had worked on the project—came to oppose the war, and decided that the information contained in the Pentagon Papers should be available to the American public. In March 1971, he gave a copy of the report to The New York Times, which then published a series of shocking articles based on the report’s most appalling secrets. In sum, the papers revealed that the United States government had broadened the initial war in Vietnam into Southeast Asia with the military bombing of Cambodia and Laos, coastal raids on North Vietnam, and Marine Corps attacks. At that time, these seminal events were not reported by the American press.

On June 13, 1971, the Times began to publish a series of articles based on the information contained in the Pentagon Papers. After several published pieces, the Justice Department issued a temporary restraining order against further release of the material, arguing that it was harmful to the country's national security. In the landmark Supreme Court decision in New York Times Co. v. United States, 403 U.S. 713 (1971), the Times and The Washington Post joined forces to fight for the right to publish, and on June 30, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled 6-3 that the government had failed to prove harm to national security and that publication of the papers was justified under the First Amendment’s protection of freedom of the press.

Due to the favorable Supreme Court ruling, The Washington Post's reputation was enhanced by Graham's defiance of a restraining order by pursuing publication of the Pentagon Papers. To her credit, Graham fought U.S. government efforts to censor the material, which, in turn, upheld the First Amendment right of the free press against prior restraint by the government.

The Watergate Crisis

A year later, on June 17, 1972, a break-in at the Democratic National Committee ("DNC") headquarters in the Watergate complex in Washington, D.C. triggered a political earthquake that shook the foundation of America's democratic institutions. The subsequent cover-up by people who worked for or with the White House, and by Nixon himself, created a constitutional crisis that not only threatened America's "checks and balances" in its democratic representative system, but also called into question the presidency itself.

During the crisis, Katharine Graham faced the full wrath of the Nixon administration as the paper's reporters—Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward—sought to piece together the story of the Watergate burglary. Throughout the Watergate Crisis, Woodward and Bernstein were fed leaks by a deep-background source they referred to as "Deep Throat," who was later revealed to be FBI deputy director W. Mark Felt, Sr. They kept up a constant stream of leads demonstrating not only the direct involvement of Nixon officials in Watergate activities, but also that the Watergate wiretapping and break-in had been financed through illegally laundered 1972 campaign contributions. In a shocking cover-page article, The Washington Post reported on October 10, 1972 that the Watergate bugging incident stemmed from a "massive, nationwide campaign of political spying and sabotage conducted on behalf of the president's re-election committee officials.”(1)

"The investigation of such a tangled web of crime, money, and mischief  would have been hard enough under the best of circumstances, but it was made much harder given the unveiled threats and major and minor harassments by a president and his administration,”(2) she wrote in an excerpt from her 1997 memoir, Personal History. At the end of 1972, Republican businessmen challenged the licenses of two Florida TV stations owned by The Washington Post Company, causing the company's stock price to drop by more than 50 percent.(3) "Sometimes I wondered if we could survive four more years of this kind of strain, of the pressures of living with an administration so completely at odds with us and determined to harm us.”(4)

Graham described her own role in the unfolding story as "a kind of devil's advocate, asking questions all along the way -- questions about whether we were being fair, factual, and accurate.”(5) She downplayed the notion that she had shown courage by standing by her reporters and editors, saying she had no choice. "By the time the story had grown to the point where the size of it dawned on us, we had already waded deeply into its stream.”(6)  "Once I found myself in the deepest water in the middle of the current, there was no going back.”(7)

After months of painstaking investigation by Woodward and Bernstein and U.S. Congressional hearings, coupled with the discovery of President Richard Nixon's secret tape recordings, the United States Supreme Court stepped into the unfolding political drama. On July 24, 1974, in United States v. Nixon, 418 U.S. 683 (1974), the Court ruled in a unanimous decision against President Richard Nixon, ordering him to deliver tape recordings and other subpoenaed materials to a federal district court. On July 30, 1974, Nixon complied with the order and released the subpoenaed tapes to the American people. Nine days later, on August 8, 1974, President Richard Nixon delivered a nationally televised address in which he announced his decision to resign the presidency, effective at noon on August 9, 1974. At that time, Vice President Gerald R. Ford was sworn in as the nation's 38th President of the United States.

