Lyndon B Johnson – The CIA and the Vietnam War

This is the fourth in a series of articles that explore the iconic CIA and its use as a tactical weapon by the US presidents of the Cold War (1947-1991). Here we look at Lyndon Johnson and his decisions to escalate the war in Vietnam. The Central Intelligence Agency – In the Beginning, The Central Intelligence Agency – Eisenhower and Asia’s Back Door, and Kennedy’s Central Intelligence Agency are the preceding posts.

Lyndon Baines Johnson, the 36th President of the United States, was not an easy man.  Bill, a colleague with whom I worked on Johnston Atoll in the 1980s, was on the Johnsons’ security detail during their Texas visits.  He spoke of loud, embarrassing, drunken fights between the Johnsons and crude behavior like throwing dishes of jelly beans and popcorn and expecting the security detail to pick it all up immediately.  Ronald Kessler’s book, In the President’s Secret Service: Behind the Scenes with Agents in the Line of Fire and the Presidents They Protect, confirms much of what Bill told me then.  Regardless of his personal behavior, Johnson was a political sophisticate who understood power at a fundamental level.  By all accounts, Johnson’s rise to power was steady and ruthless.

President Lyndon B Johnson greets troops in Vietnam. December 1967.

The dichotomy among historians becomes apparent once Johnson assumes the presidency following President Kennedy’s assassination.  The gulf widens through the nine years of the Johnson presidency.  Was Johnson a model for business executives and a great progressive leader as portrayed by historian Robert A. Caro, who has studied Johnson for the better part of three decades?[1]  Or, at the other end of the spectrum, was Johnson a dangerous, paranoid individual?  According to former Kennedy speech writer and author Richard N. Goodwin in his 1988 book Remembering America: A Voice From the Sixties, Johnson’s behavior drove two presidential assistants to separately seek opinions on Johnson’s mental stability from psychiatrists.[2]

What can be said with certainty is that, as president, Johnson drove social engineering to new heights with his ‘War on Poverty’ and ‘Great Society’, which included legislation for public broadcasting, Medicare, Medicaid, environmental protection, and aid to education.  Johnson did not confine his activity to just the home front, though.  He was busy with the CIA, too; the US Dominican Republic intervention in 1965, the Vietnam War, the Six-Day Arab-Israeli War in 1967, and efforts to reduce tension with the Soviet Union.

The DCI

It took three tries to land a Director of Central Intelligence, DCI, he wanted, but Johnson finally got the job done.  Johnson inherited DCI John A. McCone from Kennedy.  Kennedy asked McCone to head up the CIA following Kennedy’s termination of Allen W. Dulles, a remnant of Wild Bill Donovan’s OSS, after the Bay of Pigs disaster.  McCone was reputed to be an excellent manager and returned balance to an agency enamored of covert activities and nation-building.  Under McCone, the CIA redistributed its organizational energy between analysis and science and technology in addition to its well-known covert actions.  Not everyone in the CIA was a happy camper with this intelligence outsider, but McCone earned his spurs during the Cuban Missile Crisis.  Johnson and DCI McCone parted ways in 1965 over disagreements about the Vietnam build-up.

President Johnson, a former naval officer, replaced McCone with DCI William A. Raborn, a career naval officer whose claim to fame was managing the Polaris Missile program (submarine launched missiles).  Other than brushes with Naval Intelligence, Raborn had no directly related experience.  It appears that Johnson selected Raborn to keep the DCI seat warm while Richard M. Helms matured his administrative skills as Deputy DCI.  Raborn, according to prevailing wisdom, never really adjusted to being the DCI and offered his resignation sixteen months after assuming the role.  Without ado, Johnson quickly accepted Raborn’s offer to resign.

