Britain’s Unwitting Entanglement in the 1961 US-Backed Invasion of Cuba

The Bay of Pigs Invasion was a failed US-supported landing on Cuba against Fidel Castro’s Communist Cuba in 1961. Here, J.J. Valdes considers Britain’s involvement in the affair.

Bay of Pigs Invasion: The flagship Blagar, near the Cuban coast, April 16, 1961.

“Speak in English,” Bob Hines, radio operator at the airport tower in Grand Cayman, kept telling the Spanish-speaking pilot of the Douglas B-26 Invader circling overhead. There was no scheduled arrival of a plane on that early morning of April 15, 1961, so Hines was perplexed about the identity of the unexpected flight. Hines spoke some Spanish and could understand that the pilot was asking for landing instructions. Unable to get the man to communicate in English, he gave him instructions in Spanish as best he could and the plane finally landed.

The radio operator, who was working alone in the tower at the time, then went out to meet the plane on the tarmac. The pilot, in military garb, was the first to exit the aircraft, which bore Cuban air force markings. “Give you this,” he said to Hines, holding two pistols in his outstretched hand. Hines took the pistols then, deciding that this was something for the government to handle, summoned the islands’ Immigration Officer (also the Chief of Police) and Administrator Jack Rose.

Cayman Islands

The Caymans, consisting of Grand Cayman and two other smaller isles, came under British rule in 1670. In 1961 the territory was administered as a dependency of Jamaica, where the governor resided. Jack Rose, a former Royal Air Force (RAF) fighter pilot during World War II, was the island’s resident administrator.

Rose quickly arrived at the airport. The Cubans were demanding to be flown to Miami and at first Rose assumed that they were defectors from that county. But in fact, the unexpected arrivals were Cuban exile pilot Alfredo Caballero and navigator Alfredo Maza. They were part of a force trained in Central America by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) for an invasion of Cuba intended to topple Fidel Castro. Their plane was one of three B-26s that had attacked San Antonio de los Baños airbase, near Havana, as part of pre-invasion strikes on three of the country’s main airfields. Caballero had discovered en route to Cuba from Nicaragua that there was a malfunction with the plane’s droppable fuel tanks. Despite his flight leader’s order to turn back, he had opted to continue with the mission. However, his fuel situation had become critical on the return trip, forcing him to divert to Grand Cayman.  

No one had bothered to inform Rose about the possible arrival of such visitors and he was “far from pleased to see them” because he “smelt trouble.” Adding to his foreboding was the fact that one of the plane’s rockets had apparently misfired and was still attached under a wing. The Cuban crew offered no cooperation in addressing the dangerous situation. Rose, therefore, called on his old RAF skills to remove the device and other ordnance from the plane with help from ground personnel and an American tourist onlooker who had been a bomber crewman.

Rose’s next order of business was to contact the governor in Jamaica, Sir Kenneth Blackburne. As there was no telephone connection at the time between Kingston and the Caymans, messages had to be exchanged via radiotelegraphy. Blackburne, it turned out, was as surprised as Rose by the incident and had little to offer. This left Rose in a crux regarding “what attitude to adopt in practical and propaganda terms.” He thought it prudent “to try to keep the lid on what had happened.” Thus, in addition to requesting local ship owners to refrain from radio chatter about the B-26’s arrival, he arranged for the postmaster to hold off all outgoing mail for a time.

Lack of knowledge

Even the highest levels of the British government had apparently not been informed by the Americans of their plans for an invasion of Cuba, let alone that an airstrip on British territory had been designated as an emergency landing alternative. British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan, despite his close association with President John F. Kennedy, had been kept in the dark about such plans when he had visited Washington in early April. The American strategy seemed to have been not to involve the British authorities pending the advent of actual emergency landings on the Caymans. If the British then decided to intern any landed aircraft, the Americans considered raising the specter that Cuba and other nations might view the planes’ presence there as indicative that the islands were being used as a launch base.

As it happened, however, the British government proved most cooperative. During the evening, Rose received a radiogram from Sir Blackburne informing him to expect “a visitor” during the night who “should be given every courtesy.” Around midnight, a transport aircraft with no landing lights approached the dark runway (which lacked an illumination system) at low level. Upon touching down, the “visitor” and several other CIA men deplaned. The leader of the group introduced himself and, over the course of their conversation, revealed to be intimately acquainted with assorted details about Rose’s life. The rest of the group consisted of aviation technicians who immediately set to work on the parked B-26.  

After sizing up the situation, the lead CIA man indicated that he needed to phone Washington. He initially thought Rose was joking when the latter informed him that the island had no telephone connection to the outside world. Arrangements were then made via radiogram for a charter plane from Jamaica to pick up the American in the morning and fly him there so he could make his call. Afterward, he returned on the plane to Grand Cayman. Rose came to find out that, to pay for expenses, this fellow carried a case containing stacks of US paper currency, “neatly packed just as one sees them in films or television as ransom money.”

Events took a precipitous turn on April 17 when the disembarkation of troops at the Bay of Pigs began. Throughout the day, the invasion force received air support from B-26 bombers arriving over the area from Nicaragua in staggered fashion. The aircraft, which lacked tail guns, were often engaged in lopsided aerial battles by fighter planes from Castro’s air force. By day’s end, two more B-26s had arrived at Grand Cayman. One, piloted by Marío Zúñiga, diverted there in the early morning low on fuel after engaging in a dogfight with, ironically, a British-made Hawker Sea Fury. A number of the prop fighters had been inherited by Castro from former Cuban dictator Fulgencio Batista. Another B-26, piloted by Antonio Soto, arrived in the early afternoon after having one of his engines shot out by a T-33 jet.

In retrospect

Both Rose’s and Hines’s oral accounts, recorded more than three decades after the events, are imprecise in various respects, including the total number of B-26s, each carrying a two-man crew, that diverted to Grand Cayman. Whereas they both claim that a total of four planes arrived, CIA documents indicate that only three did, including Caballero’s on the 15th. The three aircraft were flown back to Nicaragua by CIA personnel as soon as each was made airworthy. Meanwhile, the six Cuban exile crewmen they had carried were issued civilian clothes and flown out on regular air service flights to Miami. Zúñiga and Soto arrived back in Nicaragua in time to join the invasion’s most devastating air support mission late on the afternoon of April 18. Caballero, however, was transported by mistake to Retalhuleu, the CIA’s airbase in Guatemala, and remained there until the invasion’s collapse on April 19.

Both Administrator Rose and Governor Blackburne subsequently received letters of commendation for their handling of the affair from the British Permanent Under-Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Sir Frederick Millar. However, Rose was “given to understand” that if the matter had attracted any adverse publicity, he alone would have been assigned blame for the incident.

The role of British territory in the CIA’s Cuban invasion has largely remained hush and been little publicized over the years. Radio operator Hines declared in his 1995 oral account that he “was the only person allowed to take pictures [of the landed planes], on word that I would not publish them; I have never published them.”  To this day, the pictures have never come to light.

Author J.J. Valdes’s recent book about the 1961 Cuban invasion is Besieged Beachhead: The Cold War Battle for Cuba at the Bay of Pigs. Available here: https://www.amazon.com/Besieged-Beachhead-Cold-Battle-Cuba/dp/0811776794

Sources

Beerli, Stanley W. “Transmittal of Documents.” Memorandum to Lt. Colonel B. W. Tarwater, USAF (Attachment C), April 26, 1961. https://www.cia.gov/readingroom/docs/DOC_0000252273.pdf.

Lesley Hines. “Interview with Lesley (Bob) Hines.” By Heather McLaughin. Cayman Islands National Archive Oral History Programme (16 February 1995; finalized transcription: 16 April 1997)

Pfeiffer, Jack B. Official History of the Bay of Pigs Operation. Vol I. Central Intelligence Agency, 1979.

Jack Rose. “Interview with Jack Rose.” By Heather McLaughin. Cayman Islands National Archive Oral History Programme (18 May 1999; finalized transcription: 22 July 1999).

Sandford, Christopher. Harold and Jack: The Remarkable Friendship of Prime Minister Macmillan and President Kennedy. Amherst, New York: Prometheus Books, 2014.

Valdés, J.J. Besieged Beachhead: The Cold War battle for Cuba at the Bay of Pigs. Essex, Connecticut: Stackpole Books, 2024.

Wells, Davis. A Brief History of the Cayman Islands. Dover, UK: The West India Committee, 2018. eBook.  https://www.cigouk.ky/downloads/Cayman-Islands-e-book-October2018.pdf.

Wise, David, and Thomas B. Ross. The Invisible Government. New York: Random House, 1964.

Sleeping with the Bomb: The Unsettled Legacy of the SS Richard Montgomery

It lies just beneath the surface—literally and figuratively. A rusting American Liberty ship, broken-backed and quietly corroding off the coast of Kent and Essex, barely three miles from Sheerness. To many in the southeast of England, the name Richard Montgomery is familiar, even faintly iconic. Its skeletal masts still protrude from the Thames Estuary at low tide like a warning, or a forgotten monument. But beneath those masts lies something altogether more sobering: over 1,400 tons of unexploded ordnance. The wreck is a wartime time capsule that, by all reasonable estimates, has the potential to unleash the largest non-nuclear explosion on British soil since the Second World War.

Richard Clements explains.

The wreck of the SS Richard Montgomery. Source: Christine Matthews, available here.

The story of the SS Richard Montgomery has never truly gone away. Locals have lived in its shadow for decades. Teenagers are warned off from daring swims. Journalists periodically revisit it. The government monitors it. Yet in recent months, the Richard Montgomery has once again found its way into headlines. With new sonar scans, rising concerns over corrosion, and questions about how long inaction can remain the official policy, this long-silent threat has begun to murmur again.

A Wartime Wreck with a Dangerous Cargo

The SS Richard Montgomery was built in Jacksonville, Florida, in 1943—one of over 2,700 Liberty ships constructed at speed to fuel the Allied war effort. She arrived in the Thames Estuary in August 1944, destined to join a larger convoy headed for Cherbourg, where her cargo—thousands of tons of munitions—was to support operations in liberated France. At the time, the estuary’s Great Nore Anchorage near Sheerness served as a gathering point for vessels awaiting safe passage.

While anchored there, the Montgomery’s mooring reportedly dragged or failed, and the vessel drifted onto a shallow sandbank known as Sheerness Middle Sand. Grounded and listing, the ship’s structural integrity was compromised. Efforts to refloat her proved unsuccessful. Salvage teams began offloading the munitions, but before the operation could be completed, the ship’s hull split amidships.

An estimated 6,000 tons of ordnance had been on board. Roughly half was safely removed. The remainder—some 1,400 tons by official estimates—remains inside the forward holds to this day. The cargo includes high explosive bombs, anti-tank devices, and aerial munitions, many of which have become unstable with time. A wartime manifest is believed to exist, though details have often been redacted in public summaries. Over the years, surveys have confirmed the presence of explosive material, but exact specifications are rarely disclosed in full.

The wreck was declared a dangerous site, and further salvage was ruled out for fear that disturbing the remaining cargo could trigger an explosion. Instead, the area was marked with buoys, designated an exclusion zone, and subjected to regular monitoring—a policy that has continued into the 21st century.

Living with the Risk

For most residents of coastal Kent and Essex, the Richard Montgomery is less a mystery than a fact of life—an ever-present silhouette on the horizon. Its masts, protruding from the water like the ribs of a fossilized beast, have been visible for generations. Schoolchildren grow up hearing about it. Locals give it a wide berth. And yet, for something that holds such destructive potential, it remains curiously normalized.

Signs near the shoreline warn of exclusion zones. Maritime charts mark the wreck with bright symbols. Navigation buoys flash their silent signals to passing vessels. But on land, conversation about the ship is often casual. It has become, over time, one of those shared local oddities—like a long-standing crack in the pavement or a tree that leans the wrong way. Everyone knows it’s there. Most choose not to think about it too much.

The British government has kept a close, if quiet, eye on the wreck. Annual surveys by the Maritime and Coastguard Agency check for structural shifts. A Department for Transport report in 2022 reiterated that the risk of explosion remains low so long as the site is left undisturbed. But concerns do resurface. In 2020, the Ministry of Defence released footage from a sonar scan showing the ship’s hull deteriorating, fueling public speculation.

There have been no shortage of ideas over the years—from controlled detonation to encasing the wreck in concrete. None have gained traction. Each option, it seems, carries greater risk than simply leaving it alone. Successive governments have opted for cautious monitoring rather than intervention, a decision often criticized as kicking the can down the road. Yet the wreck persists, and so does the uneasy status quo.

For those who live nearby, this balance between familiarity and latent danger is strangely British in character. Not quite forgotten, not quite feared, the Richard Montgomery remains part of the local backdrop. As one long-time resident in Sheerness once quipped to a reporter, “If it hasn’t gone up by now, it probably won’t—will it?”

Back in the Headlines

After decades of relative obscurity, the Richard Montgomery has once again captured national attention. In early June 2025, Kent Online confirmed new flight restrictions imposed over the wreck—pilots are now prohibited from flying below 13,100 feet within a one-nautical-mile radius, following expert advice aimed at further reducing risk. This no-fly rule, in effect until further notice, applies to all aircraft except emergency or coastguard flights.

The news wasn’t confined to regional outlets. National broadcasters followed with commentary on broader safety concerns, describing the wreck as “a forgotten time bomb” in one headline. Security experts noted that the estuary’s proximity to major shipping lanes—used by LNG carriers and container ships—heightens concerns not only of accidental detonation but also of potential sabotage.

Despite the growing attention, subsequent government statements have maintained a cautious posture. The Department for Transport confirmed that structural deterioration is ongoing, but insisted the risk remains low provided the site remains undisturbed. Meanwhile, maritime exclusion zones are still enforced and the wreck continues to be monitored by the Maritime and Coastguard Agency.

Managing a Legacy: Proposals and Precautions

Over the decades, a variety of solutions have been considered for the Richard Montgomery. Options have ranged from full ordnance removal to structural reinforcement or burial in concrete. However, none have been pursued—primarily because the danger of disturbing the wreck is considered greater than leaving it alone.

The Maritime & Coastguard Agency, the Department for Transport, and the Ministry of Defence have stuck to a policy of passive containment. The site is clearly marked and monitored, with exclusion zones for shipping and—as of June 2025—a no‑fly zone prohibiting aircraft below 13,100 feet within a one‑nautical‑mile radius.

The remaining cargo, estimated at around 1,400 tons of high explosives including bombs of various sizes and white phosphorus smoke devices, remains buried in the forward holds beneath silt and collapsed steel. As long as the wreck remains undisturbed, the official assessment describes the threat as low, though not negligible.

While public imagination often oscillates between a catastrophic detonation and a safe cleanup, reality demands nuance. These wrecks are treated more like dormant geological faults—stable under current conditions but potentially volatile if tampered with.

Lessons from the Deep: The SS Kielce Case

A comparable cautionary example comes from the English Channel, with the Polish freighter SS Kielce. The Kielce sank in 1946, carrying munitions when it collided with another ship off Folkestone. The wreck settled in some 90 feet of water—well over twice the depth of the Richard Montgomery, which lies at approximately 50 feet.

In 1967, efforts to dismantle the Kielce ended badly. The Folkestone Salvage Company placed demolition charges on the hull and inadvertently detonated remaining munitions. The blast created a crater in the seabed over 150 feet long, 67 feet wide, and 20 feet deep. It registered as a magnitude 4.5 seismic event—detected across Europe and North America—and shattered windows and roofs in Folkestone, several miles away.

It is worth noting that despite its deeper waters and lower explosive payload, the Kielce explosion still caused significant damage. In contrast, the Richard Montgomery sits in shallower water—its masts still visible above the low tide—and holds far more ordnance. Its proximity to densely populated areas and strategic infrastructure such as Sheerness docks and Thames shipping lanes makes its situation uniquely sensitive.

The Kielce disaster remains a sobering historical precedent. It underlines the unpredictable dangers of attempting salvage operations on munitions-laden wrecks, and supports the reasoning behind official efforts to keep the Montgomery undisturbed.

Conclusion – Between Memory and Responsibility

The SS Richard Montgomery is more than a rusting wreck—it is a persistent testament to wartime legacies and the decisions we make to contain them. Its silhouetted masts serve as a stark reminder that beneath the Thames isn’t just history, but latent danger.