Watergate had a profound impact on the American system. It provided the impetus for pernicious cynicism and collective alienation toward the American political process. The intrinsic values and institutions that many people held as sacred-honesty, trust, company loyalty, and faith in a benevolent government-had been tainted and corrupted during the crisis. As a result, many Americans lost faith in the federal government and the reputation of the presidency was greatly damaged. Furthermore, many Americans were astounded that their democratically elected officials were culpable of such undemocratic and criminal behavior. Moreover, from an historical perspective, the Watergate Crisis served to deepen the political disenchantment and growing cynicism that commenced after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy and the bloody quagmire in Vietnam.

Legacy

Katharine Graham faced many tribulations, but she rose above them, created a name for herself and, in my opinion, forever changed the face of journalism. Graham, who became America's first female Fortune 500 CEO, was a mover and a shaker whose breadth of knowledge and depth of character touched a deep and resonating chord in American society. Her life gave meaning to the phrase that adversity builds character. Through tragedy and disappointment, Ms. Graham's sense of moral clarity enabled her to adapt, to endure, to develop a will of iron in order to bear the burdens that fate dealt her with uncommon grace. Rather than retreat into isolation and self-pity, she rose to the occasion to summon and cultivate political and journalistic impulses that existed within her and in turn, utilized them to strengthen America's democratic institutions. 

Conclusion

Finally, despite Ms. Graham's continual political tribulations during the Nixon presidency, she maintained not only a firm and steadfast loyalty, but also a strong and unswerving commitment to her brave, passionate and determined counterparts at the Post. Ms. Graham's unparalleled support for her reporters as well as her editors led to landmark journalism, which reverberated through the highest levels of our government and culture. She helped to create one of the world's great newspapers, and her legacy lives on through the quality of reporting and editorial writing that Americans have come to expect from the Post and written media at large.

In essence, what the American people should gain from Ms. Graham's telling experience is that our political system is tilted more toward personal aggrandizement than to individuals willing and able to make a real contribution. Graham's story underscores the reality that a person's loyalty and experience - though important attributes - are often sacrificed for political expediency.

Ultimately, her success is directly related to those superb professional skills but, as with all great people, it is the result of the priceless qualities of depth of personality and strength of character. It is those latter traits, which America needs more than ever, that make her truly irreplaceable and will cause her to live forever.

What do you think of the article? Let us know below.

Now read David’s article on Jackie Kennedy’s influence on the arts here.

Controversial Heritage: An Approach to Racism from the Land of Black Pete

In the eyes of foreigners, the Netherlands has a controversial tradition. Every autumn an old man named Sinterklaas (a figure based on Saint Nicholas, patron saint of children and one of the sources of the popular Christmas icon of Santa Claus) with a staff, a miter and a long beard arrives in the Netherlands on a steamboat accompanied by dozens of servants, called zwarte pieten (Black Petes). These Petes have traditionally been painted black, have bright red lips, gold earrings, and curly hair. Black Pete hands out sweets and presents to children. To outsiders this whole tradition has an obvious stereotypical racist character, but for many Dutch people it is an innocent tradition: they say this has nothing to do with racism. In the last ten years in particular there has been increasing criticism of the racist character of Black Pete, both from minority groups within the country and from abroad. This is a very delicate situation in the generally liberal and tolerant Netherlands. Fierce discussions and demonstrations by supporters and opponents characterize the past ten years. Why is this tradition so highly valued and how should it continue?

Bram Peters explains.

Illustration from Jan Schenkman's book Sint Nikolaas en zijn Knecht (Saint Nicholas and his Servant).

