With the COVID-19 pandemic wreaking havoc on our health, economy and our very lives, there is an almost irresistible temptation to compare the situation to the 1940s mobilization of the greatest generation.
Examples are plentiful. Last week, Irish Prime Minister Leo Varadkar, discussing health care professionals in the crisis, channeled Winston Churchill by declaring: "Never will so many ask so much of so few." New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo proclaimed that "ventilators are to this war what missiles were to World War II." Even Germany is comparing the crisis to the war, with Chancellor Angela Merkel calling the pandemic her country's biggest challenge "since World War II."
These comparisons are powerful because from scrap metal drives to Rosie the Riveter and everything in between, the World War II home front was arguably as essential to winning the war as the troops themselves. But while the U.S. celebrates its wartime mobilization, our collective memory has forgotten the messy reality of what actually happened — and what elements of persuasion were required to mobilize people.
Though forgotten today, the home front was not seamlessly united immediately after Pearl Harbor, and the populace often resisted following directions from the government. But we must remember the government's initial struggle to sell war bonds and to overcome divisions on the home front. Recalling what it took to surmount these obstacles is essential to overcoming the medical and economic perils of the coronavirus outbreak today — which might require an even bigger effort.
Before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, it was far from inevitable that the U.S. would enter the war. While interventionists loudly advocated for outright military support of the besieged Allies, predicting that failure to do so would bring war to America's doorstep, a powerful bloc of isolationists demanded that the nation stay out of the conflict, warning ominously about a repeat of World War I.
At first, Pearl Harbor seemed to bring these divided Americans together in support of the war effort. But the wave of unity disguised continuing divisions. Throughout much of 1942, in fact, secret government polls repeatedly found that nearly one-third of the country favored the idea of peace talks with the German enemy. And this opposition didn't just fade away as American troops prosecuted the war. Two years later, an American Institute of Public Opinion study revealed that 66 percent of respondents believed that most of their fellow citizens were not taking the war effort seriously.
The bitter prewar split between interventionists and isolationists, in other words, didn't vanish forever on Dec. 7, 1941. It instead reemerged in a subtler way, with a minority of citizens on one side quietly questioning the need for the war effort while those on the other side grew frustrated because they sensed the lack of commitment from this minority.
Some of the public also resisted the government's wartime leadership. Occasionally it was personal: a sizable minority of the country simply reviled President Franklin D. Roosevelt. Whether they viewed New Deal policies as fascist or believed that he had manipulated the country into war, many such critics despised the commander in chief so much that they even refused to use his name aloud (instead, they called him "that man").