The Kielce incident teaches us that intervention—even cautious, professional intervention—can have unintended consequences. That wreck lay deeper and held fewer explosives than the Montgomery, yet when disturbed, its blast shook communities and created seismic ripples around the world.

The Thames wreck lies closer to shore, holding much more volatile material. It is not merely passive decay; it is a hazard managed by surveillance, exclusion zones, and measured restraint. While erosion and rust continue their slow work, the official approach remains surveillance—not removal.

In the end, the Richard Montgomery reveals much about our relationship with the past. It sits—watched, measured, contained—but unresolved. An explosive time capsule in shallow water, it tests the limits of prudence. As history recedes into memory, this wreck stands as a powerful symbol of the care and caution we must exercise in the aftermath of war.

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References

Daily Express. “Warning over UK ‘Time Bomb’ Ship Loaded with 1,400 Tons of Explosives.” Daily Express Online, June 2025.

Department for Transport. Annual Report on the Condition of the SS Richard Montgomery Wreck Site. London: UK Government Publications, 2022.

Kent Online. “New No-Fly Zone Introduced over Richard Montgomery Wreck.” KentOnline, June 4, 2025.

Maritime and Coastguard Agency. Wreck Monitoring Report: SS Richard Montgomery, 2023.

Smith, Roger. “The Kielce Explosion of 1967: Lessons from a Wartime Wreck.” Maritime Historical Review, Vol. 11, No. 2, 1998.

BBC News Archive. “Underwater Blast Rocks Channel: Wreck Detonates during Salvage.” BBC News, July 1967.

Folkestone Salvage Company Records. “Case File: SS Kielce,” National Archives Reference FS/1967/072.

Remembering the Sorsa Era: A Golden Period for Social Democracy in Finland?

This September is a significant milestone in the history of Finnish democratic socialism; marking the 50th anniversary of the end of the first socialist-led coalition of Kalevi Sorsa. A journalist who went on to work for UNESCO and the Finnish foreign ministry on multiple occasions, while also going on to serve as Secretary and later Chairman of his own Social Democratic Party (SDP), Sorsa became prime minister following a general election held in Finland in 1972. Over the next three years, Sorsa presided over a truly transformative administration. Although circumstances led to his government’s premature collapse in 1975, Sorsa would go on to serve as prime minister again for three non-consecutive terms; in the process holding that position for a longer period than any of his predecessors.

Vittorio Trevitt explains.

Finnish politician Kalevi Sorsa in 1975. Source: http://www.finna.fi/Cover/Show?id=musketti.M012%3AHK7155%3A309-75-1&index=0&size=large&w=1200&h=1200
Image record page in Finna: musketti.M012%3AHK7155%3A309-75-1, Available here.

Despite the electoral victory achieved by the SDP, it failed to win enough seats to win majority representation in both the cabinet and in the legislature; a situation that remained unaltered during Sorsa’s subsequent premierships. The lack of socialist majorities in these two bodies, however, was no obstacle to radical social reform. What helped the SDP was the fact that the Centre Party, one its main coalition partners during the Sorsa years (though not always seeing eye to eyewith the Social Democrats), had a progressive outlook on social issues, advocating not only extensions to the welfare state but also the facilitation of rented housing, further educational opportunities and the utilisation of income policies in reducing inequalities. Additionally, the Liberal People’s Party and the Swedish People’s Party (two long-established groups that would become mainstays of various cabinets led by Sorsa) were advocates of activist, socially responsible government. Thanks to the intervention of the country’s president, a broad-based coalition comprising parties of differing philosophical persuasions was formed, with Sorsa at the helm. Thus marked the beginning of an age of reform that one could call “The Sorsa Era.”

Sorsa’s electoral successes can be seen in the wider context of a global trend towards socialism, in which certain developments witnessed left-wing parties enter government in several countries; many for the first time. In 1974, after Portugal’s long-established right-wing dictatorship came to a long-awaited end following a coup, the Portuguese colonies of Angola, São Tomé and Príncipe, Cape Verde, Mozambique and Guinea-Bissau became independent states with leftists at the head of these new, free nations. In Europe, an election held in Ireland in 1973 produced a coalition formed between Fine Gael and the social-democratic Labour Party, with the latter awarded cabinet posts related to social concerns that enabled it to realise important advances in social security in subsequent years. Five years later, an election in San Marino resulted in the formation of a socialist-communist governing alliance that would lead the principality for the next 13 years. “The Sorsa Era” was therefore not unique to Finland, but a reflection of international politics at that time.

Notable government

What was notable about Sorsa’s longevity was the fact that his SDP, unlike its counterparts in Norway, Sweden and Denmark, had failed to establish itself as the dominant force in national politics, with most governments that led Finland following its independence from the Russian Empire in the early Twentieth Century being of a liberal or conservative orientation. This did not mean, however, that the SDP remained a political outsider. In 1926, the SDP made a breakthrough when it formed a minority administration (albeit a temporary one), and nearly a decade later formed a key part of what was known as a “Red-Earth” ministry with liberal and agrarian-oriented figures. Lasting from 1937 to 1939, it was responsible for milestones in social legislation such as the introduction of comprehensive maternity aid, better dietary requirements for seamen, and wide-reaching pension coverage. After the Second World War, the SPD often provided positions in coalition cabinets, two of the most notable being the “Popular Front” cabinets from 1946-48 and from 1966-70 (the former communist-led and the latter SDP-led) which affected major reforms in areas like education,social security, occupational safety, and workers’ rights. The SDP also governed alone, first from 1948-50 and again from 1956-57. During these periods, it presided over notable undertakings in social policy. Amongst others, these included measures to improve accident insurance and combat TB (including free treatment for poorer patients), provide care for mentally disabled people, and facilitate employment opportunities. Sorsa’s terms enabled him to build on the record of past left-wing coalitions, leaving his own imprint on domestic policy in the process.

The legislative output of Sorsa’s first administration was considerable, with a broad array of reforms carried out that reflected the democratic socialist aspirations of his party. New pension benefits were introduced in cases of disablement together with farmers’ retirement and succession, while a greater number of people became entitled to financial support for housing. The innovative Day Care Act required municipalities to provide either childminders at home or day care facilities; effectively making childcare an integral part of the Finnish welfare state. Extra grants for children under the age of three were introduced, together with recompense (both monetary and in kind) in cases of wrongful arrest, detainment and criminal damage; the latter including the property in addition to the person involved. Guaranteed pay in cases of insolvency and bankruptcy was also enshrined into law, along with measures aimed at ensuring safe working conditions, while the replacement rate of supplementary private sector pensions was raised by a sizeable amount. Legislation was introduced providing for free trials and the establishment of local legal aid offices (aimed at ensuring that limited resources were not barriers to justice), together with compensation for farmers leaving their profession for a certain amount of time. Laws aimed at promoting exercise in open spaces, providing special treatment in intoxication cases, and establishing separate taxation of married partners were also passed; the latter of which helped more women to enter the workplace. Government spending also went through an expansionary phase, which rose by double-digits during Sorsa’s premiership.

Sorsa’s tenure, however, was cut short by gathering financial storms not of his own doing. Finland’s economy was battered by an international oil crisis, which contributed to a decision Sorsa made to stand down as prime minister in 1975. Two years later, however, Sorsa returned to the premiership with the Finnish economy in a parlous state, which the government successfully tackled by the application of measures designed to weather the financial storm. Symbolically, the policies pursued by the SDP-led government were shaped by the “Bad Sillanpää” programme adopted by the SDP in early 1977, which committed the party to more market-friendly policies as a means of strengthening the economy.

Social progress

The economic difficulties of this period, however, did not lead to social progress being neglected during Sorsa’s second term, which exhibited a similar reforming zeal to the first. Poorer pensioners became eligible for a special aid supplementwhile maternity leave was more than doubled and paid absence for fathers of newborn babies was established for the first time. An additional week of general paid leave was instituted, together with requirements of firms to not only set up health services in the workplace, but also for there to be negotiations between employers and workers or their representatives over matters that directly impacted staff, like dismissal. Laws intended to safeguard consumers and provide support services tailored to the needs of certain disabled people were also implemented.

In 1978, however, the cabinet fell; precipitated by division over financial policy. Sorsa regained the post of prime minister in 1982, but his new premiership faced a premature end due to internal cabinet opposition over a planned, significant rise in defence expenditure; with one of his coalition partners, the communist Finnish National Democratic League (SKDL), opposed to such a move. Although Sorsa made the SKDL leave the coalition, it was quickly replaced by a different party. Thus Sorsa came to lead his fourth and final administration; serving what would be his longest term in office. While some regressive decisions concerning the way pension increases are calculated were made, social policy for the most part was forward-looking during Sorsa’s last term. A compensation scheme for those afflicted by healthcare-associated injury and a universal income support benefit were established, together with a home care allowance for vulnerable groups and reforms to unemployment benefits that included higher levels of payment. A law aimed at putting a stop to gender discrimination was passed, together with measures designed to guarantee the safety of consumer goods, provide adequate shelter for those living with severe disabilities and those experiencing homelessness, and ensure supportive networks for those with issues concerning alcoholism and addiction. More people were also brought into compulsory pension insurance and a shared system of parental leave was inaugurated, together with a cash allowance for parents who stayed at home in place of daycare. This particular reform, which was promoted by the Cente Party, was a bone of contention for the SDP, who would only accept it if Centre agreed to greater public assistance for childcare.

1987 election

These accomplishments, however, did not translate into electoral success, with the SDP losing seats in a national election in 1987 and a new administration formed under the leadership of the centre-right National Coalition Party. Although the SDP maintained a degree of cabinet representation in what became known as the “red-blue” coalition, “The Sorsa Era” had finally drawn to a close.

Sorsa’s departure from the premiership did not spell the end of his involvement in public life, however. He went on to serve as Governor of the Bank of Finland, and back in the Nineties became involved in talks with employers and workers in an effort to hammer out an agreement between the two groups during a time when the country experienced a severe economic recession, with the former calling for an effective reduction in labour costs that trade unionists opposed (an agreement supported by the latter was eventually made). Sorsa also sought to become his party’s candidate for an upcoming presidential race, but despite his impressive credentials there was a clamouring for change within the SDP, with over six out of ten party members voting for a rival candidate; thus sadly ending Sorsa’s aspirations to one of the highest offices in the land.

Although Sorsa’s political career was at an end, the SDP has continued to play a prominent part in Finnish politics; participating in numerous cabinets to the present day. Since 2023, however, Finland has been led by a conservative ministry (which includes members of a radical right-wing party) that has pursued reactionary policies in regards to social security and asylum. Although the next election isn’t due until 2027, the SDP has consistently outperformed its rivals in countless polls for over a year, strongly suggesting a swing back to the Left if the SDP maintains its momentum. The legacy that “The Sorsa Era” left for Finland, with the many beneficial reforms and higher levels of social justice left in its wake, is one that a future SDP-led administration can use as a roadmap in leading Finland towards a brighter, fairer future. The memory of Kalevi Sorsa, who tragically passed away in 2004, should live on not only in the hearts and minds of Finnish social democrats today, but in their future actions as well.

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To What Extent had a Personality Cult Developed Prior to Lenin's Death in 1924?

Lenin became the most influential person in what was to become the Soviet Union, following the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. But, to what extent had his cult of personality been developed prior to his death in 1924? Ed Long considers this question.

Lenin with a cat in 1922.

Stalin v Lenin

This topic has received far too little direct attention since two articles in the early 1980s by Nina Tumarkin, and although referred to in passing by many of the more recent texts that deal with post-Tsarist Russia, it deserves a more in-depth treatment than it has received thus far. By comparison with the far more well-known and well-documented Cult of Stalin, Lenin has lost out by being considerably less well documented, and as a result far less well known. Based on the number of words penned on the use of the Lenin Cult as part of Stalin’s apparatus in order to cement his position as Vozhd, the evidence is overwhelming that a Cult of Personality centred around Lenin was in existence after the latter’s death in January 1924. However, what is less certain is to what extent such a Cult predated Lenin’s demise, and was then constructed by Stalin in order to portray himself as the "high priest [... and] theorist"[1] of Leninism, thereby driving the ideals of the October Revolution and The Civil War forward. In fact, a Lenin 'Cult' did not exist in any meaningful way prior to his death at the age of 53. Instead, I will argue here that whilst a certain level of 'mystique' may have surrounded Lenin prior to his death, starting perhaps from the time of the failed attempt on his life in 1918, this did not constitute a fully formed Cult of Personality.

A posthumous Cult of Personality?

The evidence to suggest that the Lenin Cult was “posthumous”[2] as Fitzpatrick accurately describes, is truly overwhelming.  "[T]he Lenin cult [that was] so evident in the immediate aftermath of his death"[3] was the creation of Krupskaya and, to a far greater extent, Stalin, both of whom had a vested interest in erecting the Lenin Cult in order to ensure a smooth succession of power. As the "high priest" and "high priestess of the Lenin cult"[4] their ability to determine the ideological shape of post-Lenin Russia was central to stability and particularly Stalin's rise to power. Tumarkin describes the work also undertaken by others beyond Stalin and Krupskaya to ensure that Lenin took his rightful place as the "Man-God of Communism"[5] in the Communist pantheon. Indeed, by the beginning of February 1924, the cult had already reached "nationwide"[6] proportions. To effect this end, Bonch-Bruevich had made "many of the arrangements for the portraits, sculptures, photographs and movies depicting the leader during the brief period of his active rule"[7], "Lunacharskii [...] immortali[sed] Lenin as a genius and Creator [...] when he took charge of the competition for the design of a permanent mausoleum of stone that would enshrine Lenin forever"[8] which would "surpass Mecca and Jerusalem in its human significance"[9]. Lenin's funeral was the centerpiece in rolling-out the new cult to the Russian people, and Tumarkin is right to emphasize its unifying effect on the Russian people as "an organi[s]ed system of rituals and symbols whose collective function was [...] to induce the public to go through the motions of revering Lenin as an outward sign of solidarity"[10]. Crucially, it was 'organized' and orchestrated and as I shall argue below, this was not the case to any great extent prior to the Lenin’s death. Whilst it may have been designed to unify the Russian public, it divided many in Sovnarkom. Stalin got to work as soon as he was able, throwing Trotsky off the scent immediately by establishing himself front and center during Trotsky's vacation and convalescence at the moment of Lenin's funeral. Service's view that "Stalin's leadership of the funeral commission put him at a crucial advantage"[11], due to the fact that Stalin was in many senses coming from behind in order to establish his position as a leading Bolshevik, reveals how important this leadership opportunity was for Stalin and hence how crucial it was that he took full advantage of it. Trotsky's prominence as the facilitator of the October Revolution, Chairmanship of the Petrograd Soviet and leadership of the MRC and Red Guards allowed him to portray himself as a greater defender of the revolution than Stalin. As leader of the Red Army and Commissar for War during the Civil War from 1918 his position as de facto right hand man to Lenin was solidified even more. Whilst this is not to denigrate Stalin's importance in these events, nonetheless he had significant ground to make up relative to Trotsky and so it was crucial that he took immediate advantage of the situation in January 1924. Furthermore, as Stalin "had no time to write a lengthy piece of work before 1917"[12] about Lenin's work, he clearly realized that the time was right to do so. Thus, his Foundations of Leninism, published by 1924 and in that year also delivered in the form of nine lectures at the Sverdlov University[13] established Stalin not only as the rightful heir to Lenin's throne, but also as the chief arbiter of Leninist doctrine thereafter. Montefiore's view that "Lenin was a tower and Stalin a little finger"[14] accords perfectly with Service's contention that Stalin was "a mere pupil of the great man"[15]; the torchbearer shining the light of Lenin's example for all to follow. This light promised a brighter future in Russia, and in following Lenin's lead, Stalin's role as benevolent and selfless disciple was indisputable. In much the same way as Hitler was able to use Mein Kampf as the blueprint for the new Germany after January 30th 1933, having of course formulated his ideas in and after his incarceration in Landsberg Prison after the failed Putsch in November 1923, Stalin was able to use the Foundations of Leninism in precisely the same way. He was the keeper of Lenin's legacy, "a village sorcerer who held his subjects in his dark thrall”[16], and as such had supreme ideological control over the Russian people, and even more crucially against 'wreckers', 'deviationists', and any others within and without the party who presumed to challenge his control. Those who stood in his way stood in Lenin's way. Such sacrilege would be punished in the strongest possible terms; Yagoda, Yezhov and later Beria awaited with their torture chambers primed and tools sharpened. The bloodshed here, justifiable in Lenin's own words by the epithet: “Even if 90% of the people perish, what matter if the other 10% live to see revolution become universal”[17], makes the icepick to the back of Trotsky's head seem humane by comparison. In the later 1920s, this method of relentlessly guarding Lenin's legacy was key to Stalin's rise from party notable to Vozhd. The claim, then, that the Lenin cult was only constructed after his death has a lot of merit. This was indeed a powerful tool that allowed Stalin to claim that his policies were being promulgated only in accordance with Lenin's wishes, and therefore to distance himself from much of the chaos that prevailed in the later 1920s and 30s[18]. As such, we can conclude with certainty that the cult existed after Lenin's death. However, to do so is not to say anything new; what is both more prescient and controversial is the extent to which the cult existed prior to his death.