Richard M. Helms, the heir apparent and another of Wild Bill Donovan’s OSS operatives, became DCI in June 1966.  Helms reveled in espionage.  Between the OSS and the CIA, Helms was a very active operator.  During WWII, Helms worked out of London and shared a flat with William J. Casey, the charismatic Irish lawyer who would head the CIA under Reagan.  Together, Helms and Casey were up to their proverbial ears in WWII cat and mouse spy games. During the Cold War, Helms kept both his espionage and operational skills sharp.  He had his fingers in the Iran pot, the Soviet forgeries, Operation Mongoose, and the Diem regime in Vietnam.  Although Helms preferred espionage and stated that assassinations rarely worked in the US’s favor, he was nothing if not a company man and certainly was party to many.

Johnson was not overly impressed with the CIA and, initially, did not see much value in intelligence.  Then, too, DCIs McCone and Raborn had each bucked Johnson on ramping up American involvement in Vietnam on more than one occasion.  Johnson’s lack of respect for the CIA was reflected in the number and type of meetings to which the CIA was not invited.  In Helms, Johnson found a DCI that, if not a kindred spirit, was at least a more accommodating one.  The CIA, however, still did not come up on Johnson’s radar until the Six-Day Arab-Israeli War in 1967.  The accuracy of CIA intelligence estimates, timing, and outcome of the 1967 Six-Day War earned Helms his DCI service stripes and a seat at Johnson’s regular Tuesday lunch meetings with his advisors to discuss foreign policy.

Vietnam

What was it about Vietnam that propelled Johnson so hard that he eventually broke up on its shoals?  Vietnam drove Johnson’s relationship with the CIA, his advisors, and congress.  For example, Senator Mike Mansfield (D-Mt), Senate Majority Leader during the Johnson administration championed Johnson’s ‘Great Society’ programs and legislation but fought bitterly with Johnson against the Vietnam War.  The frying pan that was the Vietnam War got so hot that in July 1968 Johnson flew to Central America to meet with the presidents of Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, and El Salvador.[3]   According to an interview I taped with Raul Castro in 2003, on short notice Johnson’s staff requested that Castro pull together the meetings because he needed a break from the pressures of Vietnam.  The staffers wanted adoring crowds, good press and a rest for the embattled president.  Raul Castro was appointed US Ambassador to El Salvador by President Johnson in 1964.   All three staff objectives were met.

Until recently I subscribed to the traditional perspective that Johnson knew exactly what he was doing as he amped up the Vietnam War.  In 1965, it appeared that Johnson was resolute in his decision to support the American configured South Vietnamese government against the threat of Communist takeover.  Johnson used the alleged Gulf of Tonkin incident to garner the congressional ‘blank check’ from the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution to do what he wanted. By February 1965, the US military’s Operation Rolling Thunder was bombing North Vietnamese targets and the Ho Chi Minh trail and Agent Orange along with napalm was defoliating the jungle.  In March 1965, General Westmoreland asked for more troops.  About 189,000 American troops were stationed in Vietnam in 1965. The following year, the number doubled and casualties escalated at an alarming rate.  And, the Vietnam War got much worse.  I expected to find old familiar friends in the defense contractor community at the root of the escalation but I was wrong.

Anything but linear

Mark Lawrence makes a case that Johnson’s Vietnam decisions were anything but linear.  Lawrence states, “Where scholars once saw certainty and confidence, they now see indecision and anxiety.” In his article LBJ and Vietnam: A Conversation, Lawrence cites a May 1964 telephone conversation between Lyndon Johnson and McGeorge Bundy[4],[5] that illustrates the level of Johnson’s ambivalence:

“…In his conversation with Bundy, LBJ expresses deep anxiety about what would happen if the United States failed to defend South Vietnam from communist takeover – evidence that bolsters the older, conventional view of U.S. motives for escalation. Fearing what historians would later dub the “domino effect,” Johnson suggests that the communist powers – the Soviet Union and the People’s Republic of China – would be emboldened by a communist victory in South Vietnam and might make trouble elsewhere. The communists, in fact, “may just chase you right into your own kitchen,” the president says in his typical down-home manner. LBJ also provides evidence for the older interpretation by breezily dismissing other powerful Americans who urged him to negotiate a settlement and withdraw U.S. power from South Vietnam. He shows special contempt for Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield, charging that the Montana Democrat, a strong advocate of winding down the U.S. role in South Vietnam, had “no spine at all” and took a position that was “just milquetoast as it can be.”

