D-Day ODWhy World War II nostalgia has gone too far.
By David GreenbergPosted Friday, June 4, 2004, at 12:32 PM ET
This year's onslaught of D-Day hype—a continuous barrage of World War II nostalgia stretching from Memorial Day weekend through George Bush's trip to Europe these next few days—has already exhausted all but the most diehard buffs. Newsmagazines splash gritty old photos of GIs from the Good War and marked-up invasion maps across their glossy pages. Historians from Martin Gilbert to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar have published books exalting soldierly valor. In various speeches George Bush links the siege of Normandy to the siege of Baghdad in what he portrays as one seamless American mission. Building on the mythmaking efforts of past presidents, and with the ready help of the media, Bush has spun a simple tale of American bravery in defense of democracy—of a golden moment when ordinary Yankee sons began the liberation of foreign peoples solely because they believed in freedom.
Obviously, the invasion of Normandy was a crucial event in American history, worthy of commemoration. But so are many of the events of World War II, and it's worth asking why V-E Day, for example, or V-J Day, or for that matter the death of Franklin Roosevelt doesn't serve as the focus of our national remembrance. Why does D-Day prompt Tom Brokaw to hustle into a helicopter and report to us for three nights from the skies above Omaha Beach?
An answer to these questions begins with the realization that the D-Day enthusiasm, like all rituals of memory, says more about the present than it does about the past. For one thing, unilateralism is ascendant today, and the popular D-Day storyline glorifies the U.S. role above all: tens of thousands of average American boys dramatically storming the beaches of Normandy to open a second front against the German army, their success speeding Hitler's demise.
But this version neglects, among other small details, the importance of the Allies. It especially shortchanges the Soviet Union—no doubt a vestige of Cold War attitudes. For three years, after all, the Germans focused their efforts on their all-important Eastern front, and most military historians agree that the 1942-43 Battle of Stalingrad, not D-Day, was the real pivot point in the decline of Axis fortunes. (Meanwhile, the United States was pouring its energy into fighting Japan; as the critic Benjamin Schwarz has noted, the D-Day-centered narrative of World War II also unfairly slights the Pacific Theater.)
Besides overstating the centrality of the second front and neglecting the Allies' part, the current D-Day obsession also feeds off and perpetuates a romance with war and militarism. The tone of the recent coverage of D-Day (and World War II in general) has been surprisingly monochromatic, especially when compared to that of past eras. In the war's immediate aftermath, as the historian Gunter Bischof has noted, cultural and artistic treatments of the combat weren't all rosy. Novelists Norman Mailer, in The Naked and the Dead, and Joseph Heller, in Catch-22, showed that however noble the war's purpose, absurdities and moral conundrums abounded, and millions died needlessly. (Schwarz links to a 1946 Atlantic Monthly article that voiced similarly ambivalent feelings about the war.)
The Vietnam War, which proved that pure might not only can't always bring peace but often can't even win wars, further muted the urge to sentimentalize combat. As part of the generational revolt against Cold War dogma, the very ideas of battlefield valor and sacrifice were recast as mystifications. A handful of hippies placed flowers in soldiers' gun barrels; many more Americans embraced, to varying degrees, the era's skepticism of military values.
Under Ronald Reagan, however, the mood changed. It was Reagan who kicked off the D-Day mania when, in 1984, equipped with a backdrop chosen by Michael Deaver and a speech penned by Peggy Noonan, he lauded a band of aging U.S. Army Rangers in front of the very 130-foot rock face they had scaled with fire department grappling hooks and ladders 40 years before. Reagan spoke for a constituency that wanted to reclaim America's pride in its military strength. His farewell address in 1988 called for the revival of a feel-good history that would teach schoolchildren "who Jimmy Doolittle was, and what those thirty seconds over Tokyo meant." If this rhetoric sounded fuzzy and nostalgic, it shouldn't have been surprising, since Reagan's vision of war came from Hollywood, where he had discharged his own service obligations as part of the First Motion Picture Unit of the Army Air Corps. (At times Reagan even confused the real war with memories of films he acted in or watched, as when he "remembered" having liberated the Nazi camps.)
In other ways, too, Reagan encouraged today's romantic view of combat. He initiated what the historian John Lukacs has called the "unnecessary and unseemly habit" of saluting military personnel (technically, Lukacs notes, only those in uniform should salute). Bill Clinton and George W. Bush have since emulated the soldierly gesture, just as they too jetted to Normandy for slam-dunk photo-ops. Elsewhere, we see a vaunting of military over civilian values, from the copious references to the president as the "commander in chief" to the demand heard during the Bush-Gore recount that bad ballots cast by soldiers, but not by other Floridians, should count in the final tally.