Folklore or cult?

That a 'cult' existed prior to Lenin's death is shrouded in uncertainty not only from an historic, but also a semantic point of view. It is not the purpose of this work to deny the existence of tales and myths about Lenin prior to his death. Panchenko discusses the existence of such "folklore"[19] and the extent to which it was in fact "fakelore"[20] but confines his analysis to the period "in the first decades after the Revolution"[21] - clearly this also encompasses the years 1917-24, and therefore could imply that Lenin mythology was in existence prior to his death, however on two levels this is not compelling evidence. First of all, Panchenko's own words are revealing: Whilst discussing such rhymes as came out about Lenin, for example "Il'ich's red arse"[22] and the 'Voronezh tale' in which Lenin "chops them like a cabbage [w]ith his sharp sword"[23] (them being the whites), he states that these forms of eulogising Lenin are far more difficult to classify on the same level as the much more obvious Cult of Stalin established later on; "the cultural forms themselves, ranging from rhetoric to rituals and representing the distinctive character of the veneration of Lenin in the Soviet Union are not as homogeneous, simple and transparent"[24]. The clear implication here, then, is that its scale relative to Stalin would immediately lead us to conclude that the use of the word 'cult' is not appropriate. By extension, the instances that Panchenko describes seem, at least at their inception, to have no official sanction by Sovnarkom. As such, the use of the word 'cult' is totally misleading by this yardstick. Secondly, the latter half of Panchenko's article deals with further instances which he describes once again as "folktales"; the 'Muzhitskii skaz o Lenine', published in 1924, the 'Khitryi Lenin' by Akul'shin, published in 1925, and 'Lenin ne umer - on zhiv' published in 1925-6[25]. Whilst the dates given are only those of publication, not necessarily inception, and indeed Panchenko himself claims that many were heard by the authors as early as 1918, this is scant evidence on which to claim that a cult, or even a well-established folk tradition, was in existence prior to Lenin's death. However, Panchenko gives us a vital clue as to the nature of Lenin's aura that pre-dated his demise, and is especially important as tales such as those examples above were a hugely important precursor to the later, fully-fledged cult that was built by Stalin after 1924, whose "contours were shaped by traditional peasant culture"[26]. These tales, then, were the early building blocks of Stalin's cult of Lenin, but before 1924 had yet to be organized into any coherent structure.

White's analysis develops the idea that the cult was in existence before Lenin's death, and indeed over-extends to the point where credibility is lost. He claims, in contradiction to the ideas set-out earlier in this argument, that “Stalin did not create the Lenin Cult. He found it already in existence and propelled by the momentum that Lenin himself had given it”[27]. Perhaps the basis of White's claim owes something to ideas such as those outlined by Panchenko above. However, by doing so we have jumped from the concept of 'folklore' to a 'cult' far too quickly. We have seen that there were indeed seeds for Stalin to nourish once the ideal situation presented itself on Lenin's death. However, for us to accept White's position we would have to accept two equally difficult claims. First, that Stalin's role in creating what we would recognize as a bona-fide 'cult' was much less than we have already established, either before or after Lenin's death, and second that Lenin himself played an active role in creating the cult of his own personality during his lifetime. The former claim has already been shown to be indefensible, but the latter is worthy of further discussion. Prior to the October revolution, it was in Lenin's, and other leading Bolsheviks', best interests to remain incognito. His previous encounters with the Okhrana, in the wake of his brother's execution in 1887 and after 1903 as part of the clandestine revolutionary underground, had shown him the value of anonymity. Indeed, applying for a passport in 1917 he was forced to shave of his facial hair in order to be successful, and even after the October revolution it took some time for him to grow it back completely. Being totally unrecognizable had its advantages but also its disadvantages it seems. Nonetheless, up to late 1917 Lenin was clearly playing an active role in preventing himself from being widely known, in direct contradiction of White's views. Lenin's attempts were so effective, indeed, that "even in the Civil War he had difficulty in getting recognized by the general public"[28]. This goes directly against Tumarkin's assertion that "the Lenin cult [...] developed in the context of the Russian Civil War"[29] - this seems unlikely, except insofar as Lenin was the acknowledged supreme leader of the Reds, and perhaps some echoes of the attempt on his life (see below) were still being felt but not by the Russian population at large. By 1920 when the Civil War was drawing to a close, then, the majority of Russia did not know what Lenin looked like and so to claim that a personality cult existed at this point and that Lenin himself had played a key role in its inception is to exaggerate the situation wildly.

Lenin’s role in creating his own Cult of Personality

Figes also contends that the cult was in existence prior to Lenin's death but diverges from White's analysis as he is careful to point out that Lenin played no role in creating it himself (indeed Lenin railed against such an outcome, trying to "put a brake on it when he recovered" from the assassination attempt[30]). The failed attempt on Lenin's life by Fanny Kaplan on August 30th 1918 after he had spoken at the Hammer and Sickle armaments factory is seen by Figes as the key moment where the cult sprang into existence; "Lenin's quick recovery was declared a miracle in the Bolshevik press. He was hailed as a Christ-like figure, blessed with supernatural powers, who was not afraid to sacrifice his own life for the good of the people"[31]. Whether, of course, the press beyond the Bolsheviks' own took as much notice and elevated the attempt so highly seems unlikely. Figes then goes on to say that "[i]t was the start of the Lenin cult - a cult designed by Bolsheviks, apparently against Lenin's will, to promote their leader as the 'people's tsar'"[32]. Figes is therefore in broad agreement with Tumarkin, who more plausibly states that "the first stage of its formation was the spontaneous mythologi[s]ing of Lenin that followed upon an attempt on his life [... o]n 30 August 1918"[33]. They differ importantly, as we have already noted on the use of the word 'cult'. Here, Figes goes too far but Tumarkin only refers to the reaction only being a first step towards its construction - "the cult of Lenin had been set on its course "[34]. Nonetheless, as a result of Lenin's virtual resurrection, photos of him appeared in the 'Lenin Corner' also known as the 'Red Corner' or 'Holy Spot' in peasant dwellings[35] (broadly agreeing with Panchenko's ideas as discussed above). Service corroborates Figes' assertion that the cult started to be established in the wake of the assassination attempt[36] but without putting a timescale on precisely when. All of these three accounts suffer from a common weakness - none go beyond asserting that a cult existed as early as August 1918, and proceed to provide only scant evidence to prove that this was actually the case. Figes' account suffers from this fault the least. It seems plausible, but not especially likely, that the Bolshevik press (over which Lenin had tight rein, crucially so as a propaganda weapon against first the Provisional Government and later The Whites in the October Revolution and Civil War respectively) and the Bolshevik leadership (above whom Lenin resided atop the Sovnarkom pyramid, his power here shown for example in pushing through the NEP in 1921 amidst huge opposition and earlier forcing the pace of the seizure of power from the April Theses to the October Revolution itself 6 months later) were able to create such a cult in spite of Lenin's express wishes. From the point of view of the latter, this would have been hugely insubordinate, and perhaps betray not only the ideals of the revolution itself (eg in creating a quasi-religion which would contradict Marxist principles and also in elevating Lenin into a 'class' of his own) but also exacerbate Lenin's worries about, and later explicit orders against, factionalism[37]. Perhaps, though, we can arrive at a middle ground. If an aura did surround Lenin, from the assassination attempt and later mystical stories which resulted from it, then it was not as part of an officially sanctioned ideology. Instead, it was merely an invention along the lines of Panchenko's thinking as outlined above. Once again, to claim that a 'cult' existed from the point of the assassination onwards is hugely problematic.

Timing

Finally, let us look more closely at the timing of the alleged establishment of the Lenin Cult. We have already found that by the end of the Civil War, Lenin was not well enough known to be said to be surrounded by a Personality Cult. An important effect of Fanya Kaplan's attempt against Lenin's life was the legacy of medical difficulties bestowed upon him - she did succeed in killing him, it just took a long time to play out. As a result of one of the three shots fired lodging in Lenin's neck and leading to multiple strokes, Lenin was often wheelchair-bound. After his second stroke in December 1921, he was allowed to dictate for only '5 to 10 minutes a day'. As a result, Lenin had become Stalin's prisoner[38]. He had also become a prisoner insofar as he was isolated from not only the central party leadership, allowing Stalin crucial opportunities to subvert his wishes, but also from the Russian people themselves. For the next two years or so, Lenin's health prevented him from interacting effectively with either of these groups, and indeed was so ill and unbeknown to Russians in general and his own Guards in particular that he was denied entry to the Kremlin in 1923[39]! Under such circumstances, it would have been undesirable for 'the real' Lenin to be well known but it is possible that at this point it did become desirable for thoughts of how to secure Lenin's legacy to start forming in the minds of leading Bolsheviks in general and Stalin in particular. For this reason, it is highly plausible that a sanctioned and sanitized version of Lenin was starting to be effected, and the previous concern raised by Figes that Lenin was averse to such a development became moot. “The Cult of Lenin, which Lenin himself opposed and managed to keep in check until incapacitated by a stroke in March 1923”[40] could now start to coalesce for two reasons - firstly because Lenin's health was so critical that the regime needed to be safeguarded, and that secondly this could, indeed had, to take place now that Lenin was no longer an obstacle to its establishment, being too ill to mount any effective opposition to such a scheme. Tumarkin, therefore, is vindicated in stating that "the elevation of Leninism to the status of holy writ [...] developed in 1923 in response to this concern [about life after Lenin] and reached national proportions after Lenin's death"[41], i.e. the process started during his profound illness but was only fully realized upon his death. Prior to this, it was merely "piecemeal"[42]and disorganized. Only at this point were steps taken to try to safeguard his legacy by, for example, the Moscow Committee setting up a 'Lenin Institute' in 1923 to organize, catalogue, preserve and conserve many of Lenin's documents[43]. Only at this point was a concerted effort made by the regime to "organi[s]e[...] and promote[...]" a cult to act as a "stabili[s]ing and legitimi[s]ing force in Soviet political life"[44]. Between March 1923 and January 1924, therefore, the Cult of Personality of Lenin started to take shape mostly due to Lenin's inability to stop it. As such, it picked up and started to put together the pieces that we have already examined; Panchenko's myths, tales and folklore that developed in the wake of the 1918 assassination attempt being the key components. Only at this point were they put together to form the 'cult' that Stalin used from that point on.

Lenin as a stepping-stone for Stalin’s rise to power

Therefore, a 'Cult' of Personality of Lenin did not exist prior to his death. Events during his premiership may have facilitated planning for the after-Lenin zeitgeist by Stalin and Krupskaya, in particular, and these took on a more urgent aspect in the last ten months of his life. Prior to this, no 'cult' existed. This was for a number of reasons. Lenin was not well known enough by the end of the Civil War for us to term what Lenin legends that did exist sufficient for us to accept the existence of a 'cult'. After 1921, Lenin was so ill that it was undesirable for him to be well known as he actually was, but crucially he was able to retain enough control over his own affairs that he was able to withstand any attempts to create a 'cult' against his will. It was only once he was unable to safeguard his own reputation that leading Bolsheviks did so on his behalf. Therefore, Stalin was able to start building his own “cult of impersonality"[45] as a testimony to Lenin's life and work in the months prior to the latter's death, but this only started to take full expression as Stalin led the funeral oration to Lenin, crucially with Trotsky absent, on January 28th 1924. In the same way that in Stalin's regime, “Kirov's murder provided an ideal pretext [to] solidify[] the power of the dictator [...] The bonds of institutional and clan loyalties, along with the vestiges of collective leadership and intraparty democracy, were the last impediments to sole and unquestioned power”[46], Stalin's construction of the Lenin Cult after his death was the first crucial step to removing the first 'impediments' to Stalin's path to power as Lenin's sole successor.

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Bibliography

Figes, O 1996: “A People’s Tragedy”. Pimlico, London.

Fitzpatrick, S 2008: “The Russian Revolution”. OUP, Oxford.

Khlevniuk, O 2015: "Stalin: New Biography of a Dictator". Yale University Press, New Haven.

Lenin, V 1922: "Continuation of the notes" to the "Last Will & Testament".  Accessed online from https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1922/dec/testamnt/congress.htm

Lenin Q IN Dewey, J. 1929: "Impressions of Soviet Russia and the revolutionary world". New Republic Inc, New York.

Montefiore, S 2014: “Stalin: Court of the Red Tsar”. Phoenix Books, London.

Panachenko, A 2005: “The Cult of Lenin and ‘Soviet Folklore’”. Folklorica X (1); 18-38.

Service, R 2000: “Lenin”. MacMillan, London.

Service, R 2004: “Stalin”. MacMillan, London.

Tucker, R 1979: “The rise of Stalin’s Personality Cult”. The American Historical Review 84 (2); 347-366.

Tumarkin, N 1981: “Religion, Bolshevism, and the Origins of the Lenin Cult”. The Russian Review 40 (1); 35-46.

Tumarkin, N 1983: “Political Ritual and the Cult of Lenin”. Human Rights Quarterly 5 (2); 203-6.

White, D 2001: “Lenin – The Practice and Theory of Revolution”. Palgrave, Basingstoke.

[1] Service 2004; 221

[2] Fitzpatrick 2008; 111

[3] Tumarkin 1981; 38

[4] Service 2000; 483

[5] Tumarkin 1981; 46

[6] Tumarkin 1983; 205

[7] Tumarkin 1981; 39

[8] Tumarkin 1981; 46

[9] Tumarkin 1981; 44

[10] Tumarkin 1983; 204

[11] Service 2004; 218

[12] Service 2004; 221

[13] Service 2004; 221

[14] Montefiore 2014; 66

[15] Service 2004; 357

[16] Service 2004; 309

[17] Lenin Q IN Dewey 1929; 145

[18] Khlevniuk2015; 39

[19] Panchenko 2005; 19

[20] Panchenko 2005; 20

[21] Panchenko 2005; 19

[22] Panchenko 2005; 21

[23] Panchencko 2005; 22

[24] Panchenko 2005; 21

[25] Panchenko 2005; 24

[26] Tumarkin 1981; 37

[27] White 2001; 185

[28] Service 2000; 9

[29] Tumarkin 1983; 204

[30] Figes 1996; 628

[31] Figes 1996; 627

[32] Figes 1996; 628

[33] Tumarkin 1983; 204

[34] Tumarkin 1983; 205

[35] Figes 1996; 629

[36] Service 2000; 393

[37] Lenin 1922; 3

[38] Figes 1996; 797

[39] Service 2000; 476

[40] Tucker 1979; 347

[41] Tumarkin 1981; 36

[42] Tumarkin 1983; 204

[43] Tumarkin 1983; 205

[44] Tumarkin 1981; 37

[45] Service 2004: 357

[46] Khlevniuk 2015; 137

How a Fake British Military Leader Fooled the Germans During World War 2

Deception has always been a part of military tactics, from the ancient Trojan Horse to the Gulf War, when Saddam Hussein positioned his troops along the Iraq-Kuwait border, claiming they were on a training mission as a cover-up for his true intentions of invading Kuwait. It was no different during the Second World War, when commanders devised unusual deception strategies. One of these involved an actor impersonating Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery.

Róza Gombos explains.

Montgomery during World War II.

In 1942, the Allies began to turn the tide of the war — the Germans had been stopped in North Africa, the Japanese had been pushed back in the Pacific theatre, and the German 6th Army had been encircled at Stalingrad. Winston Churchill, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Joseph Stalin decided on an Allied landing in Normandy, codenamed Operation Overlord. Executing the operation required massive preparation, lasting several months. One of the most important objectives was to prevent the Germans from learning the time and location of the invasion. To achieve this, commanders devised a number of deception operations to mislead the enemy.

