Saturday, March 30, 2024

Trump's "America First" Has Ugly Antecedents

At the risk of being accused of another round of complaints about Americans' ignorance of history and how so many seemingly never learn from the past, a very long column in the Washington Post looks at Donald Trump and a segment of the Republican Party's desire to go back to an "America First" agenda akin to that pushed by certain "elites" and industrialists in the 1930's and even 1940's.   This mindset was fueled largely by a desire for high tariffs (which only increased costs for American consumers), anti-immigrant xenophobia and bigotry, anti-Semitism, isolationism with a heavy dose of racism, The consequences of this agenda had horrific consequences in that it allowed Nazi Germany to seize much of Europe and green lighted Japan's conquests in Asia.  America and the world paid dearly for this policy that delayed American intervention.  Now, those with amnesia of the lessons of the past or, in the case of Trump, a love for dictators he seeks to emulate, are setting to have America repeat the mistakes of the 1930's and first years of the 1940's.  Here are column excerpts:

Many Americans seem shocked that Republicans would oppose helping Ukraine at this critical juncture in history. Don’t Republican members of Congress see the consequences of a Russian victory, for America’s European allies, for its Asian allies and ultimately for the United States itself? What happened to the party of Ronald Reagan? Clearly, people have not been taking Donald Trump’s resurrection of America First seriously. It’s time they did.

The original America First Committee was founded in September 1940. Consider the global circumstances at the time. Two years earlier, Hitler had annexed Austria and invaded and occupied Czechoslovakia. One year earlier, he had invaded and conquered Poland. In the first months of 1940, he invaded and occupied Norway, Denmark, Belgium and the Netherlands. In early June 1940, British troops evacuated from Dunkirk, and France was overrun by the Nazi blitzkrieg. In September, the very month of the committee’s formation, German troops were in Paris and Edward R. Murrow was reporting from London under bombardment by the Luftwaffe. That was the moment the America First movement launched itself into the battle to block aid to Britain.

Cutting off Ukraine seems like small beer by comparison, but behind it lies the same “America First” thinking. For Donald Trump and his followers, pulling the plug on Ukraine is part of a larger aim to end America’s broader commitment to European peace and security. America’s commitment to NATO, Trump believes, should be conditional, at best: Russia can do “whatever the hell they want” to allies who do not pay their fair share and meet certain defense-spending objectives.

Other Republicans don’t even mention conditions. Sen. Josh Hawley (R-Mo.) has called for the immediate reduction of U.S. force levels in Europe and the abrogation of America’s common-defense Article 5 commitments. He wants the United States to declare publicly that in the event of a “direct conflict” between Russia and a NATO ally, America will “withhold forces.” The Europeans need to know they can no longer “count on us like they used to.” Elbridge Colby, a former Trump Pentagon official praised by Hawley, has written widely (and wrongly) that United States cannot defend both East Asia and Europe. . . .

Can Republicans really be returning to a 1930s worldview in our 21st-century world? The answer is yes. Trump’s Republican Party wants to take the United States back to the triad of interwar conservatism: high tariffs, anti-immigrant xenophobia, isolationism. According to Russ Vought, who is often touted as Trump’s likely chief of staff in a second term, it is precisely this “older definition of conservatism,” the conservatism of the interwar years, that they hope to impose on the nation when Trump regains power.

So it’s time to take a closer look at the 1930s conservative mentality and the America First movement it spawned.

Republican anti-interventionism of those interwar years — “isolationism” as critics called it — was less a carefully considered strategic doctrine than an extension of their battles against domestic opponents. Yes, there were self-proclaimed “realists” in the late 1930s assuring everyone that the United States was invulnerable and that events in Asia, where Japan was also on the rampage, and Europe need not endanger American security.

This “realism” meshed well with anti-interventionism. Americans had to respect “the right of an able and virile nation [i.e. Nazi Germany] to expand,” aviator Charles Lindbergh argued. The leading Republican of his day, Ohio Sen. Robert Taft, ridiculed those who expressed fears of advancing fascism.