In recent years, the culture's World War II commemorations have reflected these sympathies. As the gauzy books by Brokaw and historian Stephen Ambrose graced best-seller lists, and Steven Spielberg's maudlin Saving Private Ryan jerked viewers' heartstrings, more subtle understandings of the war fell victim. Most notoriously, the Smithsonian Institution's planned exhibit about the dropping of the atom bomb ran afoul of the American Legion and like-minded groups because it dared consider the dark side of the decision; save for the showcasing of a single airplane, the show was scuttled. It wasn't surprising, then, that when at the height of this frenzy the government chose to commission a World War II memorial, it approved plans for a grandiose arc of stolid pillars that, even after forced downscaling, retains a martial feel.
The romance with World War II grunts and their courage on the beaches of France reflects more than a due regard for the feats of a dying generation. It represents a change of heart among their baby-boom children, who since entering middle age have sought to atone for the stern rejection of militaristic values and the insufficient appreciation of their fathers' heroism that they displayed when coming of age during Vietnam. But at a time when the culture's celebration of the martial has reached levels not seen since after the Civil War, a countervailing gust of Vietnam-era dissent would feel like a fresh summer wind.
D-Day OD: Why World War II nostalgia has gone too far.
David Greenberg, a professor of history and media studies at Rutgers and author of three books of political history, has written the "History Lesson" column since 1998.
…So Greenberg doesn't approve of the war in Iraq. Okay, no problem there, a lot of us disagree with the Administration on that issue. But to denigrate the importance of D-Day and those who made it possible just to make the cheap plea for more Vietnam era skepticism about war policy, and twist history as a result, is unworthy of someone holding himself out as a serious scholar in the area of history and erodes his credibility to the breaking point.
Was Stalingrad a turning point in the war? No question. However, that doesn't diminish the critical importance of D-Day. Stalin himself, who wasn't shy about reminding Churchill and FDR that the Soviet Union was bearing the brunt of the war, knew that a second front was essential in winning the war -- that's why he was on them from 1942 on to invade France. And he was right. Absent a second front and the outpouring of vast American manpower and resources right on Germany's doorstep, the best Stalin could have ever hoped for was a stalemate with Hitler. Moreover, it was no coincidence that within 6 months of D-Day Germany was driven back to its borders -- rolling back the blitzkrieg advances and freeing the bulk of Europe from the Nazi stranglehold.
Other battles were important, the Battle of the Bulge saw more casualties and the island hopping in the Pacific produced its own version of hell with soldiers rising to the occasion every bit as much as their D-Day colleagues, but as to a single event or battle, in terms of scope, symbolism and practical effect, nothing else in the war, save for perhaps Hiroshima, comes close.
You can bemoan the hijacking of D-day by politicians for their own base purposes, whether it is Ronald Regan, Clinton or Bush II, and lambaste filmmakers and authors (though the first 15 minutes of Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan should make all of us give a prayer of thanks that we were not at Normandy, but that courageous men were there to do the job) but neither their actions, nor Greenberg's, can or should diminish the significance of D-Day. While it may not fit in Greenberg's current political view, the fact remains that D-Day will correctly be seen by future generations as one of the most significant events of this or any other century. --BHAppeal
…Memory is an insidious instrument. Contrary to popular saying, repetition of the horrors of history owes much not to a lapse of collective memory, but its selective and distorted recollection and its use as a political tool. Both Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan used memory (tradition, past glory, national humiliation, etc.) to indoctrinate and energize the masses. The conceit of Greenberg bashers lies in the pretension that commemoration events are no more than an innocuous token of gratitude to dead soldiers. In reality, they are also the declaration and promotion of questionable values, among them the glorification of war itself as an act of valor more than dehumanization, and an assertion of American moral infallibility. Greenberg suffers from lack of delusion, not gratitude.
If great sacrifice or loss is worth remembering for its own sake, then the conscripted soldiers of the German army, millions of dead Soviet troops, Japanese kamikaze pilots, or Saddam Hussein's cannon fodder in various wars are no less qualified. Of course one can say that each nation has only enough time and sympathy to remember its own war dead, but that doesn't justify the moral triumphalism, nor does it explain the indignation in the American press when Japanese politicians visit their own war memorials. The unknown soldier is a tragic victim regardless of uniform.
Perhaps, then, what privileges American or Allied war casualties is their more honorable conduct of warfare, or the nobler cause to which they sacrificed their lives. As to the conduct, what is lacking from national consciousness is not an appreciation of individual bravery, paeans to which are countless, but the many questionable tactics the American military command has used in various wars, including WWII. One of the great ignored lessons of that war is the morally indefensible terror tactics and civilian targeting used by the allies---the firebombing of German and Japanese cities of little military significance, and the use of the A-bomb on an enemy already on its knees. More civilians died in two nights of bombing in Dresden than in the whole of Britain throughout the war. A national discourse which drowns these troubling memories in others which feel good is what produces the unchecked use of agent orange, cluster bombs and depleted uranium shells by a military too enamored with the adulation to examine its moral failures.