Bernard Montgomery played a key role in the operation. He was the Ground Forces Commander-in-Chief and also contributed to refining Lieutenant General Morgan’s invasion plan. Since Montgomery was a central figure in the operation, the time and location of the Allied landing could potentially be linked to his whereabouts. The deception plan, known as Operation Copperhead, aimed to mislead the Germans about where and when the invasion would occur. If they spotted Montgomery somewhere else, it could lead them to believe the invasion was imminent in a different location, prompting them to redeploy their forces and divert divisions away from Normandy.

All the intelligence services needed was a double for Bernard Montgomery…

The double

After a persistent search for the ideal double, Lieutenant Colonel John Jervis-Reid from the deception planning department of the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force saw a photo in the News Chronicle of someone who looked remarkably like Montgomery. With that, they had found the perfect candidate for the operation.[1]

The photo was of actor Meyrick Edward Clifton James. He had fought in the First World War at the Battle of the Somme. After the war, he took up acting. Later, during the Second World War, he was commissioned into the Royal Army Pay Corps.

Many people noticed his striking resemblance to Montgomery and often joked about it. James wrote in his memoir that after Montgomery’s victories in North Africa, he was in Nottingham when he went on stage to make an announcement. The crowd mistook him for the general and greeted him with loud applause and cheering.[2]

In London, after a night performance of When Knights Were Bold, a News Chronicle photographer came into his dressing room. The photographer had been told that James looked like Montgomery, which piqued his interest. The actor borrowed a beret, and the photographer took pictures of him.[3]

The photo appeared in the News Chronicle with the caption ’You’re wrong – it’s Lieut. Clifton James’.

Worry?

While it seemed to be an innocent joke, James began to worry—what if the senior military staff saw the photo? He even had a nightmare in which he was deported and dropped by parachute into Berchtesgaden for impersonating the general.[4]

James’ unease soon proved justified. The higher military circles had indeed seen the photos—and they took serious notice of his resemblance.

In May 1944, the actor received a phone call from Colonel David Niven from the Army Kinematograph Section. The colonel offered him a role in an Army film they were supposedly making.

Niven instructed him to meet Colonel Lester at the Grand Hotel in Leicester and to bring some photographs of himself.[5] They had lunch, but the colonel did not mention anything about a film. As a result, James assumed he was not qualified and had not been selected for the role.[6]

The next day, he received a letter from Niven informing him that he was indeed suitable for the job and that he needed to travel to London. To James’ confusion, Colonel Lester later told him that they were not going to make any films after all.[7]

“You are very much like General Montgomery, or Monty, as he is commonly called,” said Colonel Lester. James froze—he thought it was a trap and that he was going to be arrested for unlawful impersonation.[8] But then Lester continued:

“You have been chosen to act as the double of General Montgomery before D-Day. I am in charge of this job. It is our business to trick the enemy.”[9]

The plan

The plan was for James to impersonate Montgomery in the Mediterranean, in order to make the Germans believe the Allies would launch the invasion there, while the real Montgomery remained in the United Kingdom. To prepare for this, MI5 arranged for James to spend several days with Montgomery’s staff so he could study his voice, gestures, and mannerisms.[10]

The operation had to be kept top secret. James could not tell anyone; he was advised to be constantly suspicious and to avoid drinking with strangers.[11]

When everything was ready, James was flown to Algiers, where he met General Maitland Wilson. In the capital of Algeria, he was cheered by thousands of troops and high-ranking officers. According to James, nobody doubted that he was Montgomery.[12]

He was seen publicly with General Wilson to create the illusion that Montgomery and Wilson were planning the invasion. Afterward, he was sent to Cairo to keep him out of the public eye while the Normandy landings were underway. Later, he returned to London without arousing any suspicion.

During the interrogation of captured German generals, they confirmed they had been aware of Montgomery’s supposed arrival in the Mediterranean. However, one of them admitted he was not sure whether it was the real Montgomery or just a feint.[13] The operation itself was successful, though it did not significantly influence the course of the Normandy landings.

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[1] https://marksimner.me.uk/i-was-montys-double-meyrick-edward-clifton-james/ Accessed: 18 May 2025)

[2] M. E. Clifton James: I was Monty’s Double (The Popular Book Club, 1957) p. 20.

[3] James, 1957, p. 20.

[4] James, 1957, p. 20.

[5] James, 1957, p. 22.

[6] James, 1957, p. 24.

[7] James, 1957, p. 26.

[8] James, 1957, p. 30.

[9] James, 1957, p. 30.

[10] James, 1957, p. 45.

[11] James, 1957, p. 50.

[12] James, 1957, p. 167.

[13] Graham Lord: The Authorized Biography of David Niven (St. Martin’s Press, 2004) p. 124.

The Wartime SAS Legend in the Postwar Period: David Stirling

The story of David Stirling is well known. He was one of the founders of the SAS, and he owned a wartime reputation as the Phantom Major which has been written about at length. To this day this legendary status persists although some writers now doubt the authenticity of some of those wartime claims. Stirling’s wartime experience was cut short when he was captured by the Germans in 1943 and endured an extended period of incarceration in Navi Prison Camp and in the infamous Colditz Castle. After the war he left the Army in 1947 but retrained to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the reserves until 1965. This article is primarily about Stirling’s life and career after the Second World War.

Steve Prout explains.

David Stirling during World War 2.

Liberation and return to England

Following liberation from his wartime captivity, Striling returned to England. He played no further part in the SAS or indeed any other active service. His tried numerous attempts to rejoin his regiment but he was unsuccessful, meeting subtle rejection from senor military command. He tried unsuccessfully to use some of his more influential contacts such as Randolph and Winston Churchill to argue his case, but again this was without success. His political connections had lost their value because Churchill had now lost the 1945 election to Clement Atlee and now no longer held power.

None of this prevented Stirling from trying to get back into his old fold but times had moved on. Whilst the war with Japan was continuing he presented plans to create a new branch of the SAS trained specifically to fight in Asia where the war with Japan continued. Without doubt he viewed that theatre of war as his last chance of action and to prove himself.

The proposal was to create and train a specific unit comprising of US personnel to operate inside China using tactics he adopted during his time on SAS operations. This plan however was not enthusiastically received by his superiors. Mountbatten, the Supreme Allied Commander, of British forces in East Asia did not see the value in Stirling’s proposal and his opinions held the most weight. Although there was some marginal support from a Major General Richard Gale of the US 1st Airbourne Corps, the idea never progressed. Stirling’s military career and his part in the war was now finished. It was time to redefine himself.

Creating a Legend

David Stirling was to become more widely known as the Phantom Major. It was not until the late 1950s that the legend of David Stirling, The Phantom Major was created and firmly established in the public’s eye and imagination. Up until now his wartime exploits were limited to a scattering of wartime newspaper articles and little more but he would now recycle those stories and with the help of an author create that legend. After the death of fellow SAS member and legend Paddy Mayne, there was an opportune moment to create this new image without any serious challenge to the authenticity of those accounts.

It was American writer and journalist Virginia Cowles, an American who published the book “The Phantom Major” in May 1958, who created Stirling’s reinvention. Several critics were not convinced about Stirling’s claims, which some would later point out contained various deliberate omissions in his accounts and elaborations. Many close to Stirling, like his brother Bill and his mother, chose to remain silent on the topic. The controversies of David Stirling’s SAS career are covered in some depth in “The Phoney Major” and is not the focus here.

Although the book received some criticism by eminent military historians such as Liddell-Hart, none of this mattered as the book captured the imagination and approval of its intended audience, the British public. Either way a legend was created and Stirling’s career in the following decades then took some quite different twists and turns, none stranger that Capricorn Africa and GB75.

Capricorn Africa

Stirling first went into business by establishing two fish and chip shops that allegedly employed former service men, and both ventures were short lived and unsuccessful. Stirling then emigrated to Rhodesia where he chased a variety of business opportunities. He also needed to find his own success story and make a name for himself because he always felt overshadowed by his brother Bill Stirling. To exacerbate matters he initially needed the financial support of his more successful brother. This need for support would persist quietly.

Once he arrived in Africa 1949 Stirling co-founded the Capricorn Africa Society. Its aim was to fight racial discrimination in Africa. This goal and the organizations other goals were overly ambitious. The organization did not get any support from the government at the time and Britain was still clinging to its last colonial possessions and an empire that which was fast becoming untenable. External matters would continually challenge the organization. However, there were internal issues too.

The mission of Capricorn Africa was too grandiose to ever expect success. The organization’s manifesto in 1952 stated that the prime objective was to abolish racial discrimination on all levels. Secondly, to preserve what is best in the culture of all races. Thirdly, establish common patriotism for all races. Fourthly, secure the adoption of a written constitution. These nebulous goals were backed by a claim that “all men whatever race are born equal in dignity.”  These were all commendable, but the organization had no plan or support to achieve this.

There were also doubts on Stirling’s ability to carry this scheme through. Furthermore, there existed a general suspicion by Africans that this was an elaborate plan for the British to maintain its colonial hold in Africa. By 1954 Stirling, once a media wartime favorite, was faced with numerous unfavorable criticisms that his “head was in the clouds” and he was “not the right man for freedom in Africa”. Various newspapers such as The Times published the opinion that the aims of this society were simply a veneer for an “Empire Building Project” which “did not have the best of intentions for Africa.” The plan was big in so much as it wanted to incorporate twenty-five million Africans of Rhodesia, Kenya, Uganda, and Tanganyika into one national state. It was incredulous. It was grandiose. It was unwelcome by the Africans, and it was too overly complex. It was above all impossible.

Within the organization the members had different ideas on what defined equality and what qualified the ordinary African for enfranchisement. Some in the organization declared quite arrogantly that the African had to be “deemed civilized” before any semblance of equality or the entitlement to vote could even be considered or granted. Obviously, this offensive statement evoked old imperial condescension and immediately derailed any genuine attempts to change Africa’s future not least win any support, if indeed the plans had any genuine buy in from the onset. Whether Stirling truly was on board with the concept, or it was to serve his own vanity we will never know but the whole project quickly failed with Stirling’s resignation as Chairman in 1959. The Organization soon disbanded to no surprise. Stirling would later admit to journalist Gavin Young that his decade that he spent in Rhodesia achieved nothing. In his own words “Capricorn was Utopia. Almost Walter Mitty.” He concluded by admitting, “We were a total failure.” Stirling turned his attention to something else with which he was familiar.

Military Contracting (PMC) and Watchguard International Ltd

Stirling next entered the world of private military contracting or to be more precise he developed the concept itself. He was credited by Christian Baghai as the founder of Private Military Contracting, an industry that that has grown in recent years and is now a billion-dollar business used by all military organizations and governments alike. Ukraine’s current war gives us a recent example with the questionable use of the Russian Wagner Group and the USA has Acadami (formerly Blackwater). Currently this industry is worth now $224 billion with expansion set to double. This industry all started with David Stirling.

Stirling formed other organizations such as KAS International and KAS Enterprises, all of which took advantage and profited from the political upheaval of the post-colonial situation in Africa and the knock-on effect of the Cold War. Military services were now about to become privatized. Africa and the Middle East would be Stirling’s primary focus for his organizations.

His most renowned creation was the company called Watchguard International Ltd. This was formed in 1965 along with fellow director John Woodhouse (also an SAS veteran) and was based out of Sloane Square, London. Watchguard lasted until 1972 when Woodhouse resigned following a disagreement with Stirling. The companies first assignment was in Yemen. At the time Yemen was in the throes of civil war. The task for Watchguard was not so much combative but to observe, report and advise on the condition of the Yemen’s Royalist forces. John Woodhouse was sent by Stirling to tend to this task. Simultaneously, Stirling was also secretly networking with Iranian officials for assignments, as the country was also in a state of turmoil. However, such is the secrecy of this industry the exact details are not known but the salient point is the genus of a new industry that grew far beyond no doubt even David Stirling’s expectations.

Over time Stirling would become involved in all kinds of activities such as brokering arms deals in the Gulf states and training forces in Zambia and Sierra Leone. The specific details behind these operations will never be known with any certainty. Of course, PMC activity attracts various opinions concerning ethical matters and Stirling did not escape that as we will see later.

At one point Stirling’s activities in Yemen 1966 irked members of the British Royal family and earned him the disdain of the SAS who did not welcome the publicity from his activities. This incident took place during a flight from Yemen where Stirling created a furor over the Sultan receiving a second-class seat on a flight to Britain whilst on the same flight Princess Maragaret was present in first class. He termed it a snub without properly establishing the facts and caused an embarrassment in high social circles. It was one of many faux pas he would be notorious for.

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The Libyan Affair

In 1970 Stirling became involved with a plot to destabilize and remove Libyan dictator Colonel Muammar Gaddafi (1942-2011) who had just taken power. At the time, the West was not certain if Libya’s leader remaining in power would serve the interests of the Western world. According to later sources, the CIA and MI6 had requested that a group of mercenaries set about the task of removing the Libyan dictator. By using mercenaries, the CIA and MI6 could typically deny all culpability and involvement, at least at a certain level.

According to an account by a Peter McAleese who served in the SAS in the 1960s, twenty mercenaries gathered in a Knightsbridge flat in summer 1970. The plans were presented by Stirling to his chosen men. They were to land on Libyan shores by boat from Italy and make their way to Tripoli. They were then then to carry out an assault on a specific location which was at a prison called “the Hilton.” The objective was the liberation of one hundred and fifty imprisoned political prisoners who, once liberated, would set in motion a chain of events to oust the new leader.

The US subsequently changed its mind after they realized that Gaddafi was just as hostile to the USSR as he was the West, at least that was the “lie of the land” in 1970 - the situation would dramatically change in the 1980s. Rather than risk further instability and potential Soviet influence the USA decided the Libyan dictator should be left alone and the regime should be left to its own devices and ordered the mission be abandoned. The British and MI6 decided otherwise and proceeded with developing the plan with the French. The whole matter was kept quietly concealed.

Stirling allegedly was not so discreet and at Whites gentlemen’s club in London was openly sharing the details of this operation. In December 1970, the British, following Stirling’s indiscretions, were forced to call off the operation, but Stirling proceeded nonetheless. The whole affair was halted by Italian authorities in January 1971. The boat was seized and the men detained. By now Stirling had irked the combined patience of MI6, the CIA and Mossad. Three years later, in May 1973, this debacle was exposed in the Observer newspaper. Stirling did not cover himself in glory, but worse reputational damage was still to come.

His activities in his Private Military enterprises did not attract the approval of the very organization he founded, the SAS. In the 1970s the reputation of that organization reached a low point. Incidents in Northern Ireland had given certain newspapers and the left wing of British politics ample material to accuse the SAS of being government assassins and accusing them of being above accountability, an accusation that was naturally denied. However, Stirling’s preference for hiring ex-SAS personnel and in some cases and sometimes serving officers for his PMC assignments did not help. It merely put his own coveted regiment on a par with hired mercenaries in the public mind much to the chagrin of his former regiment. The regiment was tarnished with a mockery of its own motto “Who Pays, Wins.”

GB75

GB75 was another proposal of David Stirling devised in the summer of 1974. It was a proposal to counter suspected left wing insurrectionist organizations or at least certain sections who genuinely believed that they existed. Britain was becoming subjected to regular trade union strikes and the disruption that ensued was causing alarm. Those with political right-wing tendencies believed that the country was on the brink of insurrection and the Labour Government under Wilson had lost all control. Trade Unions, it seemed, had the country in a vulnerable position.

Stirling was one those who believed that this was the case and GB75 was his response. It caused a stir. Stirling’s plan was simple, the organization was to recruit handpicked likeminded individuals that would be ready to stand by to ensure the continuation of essential services by seizing (in an unspecified manner) and maintain sections of the country’s infrastructure such as the power stations. In some minds the country was on the brink of a form of anarchy. It was truly a bizarre time in British modern history. Of course, nothing of the sort transpired.

