History Response Papers

Garrett Moritz

IN SEARCH OF A SUMMA DIPLOMATICA

Henry Kissinger was a star academic at Harvard and Secretary of State. Yet,
neither he nor anyone else has written a Summa Diplomatica presenting all
sides of international relations. In Power and Interdependence, Robert Keohane
and Joseph Nye modify Kissinger-type "realist" interpretations of international
relations. Though the "complex interdependence" they develop initially seems
to be at odds with the "realism" described by Kissinger, the two can be
complements from the right perspective.

To compare Kissinger's realism with complex interdependence, we must first

understand something of Kissinger's view.1 It is founded on the idea of "World
Orders." In every age, says Kissinger, a hegemonic regime has emerged. The
Rome of the Augustan Principate, the Pax Britannica of the 19th century or the
United States in the current century all determined the "World Order" in their
respective eras. What exactly that "World Order" was may not always be
formally defined, as in the case of the US. Debate over the international duties
and interests of America, for instance, fluctuated in the early decades of the
"American Century" between Theodore Roosevelt's aggressive New
Nationalism and Woodrow Wilson's ideologically-founded New Freedom. Our
readings from Kissinger focus on the regime shift from the increasingly
inflexible Concert of Europe, Balance of Power scheme to a more American-
dominated regime. The old order, adequate since 1815, became obsolete in an
era of rapid mobilization and total war. The rigid alliance system created a
"zero-sum game" which made World War I inevitable.

Kissinger's analysis leaves several questions unanswered. For instance, how

does one measure power? What constitutes power certainly changes over time.
For instance, industrial and military capacities, common measures of power in
the Victorian era, are largely insufficient indexes in a modern era where media
and information processing are increasingly important. Another unanswered
question is who has power? For Kissinger it is enough to assume that
governments have power, and that they are unified enough to exercise it. In
essence, Kissinger's presentation of international relations is a "realist" one.

In Power and Interdependence, Keohane and Nye are unwilling to leave these
questions unanswered. For them, realism is only a model, imperfect in some
situations. They argue that an alternative model, "complex interdependence," is
often more realistic than "realism" itself. Complex interdependence emphasizes
(1) the existence of multiple channels of communication, including informal
ties between foreign policy elites, (2) the absence of a clear hierarchy of issues
and (3) the irrelevance (in many cases) of military force. Under such a model,
power is not "fungible," that is, power in one issue does not translate into
power in all issues (Keohane 43). While realism holds to an "overall structure
model," complex interdependence often emphasizes an "issue structure" where
linkages cannot easily be drawn between areas. Two case studies of the
complex interdependence model, the Oceans and Money issues, highlight the
model's success.

Under the Pax Britannica and continuing until 1945, a traditional "freedom of
the seas" regime existed which treated the seas like an international
"commons." Later, the development of modern extractive economies, such as
mining and offshore oil drilling, led to the partitioning of large amounts of sea
in an oceanic "Enclosure Movement." Much of the deliberation on the Oceans
issue took place in the UN, giving weak nations increased power through the
one-nation-one-vote rule. Even Iceland challenged Britain in the so-called "Cod
Wars" (Keohane 96). Undeveloped countries often gained coastal zones of 200
or 300 miles from shore. The power of small nations and the insignificance of
force made complex interdependence accurate for explaining the Oceans issue.

Military force was even less important in the Money issue, and informal groups
of transnational economic schools of thought held enormous sway. The
traditional gold standard (1925-1931) gave way in the 1940s to a quasi-regime
which emerged in the Bretton Woods Agreement. By 1976, the International
Monetary Fund had evolved into a system of highly flexible exchange rates
controlled by central government banks. Although postwar American
dominance was clear in the Money issue, Keohane and Nye argue that this was
due to America's strength in the issue area, rather than military power.2

Although neither of these two issue areas conformed to complex

interdependence in all situations, Keohane and Nye conclude that the complex
interdependence model is becoming more and more relevant over time
(Keohane 161). While it may appear that Kissinger's realism is at odds with
complex interdependence, this is not necessarily true. Keohane and Nye point
out that the simpler explanation is often best, with complexity added as needed.
Sometimes, they admit, realism is sufficient for understanding international
relations. And Kissinger himself accepts some of complex interdependence,
evident in his discussion of the overlapping and conflicting agendas of the
Russian Chancery and Asiatic bureaucracies (Kissinger 174).

