Trueblue
05-24-2008, 07:50 AM
http://www.answers.com/topic/the-munich-analogy
The American attitude was simply that any concession amounted to capitulation, for by this time the American political culture had come to equate all forms of negotiation with appeasement at Munich. The United States finally refused to sign the Geneva agreement, which divided Vietnam along the Seventeenth Parallel and promised elections in 1956 to unify the country under one government.
The 1960s provided a classic situation in which the Munich analogy was called into play. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, President John F. Kennedy pointedly used the analogy in his speech of 22 October 1962, when he announced that he would implement a quarantine on communist Cuba in response to the discovery that the Soviet Union had been placing offensive weapons there. Explaining his decision, the president reminded the nation that "the 1930s taught us a clear lesson: Aggressive conduct, if allowed to grow unchecked and unchallenged, ultimately leads to war." The transcripts of the Executive Committee of the National Security Council (ExCom) show that the Munich analogy was extensively used in governmental discussions during the crisis. In a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, at which the president explained that he was leaning toward implementing a blockade rather than more aggressive military action, General Curtis LeMay exclaimed: "This blockade and political action, I see leading into war. I don't see any other solution. It will lead right into war. This is almost as bad as the appeasement at Munich." The president was at a loss for words.
No change was to be expected in the attitude of Gerald Ford's administration. In his formal and foredoomed request to Congress in early 1975 for continued military aid to South Vietnam (and Cambodia), President Ford reminded his recent colleagues that "U.S. unwillingness to provide adequate assistance to allies fighting for their lives would seriously affect our credibility as an ally." Saigon fell on 30 April. The collapse of South Vietnam together with the defeat of the pro-Western forces in Cambodia and subsequently in Laos marked the end of American influence in the area. For some, it came as no real surprise, for others, there were no words to explain it. The Munich analogy, in time, gave way to the "Vietnam syndrome," which led many Americans to question the wisdom of using military power at all.
President George H. W. Bush relied heavily upon the Munich analogy in his speeches during the crisis in the Persian Gulf, which ultimately led to the Gulf War of 1990–1991. Munich was the perfect example in this case, and Bush used it to argue that to forget the lessons of appeasement would be to betray the sacrifices made in World War II. In a speech to the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Bush invoked World War II to reinforce his message of intervention. The United States, he said, had to stand "where it always has—against aggression, against those who would use force to replace the rule of law." The Iraqi ruler Saddam Hussein particularly was linked to Hitler, to reinforce the necessity of standing up to dictators. "Half a century ago, the world had the chance to stop a ruthless aggressor and missed it. I pledge to you: We will not make the same mistake again."
Possibly because the Vietnam syndrome had come to overshadow all foreign policy, Bush needed a historical analogy that would convince the American public that this was the fight worth fighting to the end. In doing so, Bush tried to avoid parallels between the Gulf crisis and Vietnam, which carried the stigma of a protracted and unwinnable involvement in a foreign war, by using Munich as the relevant analogy. When Bush announced that he was sending forces to Saudi Arabia, he reminded the country that "a half century ago our nation and the world paid dearly for appeasing an aggressor who should and could have been stopped. We're not about to make that mistake twice."
Conclusion
Political leaders have used the Munich analogy to justify what they believe is critical foreign intervention and to remind the public of its obligations to defend liberty. They also have used it to divert attention away from thorny "public relations" problems such as the Vietnam War syndrome and even to discredit critics. In fact, the "lesson" of Munich has continued to be relevant even in the present, as each generation ostensibly seeks to avoid the mistakes of its predecessors. Just as the leaders of the 1930s learned much from World War I, post–World War II and Cold War leaders learned much from Munich: the consequences of futile good intentions. And while leaders of the twenty-first century may not fully comprehend the process whereby the Munich agreement became the prologue to the even greater tragedy of World War II, they do seem unlikely to dismiss it from their realm of political discourse. As Donald N. Lammers reminds us in Explaining Munich, "Taken one way or another, Munich has become the great 'object lesson' of our age."