The public perception of this organization blew out of all proportion. It was inaccurately reported that the aim of Stirling’s GB75 was to remove the Labour government, which was viewed as a destabilizing presence to the status quo, replace it with a provisional ruling body (unspecified) and undermine the growing power of the Trade Unions. This view, which was leaked to the British newspapers, was a combination of fear and overactive imaginations. Striling was forced to go the press and clarify his position. This can still be found and listened to today. The interview went as follows (word for word):

"Our plan is limited....and this has always been stated to provide Government, to make available to government, whatever type of Government it is... Socialist, or Liberal, or Conservative, or coalition.... with volunteers, trained and capable of running the minimum power required out of the generating stations to keep certain essential basic services going. They would, of course, act under police escort. And we would not, or course, make a move...and some of the papers have deliberately ignored this... until we had been invited to do so by the Government of the day. Now what we propose to do, as I say, is to have enough trained volunteers to cope with sewage disposal...nobody wants that on the streets while they are negotiating with the trade unions…to keep the water supply going...being pumped. And we would hope to help maintain the refrigeration at the major food depots in the country. I do not expect to be able to cope effectively until toward the end of December. I believe that the crunch is expected to come some time in February or March."

This emergency never happened and so GB75 never came to be nor had it any chance of becoming mobilized. The British Conservative Party did not welcome Stirling’s proposals, and this was simply another example of his established track record of embarrassing the British Government. Only a small minority of Conservatives, who happened to be friends of Stirling’s, supported him. Fearing political isolation and further fading of his albeit diminished political currency, Stirling resigned. The organization continued without him until the following year in 1975.

Stirling would involve himself further in other organizations along a similar theme such as TRUEMID (Movement for True Industrial Democracy) and the Better Britain Society that promoted ambitious but nebulous aims such as Trade Union Control and Constitutional changes. All of this was above Stirling’s head and his competency. None of these originations gained any momentum or traction. This cemented Gavin Young’s opinion that Stirling’s ideas “seem a bit dotty” echoing Field Marshall Montgomery’s wartime assessment of Stirling being “mad, quite mad.” Nevertheless, his legend in the common man’s eye still lay intact.

Into retirement

In the final decade before his death in the 1980s David Stirling penned a few forewords in various publications. It was a last effort to keep his legend alive on the back of the successes his former regiment earned in the Iranian Embassy siege in 1980 and the Falklands War two years later. His authority on the subjects began to be questioned and doubted but his legendary status was now fully entrenched and solid in the public eye. Such books included Parachute Padre and Rogue Warrior: The Blair Mayne Legend (to which Stirling’s wording was restrained for fear of diminishing his own precariously shining light).

There were further failed operations with one of his other enterprises, KAS Enterprises. He was tasked in 1987 by Prince Bernard of the Netherlands, also president of the World Wildlife Fund, to investigate and tackle the illegal hunting of rhinoceros horns. It required the skills of such experienced SAS men. After being funded half a million pounds the whole operation failed dismally, leaving various questions on missing funds, equipment and of course the fate of the rhino horns. In 1989 after its sponsor, Prince Bernhard, withdrew support the company folded with a report citing these dubious circumstances. Allegedly Stirling himself lost significant amounts of his own money, closing off yet again another unsuccessful adventure to his career.

Conclusion

The post war era did little to David Stirling’s career or reputation. His failures clearly hurt his ego, and his one compensation was to create himself as a legend. The authenticity of this legendary status has since been challenged, especially in the publication of the book “The Phantom Major.”

He was a complex man. He has been labelled as a hero, legend, narcissist, failure, success, dangerous, mad, and dotty. Anyone can and everyone does have a perspective. Certainly, he was not shy to publicity in conflict with the values of the SAS, his very organization. This clearly irked them as it does today, when former serving soldiers make public revelations.

Success eluded Stirling as the post war decades rolled on. His attempts to re-enter his regiment failed and subsequent socio-political ventures were unsuccessful such as Capricorn Africa. His greatest success in the post war world was the establishment of Watchguard International Ltd. It marked the beginning of Private Military Contracting. Despite the ethical and moral criticisms, he once again pioneered a new way of miliary thinking – The Private Military Contractor Industry. That industry would proceed to grow beyond all expectations long after Stirling’s death and participate in modern warfare. Stirling only witnesses his failures - he did not live long enough to see this industry grow.

Stirling was awarded the Knights Bachelor in 1990 that he could add to his OBE from 1946. He was a complex man whom history holds a bloated version and his achievements. Some hold negative views of him and question the veracity of his accomplishments. None the less his contribution to SAS history prevails.

In the 1980s he struggled to maintain his relevancy by relying on his well-worn self-created legend, a legend that either some doubt or temper according to new revelations. No matter the view or how much or little the role he played, he was part of the genesis of the SAS. Shortly after he was awarded the Knights Bachelor, he sadly passed away with his place in history be it controversial, questionable, or otherwise assured. His life after the war was an interesting one.

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Sources

The Phantom Major

David Stirling and the Genesis of Private Military Companies – Christian Baghai May 2023 _ Medium Website Blog

Terry Aspinall Remembers – www.mercenary wars.co.uk

The Black Market for Force - War History Website

Endangered Archives Programme – Capricorn Africa (1952-57) – eap.bl.uk

Capricorn-David Stirling’s Second African Campaign – Richard Hughes – Radcliffe Pres 2003

The Anti-Comintern Pact of 1936 – Was it a Disappointment for Japan?

In 1936, Germany and Japan created the Anti-Comintern Pact agreement. This was an alliance that promised that the two countries would commit themselves to contain the threat of communist expansion presented by the USSR, a country perceived by dictatorships and democracies alike as a major threat. The ensuing propaganda presented Germany and Japan in a flamboyant fashion as a “sword-wielding, winged champion” ready to take on this challenge and step up to the task. It looked formidable, and for Britain and France in particular, at least someone else was providing that bulwark against the USSR rather than themselves.

However, this Pact proved to be all fanfare and nothing more than an empty statement. This fact would become all too apparent by August 1939 when, within three short years, Japan distanced herself from Germany and had agreed to a separate non-aggression alliance with the Soviet Union in April 1941.

What was the story behind this pact to have caused this reversal from these two Axis partners? To explain this from the Japanese perspective, it is necessary to start at the beginning of the twentieth century and consider the events that took place between the Soviet Union and Japan.

Steve Prout explains.

Germany’s Joachim von Ribbentrop signing the Anti-Comintern Pact in November,ber 1936.

The Japanese–Soviet Relations 1900–1939

The Russo-Japanese War

Japan and the USSR shared a troubled relationship ever since the beginning of the 1900s. They both were competing for their own spheres of influence in East Asia. Japan sought Russian recognition for control over the Korean Peninsula, and in return, Japan would recognise Russian influence in Manchuria. The Russians refused Japan’s request, and therefore the two sides could not reach any agreement. The result led to the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–5. The Japanese emerged victorious, leaving Russia decisively beaten and humiliated, thus affecting the balance of power in the Far East. This outcome had ramifications in Europe as well for Russia’s prestige. The imperial powers now viewed Russia’s strength in a weaker light due to her defeat by what the Great Powers viewed as an inferior Asian nation.

Japan fought on the Allied side during the First World War. Her participation in the war was limited to East Asia and not the European theatre, where she swiftly annexed the German overseas territories in the region, such as the Marshall Islands. Comparatively, this was a sideshow compared to the main fighting in Europe and had an insignificant effect on the German war effort. It did, however, give an early indication of Japanese plans to expand their empire into East Asia, but few noticed or cared from the Allied camp at the time as their priority was to defeat Germany and her allies.

After the end of the First World War, whilst Russia was in the grip of revolution, the Japanese then contributed heavily to the Allied intervention forces. They saw this intervention as a chance, and Russia’s vulnerability as an opportunity to permanently occupy and add Siberia to their growing empire.

The Russian War of Intervention 1919–1922

In 1918, Russia arranged a separate peace with the Central Powers at Brest-Litovsk, which meant that her part in the war was over. Peace, however, eluded her troubled nation because she now faced civil war fuelled by the emergence of Lenin and the Bolsheviks. Communism now was the new enemy, now that Germany and her allies were defeated. The Allies swiftly deployed military detachments into Russia to counter and suppress the Bolshevik threat.

At first, Japan sent just a small marine battalion in the spring of 1918 to Vladivostok. The pretext was retaliation for the death of three Japanese civilians caught up in the civil war violence. It was the perfect opportunity to begin control of the area, and they already had additional troops ready for action in neighbouring Korea. The Japanese commitment would increase; at its highest, they provided over seventy thousand soldiers. These troops supported the Russian White Armies under the command of Kerensky, who were also fighting the Bolsheviks. Other troops also aided the Czech Legion led by Kolchak by helping them escape Siberian captivity. The Japanese would then enlist their assistance around Vladivostok to augment their own dominance in the region. Within Allied circles, US Ambassador Roland Morris suspected Japan’s true intentions, but Japan was not making their intentions hard to notice.

Morris noted that “the Japanese presence in the area was excessive compared to other nations”; however, the British alone had over fifty thousand personnel deployed in Russia, so it did not spark widespread concern. The British, on the other hand, unlike Japan, had no other interest than removing communism. Morris also noted that the Japanese “seemed generally to be pursuing a policy to prevent the establishment of any kind of united orderly government in Siberia.” The USA appeared to express the most concern within the Allied alliance. Britain and Japan still had a formal alliance between them, and for Britain and France, Japanese strength was a bonus in the region because it selfishly and indirectly served imperial interests by containing communist influence locally and indirectly serving their own imperial interests in Asia.

US Colonel William B. Donovan in December 1919 also commented that the Japanese had “dreams of militaristic authority” and were “erecting economic barriers in Manchuria and Siberia.” The Japanese did not make any attempt to conceal these ambitions. They declared openly in their own Vladivostok-based newspaper Vladvivo-Nippo that in extending their military involvement further east to the Urals, it would not only help bring the civil war to an end, but in doing so they would “secure their exceptional rights in Siberia and the Far East.” The phrase “exceptional rights” caused concern not just to the Americans but also the Chinese and, of course, the Russians. The latter could not accept the prospect of a long occupation or potential loss of Siberia to Japan. Russia had previously suffered huge territorial losses to her western territories at Brest-Litovsk in 1918 to the former Central Powers and shortly after in the war against Poland.

A certain Captain Yamamoto in 1919 said during the Russian War of Intervention that “the world would be speaking Japanese within ten or fifteen years.” At the time, this was more than likely seen by the Great Powers as an empty boast and was not taken seriously. The Japanese were deadly serious, maybe not about world domination but certainly about domination of East Asia and the Pacific theatre. After the victory of the 1904–5 war, their part in the Great War, and their sizeable participation in the Russian War of Intervention, Japan had without a doubt been left with the impression that she was now a great world power on an equal footing with Great Britain, France, and the USA. They were becoming not only a force to be reckoned with internationally but also a worry for Russia.

In 1922, after a four-year occupation, Japan withdrew from Siberia. The uneasy co-existence between the two powers continued and escalated in the following decade. The Japanese had not given up their intentions of expanding into the East Asian mainland because it was essential to their nation’s survival. It had few natural resources and an expanding population; much like Germany, she sought her own version of lebensraum, or living space. This is supported by a quote recorded early in 1919 where the Japanese openly stated in the Yamato Shimbum newspaper that “Japan has no way out, save that of sending her surplus population to Manchuria and Siberia.” The opportunity that Siberia presented to Japan was now lost, and so they turned their attention to China. However, the Soviet Union also would soon be expressing interest and establishing herself in that region, and the two sides would clash.

The 1930s – Manchuria, the League and fighting in East Asia

Between 1931 and 1939, the Japanese and Soviet forces frequently clashed along the Mongolian border. The tensions were not helped because the remote frontier with Manchuria was uncharted and ambiguous to both sides. The USSR and Japan had their own commercial and political agendas in China. They both intended to exploit the raw materials that were plentiful in the region, and the USSR were acting as advisors to the Chinese Army with their own control over the Chinese Eastern Railway.

Trouble in the region began in 1931 during the Mukden Incident. The Japanese claimed that Chinese nationalists were committing acts of sabotage on the South Manchurian Railway, which Japan controlled. It was discovered to be a spurious claim perpetrated by the Japanese to exert further control of the area as they moved more troops inland and seized further territory to secure their rights.

An investigation was ordered by the League of Nations into the matter in 1932, and the publication of the Lytton Report followed. The report concluded that the Japanese orchestrated the entire affair themselves. It damningly exposed the Japanese motives and the deceitful attempts to frame the Chinese nationalists as the aggressors. It did not make any difference to the Japanese, who were now entrenched in Manchuria and had no plans to leave, but it also placed Japanese forces closer to Soviet forces on the Mongolian border. This is when the instability in the region intensified.

Japan withdrew from the League of Nations in protest after a failed attempt to deflect the truthful findings of the Lytton Report. This action had numerous ramifications, not least for world peace, when Italy and Germany realised that the League was powerless against the more powerful states like themselves. They realised that they could further their own ambitions with relative impunity as they watched the Japanese, now unchecked by the other great powers, pursue an expansionist policy in China. However, in doing so, these actions would soon bring her into conflict with the Soviet Union and further instability to the region arose.

At first, the Soviet Union was eager to avoid war with Japan. In 1929, they did not possess the military capability to conduct any form of protracted war. When Japan invaded Manchuria in 1931 and occupied the Soviet sphere of influence, the Soviet Union was still not strong enough in the East to oppose the Japanese. In order to avoid war, Stalin went so far as to adopt a policy of neutrality as far as Japanese actions in the region were concerned. In addition, the Soviet Union sold its rights to the Chinese Eastern Railway to the Manchukuo government on 23 March 1935, removing any interests they possessed in China. It would all be in vain; meanwhile, Japanese forces were now moving closer to the Mongolian border.

The first reported incident between the Soviet and Japanese forces occurred during January and February 1935. It was, by comparison, a small affair called the Halhamiao Incident, which broke out on the Manchurian-Mongolian border. This would not be the last, as similar events of varying severity erupted on a regular basis. The situation was not helped by the geographical problems, where ownership of frontier boundaries was ambiguous. Consequently, with no resolution or sensible dialogue, the two sides engaged in over one hundred intentional and unintentional territorial clashes.

This first incident was small and involved a small group comprising eleven Manchukuoan soldiers led by a Japanese officer clashing with a similarly sized Mongolian cavalry force. The Manchukuo Army suffered six casualties and two dead, including the Japanese officer, but the Mongolian opposing side incurred no casualties. Although this affray started on a small scale, it quickly escalated, and in retaliation, the Japanese sent a larger force. This comprised two motorized companies supported by a machine gun company that quickly overran the area and occupied it for three weeks.

The Halhamiao Incident would be the start of many confrontations and skirmishes of varying size. According to Japanese claims, from 1935 to 1939, when the last encounter with the USSR ended, there were over one hundred and fifty border engagements that took place fighting the Soviet Union on the Manchurian-Mongolian border. While it is not possible to discuss all of them, two later incidents at Gol Khashan and Khalkin Gol were particularly significant and stand out. More importantly, they are key events in evaluating the effectiveness of Japan’s future alliance with Germany.

The Anti-Comintern Pact – Germany and Japan Align

Hostilities with the Soviet Union became more frequent; being internationally isolated made Japan recognize that she needed an ally. There was, however, an absence of potential suitors. Her relations with Britain and the USA were already strained, not helped by the way Britain and the USA treated Japan as an inferior and unequal Asian power. The USA and Great Britain had previously placed restrictions on the size of the Japanese Navy. One example that irked the Japanese was the fact that they were restricted in how they were allowed to operate in the Pacific by the Washington Conference in 1922. This gave the USA and Great Britain naval dominance on “Japan’s very doorstep.” This was seen as disrespectful when considering that Japan was still technically, at the time, an ally of these two powers. She had been on the Allied side in the First World War and had assisted heavily in a common cause, fighting in Russia during the War of Intervention. Of course, Japan sought to gain from these engagements, but no more so than any of her wartime allies like Britain and France, who ensured that they would receive their territorial gains from the likes of Turkey and Germany.

After leaving the League of Nations, Japan had become an international pariah. She had only one potential suitor for an ally, and that was the newly emerged Nazi Germany. These ties she sought from Germany were borne out of expediency and, to some extent, a common ground. Germany was also falling out of favour with the international community and therefore became the candidate for Japan’s ally. Furthermore, Germany, like Japan, also had no love for the Soviet Union; therefore, there was common ground on this matter too.

Statistics demonstrate that these battles with the USSR were by no means insignificant. By the time of the final engagement in 1939, these combined clashes between the Soviet Union and Japan amounted to over thirty-three thousand Soviet and Mongolian casualties, three hundred and fifty Soviet tanks, and over two hundred Soviet aircraft destroyed. The Japanese would also suffer casualties of over thirty thousand losses, but fewer in tanks and aircraft, numbering forty-three and one hundred and sixty-two, respectively. Japan’s need for an ally against the Soviets was becoming more urgent. An opportunity presented itself. A resurrected, militaristic, anti-communist Germany was the perfect partner—at least the Japanese thought at the time.