Although Sinterklaas is a tradition for children, it’s always the adults who say Black Pete must stay black, not the children. This has to do with the fact that adults have an image from their youth of what Black Pete should look like. Children don’t have those memories. And that’s why it’s so sensitive. Adults feel that a tradition they have only fond childhood memories of may not be passed onto the next generation. Their tradition is under pressure to change and that hurts. Every survey shows that it is mainly older Dutch people who want to stick to the traditional appearance of Black Pete. Younger generations are more open to change.

Over the past ten years you can see that the annual recurring discussion is starting to influence public opinion. The number of Dutch people who are in favor of the traditional Black Pete decreases a little every year, but it is going slowly. International events also influence this shift, for example UN researcher Verene Sheperd’s criticism of the Dutch tradition in 2013 and the worldwide Black Lives Matter protests following the death of George Floyd in 2020. Slowly the tradition is changing: every year more Black Petes appear with only some soot smudges on the face rather than full blackface. Other Petes are painted in all kinds of colors.

When something is part of your own culture and tradition, it can be very difficult to understand that it can be hurtful to others. Something that is perceived as racist by others cannot be easily understood for people for whom it is part of their identity. There seems to be a blind spot. In addition, we live in a time when the world is changing rapidly. Globalization, migration and the rise of the internet and social media mean everyone is connected to everyone and old habits and customs are constantly under discussion. Many people experience a loss of identity and tend to cling to the old. Polarization is the result. It is more important than ever to keep in touch with each other and really understand why one wants change and why that change takes time for the other.

Global discussions

Similar discussions about racist heritage are also present in other countries. Take for example the situation in the United States, where statues of so-called Civil War “heroes” such as General Robert Lee are removed and the use of the Confederate flag on government buildings and other locations has become highly controversial. The statues and flag are widely seen by minority groups as symbols of slavery and oppression. And they find the majority of historians on their side. For white residents of the southern states, the situation is sometimes more nuanced. They see these symbols as part of their past and heritage and do not necessarily associate them with racism. The aforementioned blind spot seems to be present here too because most of these people aren’t white power supremacists. It is essential that this group enters the dialogue with the group that do find these symbols racist, even if one may not be used to talk with the other. This will help to get a better mutual understanding and hopefully accomplish a re-evaluation of the controversial heritage that simply exists, even if it will take time. And to make a stand together against the white power movement that is not only openly racist but is even proud of it and cannot be reasoned with.

What do you think about re-evaluating controversial heritage? Let us know below.

About the author: Bram Peters is an historian from the Netherlands. He has a MA in political history from one of the major Dutch universities, and specialized in national identity and traditions, as well as parliamentary history, the second world war and war propaganda. He worked for years as a curator at one of the largest war museums in the Netherlands. He likes to get involved in public debate by writing articles for national and regional newspapers and websites.

How Florida was Mapped: The First Survey of Coral Springs

Coral Springs is located in Florida, just north of Miami. It has seen its population boom in the post-war years. Here, Karl Miller looks at how the mapping of Florida took place in the 19th century - and how the area was formed in the 20th century.

The Coral Springs covered bridge, an old building in the city. Source: Legionaries, available here.

Like many cities formed during the rise of suburbia in post-World War II America, Coral Springs, Florida expanded extremely rapidly. Founded in 1963, it grew from just 1,489 residents in 1970 to over 134,394 in 2020, becoming one of the largest fifteen municipalities in Florida. Also like many other new American cities, its story started well before incorporation.

For over a thousand years, Tequesta natives occupied the area that would eventually become Coral Springs. Archaeological digs showed several areas of native occupation including camps and burial sites, ending when the last of the tribe, decimated by European disease, departed for Cuba in 1763. While Seminole natives and others likely crossed through the area in the decades after the Tequesta left, the first recorded visit to the future area of Coral Springs did not come until long after the Tequesta departed.

Upon receiving Florida from Spain by the treaty of Adams-Onis in 1819, the United States began to organize the territory they had acquired. Starting with the Land Ordinance Act of 1785, the United States adopted a common system, the Rectangular Method, for measuring land. Starting from a designated point called a meridian, the new territory was divided north and south into 36-square-mile blocks called townships that were further measured east and west by ranges. Measured from a meridian established at Tallahassee, the land that would eventually become Coral Springs sat at Township 48 South, Range 41 East.