Besides reconciling the two views, it is also important to note that the subjects
they are based on are tremendously different. Even Keohane and Nye would
not claim that the Oceans or Money issues were as momentous as World War I.
While Kissinger examines regime changes in overall structure, Keohane and
Nye use narrower issues to develop their theories of complex interdependence.
In discussing world war, it is unlikely that they would quibble as much over the
"fungibility of power." Thus, the issues the writers choose dictate the seeming
conflict between their views.

In the end, there does not seem to be any fundamental conflict between
Kissinger's realism (as applied to epochal events such as World War I) and
complex interdependence (applied to smaller, though undeniably important
issues). As revealed by his discussion of the Chancery and Asiatic bureaus,
Kissinger had at least an intuitive understanding of complex interdependence.
The conflict then, exists when the less experienced apply realism to
inappropriate situations. Used together wisely, the two models may be more
effective than applying either one in all situations. The imperfection of any one
model reveals that a perfect description of human behavior in international
relations has yet to be found. (Thank goodness for that, because otherwise there
would be very little to say.)

Bibliography

Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1994.

Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye. Power and Interdependence, Second Edition.
Harper-Collins Publishers, 1989.

Endnotes

1 This understanding will necessarily be spotty, as it is based only on a few

chapters of his book, Diplomacy.

2 Such questions of causality are blurry at best, as it is quite possible that

military power and financial strength are related in some respects. This defense
of the complex interdependence nature of the Money issue thus seems tenuous.
THE GREAT IDEOLOGY HUNT

According to Michael H. Hunt, author of Ideology and U.S. Foreign Policy,

ideology as it applies to international relations is "an interrelated set of
convictions or assumptions that reduces the complexities of a particular slice of
reality to easily comprehensible terms and suggests appropriate ways of dealing
with that reality." (Hunt xi) With ideology defined in so broad a sense, the most
fundamental choices, such as the decision to think of the world as made up of
national entities rather than billions of unique individuals, are ideologies of a
sort. It is hard therefore to even imagine a foreign policy approach in any
historical period not influenced by some kind of ideology.

The salient question then is not whether ideologies have influenced history,
but which ideologies have influenced history. Hunt asserts that three core ideas
have influenced American foreign policy over the years: (1) A belief in national
greatness coupled with liberty (2) a well defined sense of racial hierarchy and
(3) a suspicion of revolution (17-10).

The American vision of greatness appeared in the very founding of the

Republic. Revolt against Britain required a belief in the country's special nature
apart from Britain, evidenced by the popularity of Thomas Paine's message of
American uniqueness in Common Sense (19). This idea grew as the nation
grew, through the annexation of vast territories including the Louisiana and
Gadsden Purchases in 1803 and 1853, respectively. The ultimate expression of
American faith in its own greatness was probably John L. O'Sullivan's concept
of "Manifest Destiny," which held that the U.S. was "the nation of human
progress." (29-31) Such examples describe a nineteenth century in which this
first core idea was present in U.S. foreign policy ideology.

However, the new nation was not completely unique. A seemingly timeless
ethnocentric idea, common throughout Europe, permeated foreign policy
ideology. This second core idea, racial hierarchy, was just as much a part of the
Founding Fathers' mindsets as the importance of life, liberty and the pursuit of
happiness. Hunt's example is Benjamin Franklin, but racism was largely
ubiquitous. The racial hierarchy, in its nineteenth century formulation, put
whites on top, "yellow" and "red" skinned races next, and blacks at the bottom
(48). Among whites there also was an ethnic hierarchy, favoring Anglo-Saxons
followed by Germans, Slavs, S outhern Europeans and finally Jews (78). From
Jackson's extermination of the Creek and Seminole Indians (54) to Mahan's
advocacy of cooperation with Anglo-Saxon nations (79), this second idea was
all too significant in U.S. foreign policy.
The third core idea seems an unusual one. How could the U.S., itself a young
revolutionary nation, become suspicious of revolution? This was largely a
product of experience. Jacobin excesses coupled with insult in the XYZ Affair
soured initially enthusiastic American support for the French Revolution (97).
As other revolutions failed to live up to America's high standards, an anti-
revolutionary stance evolved in U.S. ideology. The views of John Adams, a
proponent of order above almost everything else, encapsulated this third core
idea (92). The Jeffersonian view (94) that revolution was necessary and could
not be carried out "in a feather-bed" remained, but waned over time.