In November 1936 in Berlin, following a month of negotiations and discussions, the two countries announced the arrival of the Anti-Comintern Pact. Its rhetoric made no attempt to disguise the fact that this was aimed purposefully at containing the Soviet Union. The propaganda was presented in true grandiose totalitarian style. It represented the alliance as a solitary sword-wielding, winged champion that would save Europe from the ravages of Bolshevism. Examples of the scare-mongering tactics and justification the pact used included communist involvement in the Civil War in Spain and the political unrest attributed to left-wing destabilising tactics in France. There was, interestingly, no reference to the Soviet action against Japan in East Asia. In 1937, Italy joined; Spain in 1939 (more likely as revenge for Soviet involvement in the Spanish Civil War) followed, along with Hungary. Although membership grew, it would prove a disappointment to the Japanese. The pact was never properly put into practice (although some could convincingly argue Operation Barbarossa was that very act), and time would prove what little substance it contained.

Soviet Victory in East Asia and the Neutrality Pact with the Soviet Union

In the two years following the signing of the pact, the Japanese no doubt saw the alliance with Germany as a major disappointment. The Germans took no active part in coming to the aid of the Japanese during their altercations with the Soviet Union after 1936. In fact, within three years of the formal signing of the pact, the Germans forged the Nazi-Soviet Pact. The implications of that enabled the Soviets to expand westward into Poland in 1939 and the Baltic States in 1940—a clear contradiction of the pact’s intentions. The Japanese would endure two final and decisive defeats before making peace with the USSR again without any German support.

The Battle of Khasan in July 1938 was the first of these confrontations, where seven thousand Japanese troops clashed against over twenty thousand Soviet troops. The Japanese viewed the Soviet reinforcement of this area as an incursion into territory they perceived as demarcated to themselves, as agreed in the Treaty of Peking with the USSR. The fact that the area was unclearly charted and ambiguous made it difficult to ascertain which side controlled which area, thus exacerbating the situation and causing most of the border disputes and misunderstandings. The Soviets suffered four thousand killed and injured, and the Japanese fifteen hundred from their Kwantung Army from Manchukuo. Japanese forces were defeated, and the Soviet Union re-occupied the area. Germany looked on as her ally continued to engage Soviet forces.

In 1939, at Khalkhin Gol, the Japanese were defeated once again. The two sides were at war for two months, from July to August 1939. Interestingly, in those two months, a Soviet officer named Zhukov (who would later gain prominence) led numerically superior Soviet forces who overcame the Japanese after suffering initial losses themselves. The Japanese would suffer a combination of seventeen thousand dead and wounded compared to ten thousand dead Soviet soldiers. In September, an armistice was declared. This would be the last of the Japanese and Soviet engagements until 1945.

In August 1939, the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact was announced to a surprised international community, aligning Germany and the Soviet Union. This invalidated the pact they shared with Japan by choosing to sign a deal with the USSR that enabled their expansion westwards, which began with their occupation of Poland and the Baltic states. Both Germany and the USSR (for now at least) had conveniently set aside their differences, forgotten the venomous invectives they had previously exchanged, and made no reference to the Anti-Comintern Pact. Japan, realizing that her ally’s position had changed, now began to distance herself from Germany and signed the Neutrality Pact of 1941 with the USSR. Both members of the pact had made peace, at separate times, with the very state they originally sought to contain. Germany and Japan would soon both set upon starting their own separate wars.

The pact was inoperable by Germany due to the geographical distance between Germany and Japan, exacerbated by her reduced naval capacity to support her ally. The Germans had no interest in East Asia other than the Japanese military being available to drain British, French, and later American forces during the war. Germany’s aims were clearly expressed early in Hitler’s book Mein Kampf, and that was Lebensraum, or living space, at the expense of the USSR.

Another Unlikely Potential Ally

There are other interesting, and little-known, aspects to this story. Hitler's first choice of an anti-Soviet ally was not Japan; it was Great Britain, who also had little love for communism. Earlier in 1935, the Anglo-German Naval Agreement was the first attempt for the Germans to reach out to the British. The Japanese, at this point, viewed this with suspicion, as this would endorse British naval supremacy imposed by the Treaty of Washington, thus threatening her aspirations of dominance in the Pacific.

Conclusion

The pact revealed itself to be no more than a paper treaty as far as Japan was concerned. German resources were used to assist General Franco in battling communist forces backed by the USSR during the civil war in Spain. Japan no doubt was irked by this as she struggled alone in East Asia, but then equally, Japan did not intervene in Spain.

There appeared to be very little substance and only rhetoric, and if no other evidence were available to present, then this can be proved where both parties reversed their anti-Soviet attitudes (at least on the surface) to the Anti-Comintern Pact by arranging separate departures from the pact in 1939 by Germany and Japan in 1941. Japan was the only German ally not to participate in Operation Barbarossa.

What served the Germans also equally served the Japanese. As Germany was secretly using the Japanese in East Asia to distract and contain the USSR, Japan was doing likewise to Germany in Europe. That was not just a tactic used by the totalitarian powers either because their democratic rivals, Britain and France, were in turn also tacitly allowing Germany to serve as the bulwark against communist plans in Europe and, no doubt, in a similar fashion with Japan in East Asia.

As clouds of war approached, Germany and Japan took their own approaches in their relationship with the USSR, which were complete policy reversals. The Japanese Neutrality Pact and the Nazi-Soviet Pact allowed time to form a temporary alliance, which, in that time, enabled the USSR to not only expand her borders westward but also bring peace to the East Asian theatre. The Japanese could now turn to the Pacific and realize her ambitions. This had a devastating effect for the Allies, as the Japanese were now free to attack the European colonies and then challenge the USA. However, the pact would soon be put to deadly effect because, in June 1941, Operation Barbarossa commenced but without the support of Japan.

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References

William Shirer - Rise and Fall of The Third Reich

AJP Taylor - Origins of the Second World War

Goldman, Stuart (2012). Nomonhan, 1939: The Red Army's Victory that Shaped World War II. Naval Institute Press

A Shared Enmity: Germany, Japan, and the Creation of the Tripartite Pact - Jason Dawsey, PhD

Frank, Richard B. Tower of Skulls: A History of the Asia-Pacific War, July 1937-May 1942. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2020

The Modern Greek State: 1975–1996 – Three Elephants, Two Tigers and a Lioness

On March 25, 2021, the Modern Greek State celebrated the 200th anniversary of the War of Independence, which ultimately led to its establishment. It is thus an excellent opportunity to reconsider some of the main events of Greek history over these 200 years and how they shaped the character of modern Greece.

This series of articles on the history of modern Greece started when the country was celebrating the 200th anniversary of the War of Independence. This article starts by looking at what happened after the end of dictatorship, and takes us through the changing 1980s and 1990s. Thomas P. Papageorgiou explains.

You can read part 1 on ‘a bad start’ 1827-1862 here, part 2 on ‘bankruptcy and defeat’ 1863-1897 here, part 3 on ‘glory days’ 1898-1913 here, part 4 on ‘Greeks divided’ 1914-22 here, part 5 on the issues of clientelism here, part 6 on World War2 and a new divide here, and part 7 on the road to dictatorship and retreat here.

Prime Minister Andreas Papandreou with United States President Bill Clinton in April 1994.

The fall of the dictatorship in Greece in 1974 (Papageorgiou, 2024) coincided with the restoration of democracy in the whole of the European south. Salazar’s dictatorship in Portugal, established in 1932-1933, and Franko’s dictatorship in Spain, established in 1939, came to an end with a counter coup in 1974 that led to free elections in 1976, in the first case, and Franco’s death in 1975 in the second. In all three countries the armed forces would now submit to the political establishment, ending a long tradition of involvement in politics. The Church would also lose much of its prestige because of its identification with the military regimes. Their people were influenced from the success of the European west and north that combined financial prosperity with parliamentarism, which was also consolidated in Greece, Portugal and Spain with their entry in the European Economic Community in the 1980s. (Close, 2006, pp. 219-221)    

I Part of the European Economic Community

The first free elections after the coup d’etat of 1967 took place in November 1974. Konstantinos Karamanlis, leader of the national unity government formed after the fall of the junta a few months earlier, had meanwhile transformed the former National Radical Union into a new party under the name New Democracy (ND) (Close, 2006, p. 236) representing the biggest part of the conservatives to this day. He won the elections and a few days later he called for a referendum on whether the junta’s decision to abolish constitutional monarchy would be retained or the king would be allowed to return to Greece. 69.2% of the voters decided for a Presidential Republic that also remains to this day. (Wikipedia, 2023)

Apart from parting with the king, Karamanlis found himself in a rather peculiar position also in the economy. The private interests establishment that for many years benefited from state subsidies and protectionism proved inadequate to cope with the consequences of the oils crises of 1973 and 1978. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 29) Thus, in spite of its conservative nature, Karamanlis’ government had to step in and started nationalizing private companies. It also had to renegotiate or even cancel deals signed by junta officials with terms highly unfavourable for the state. (Eleftheratos, 2015, pp. 313-314) (Rizas, 2008, pp. 493-494) (Close, 2006, pp. 248-249) In fact, the demand for more freedom and representation, after the fall of the junta, indicated that renegotiation and, where needed, cancelation of established norms in the public life was also needed at that time, much to the dislike of a conservative government. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 30)

A possible way out of all these seemed to be the assumption of full membership in the European Economic Community (EEC). Karamanlis was pursuing it already from the 1960s (Papageorgiou, 2024) and in 1979 he made it happen. Thus, soon after the fall of the junta, of the four power pillars that defined the post-civil war period, (Papageorgiou, 2024) the army and the palace were completely removed from the political scenery of the country, the role of the Americans had to be redefined after accession to the EEC and only that of parliamentarism remained untouched and in fact reinforced. (Close, 2006, p. 226)

In the following, we will see how the political parties managed the sweeping demand for change from the beginning of 1980s. At that time, Karamanlis assumed the rather ceremonial role of the President of the Republic, (Close, 2006, p. 225) but real power was now in the hands of Andreas Papandreou. His Panhellenic Socialist Movement (PAnelinio SOsialistiko Kinima – PASOK) won the national elections in autumn 1981.  

II Change

The beginning

So, the political change came. And it brought with it an increase of 35% to salaries, that were further to be automatically adjusted according to the price index. Pension increases and tax exemptions were also established. Karamanlis had already made the Communist Party legal again, (Close, 2006, p. 223) but in the PASOK era political refugees were allowed to return and pensions were handed out to members of the (also Left) resistance during WWII. (Close, 2006, p. 224) A national healthcare system was set up. (Close, 2006, pp. 250, 251-252) Nationalization of private companies continued and more than a 100 once dominant enterprises active, among others, in mining metallurgy, shipbuilding and petrochemicals came under the Business Restructuring Organization. These and the public sector were utilized so that thousands of people could find a job. Indeed, large sections of the population literally switched their status in those early years of PASOK, rapidly climbing the ladder of social stratification and gaining income, power, and authority. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 32 - 35)

Too much, too quickly and with no real plan. The spirit of clientelism, ever present in the political and social life of modern Greece, made sure that hiring was based on personal or political relations without evaluation. (Close, 2006, p. 242) This immobilized the Administration, destroyed any concept of hierarchy, eroded values such as those of duty and productivity, made the state apparatus synonymous to that of the political party and  favoured to the maximum degree tendencies of graft and corruption. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 35) (Close, 2006, p. 250)

Furthermore, all the above policies were based on borrowed money and EEC resources. (Close, 2006, pp. 260, 269)They contributed to the deindustrialization of the country (Close, 2006, pp. 264, 265, 273-275) and as the agricultural subsidies also, instead of being used for the modernization of agriculture, were turned into apartments in the urban centres and luxury vehicles, (Close, 2006, p. 266) Brussels had already started to feel uncomfortable and characterize Greece as a bad example of a new member state. The Americans were also prejudiced against Papandreou because of his opening to the Arab world, his participation in the Non-Aligned Movement and his anti-American rhetoric with references to the removal of the American bases from Greece, which he never implemented, but with which he constantly exercised pressure to the superpower. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 44)

For the Americans another issue was terrorism. During the early years after the fall of the junta, the discussions of armed struggle were revived mainly among members of left-wing organizations and groups. The infamous terrorist organization ‘17th of November’ (17N) was formed during this time and intensified its activity in the mid-1980s hitting American and western targets, businessmen, right-wing politicians, judges, policemen and publishers of traditional conservative newspapers that were now intensifying the criticism against PASOK. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 44) (Close, 2006, pp. 234-235)

The Security Services and the Americans were thus prone to investigate conspiracy theories that linked terrorism with PASOK as well as the official and extra-parliamentary Left. For those who spent time at the University those years, however, there was the certainty that the faces of terrorism, those who carried out the bloody acts, could only have come out of the student movement. There was the certainty that these were common, ordinary people. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 24) This partly explains also the longevity of groups like 17N. Another reason was that after the fall of the junta governments relied less to the police and the security forces and more to material benefits for their longevity. (Close, 2006, p. 229) The Greek police after 1974 were paralyzed by a lack of resources, an absence of professionalism and a low level of competence. In the prevailing anti-authoritarian atmosphere, it did not even have the public support that it needed. (Close, 2006, p. 235)

The turn 

For the common people though, what mattered most were the benefits they enjoyed under Papandreou’s government. Thus, the latter won triumphally the elections of June 1985. Nevertheless, during that summer the country’s foreign exchange reserves had already fallen unbelievably low, deficits and public debt had ballooned, inflation was high and persistent, the loss of competitiveness great and the inadequacy of productive investments evident. EEC officials were also expressing their displeasure for the course of the Greek economy.  The time for major revisions had come. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 52-53)

The turn was to be carried out by Costas Simitis (Wikipedia, 2024), who assumed the position of Minister of National Economy. Along with a group of technocratic advisors, Simitis presented a three-year stabilization program, which included a devaluation of the drachma, a wage freeze in the public and private sectors, hiring, borrowing, spending and price controls, restructuring of public enterprises, and, most importantly, initiatives and measures to free the economy and markets from government intervention, combined with the liberalization of the financial sector and the capital market. The implementation of the program was bound by a European emergency loan, which designated the European Commission as an auditor of the Greek economic course. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 55-57) (Close, 2006, p. 244)

The program shocked PASOK supporters and brought great turmoil within it, as it meant a complete revision of the until then physiognomy of the populist movement. (Close, 2006, p. 245) It run with difficulties for a couple of years starting the opening to the market economy, (Karakousis, 2006, p. 63) laying the foundations for the rebirth of the stock market and promoting plans to restructure the whole public sector (Karakousis, 2006, p. 65), but Andreas Papandreou eventually denounced it from the parliament floor on 25 November 1987. Simitis resigned the next day. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 74)   

Lifestyle, shadow economy and scandals

Indeed, the formerly unprivileged who in the early years of PASOK gained space and incomes were not willing to return to their previous situation. They were getting used to a new way of life, influenced also by lifestyle magazines, (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 59-60)    based on a pattern, which required owning a house, a country house, cars, travel, vacations and a lot of expenses for the children. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 104) As money in the public sector, where as described above the clientelist state accommodated many of its supporters, were not enough, they turned to multiple employment to support it. The bank clerk and the tax official were employed in the afternoon as accountants in the private sector, the schoolteacher gave private lessons and so on. This did not only have implications on the integrity of the public servants regarding the balance of interests between their dual occupations. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 106) The extra salaries were not declared anywhere.   