It was not fascism that conservative Republicans worried about. It was communism. For them, the foreign policy battle in the interwar years was but a subset of their larger war against Franklin D. Roosevelt and the New Deal, which Republicans insisted disguised an attempt to bring communism to the United States. Conservatives in both the United States and Great Britain had long seen Hitler and Mussolini as bulwarks against the spread of communism in Germany and elsewhere.

Nor were they especially troubled by the dramatic rise of official antisemitism in Germany. In the 1920s and ’30s, influential Republicans and conservatives put Jews at the center of various conspiracies against America. . . . . they opposed intervening in a war in which Jews were among the prominent victims. Lindbergh, among the most admired men in the United States, claimed Jews were pushing the United States into war “for reasons which are not American.”

Conservative Republicans also warned against the creation of an American “liberal empire” no less oppressive than the one Hitler was trying to create.. . . . In May 1940, as the British army faced annihilation at Dunkirk, Taft insisted it was “no time for the people to be wholly absorbed in foreign battles.” It was “the New Deal which may leave us weak and unprepared for attack.”

America’s entry into World War II was, among other things, the triumph of a contrary view of the world. Even before Pearl Harbor, a majority of Americans, prodded by Roosevelt, came to view the advancing power of European fascism and Japanese authoritarian militarism as a threat not just to U.S. security but also to liberal democracy in general.

Even if the United States faced no immediate threat of military attack, Roosevelt insisted, in his January 1940 State of the Union address, the world would be a “shabby and dangerous place to live in — yes, even for Americans to live in” if it were ruled “by force in the hands of a few.” To live as a lone island in such a world would be a nightmare.

The Committee to Defend America by Aiding the Allies, formed in May 1940 by progressive Kansas newspaper editor William Allen White and including such prominent Democrats as Dean Acheson, declared the war in Europe was a “life and death struggle for every principle we cherish in America” and urged the United States to “throw its economic and moral weight on the side of the nations of Western Europe, great and small, that are struggling in battle for a civilized way of life.”

This was exactly what the men who formed the America First Committee opposed — and not because they spoke for some mass groundswell of working-class Americans. The poor and working class in these years were with FDR. The America First Committee was founded by a group of Yale students. . . . . Although they railed at “elites” and claimed to speak for real Americans, they were chiefly business executives who represented the nation’s commercial and industrial elites.

Unfortunately for the original America Firsters, most Americans rejected their arguments and embraced FDR’s liberal worldview. Especially after the fall of France, polling showed a majority of Americans wanted to send aid to Britain even at the risk of the United States being dragged into war. The America First Committee, despite its well-funded nationwide lobbying effort — it boasted 800,000 members in 400 chapters across the nation — lost the battle against Lend-Lease and all subsequent attempts to prevent the United States from becoming the world’s “arsenal of democracy.”

We like to think that great accomplishments in American history are the result of broad national consensus. More often they are the triumph of one worldview over another. American entry into World War II was the victory of a liberal worldview over an anti-interventionism rooted in a conservative anti-liberalism.

If Americans care about what happens in Europe, then they must care about what happens in Ukraine. For should Ukraine fall to Russian control, it would move the line of confrontation between Russia and NATO hundreds of miles westward and allow Vladimir Putin to pursue his unconcealed ambition to restore Moscow’s hegemony in Eastern and Central Europe. Should Ukraine fall, the cost and risk of stopping Russia later will be much higher, including the risk of the United States having to confront Russia as it did during the Cold War. My Post colleague Marc Thiessen has thus advised Republicans to give Ukraine the weapons it needs now, lest they come to “own Ukraine’s military collapse” and leave a reelected Trump “with a weak hand.” Yet that sensible advice also rests on the assumption that at some point the United States may have to come to Europe’s defense against an aggressive Putin.