Of course, no other war of the last century had a clearer ethical justification than WWII. However, that is what makes it exceptional, not the norm. Even at the highest level of justification, the use of American military might has historically been characterized by questionable moral goals---usually the cynical pursuit of narrow national interests, and sometimes, delusional ideologies. From Philippines to Iraq, it is the dominant story. One harmful use of WWII memories is the transference of its moral sheen to other conflicts. Every hawkish stance, every slam on the U.N and multilateralism and compromise is justified by a glib invocation of Chamberlain's capitulation (from the viewpoint of national self congratulation, the inconvenient fact is forgotten that when Chamberlain was at least engaged with Hitler, the U.S was sitting in splendid isolation). Well, kicking ass is not always the solution. America owes its preservation and freedom as much to FDR's war as to JFK's diplomatic concessions during the Cuban missile crisis…
In the same way Greenberg finds Saving Private Ryan maudlin, I find his treatment of the Greatest Generation, my father's generation, all too academically shallow and obtuse.
My father's story in WWII is a real Private Ryan story. His younger brother, a gunner on an M4 Sherman, was killed in action in September, 1944. His younger brother, a bombardier/navigator on a B17, was shot down on the return leg of his 6th mission over Berlin; he was listed as missing in action until his body was found in a German church's cemetery in 1947. My father was a rifle platoon leader in Europe. When news of his younger brother's probable death reached my grandparents, they started the paperwork to have him brought home as the sole surviving son. He was not found in Europe until the war was over, when his division was training for the invasion of Japan.
The story is not maudlin; it is fact. Saving Private Ryan brought the story of many families who lost more than one son to life. In the town where I grew up, where my father grew up and where his brothers would have grown old, two other families suffered the same fate. In that small central Pennsylvania coal town of 2,000, 34 men and one woman gave the last full measure of devotion, and, in so doing, helped save the world.
My father is 86. He is not in good health but he still remembers his brothers as young, vibrant men. My father will likely join them soon. He will be buried under the same flag that covered them when they were buried side by side at the American Military Cemetery at Henri-Chappelle, Belgium.
It does not matter the emphasis that is being placed on D-Day or our role in WWII. Without it, Prof. Greenberg, the world would be a far, far different place
This year's onslaught of D-Day hype—a continuous barrage of World War II nostalgia stretching from Memorial Day weekend through George Bush's trip to Europe these next few days—has already exhausted all but the most diehard buffs. Newsmagazines splash gritty old photos of GIs from the Good War and marked-up invasion maps across their glossy pages. Historians from Martin Gilbert to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar have published books exalting soldierly valor. In various speeches George Bush links the siege of Normandy to the siege of Baghdad in what he portrays as one seamless American mission. Building on the mythmaking efforts of past presidents, and with the ready help of the media, Bush has spun a simple tale of American bravery in defense of democracy—of a golden moment when ordinary Yankee sons began the liberation of foreign peoples solely because they believed in freedom.
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Remarks from the Fray:
…So Greenberg doesn't approve of the war in Iraq. Okay, no problem there, a lot of us disagree with the Administration on that issue. But to denigrate the importance of D-Day and those who made it possible just to make the cheap plea for more Vietnam era skepticism about war policy, and twist history as a result, is unworthy of someone holding himself out as a serious scholar in the area of history and erodes his credibility to the breaking point.
Was Stalingrad a turning point in the war? No question. However, that doesn't diminish the critical importance of D-Day. Stalin himself, who wasn't shy about reminding Churchill and FDR that the Soviet Union was bearing the brunt of the war, knew that a second front was essential in winning the war -- that's why he was on them from 1942 on to invade France. And he was right. Absent a second front and the outpouring of vast American manpower and resources right on Germany's doorstep, the best Stalin could have ever hoped for was a stalemate with Hitler. Moreover, it was no coincidence that within 6 months of D-Day Germany was driven back to its borders -- rolling back the blitzkrieg advances and freeing the bulk of Europe from the Nazi stranglehold.
Other battles were important, the Battle of the Bulge saw more casualties and the island hopping in the Pacific produced its own version of hell with soldiers rising to the occasion every bit as much as their D-Day colleagues, but as to a single event or battle, in terms of scope, symbolism and practical effect, nothing else in the war, save for perhaps Hiroshima, comes close.