Though the ideologies Hunt presents were central to the nineteenth century,
these ideologies made few things inevitable. The reason is that each of the three
core ideas is a double-edged sword that can be interpreted in several ways. For
instance, it is possible to agree on the goal of national greatness without
agreeing on what "greatness" actually means. Hamilton pursued a European
style of greatness in foreign policy while Jefferson advocated an aloof
isolationism (22-23). Teddy Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson were a similar
case in the early twentieth century (127-129). Race hierarchy can work two
ways as well--it explains the colonizing impulse as well as the eugenicist
aversion to having anything to do with "lesser races". As for revolutions,
Americans have often wanted to support them, such as in the Greek Rebellion.
The importance of these ideas was definite; their application was not.

The application depended on other factors, including attitudes as fundamental

as pessimism and optimism. In his book, Hierarchy of States, Ian Clark
describes a utopian optimism associated with Kant and a pessimistic realism
associated with Rousseau. The optimistic view is based on belief in progress,
nondeterminism, pervasive rationalism, and the assumption of a natural
harmony of interests between states (Clark 51-54). This leads to some
interesting assertions, especially the paradoxical one that "progress is created
by adversity." (56) An example of a twentieth century neo-Kantian is Woodrow
Wilson, who sought to bring a utopian League of Nations out of the adversity
of the first world war. Rousseau-derived realism, on the other hand, denies the
possibility of progress, takes a more deterministic view, eschews the power of
rationality, denies a universal harmony of interests, makes a distinction
between individual and state use of morality and holds that states are
perpetually locked in combat (68-72). There is a paradox of realism as well: it
is founded upon a conviction that politics behaves in a certain way, yet its
emphasis on worst-case planning hinges on uncertainty (86). In a way,
optimism and pessimism may be regarded as high-level ideologies. The
interaction of the two with Hunt's core ideas may partially explain why the
three ideas have been applied differently, though the picture remains complex.

Hunt's core ideas have proven remarkably resilient. All three remained factors
in the twentieth century. Ideas of American greatness and suspicion of
revolution have perhaps become even stronger in the age of American
hegemony. In many cases, the old ideologies have been recast in an updated
vocabulary. The "great-cycle" theory emphasized U.S. duty to the world
following World War II (Hunt 151). The even more recent concept of
"Geopolitics" asserts that technology has made the world so small that every
event is a security concern (152). This justifies worldwide intervention. In this
way, Geopolitics contributed to ideas such as Cold War "Containment" and the
"Domino Theory."

The racial hierarchy also has stood the test of time. In the twentieth century,
even Woodrow Wilson allowed the anglophile leanings of advisors such as
Colonel Edward House to push him towards siding with the British over the
Germans in World War I (133). According to Hunt, Social Scientists now use
neutral terms such as "modernization" and "economic efficiency" to clothe
racism in pseudoscientific vocabulary (160). Even without obscuring jargon,
hypocrisy concerning some African countries reveals that the racial hierarchy is
all too real. For years after World War II, the U.S. ignored South African
apartheid, with Dean Rusk ironically saying, "We are not the self-elected
gendarmes for the political and social problems of other states." Nonetheless,
the CIA did not hesitate to assassinate nationalists in the Congo when
insurgency led to anti-white violence (166).

Climatically, all three core ideas applied in the Vietnam War. The war was
perceived as a contest of greatness with the USSR. American attempts to
modernize Vietnamese politics and win "hearts and minds" reflected the
civilizing impulse associated with racial hierarchy. And the efforts to support
dictator Ngo Dinh Diem over Ho Chi Minh showed the aversion to leftist
revolutions. Hunt suggests that in the wake of traumatic failure in Vietnam, the
core ideas have faded (170). The realist tradition of pessimism would suggest
that this is wishful thinking.

1898: A HISTORICAL HEADACHE

American imperialism, in the traditional sense, began in 1898, with "traditional

imperialism" consisting of "sovereignty...over numerous territories, whether in
Europe or overseas." (Mommsen 5) Although 1898 was also the year the U.S.
officially annexed Hawaii, the defining international issue was the Spanish-
American War. The U.S. moved to intervene in reaction to anti-Spanish
insurrections in Cuba, and in April of 1898 declared war on Spain in the wake
of the USS Maine's sabotage. Assistant Secretary of the Navy Theodore
Roosevelt's 1897 preemptive plan for war with Spain went into effect, and
Commodore George Dewey engaged and destroyed the Spanish fleet at
Manilla, in the Philippines. Spain promptly surrendered, and the Treaty of Paris
brought the war to a close by December. As a result of the treaty, Spain ceded
Cuba, Puerto Rico, Guam and the Philippines to the United States, ushering in
the era of American imperialism.