Like those of their 1930s forbears, today’s Republicans’ views of foreign policy are heavily shaped by what they consider the more important domestic battle against liberalism. . . . Republicans insist that Biden is a communist, that his election was a “communist takeover,” that his administration is a “communist regime.”

The GOP devotion to America First is merely the flip side of Trump’s “poison the blood” campaign. It is about the ascendancy of White Christian America and the various un-American ethnic and racial groups allegedly conspiring against it.

This has long been evident in Republican veneration of anti-liberal dictators such as Putin and Hungary’s Viktor Orban. Conservatives applauded when Putin warned in 2013 that the “Euro-Atlantic countries” were “rejecting” the “Christian values” that were the “basis of Western civilization,” “denying moral principles and all traditional identities: national, cultural, religious, and even sexual.”

Trump’s narcissism meshes well with the aims of those yearning to extricate the United States from its commitments in Europe. In his personal life, as people who know him tend to agree, Trump has no allies. As one Republican told the Wall Street Journal, “All relationships with Trump are one-way transactional and the day he decides that it’s no longer beneficial to him, folks are out the door.” It is hardly surprising that he takes the same approach in foreign policy. Trump does not value America’s allies any more than he values any other relationship, including his relationships with Putin, Xi Jinping and Kim Jong Un.

Once other nations realize that America’s commitment to defend treaty allies can no longer be relied upon, the whole configuration of power in the international system will change. All powers, whether friendly or hostile to the United States, will adjust accordingly.

In this respect, those Trump Republicans who wish to sever American commitments to allies are not only bringing back a 1930s worldview. If they take power, they will bring us back to a 1930s world.

The stakes will be highest and most immediate for the Baltic nations, which in the eyes of traditional Russian nationalists such as Putin are mere appendages of Russia, with significant Russian-speaking populations that may at any time demand “protection” from Moscow, as the Sudeten Germans in Czechoslovakia demanded protection from Berlin in the 1930s. The Baltic states have never enjoyed sovereign independence in periods of Russian hegemony and owe their independence today entirely to American and NATO guarantees.

Then there is Poland, which during the Cold War and repeatedly in the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries was either subjugated or partitioned by Moscow.

The most important nation in this transformed Europe will be Germany. Germans will quickly find themselves faced with a terrible choice. Either they try to remain in a fundamentally pacifist mode, as they have been since 1945, or they once again become a great military power. To defend themselves in the absence of an American guarantee, Germans will face a staggering uphill climb to match Russia’s conventional-weapons capabilities. But they will also have to address Russia’s overwhelming nuclear superiority, which Putin has not been shy about threatening to use even against the nuclear-armed United States. Will the Germans rely on British and French nuclear capacities to deter Russia, since they can no longer count on the American nuclear umbrella? Or will they choose to become a nuclear power themselves?

Indeed, should the United States make clear that it is no longer bound by its security guarantees, the likelihood is that other industrialized nations will quickly turn to nuclear weapons to try to make up for the sudden gap in their defenses. Japan could build hundreds of nuclear weapons in a very short time if it chose — or do the new America Firsters believe that the Japanese will find reassuring America’s abandonment of the similar treaty commitments in Europe? We will be living in a world of many heavily armed powers engaged in a multipolar arms race, ever poised for conflict — in short, the world that existed in the 1930s, only this time with nuclear weapons. But yes, they will be spending more than 2 percent of their GDP on defense.

And how long before China, watching America abandon its allies in Europe, asks whether Americans still plan to live up to any of their commitments anywhere? Even if one believes that “Asia is more important than Europe,” does it strengthen the Asian allies to abandon the European allies? Hitler also hoped the United States would focus exclusively on Asia and leave Europe to him. It is no surprise that among those most frightened by Trump’s talk of abandoning NATO is Taiwan.

An older generation of Americans, many of whom may vote for Trump this year, may not live to see the consequences — those crises will fall on their children and grandchildren. But they can be sure of this: If they vote for a return to the 1930s, posterity is not going to mistake them for America’s “greatest generation.”

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