You can bemoan the hijacking of D-day by politicians for their own base purposes, whether it is Ronald Regan, Clinton or Bush II, and lambaste filmmakers and authors (though the first 15 minutes of Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan should make all of us give a prayer of thanks that we were not at Normandy, but that courageous men were there to do the job) but neither their actions, nor Greenberg's, can or should diminish the significance of D-Day. While it may not fit in Greenberg's current political view, the fact remains that D-Day will correctly be seen by future generations as one of the most significant events of this or any other century.
--BHAppeal
(To reply, click here)
…Memory is an insidious instrument. Contrary to popular saying, repetition of the horrors of history owes much not to a lapse of collective memory, but its selective and distorted recollection and its use as a political tool. Both Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan used memory (tradition, past glory, national humiliation, etc.) to indoctrinate and energize the masses. The conceit of Greenberg bashers lies in the pretension that commemoration events are no more than an innocuous token of gratitude to dead soldiers. In reality, they are also the declaration and promotion of questionable values, among them the glorification of war itself as an act of valor more than dehumanization, and an assertion of American moral infallibility. Greenberg suffers from lack of delusion, not gratitude.
If great sacrifice or loss is worth remembering for its own sake, then the conscripted soldiers of the German army, millions of dead Soviet troops, Japanese kamikaze pilots, or Saddam Hussein's cannon fodder in various wars are no less qualified. Of course one can say that each nation has only enough time and sympathy to remember its own war dead, but that doesn't justify the moral triumphalism, nor does it explain the indignation in the American press when Japanese politicians visit their own war memorials. The unknown soldier is a tragic victim regardless of uniform.
Perhaps, then, what privileges American or Allied war casualties is their more honorable conduct of warfare, or the nobler cause to which they sacrificed their lives. As to the conduct, what is lacking from national consciousness is not an appreciation of individual bravery, paeans to which are countless, but the many questionable tactics the American military command has used in various wars, including WWII. One of the great ignored lessons of that war is the morally indefensible terror tactics and civilian targeting used by the allies---the firebombing of German and Japanese cities of little military significance, and the use of the A-bomb on an enemy already on its knees. More civilians died in two nights of bombing in Dresden than in the whole of Britain throughout the war. A national discourse which drowns these troubling memories in others which feel good is what produces the unchecked use of agent orange, cluster bombs and depleted uranium shells by a military too enamored with the adulation to examine its moral failures.
Of course, no other war of the last century had a clearer ethical justification than WWII. However, that is what makes it exceptional, not the norm. Even at the highest level of justification, the use of American military might has historically been characterized by questionable moral goals---usually the cynical pursuit of narrow national interests, and sometimes, delusional ideologies. From Philippines to Iraq, it is the dominant story. One harmful use of WWII memories is the transference of its moral sheen to other conflicts. Every hawkish stance, every slam on the U.N and multilateralism and compromise is justified by a glib invocation of Chamberlain's capitulation (from the viewpoint of national self congratulation, the inconvenient fact is forgotten that when Chamberlain was at least engaged with Hitler, the U.S was sitting in splendid isolation). Well, kicking ass is not always the solution. America owes its preservation and freedom as much to FDR's war as to JFK's diplomatic concessions during the Cuban missile crisis…
--Sissyfuss1
(To reply, click here)
In the same way Greenberg finds Saving Private Ryan maudlin, I find his treatment of the Greatest Generation, my father's generation, all too academically shallow and obtuse.
My father's story in WWII is a real Private Ryan story. His younger brother, a gunner on an M4 Sherman, was killed in action in September, 1944. His younger brother, a bombardier/navigator on a B17, was shot down on the return leg of his 6th mission over Berlin; he was listed as missing in action until his body was found in a German church's cemetery in 1947. My father was a rifle platoon leader in Europe. When news of his younger brother's probable death reached my grandparents, they started the paperwork to have him brought home as the sole surviving son. He was not found in Europe until the war was over, when his division was training for the invasion of Japan.
The story is not maudlin; it is fact. Saving Private Ryan brought the story of many families who lost more than one son to life. In the town where I grew up, where my father grew up and where his brothers would have grown old, two other families suffered the same fate. In that small central Pennsylvania coal town of 2,000, 34 men and one woman gave the last full measure of devotion, and, in so doing, helped save the world.
My father is 86. He is not in good health but he still remembers his brothers as young, vibrant men. My father will likely join them soon. He will be buried under the same flag that covered them when they were buried side by side at the American Military Cemetery at Henri-Chappelle, Belgium.
It does not matter the emphasis that is being placed on D-Day or our role in WWII. Without it, Prof. Greenberg, the world would be a far, far different place
--PISgt
(To reply, click here)
(6/5)