The creation of U.S. colonies seems counter to much of American history.

Founded in response to perceived British tyranny, the nation not only lacked an
imperial tradition--it had a distinctly anti-imperialist one. The Founding Fathers
would likely have been very surprised to know that a little more than a century
after the signing of the Constitution America would have colonies of its own.
Samuel Flagg Bemis described 1898 as the "great aberration," and in some
ways he was right (May 4). Why the events of 1898 happened, how they even
could happen, and why they happened specifically in that year are perplexing
questions which inspire pages of verbiage while providing little confidence in
any one answer.

In American Imperialism, Ernest May approaches the question by examining

the opinions of the "foreign policy elite," a group of opinion-makers consisting
of politicians, businessmen, intellectuals, newspaper reporters, writers and
clergymen (May x). Using the foreign policy elite as a microscope on public
opinion in general, May asks: "Why did American public opinion swing around
during the 1890s on the subject of whether or not the United States should
possess a colonial empire?" (May xxxiv) The very question he asks implies that
he accepts that public opinion did in fact "swing around."

May cites four possible reasons for the foreign policy elite's "swing": (1)
Walter LaFeber's explanation in terms of economic motivation (2) Frederick
Merk's view that imperialism was a continuation of "Manifest Destiny" (3)
Julius Pratt's justification by "Social Darwinism" and (4) Richard Hofstadter's
"Psychic Crisis." To these theories, May adds a fifth molding influence on the
foreign policy elite--the influence of European examples (May 5-10).

Some of these theories dovetail nicely with those listed in Wolfgang J.

Mommsen's Theories of Imperialism. An example is LaFeber's economic thesis
concerning the importance of foreign markets for prosperity. Though lacking
any particular socialist moral slant, LaFeber's idea is not far from earlier
theorists like John Atkinson Hobson, who holds that capitalism cannot continue
expanding indefinitely without imperialism (Mommsen 9). Similarly, Merk's
stress on "Manifest Destiny" echoes the concept of imperialism as extreme
nationalism, perhaps approaching William L. Langer's equation of imperialism
with jingoism (Mommsen 70-71). Other theories, notably John Kenneth
Galbraith's "turbulent frontier" (Mommsen 105), seem to have been left out of
May's explanation. This is unfortunate, since Galbraith's emphasis on
peripheral events is valuable in this case, as the sinking of
the Maine galvanized public opinion perhaps more than any long-term trends.
Other theories, such as "atavism," Joseph Schumpeter's idea that imperialism
was a vestigial remnant of pre-industrial warring states (Mommsen 22), seem
more applicable to Europe than to the U.S.

May's assumption that public opinion did in fact "swing around" deserves some
examination. Despite May's references to LaFeber, the two disagree on some
points. While May emphasizes the "great aberration," LaFeber's book, The
New Empire: An Interpretation of American Expansion, 1860-1898,1 describes
1898 as the culmination of a longer trend. LaFeber gives many examples of
pre-1890s imperialist thinking, exemplified by William Henry Seward. As
Grant's Secretary of State, his 1867 purchase of Alaska was part of a plan for
global economic expansion (LaFeber 24-26). As early as 1853, Seward
preached that the battle for world power would happen in Asia: "Multiply your
ships, and send them forth to the East. The nation...that sells the most of
productions and fabrics to foreign nations, must be, and will be, the greatest
power of the earth." (LaFeber 27) The emphasis on foreign markets, especially
Asia's supposedly vast markets, was around even before the civil war. This
makes the idea of a sudden "swing" somewhat suspect.

LaFeber also questions May's assertion that American imperialism was largely
based on European examples. He describes it instead as a "New Imperialism" in
which the goal was colonies that kept foreign markets accessible, rather than
colonies that were the markets themselves (LaFeber 60-61). LaFeber's
intellectual gymnastics are skillful, yet the difference is likely too subtle to
have been appreciated by everyone in the foreign policy elite. Furthermore, the
foreign policy elite in 1898 was a voracious consumer of European news (May
86). It is thus unlikely that the European influence was weak.