Thus, the new way of life was not supported by borrowed state money only. The private sector followed suit and calculations during the implementation of the Value Added Tax (VAT) in 1987 recorded that the shadow (black) economy amounted to 40% of GDP. A rate extremely large and able to distort any economic policy effort, as a large part of economic activities remained out of control, operated by their own rules and formed their own levels of profitability and incomes, which, to a certain extent, explain the inexhaustible endurance of the citizens of the country, despite the continuous pressure with economic measures and regulations to this day. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 70) (Close, 2006, p. 259)

PASOK also sought to continue the tradition of intertwining business interests with state power. (Papageorgiou, 2024)Micro-entrepreneurs, like the Kouris brothers, offered services and support already from the early years of PASOK in power through publications such as the populist newspaper Avriani, (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 36-37) but the most famous case was that of George Koskotas. With many university degrees, later proven to be fake, he started his carrier as accountant at the Bank of Crete. He will progress, become a chief accountant, and one morning he will appear to the owner of the bank with a takeover proposal. The trick was that he used the bank’s own money for the takeover, without anyone noticing. Koskotas moved energetically after that and wanted to play the role of PASOK’s banker. As phenomena of arrogance and corruption had already made their appearance from the first years of the government (see above), Koskotas found fertile ground for his activities. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 60-61)  

Nevertheless, Koskotas’ aggressive policies, including attempts to expand in the banking and media sectors as well as in football, where he bought the country’s probably most popular team, Olympiakos Piraeus, (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 79-80)eventually attracted the attention of The Bank of Greece’s legal counsel regarding the origin of the money and the overall management of the Bank of Crete. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 83) It was finally revealed in February 1989 that the government’s vice president Menios Koutsogiorgas attempted to hinder the investigation by law, after a bribe of 2 million dollars. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 100) (Close, 2006, p. 245)       

The situation for PASOK continued to worsen as during this period the press published evidence for additional scandals in the procurement of military equipment as well as for the surveillance of the telephones of Leftist officials as well as that of Konstantinos Karamanlis, (Karakousis, 2006, p. 81) (Close, 2006, pp. 245-246) who in the meantime Papandreou had ensured that he was replaced in the Presidency of the Republic by judge Christos Sargetakis. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 52)The newspaper reports caused the intervention of the judiciary while the opposition also hardened its stance. Significant strongholds of the opposition action at that time were the three largest municipalities of the country, Athens, Piraeus, and Thessaloniki, that New Democracy had won in the municipal elections of October 1986. A basic instrument was the free radio that the three conservative mayors, M. Evert, A. Andrianopoulos and S.Kouvelas launched in May 1987 against the state monopoly until then. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 71-72)

The fall

Papandreou was at a very tough spot. Physically, he was ill and was rushed to London in August 1988 where he remained for almost two months and underwent heart surgery. Personally, he found himself in a turmoil as his affair with a former stewardess of Olympic Airways, Dimitra Liani, became publicly known. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 84) Politically, the scandals led many PASOK officials to resign or distance themselves from the party and triggered scenarios of succession in its leadership. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 92-96) (Close, 2006, p. 246) Furthermore, during the judicial investigations into the scandals, 17N escalated its action against judges, which rekindled the rumours about PASOK’s ties to terrorism. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 98-99)

Despite all this, Papandreou fought hard to turn the tide against him. Before the elections of June 1989 he used the standard trick, we have often seen in this series, of changing the electoral law to make it difficult for the Right to come to power. Moreover, in an outburst of populism during a pre-election rally in Athens, he will openly urge Finance Minister D. Tsovolas to ‘give everything’, meaning benefits to the electorate to vote for PASOK. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 107) (Close, 2006, p. 246) And he succeeded. New Democracy won, but its 44,25% of the votes was not enough to give its leader Konstantinos Mitsotakis the absolute majority in the parliament, but only 145 of the 300 seats. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 113)

III Co-government of Right and Left

It was obvious that Mitsotakis had to deal harder blows against PASOK to seize power. At the same time the leadership of the Left saw in PASOK’s destruction the opportunity to expand its electorate audience. Thus, the memories of the civil war and the junta were put aside and the unthinkable happened: a co-government supported by the Right and the Left. (Close, 2006, p. 247) Mitsotakis’ son-in-law, Pavlos Bakoyiannis, played a catalytic role as mediator, using the connections he developed with many Leftist officials during the junta years in Germany, where all had taken refuge. At the head of the government, formed in July 1989, was Tzanis Tzanetakis, o former officer of the Navy, and its goal was ‘Katharsis’. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 115-116)

Indeed, by September, Andreas Papandreou and other PASOK officials, including the former ministers Koutsogiorgas and Tsovolas, were refereed by the Parliament to the Special Court for the Koskotas scandal and the wiretapping (see above). Another former minister, Nikos Athanasopoulos, was send to court for the ‘Corn Scandal’, accused of misleading EEC officials by presenting Yugoslavian corn as Greek to collect higher subsidies. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 120-121, 130)(Close, 2006, p. 246)

Nevertheless, the ordinary voters of the Left were once again not reconciled to the games of their leadership (Karakousis, 2006, p. 116) In fact, the youth of the Communist Party openly expressed its disagreement with the Tzanetakis’ government. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 128) To make things worse, Papandreou’s new admission to the hospital with respiratory problems at the beginning of the summer had created a wave of sympathy that reinforced the dilemmas of the Left. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 114) Thus, New Democracy’s proposal for yet another commission of inquiry to look into possible scandals in the procurement of weapons systems was not accepted by the coalition of Left parties. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 131) At the same time though, 17N reappeared and murdered Pavlos Bakoyiannis on the way to his office the day before the Parliament decided to send Papandreou to the Special Court for the Koskotas scandal. This reignited the conspiracy theories regarding PASOK’s connection to terrorism. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 128, 130)

Coexistence of Right and Left in the Tzanetakis’ government was thus becoming uncomfortable. Nevertheless, the latter seemed to have achieved its main political objective, ‘Katharsis’, by sending PASOK officials to court. It did not do much else, except for allowing the establishment of private television stations breaking another state monopoly, after that of radio broadcast (see above). The new development brought with it kitsch, subculture, the keyhole screen, a spectacle of second-rate, intellectual poverty and degradation of everything. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 122-127) Furthermore, the different perspectives of Right and Left combined with benefits generously handed out by the Finance Minister Antonis Samaras (Right) and the Minister of the Interior Nikos Konstantopoulos (Left), to the delight of the electorate, worsened public finances and brought the country to the brink of yet another fiscal crisis. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 118-119) It was time for another round of elections.

IV The Right Comes to Power

The elections took place on the 5th of November 1989 and New Democracy increased its percentage of the votes to 46.2%. Nevertheless, this was again not enough to bring Mitsotakis to power. New Democracy elected only 148 out of 300 parliament members. PASOK was once again proved very resilient increasing its power to 40,7% of the votes, while the Left coalition lost 2% receiving 11% of the votes. Obviously, its plan to substitute PASOK through the participation to Tzanetakis’ government did not work well. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 136) (Close, 2006, pp. 247-248)

In view of the critical condition of the economy the solution of an ecumenical government finally prevailed under the leadership of the then 90 years old former Governor of the Bank of Greece Xenophon Zolotas. The period of indifference was over, and the political establishment, at that juncture, understood that it could not play with the economy. It was convinced that the crisis conditions had to be controlled at any cost. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 140) It was also centrally agreed that the only way forward for Greece was Europe: Greece should claim its inclusion in the new system of the single currency, which was then being planned, but it was clear that it would be the European answer to the new form that the world would take after the collapse of the Soviet Union. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 144) (Close, 2006, pp. 287-288)

Nevertheless, Mitsotakis was becoming impatient. After all, his party found itself in an ecumenical government together with PASOK, whose leaders were prosecuted from Right and Left just a few days before. Indeed, Papandreou was recovering quickly politically, also with interventions like that of France’s president François Mitterrand, who invited him to Paris already before the November elections and thus took him out of the Greek isolation showing that he maintained an international base and was not finished as many would like him to be. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 133) As Zolotas’ freedom for action was limited by the need to reconcile the Right, Center and Left elements of the ecumenical government and he had to resort to desperate measures, like borrowing with an interest rate greater than 27%, in order to meet the cash needs of the state, (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 139-140) Mitsotakis stressed the need for absolute majority in the Parliament and a one party government to meet the country’s needs. Another international intervention helped him to this end. It was a letter from the President of the European Commission Jacques Delors that was publicized by Mitsotakis and conveyed to the Greek society the need to obtain a decisive government, capable of handling the economic affairs in a clear manner. Thus, another round of elections was scheduled for the 9th of April 1990. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 157-158)(Close, 2006, p. 361)

New Democracy’s 46.88% of the votes gave 150 seats in the parliament, again one less of the minimum needed for it to rule. The missing vote came with the defection to New Democracy of the only representative elected with Democratic Renewal (Dimokratiki Ananeosi – DIANA). The latter was a party founded by Konstantinos Stefanopoulos, a former New Democracy member and then internal party rival of Mitsotakis. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 161)

New Democracy’s accent to power at the beginning of the 1990s coincided with the long retreat of the interventionist state from the commanding heights of the economy accelerated in the previous decade with a conservative counterattack spearheaded by Ronald Reagan in the US and Margaret Thatcher in the UK. (Allawi, 2024, p. 131) The collapse of the Soviet Union was considered the most striking verification of this process. Thus, privatizations were at the core of the Right’s liberal agenda. Nevertheless, the clientelist state was ever present (Karakousis, 2006, p. 173) and privatizations were not viewed by the government as a development tool for the economy, but as a mechanism of wealth and state assets distribution to friends and acquaintances. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 182-183)

Furthermore, privatizations were faced with strong opposition from the employees of the enterprises involved. The same was true for the pension, (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 167-168) tax (Karakousis, 2006, p. 166) and education reforms (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 175-177) that the government tried to introduce. By 1992 the treaty of Maastricht with the Euro convergence criteria (Wikipedia, 2024), following Greece’s decision to be part of the European Union and the common currency zone (see above), hardened the position of the government (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 212-215). This brought it into conflict with the society (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 219-221) that was not going to easily give up the privileges obtained during the PASOK years described previously. In fact, the overall climate was very tense and involved extreme incidents like the murder of the high school teacher Nikos Temponeras during clashes at a school in Patras (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 176-177) and the death of former minister Koutsogiorgas that suffered a stroke during the trial for the Koskotas scandal. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 185-187) 17N also reappeared attempting unsuccessfully to kill the businessman Vardis Vardinogiannis (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 177-178) and the finance minister Giannis Palaiokrassas. In the second case though, a civilian, the young Thanos Axarlian, who happened to be passing by the area of the attack was killed. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 221-222) (Close, 2006, pp. 362-363)

As if these were not enough, ‘Katharsis’ was also turning into a fiasco for Mitsotakis. Although some former PASOK ministers, like the above-mentioned Athanasopoulos, served prison sentences, (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 183-185) its leader Andreas Papandreou was declared not guilty (with 6 votes against 5). (Karakousis, 2006, p. 197) The old Konstantinos Karamanlis, who was again elected President of the Republic, after Mitsotakis’ ascend to power, (Karakousis, 2006, p. 163) had warned that one ‘does not send a prime minister to court, but simply home’. Mitsotakis ignored him and the court verdict came to reinforce Papandreou’s (and PASOK’s) feeling that he could dominate again. (Close, 2006, p. 350)

New Democracy’s fall came from the field of foreign affairs though. Although, after the fall of the Soviet Union the major international incident of the time was the first Iraq war – in the coverage of which the dominance of television over all other media became obvious for the first time- (Karakousis, 2006, p. 172) Germany’s recognition of the independence of  Croatia and Slovenia in late 1991 triggered the process of Yugoslavia’s disintegration. One of the emerging states in former Yugoslavia’s south, bordering to Greece, then claimed for itself the name ‘Macedonia’ touching upon the national feelings of the Greek people, who were not willing to give up the heritage of Alexander the Great, ruler of ancient Macedonia, to the Slavs without a fight. Mitsotakis’ government was literally caught sleeping. It had made no preparation to deal with the possibility of recognition of a Macedonian state on Greece’s northern borders and the disturbance that such a thing would cause inside the country. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 190 - 191) (Close, 2006, pp. 405-406)     

Indeed, demonstrations, mostly in Thessaloniki with more than one million participants, hampered efforts to find a compromise solution by using a composite name prepared by the European Union (Karakousis, 2006, p. 196) (Close, 2006, p. 406) while there were internal party reactions as well that led to the dismissal of the at that time Minister of Foreign Affairs Antonis Samaras from the government. The reason was his differentiation from the views of Mitsotakis and Karamanlis at a meeting of the political parties’ leaders under the President, in April 1992, to discuss national policy on the name issue. By autumn 1993 Samaras had formed his own party (Political Spring – Politiki Anixi) and several of new Democracy’s members of Parliament followed him bringing down Mitsotakis’ government. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 237) (Close, 2006, p. 408)

V Andreas Papandreou Returns to Power

Parliamentary elections were held on 10th of October 1993 and PASOK took 46% of the votes corresponding to 170 seats in the parliament. But Papandreou now knew that he could not continue the policy of benefits to the people he exercised in the past. The economy had to meet the Maastricht convergence criteria, if Greece was to remain part of the European Union including the adoption of the common currency (Euro). (Close, 2006, p. 363) This was not easy at all with inflation at 15%, double digit interest rates, public deficits reaching 15% of the GDP, the widespread shadow economy and the corresponding tax evasion. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 263)   

Thus, brave policies were necessary and, in view of the intense pressure from the society for financial aid of any type, conflicts with numerous groups of citizens. Nevertheless, the latter were at the same time convinced that PASOK would do the job at the lowest possible cost, without the atrocities of Mitsotakis and the heavy feeling of social analgesia the accompanied him. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 248) (Close, 2006, p. 364) Furthermore, the element of external imposition made things easier politically as it allowed the government officials to invoke Brussels and through this invocation to legitimize measures and policies that were in conflict with society. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 263) (Close, 2006, p. 364) At the same time though, Andreas Papandreou knew that the acceptance of the convergence process with Europe would be accompanied by a significant package of European Union funds. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 247) The idea was simple. The European funds would be directed to large scale public works and through them any development and income deficit caused be the fiscal adjustment would be covered. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 249) (Close, 2006, p. 283)

Thus, as prescribed in the treaty of Maastricht, at the beginning of 1994 already, the Greek state had to give up the so called ‘monetary financing’ and come out competitively to the market to raise financial resources. Indeed, before 1994, several mechanisms constituted this so called ‘monetary financing’ that allowed the state to raise funds with small or at least controllable cost. For example, at the beginning of each year, the Bank of Greece provided an advance payment of 10% on the increase of the state budget expenditure with a symbolic interest rate of 1.5%. Furthermore, it obliged banks to place 40% of their deposits on interest-bearing Treasury bills, whereas in times of crisis the central bank bought government securities, often to a large extent. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 254-255)

If this was not enough, the government could always turn to the so-called bondholder class offering two to three-year government bonds with high interest rates exceeding 20% per year (see also the previous section). This way, a mood of laziness and idleness was transmitted to society, as an available savings capital was sufficient to offer high profits and large incomes. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 245)   

In the three years 1994-96 all this will change. The state will acquire a reliable Treasury service and gradually be freed from its dependence on the bondholder class. Interest rates will fall, and the banking system will find itself with freed up resources and new opportunities to grow and develop new financial tools. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 256)

In 1994, a new law also attempted to limit the political parties’ power for appointments in the public sector. It introduced the rule of one recruitment for every five departures and mandated both the establishment of the Supreme Personnel Selection Board as an independent body responsible for recruitment and the establishment of rules and procedures so that these are invariable. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 269)

In 1995, a new tax law tried to address the issue of tax evasion. The so called ‘objective criteria’ for the taxation of small and medium enterprises and freelancers were established. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 267) (Close, 2006, p. 354) Parameters like the kind of activity, area of operation, operational costs and others were used to define a minimum level of tax for the legal or physical entity in question. When the entity declared an income corresponding to a tax level lower than this minimum, then either the minimum had to be paid, or the entity would be subject to extensive tax scrutiny. In fact, measures to enhance tax revenues were put in place from the very first days of this new term of PASOK increasing indirect taxes on cigarettes and alcohol, taking measures to crack down on smuggling and putting pressure on traders to return the value added tax, incorporated by PASOK already back in 1987 following directives of the EEC. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 70, 246)

Nevertheless, these attempts do not mean that clientelism was suddenly over and that the political parties were over their fear of the political cost. For example, construction and the public works mentioned earlier as expression of hope, as a mechanism of development and progress will become hotbeds of corruption, scandals and money waste, dragging politics with them. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 254)

In fact, Papandreou’s government acrobated between the old habits and the need for modernization. Things got worse as the latter’s health deteriorated once more in the summer of 1995 leaving plenty of space for a group of people close to his former mistress and by this time wife and secretary, Dimitra Liani, to run the game. A typical example of this period is the former Olympic Airways stewardess’ resistance to the consolidation of the company, which had accumulated debts of 600 billion drachmas, because of the political cost. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 265) Other of Liani’s doings included the purchase of a villa in Ekali, the most prestigious neighbourhood of Athens, under economically uncertain conditions and an entourage of astrologists and priests, who brought miraculous talismans with them in the hope that the patient Papandreou would regain his health. This was a third world government structure that infuriated PASOK’s executives that were now discussing openly Papandreou’s succession. (Karakousis, 2006, pp. 259, 261)

This eventually came in January 1996, when Papandreou resigned from office. The inter party elections named Costas Simitis as the new president of PASOK and prime minister, who will make Modernization his flag. (Karakousis, 2006, p. 277) Papandreou died in June.