Working through the swamps

George MacKay, a 35-year-old New York surveyor who had moved to Florida to conduct various business interests, was hired by the United States Surveyor General’s Office in 1845 to conduct surveying work in the southeastern part of the state. Valentine Y. Conway,  the Surveyor General of Florida, instructed MacKay to survey land south of Township 44 “to the Atlantic coast, and as far west as practicable.” Using a magnetic compass and a surveyor’s chain which was  specified to be “33 feet in length . . . containing 50 links . . . made of good iron wire,” MacKay’s team – which included his younger brother Alexander as well as several enslaved persons -  proceeded to work their way through the south Florida swamps, enduring the insects, heat, snakes, and alligators that the profession routinely experienced at that time.

On March 26, 1845, MacKay surveyed the area in which the future Coral Springs would sit. His brief survey notes show he found a rocky area with “scrub pine, cypress . . . and sawgrass.”  In a later account of his surveying expedition, MacKay described the conditions they encountered, stating often the weather was so still “there was not enough air stirring to move as aspen leaf” and that their measuring lines could only pass in places “by cutting away the lofty fresh grass and wading (or rather wallowing) through the mud and underrubbish.”  

Having completing his assigned survey, MacKay, after going on a difficult trip in which his boat “was driven back to New River two or three times by contrary wind, turned in his report to the Surveyor General’s headquarters in St. Augustine.”  Based on his account showing 888.6 miles surveyed, he was paid $3,555.  He eventually moved back to Caledonia, New York, where he died in 1880.

Growth

The land itself remained isolated for several more decades, until the state government sold it as part of a grant to speculator Richard Bolles in 1908. After the draining of south Florida swamps began in earnest under Governor Napoleon Bonaparte Broward, the land was acquired by Henry “Bud” Lyons in 1919 as part of his 20,000-acre green bean and cattle operation. In 1961, Lyons’ widow sold the land to developer James S. Hunt for $1 million, setting the stage for Coral Springs to be incorporated two years later.

As a case study in the growth of suburban America, the surveying expedition that first reached the area of the future Coral Springs illustrates a typical first step in development. It illustrates how a city can quickly go from an undeveloped natural setting to a major suburban municipality in only a few short decades. While in a sense this example shows the triumph of progress, it is also a cautionary story in that the path to rapid development came at the cost of destroying extensive areas of pristine wetlands and wildlife habitat. When faced with a similar situation in the future, hopefully a more balanced, deliberate outcome will result.

What do you think of the development of Florida? Let us know below.

1 U.S. Census Bureau, “Characteristics of the Population: Florida,” 1970, accessed January 15, 2022 at https://www2.census.gov/prod2/decennial/documents/1970a_fl1-01.pdf;  U.S. Census Bureau, “QuickFacts: Coral Springs, FL,” 2020, accessed January 15, 2022 at https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/coralspringscityflorida.

2 Joe Knetsch, "The Surveys of George Mackay: A Drawer of Lines on the Map of South Florida," The Florida

Surveyor, Vol. II, Issue 1 (October 1994).

3 C. Albert White, A History of the Rectangular Survey System (Washington, DC: U.S. Bureau of Land Management, 1983): 332, accessed December 20, 2021 at https://www.blm.gov/sites/blm.gov/files/histrect.pdf, 332.

4 U.S. Government Survey Field Notebooks, Vol. 84, 1845: 283, accessed October 13, 2021 at https://ftp.labins.org/glo_all/Volume84_pdf/Folder%2013%20pg%20262%20to%20285_pdf.pdf.

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6 A.H. Jones.  A.H. Jones to George MacKay, February 2, 1846. Letter. MacKay-Hutchinson Family Papers 1836-74, Dolph Briscoe Center for American History, The University of Texas at Austin.

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8 New York, Death Index, 1880-1956, New York Department of Health, Albany, NY; NY State Death Index; Certificate Number 5870.