An extension of the question of whether American imperialism was a "great

aberration" is to ask if it continued after 1898. From the most formal
perspective, the answer is no. The U.S. quickly stopped grabbing island
colonies, as Teddy Roosevelt's colorful response to the chance to annex the
Dominican Republic illustrates: "I have about the same desire to annex it as a
gorged boa-constrictor might have to swallow a porcupine end-to." (May 214)
John Hay's "Open Door" policy concerning China was further evidence of the
changing current against imperialism (May 210).

On the other hand, Ronald Robinson and John Gallagher's recent theories of
"informal imperialism" (Mommsen 87) suggest that American imperialism may
have continued in the form of economic mastery of increasingly large regions
of the world. However, this is to claim imperialism's continuity by modifying
the definition over time. This is like changing the rules in the middle of a game,
and is somewhat unfair. But before wholeheartedly accepting Bemis's "great
aberration," it is interesting to note that in the year after unabashed imperialist
Great Britain relinquished its last colony, Hong Kong, "anti-imperialist"
America still possesses the protectorates of Guam and Puerto Rico, with naval
bases in Cuba and the Philippines. In some respects, the echoes of 1898 can be
heard today.

Clearly no theory is perfect for describing 1898. Many explanations have been
offered, but none is the last word. The best we can say is that several are valid
to a limited extent. I do not hesitate to add my own idea: If nations are like
people, the U.S. was a thirteen year-old left home alone with the liquor cabinet
unlocked. Like its adolescent counterpart, the U.S. of 1898 simply had to give
the vices of its European elders a try. Though this may sound a bit childish, that
does not make it untrue. Perhaps there was indeed some element of the liquor-
cabinet appeal in 1898. Regardless, the pursuit of the complex issue of
American imperialism has left this writer with little more than a headache.

1 LaFeber, Walter. The New Empire: An Interpretation of American

Expansion, 1860-1898. Ithaca:Cornell University Press, 1963

THE BOGEYMAN IS NOT REAL: HITLER AND WWII

Adolf Hitler was an unmistakably bad man. His policy of genocide today seems
so universally abhorrent that even historians, those bastions of objective
impartiality, describe Hitler as "evil" without a second thought. And evil he
was. As a statesman though, Hitler was in many ways not so much an anomaly
as some might like to think. As the British historian AJP Taylor points out,
world opinion has retrospectively viewed Hitler as a bogeyman, making him
responsible for all the evils of World War II. Such a view is convenient, since it
removes blame for the war from other European shoulders, from Neville
Chamberlain to the German people themselves. (Taylor 11-12). Unfortunately
for convenience, Hitler was not the sole cause of the war. It is difficult to
separate Hitler the statesman from Hitler the genocidal despot, since both are
contained in the same man. Once that is done it becomes clear that Hitler's role
in international affairs was not so different than other leaders, and that he was
not the sole perpetrator of World War II.

Since Machiavelli's writings in the Renaissance, political thought has

emphasized pragmatism over morality in international relations. Historians
rarely consider morality in assessing modern statesman. From Richelieu to
Metternich, Bismarck to Kissinger, "misdirection" and pursuit of the national
best interest have been the standards by which foreign policy is measured. In
this system, morality is often equated with naivete. World War II is a notable
exception to this tradition. As Taylor points out, states can "be criticized at
most for mistakes, not for crimes." (Taylor xiii) While this may be a bit
extreme, it does highlight the general contempt realist historians have held for
questions of morality. Despite this, the legacy of the war-crime trials at
Nuremberg is perhaps an overemphasis of Nazi criminality. In the years leading
up to the war, European ministers dealt with Hitler and his staff not as
criminals or lunatics, but as a valid and feared participant at the bargaining
table. Germany may have relied on force or the threat of force, but this was no
different than French or British policy (Taylor 71)--or from American foreign
policy in the Cold War. For Chamberlain, Henderson and Halifax--as well as
Hitler, Ribbentrop, and Goering--the only bargaining chip that mattered was
power. The willingness of the British to negotiate suggests that in international
affairs, Hitler behaved in a "reasonable" manner, merely seeking Germany's
national best interests through whatever means were necessary. The response of
Hitler's contemporaries, rather than retrospective moralizing, is perhaps the
most accurate way to measure his uniqueness or lack thereof in international
relations.