VI Conclusions

In this series of articles on the history of modern Greece reference has been made to the work of Acemoglu and Robinson (Acemoglu & Robinson, 2013) and it has been pointed out that the country is suffering from non-inclusive political and economic institutions. Within this framework, some additional characteristics, obvious in the present part of the series, should not go unnoticed: 1) An over-sized public sector and bureaucracy, as seen in the clientelism approach of serving the political parties’ clients/voters with jobs. 2) Economic statism, as seen in the handling of nationalized/state owned companies and attempts to boost the economy through public works. 3) Corruption, as seen in the political/economic scandals described above.

Special reference should also be made to: 4) tax evasion, as seen in the size of the shadow economy, resulting in 5) over taxation, as seen in the establishment of the ‘objective criteria’.  

And finally, 6) populism, as seen in Papandreou’s ‘give everything’ cry, before the elections of June 1989.     

Dimitrios Lakasas proposes that the Greek economy today in undermined by three elephants (bureaucracy, statism and corruption), five tigers (tax evasion, over taxation, high insurance contributions for employees and businesses, high cost of money and unserviced loans) and a lioness (populism) . (Lakasas, 2021, p. 289) The three elephants, two of the tigers and the lioness are clearly seen already in the period studied in this article.

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References

Acemoglu, D., & Robinson, J. A. (2013). Why Nations Fail. London: Profile Books ltd.

Allawi, A. A. (2024). Rich World, Poor World: The Strugle to Escape Poverty. New Haven and London: Yale University Press.

Close, D. (2006). Greece since 1945: Politics, Economy and Society. Thessaloniki: Thyrathen (in Greek, available also in English by Routledge).

Eleftheratos, D. (2015). Diddlers in Khaki, Economic 'miracles' and victims of the junta. Athens: Topos Eds. (in Greek).

Karakousis, A. (2006). Hovering Country. From the society of need to the society of desire (1975 - 2005). Athens: Hestia Bookstore (in Greek).

Lakasas, D. (2021). Human 4.0. For a Wise Management of the 4th Industrial Revolution . Athens: Klidarithmos.

Papageorgiou, T. P. (2024, April 20). History is Now Magazine. Retrieved from http://www.historyisnowmagazine.com/blog/2024/4/20/the-modern-greek-state-19501974-the-road-to-dictatorship-and-retreat

Rizas, S. (2008). Greek Politics after the Civil War. Parliamentaryism and Dictatorship. Athens: Kastaniotis (in Greek).

Wikipedia. (2023). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1974_Greek_republic_referendum

Wikipedia. (2024). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Costas_Simitis

Wikipedia. (2024). Retrieved from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euro_convergence_criteria

The Small Town in the American Northeast with an Unfortunate Past

Here, Michael Leibrandt argues that the northeast area of the United States  is quite old – and has some fascinating stories. He looks at the story of Centralia, Pennsylvania.

A part of the Centralia mine fire as it was after being exposed during an excavation in 1969. Available here.

The northeast of the United States is old.  I’m not trying to create a mid-life crisis here — I’m talking about being historic. Although our nation is still considered relatively young compared to the rest of the world — we’ve got some definite historic architecture.

We’ve also got some rural areas that are downright eerie. Some of our fields have the occasional, well placed, 18th century weather-worn-and-wooden barns. Some of our cracked cement highways are traveled only infrequently. And our high-elevation mountains offer the perfect cover to conceal a castle worthy of Nosferatu himself.

With unmistakable parallels to the setting of the video game Silent Hill and some sixty miles northeast of Pennsylvania’s capitol of Harrisburg is the town of Centralia. At its height — Centralia’s population was about 3,000 in 1890 — but unlike other towns — something seemed loom over this mining town. 

Like many Pennsylvania communities — Centralia was incorporated right after the American Civil War in 1866 as a mining borough — its citizens and miners employed by the local Locust Mountain Coal and Iron Company — and the mine itself having opened in 1862.

The start

Centralia’s story begins when native Americans would sell their land around what would become the town to European Agents around 1749. In 1793 — Robert Morris who was not only signed the Declaration of Independence in 1776 but also was a hero in the Revolutionary War— acquired land in the valley around what would become the town. In 1868 — Alexander Rae who founded the town itself at the end of the Civil War — was brutally murdered by the Molly Maguires while en-route between Centralia and Mount Carmel. According to legend — the first Roman Catholic Priest to live in Centralia (Father Daniel Ignatius McDermott) was assaulted by several members of the Molly Maguires in 1869 and subsequently cursed the land around the town and proclaimed that nothing but the Church would eventually remain in Centralia. He ended up very close to being right.

In June of 1948 — just three years after the end of World War II — United Airlines Flight 624 traveling between San Diego and New York crashed into a mountain between the Pennsylvania towns of Aristes and Centralia. The plane went into descent before crashing. Residents of Centralia helped to bury the victims in St. Ignatius Cemetery.

Fire

But the event that would ultimately doom Centralia happened around Memorial Day of 1962 — when a crew doing a controlled burn of a landfill around Centralia did not extinguish the blaze and the fire seeped into an old mine shaft that was not properly sealed. Over the years — millions of dollars were spent by the federal government in attempts to extinguish the fire but every attempt found it to be much larger than originally thought or ran out of funds.

Over the years as snow melted quickly from the warm ground and smoke oozed from the rusted vents around the town — concerns grew about Centralia. In 1979 — then Mayor John Coddington was forced to close his gas station when fuel in the tanks began to boil underground. In 1981 — a twelve-year-old boy nearly died when he fell into a 100-foot sinkhole before being pulled out by his cousin. In 1993 — Pennsylvania bypassed route 61 — the main thoroughfare into town due to fire by the mine.

After millions were invested to extinguish the fire, Governor Bob Casey would claim eminent domain in 1992 which condemned all the borough’s structures. In 2009 — then Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell began evictions for the residents who remained. In 2002 — Centralia’s Postal Code was removed. Today — the Municipal Building doesn’t even bear Centralia’s name — the remnants of stone walkways indicate where homes used to be. The nearby town of Brynesville was completely vacated — today remaining only by a Shrine at the side of the road and an old garage.

Now the horror of what happened in Centralia has become historic. The remaining residents settled their lawsuit in 2013 — receiving $218,000 in as payment for their homes and the right to stay in their houses for the rest of their lives. After the residents are deceased —many of the houses constructed with those multiple-chimney looking support buttresses are demolished. When the last five residents are no longer with us as of the 2020 census — the town of Centralia — shrouded in a backdrop of steam — will be gone forever.

Michael Thomas Leibrandt lives and works in Abington Township, PA.

Chicago’s Prohibition Era North Side Wives

Being the wife of a wanted criminal in the 1920s was equal parts alluring and terrifying. You were constantly in danger, or at least your spouse was in danger of being shot on the street or “taken for a ride.” If you chose this life you were probably one of three kinds of woman. Someone who really had no clue what the man they loved did, chose to see what the man they loved did and pretended not to know about it or knew what they did and embraced it. For the most part women who married the bootleggers of prohibition turned a blind eye to their husband’s escapades for one reason or another. It took a special kind of personality, one that, it might be argued wasn’t that different from those that they were partners in life.

Erin Finlen explains.

Images to click on before you start:

George Moran and Lucille: https://images.app.goo.gl/nTCYpeTnHW1Qt6bHA

Cecelia Drucci: https://images.app.goo.gl/agLdrHV5DAwHnTpX6

Hymie Weiss and Josephine Simard: https://images.app.goo.gl/XD61BpZUuxECbdXq7

Dean O'Banion and Viola: https://images.app.goo.gl/WKR137gBQypWFiRD9

Viola O’Banion

Viola O’Banion was born Viola Kaniff in Chicago, Illinois on March 27,1901. When she was school age she went to boarding or finishing school in Iowa. She was home on her Christmas break in December of 1920 and she and some girlfriends went to cafe on the North Side, where she caught the eye of Dean O’Banion. Viola could be described as the female of version of her husband. She had dark blond hair and blue eyes and an infectious attitude and penchant for trouble. She radiated a joy for life. Dean was instantly in love and the two were married in February of 1921.

There is a real possibility that Viola had no idea her husband was in the bootlegging business. She even told a reporter who came to visit O’Banion when he was under house arrest pending the trial for the murder of John Duffy that there was no way he could have done it, the police just didn’t like him.

The two vacationed together on the infamous trip where Dean is credited with finding the Tommy Gun and ordering some to be brought to Chicago, but there is no reason to suggest that she was involved with his criminal activities in anyway. When Dean was murdered she claimed that the only reason he ever carried a gun was for protection in the dangerous city, something Dean could have told her and she probably believed, it was a plausible reason in the city where money controlled the cops and the money was controlled by the gangsters. For better or worse the pair were a good match and both loved each other dearly. Viola would never be quite the same after his death.

That’s not to say that she was lost her mischievous streak by any means. In 1926, she married a man on a dare only to discover he was already married and promptly divorce him. In 1929, she was arrested for driving over 66 mph through a residential neighborhood and using the sidewalks as well, an activity that her late husband had also engaged in. Then, in 1934 she watched as her sister jumped off a bridge. When her sister was rescued she accompanied her to the county hospital. They refused to say why her sister was in the water and Mrs. O’Banion Carter, as the papers called her, answered with, “I don’t like the police and we were just celebrating a wedding.” A dislike and distrust of policeman and a joyful outlook on life made her the perfect and possibly blind eyed wife to Dean O’Banion and his gangland kingdom.

Josephine Simard

For the purposes of this article I am going to call Josephine the fiancé of Hymie Weiss, splitting her version of events and what can be proven cleanly down the middle. Marie Josephine Simard was, like Dean and Viola, a bubbly outgoing young woman who was born on October 23, 1902 in Massachusetts. She joined the Ziegfeld Follies in New York City, a comedy troupe of chorus girls, who were considered risqué at the time, and in the fall of 1925, the tour was visiting Chicago where she met Earl “Hymie” Weiss. It’s probable that the vivacious personality of Simard was what drew him to her, she brought out the good side of the otherwise angry, violent, and serious man, a much needed light after the death of his best friend the year before.

There is a lot of speculation about the relationship that the pair actually had. Josephine said that she spent the happiest days of her life to that point with Weiss, that even though he was a bootlegger he enjoyed quiet nights at home with her and that if you didn’t know who he was you would never guess. At no point did she hide that she knew what he did or who he was, instead she said it didn’t matter because she loved him. Their friends all said that they were very happy together and a picture of the two in Miami, Florida taken between the winter of 1925 and fall 1926 shows an extremely happy couple. They were reported to have heated arguments but only because, as Rose Keefe says in her book, The Man Who Got Away, they were such different personalities. The famous scene in the 1931 film, The Public Enemy, where James Cagney shoves a grape fruit in Mae West’s face supposedly came from an incident where Weiss shoved an omelet in Josephine’s face because she was talking too much early in the morning.

According to Josephine, the pair were so in love that they eloped in Florida in the winter of 1925, but she was never able to provide a marriage certificate, saying that Weiss had a priest brought to their room. Stating that she was his widow, she insisted that she had a right to his estate when he died. His mother and the executor of his will, Mary Weiss was not having it, going so far as to have her son in law, James Philip Monahan go get the car that Weiss had bought for her. The pair faced off in probate court, no small feat for the Follies Girl, since all signs point to Mary Weiss being a fierce woman who didn’t back down from a fight. The case was eventually dismissed. It is worth noting that Weiss was meticulous about his will. It makes sense seeing as he had terminal cancer. If the marriage was legally binding it’s doubtful that he would have neglected to add her to it.

She never hid who she had married. Her second husband, Samuel Marx, remembered her as crying a lot when they met due to losing Weiss. For Simard it was either love or money that kept her with Weiss, not a notion that he wasn’t the bootlegging kingpin that he was. Most people at the time said it was the money, but from her heartfelt statement after his death, it’s clear she loved him dearly.

Cecilia Drucci

The wife of Vincent Drucci is actually harder to track than her husband. In fact, she is downright impossible to find any factual information on. There is no record of their marriage until she says at his funeral that they gave him a swell send off and yet, if you were to think of the kind of woman Drucci were to marry, it would be Cecilia.

There isn’t much know about her, besides that she was blond and feisty. There is an anecdote that sees her threatening a dinner guest with a butchers knife. When a dressmaker was telling people that Drucci had robbed her store, he showed up with an unknown blond woman and told her to teach the woman a lesson. The woman turned the shop over and Drucci herded the customers to the backroom before the pair fled in a taxi. There is a chance that this woman was Cecilia. Although, blond doesn’t tell us much. While his friends were faithful to their partners once they found them, Drucci was not and was reputed to have a different blond on his arm every night.

When Drucci was buried his wife said “We sure gave him a swell send off,” and then disappeared without a trace. There isn’t much to tell about her but Cecelia Drucci exemplifies the woman who worked alongside her husband in the Chicago Underworld.

Lucille Moran

George Moran’s wife is not Cecilia Drucci nor is she Viola O’Banion. However, neither does she quite fit the same mold as Josephine Simard. She wasn’t a high strung, quick tempered moll, a naive young lady who had no idea what her husband did and she also wasn’t as willing to pretend that Moran didn’t have a criminal record that he was actively adding to during their marriage. She loved and supported her husband and knew what he was to the Chicago Underworld, it was less important to her though than the fact that he was a good husband and a great father to her child.

Born in 1899, Lucille was a recently divorced mother of one when she met George, in 1923. He was instantly smitten with her according to their love story and, while she was at first worried that he wouldn’t accept her son, Moran was just as infatuated with him. The boy spoke French, which Moran had grown up speaking and helped him learn English.

Though he seems to have been an ideal partner there was no hiding what he did for a living, especially when he was arrested on suspicion of attempting to assassinate Johnny Torrio. After that he moved to a hotel and when Weiss was assassinated in 1926, he was arrested there after he left the funeral without telling anyone and rumors abounded as to his future plans. Lucille was supportive, loving and there for every step of her husband’s life, even picking him up when he was released on bail or watching in court. Then, in 1929, the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre happened. She had to wait for news that he was alive and then he fled to Canada, leaving her and her son at the hotel, to be watched over by his underlings. When he returned, she tried to remain just as strong as she had been but after another trial in 1930, Moran was advised to leave Illinois all together and she had had enough. She decided that she couldn’t live like that anymore and served him divorce papers.

And they all lived…

Well, not happily ever after. The life of the women who called a gangster her husband was high stress and fraught with danger, whether they accepted it or not. Of the four women discussed only one didn’t see her marriage end in tragedy and it was the scare of doing so that made her finally pull the trigger on her divorce (so to speak). Viola, Josephine, Cecilia and Lucille were also, strangely, all perfect fits for the men they married, at least from a historical perspective. Viola and Dean, fun loving partners in life with hot tempers and a disrespect for the law. Josephine and Earl, volatile, quick tempered people who balanced each other out and brought out the best in each other. Cecilia and Vincent, who were so alike as to be almost uncanny. George and Lucille, each there for each other when they were needed, level headed and perseverant. Four different couples and four different but intriguing female figures of the 1920s.

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Sources

Binder, J. J. (2017). Al Capone’s Beer wars: A Complete History of Organized Crime in Chicago During Prohibition. Prometheus Books.

Burns, W. N. (1931). The one-way ride: The Red Trail of Chicago Gangland from Prohibition to Jake Lingle.

Keefe, R. (2003). Guns and roses: The Untold Story of Dean O’Banion, Chicago’s Big Shot Before Al Capone. Turner Publishing Company.

Keefe, R. (2005). The Man who Got Away: The Bugs Moran Story : a Biography. Cumberland House Publishing.

My Al Capone Museum. (n.d.). https://myalcaponemuseum.com/

Sullivan, E. D. (1929). Rattling the cup on Chicago crime.