The American attitude was simply that any concession amounted to capitulation, for by this time the American political culture had come to equate all forms of negotiation with appeasement at Munich. The United States finally refused to sign the Geneva agreement, which divided Vietnam along the Seventeenth Parallel and promised elections in 1956 to unify the country under one government.
The 1960s provided a classic situation in which the Munich analogy was called into play. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, President John F. Kennedy pointedly used the analogy in his speech of 22 October 1962, when he announced that he would implement a quarantine on communist Cuba in response to the discovery that the Soviet Union had been placing offensive weapons there. Explaining his decision, the president reminded the nation that "the 1930s taught us a clear lesson: Aggressive conduct, if allowed to grow unchecked and unchallenged, ultimately leads to war." The transcripts of the Executive Committee of the National Security Council (ExCom) show that the Munich analogy was extensively used in governmental discussions during the crisis. In a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, at which the president explained that he was leaning toward implementing a blockade rather than more aggressive military action, General Curtis LeMay exclaimed: "This blockade and political action, I see leading into war. I don't see any other solution. It will lead right into war. This is almost as bad as the appeasement at Munich." The president was at a loss for words.
No change was to be expected in the attitude of Gerald Ford's administration. In his formal and foredoomed request to Congress in early 1975 for continued military aid to South Vietnam (and Cambodia), President Ford reminded his recent colleagues that "U.S. unwillingness to provide adequate assistance to allies fighting for their lives would seriously affect our credibility as an ally." Saigon fell on 30 April. The collapse of South Vietnam together with the defeat of the pro-Western forces in Cambodia and subsequently in Laos marked the end of American influence in the area. For some, it came as no real surprise, for others, there were no words to explain it. The Munich analogy, in time, gave way to the "Vietnam syndrome," which led many Americans to question the wisdom of using military power at all.
President George H. W. Bush relied heavily upon the Munich analogy in his speeches during the crisis in the Persian Gulf, which ultimately led to the Gulf War of 1990–1991. Munich was the perfect example in this case, and Bush used it to argue that to forget the lessons of appeasement would be to betray the sacrifices made in World War II. In a speech to the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Bush invoked World War II to reinforce his message of intervention. The United States, he said, had to stand "where it always has—against aggression, against those who would use force to replace the rule of law." The Iraqi ruler Saddam Hussein particularly was linked to Hitler, to reinforce the necessity of standing up to dictators. "Half a century ago, the world had the chance to stop a ruthless aggressor and missed it. I pledge to you: We will not make the same mistake again."
Possibly because the Vietnam syndrome had come to overshadow all foreign policy, Bush needed a historical analogy that would convince the American public that this was the fight worth fighting to the end. In doing so, Bush tried to avoid parallels between the Gulf crisis and Vietnam, which carried the stigma of a protracted and unwinnable involvement in a foreign war, by using Munich as the relevant analogy. When Bush announced that he was sending forces to Saudi Arabia, he reminded the country that "a half century ago our nation and the world paid dearly for appeasing an aggressor who should and could have been stopped. We're not about to make that mistake twice."
Conclusion
Political leaders have used the Munich analogy to justify what they believe is critical foreign intervention and to remind the public of its obligations to defend liberty. They also have used it to divert attention away from thorny "public relations" problems such as the Vietnam War syndrome and even to discredit critics. In fact, the "lesson" of Munich has continued to be relevant even in the present, as each generation ostensibly seeks to avoid the mistakes of its predecessors. Just as the leaders of the 1930s learned much from World War I, post–World War II and Cold War leaders learned much from Munich: the consequences of futile good intentions. And while leaders of the twenty-first century may not fully comprehend the process whereby the Munich agreement became the prologue to the even greater tragedy of World War II, they do seem unlikely to dismiss it from their realm of political discourse. As Donald N. Lammers reminds us in Explaining Munich, "Taken one way or another, Munich has become the great 'object lesson' of our age."