The best example of Hitler's acceptance among the European powers occurred
at the Munich Conference in 1938. Emboldened by Anschluss (the annexation
of Austria), Hitler sought next to reunify with the Sudeten Germans of
Czechoslovakia. German ambition in the region threatened to cause a major
crisis, as Czechoslovakia was allied with France, the Soviet Union, and the
members of the Little Entente--Rumania and Yugoslavia. This tangle of
European diplomacy was more like the roots of World War I than the
machinations of an "evil genius." With Europe on the edge of war, Hitler called
Chamberlain, Daladier and Mussolini to Munich in September. Germany's
annexation of the German region of Czechoslovakia left the Czechs
defenseless, but that was a price Chamberlain and Daladier were willing to pay
for peace. Though today's popular view regards Chamberlain as a minor villain
for his "appeasement" of Hitler, all of Great Britain cheered him in 1938 for
having achieved "peace in our time." (Watt 84) As Taylor writes, "Every
newspaper in the country applauded the Munich settlement with the exception
of Reynolds' News." (Taylor xxvii) Appeasement, for all the negative
connotation it carries today, was accepted by the British population, suggesting
that they were willing to accept German expansion as the price for peace. And
what was peace but the maintenance of a status quo in which Great Britain was
a dominant power? In this way, we see that British motives, on the part of
Chamberlain and the largely supportive populace, were also based on self-
interest.

Furthermore, the claim that Hitler single-handedly masterminded Nazi ideology

is confounded by the fact that Hitler's ideas were not new. His racial doctrines
were based on views in which most Germans already "vaguely believed"
(Taylor 71) and the concept of Lebensraum (living space) was similar to
market-induced imperialism, though the economic argument was not
particularly worthwhile (Taylor 106). Extremism was not Hitler's invention, but
had taken centuries to develop. Considering that Hitler's ideology was really a
repackaging of older ideas rather than the creation of new ones, it becomes
quite difficult to place all blame for the war on him.

In fact, it is quite unlikely that Hitler--or any individual--could be wholly

responsible for war on the scale of World War II. In a colorful analogy, Taylor
argues that wars are similar to road accidents, each ostensibly caused by the
mistakes of a driver, but ultimately caused by the existence of highways and
automobiles (Taylor 102). Likewise, it is the international system that makes
wars possible. In yet another automobile analogy, Watt likens Chamberlain's
final choice of containment in 1939 to the "ultimate maneuver" in a game of
"Chicken" where one driver throws the steering wheel out the window, daring
the opponent (Hitler) to prove himself and crash (Watt 185). Although Watt's
argument blames "drivers," it does not invalidate Taylor's assertion that the
system is in many ways the ultimate cause of accidents. The context for the
events of 1938 and 1939 included a feeling of injustice on the part of the
Germans about the stiff reparations demanded at Versailles in 1918 which
created a road fraught with peril, regardless of the "drivers."

Of course, none of this erases the fact that Hitler committed horrible atrocities.
Removing these from the consideration of his international policy, Hitler was
merely aggressive and belligerent--not terribly different than many other
statesmen. And considering Stalin, whose purges killed or exiled perhaps
millions of people (Taylor 112), even the "immeasurable" atrocities
unfortunately do not seem so immeasurably distant from those committed in
Hitler's contemporary USSR.

A better objection to the claim that Hitler was similar to his fellow statesmen is
the contention that he "willed" World War II (Watt 610) while the other nations
were pacifists. The evidence, though, is that even Hitler himself did not want
total war--he simply wanted to "bluff" his opponents into making the
concessions he desired. This was much like Cold War "brinkmanship" in which
force was a threat, rather than a tool one hoped to use. Initially, Hitler hoped to
win a "war of nerves" rather than make a continental conquest (Taylor 218).
While Great Britain may have felt dwarfed by German military might, Hitler
committed most of his resources to the front line, keeping tiny reserves
compared to the prudent British (Watt 93). Thus, Hitler intended his military to
intimidate, not to fight a sustained campaign. The war then, was not Hitler's
"will"--it was his miscalculation. In August of 1939, he finally took
brinkmanship over the "brink" at Danzig, and World War II began.

D.C. Watt describes Hitler as viewing the world as a Wagnerian fantasy epic of
heroes and arch-villains (Watt 260). This depiction highlights Hitler's
idiosyncratic nature. If historians make Hitler into a bogeyman responsible for
all the evils of World War II, they are being no less idiosyncratic--they are
creating a Wagnerian arch-villain of their own. The evidence, though, shows
that in the case of World War II history is further from the fantasy epic than
some might like to think.

© 1998 Garrett Moritz. All rights reserved.

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