In other parts of the conversation, however, LBJ heaps doubt on the idea that defending South Vietnam was crucial to US security. “What in the hell is Vietnam worth to me?” he asks Bundy. “What is Laos worth to me? What is it worth to this country?” Most chillingly, Johnson shows keen awareness that victory in Vietnam was anything but a sure thing. He worries that full-fledged US intervention in Vietnam would trigger corresponding escalation by Communist China, raising the horrifying specter of a direct superpower confrontation, as in Korea a few years earlier, between Chinese and US forces. “I don’t think we can fight them 10,000 miles away from home and ever get anywhere in that area,” LBJ asserts. Moreover, the United States, once committed to a war, might find it impossible to get out. “It’s damn easy to get into a war, but … it’s going to be awful hard to ever extricate yourself if you get in,” LBJ asserts with remarkable prescience….”[6]

Johnson, as I said in the beginning, was not an easy man. It took him more than three of his six years in office to find a DCI he respected and would back him on Vietnam.  Even after Johnson warmed up to the CIA, his use of the agency was as enigmatic as his leadership style.  In many ways, Johnson’s choice of Helms to lead the CIA was a reflection of the contradictions exhibited by Johnson himself. Helms was smooth and adept at politics but beneath his ‘James Bond’ coolness, Helms was a ‘company man’.  He liked the freewheeling CIA style that the ‘plausible deniability’ cloak offered.  Helms became the first and only DCI to be convicted of lying to the US Congress in 1977 regarding the ousting of the elected President of Chile and the installation of the dictator Salvador Allende.[7] Note: Helms was the only DCI convicted of lying to congress.  Many of his predecessors and successors lied to Congress as the need, in their individual opinion, arose.[8]

Johnson and his relationship with the CIA really goes to the question of who Johnson was.  Was he the headstrong leader portrayed by Caro or a leader that became unbalanced, afraid, and insecure that Goodwin paints?  Probably, he was both.  We will need much more data to determine which LBJ occupied the White House for nine years.

This article is provided by Barbara Johnson from www.coldwarwarrior.com.

Want to find out more about another US President from the 1960s? Click here for our podcast on Richard Nixon.

References

[1] The Harvard Business Review; April 2006; A Conversation with Historian Robert A. Caro by Diane Coutu; Lessons in Power: Lyndon Johnson Revealed; http://hbr.org/2006/04/lessons-in-power-lyndon-johnson-revealed/ar/1

[2] Los Angeles Times; September 14, 1988; ELIZABETH MEHREN; Richard Goodwin’s Account of a ‘Paranoid’ L.B.J. Riles Some Ex-Colleagues; http://articles.latimes.com/1988-09-14/news/vw-1970_1_richard-goodwin

[3] Lewiston Evening Journal; Frank Cormier; July 5, 1968; http://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=1913&dat=19680703&id=KrcgAAAAIBAJ&sjid=U2gFAAAAIBAJ&pg=1096,396753

[4] Listen to the Johnson-Bundy conversation; (Johnson, Lyndon B. Johnson’s Vietnam Anguish, May 27, 1964: Conversation with national security advisor McGeorge Bundy. 27 May 1964. History and Politics Out Loud. Ed. Jerry Goldman. 30 Sept. 1999. Northwestern University.) http://web2.millercenter.org/lbj/audiovisual/whrecordings/telephone/conversations/1964/lbj_wh6405_10_3522.wav

[5] Transcript of the conversation (Telephone Conversation Between President Johnson and the President’s Special Assistant for National Security Affairs (Bundy) Washington, May 27, 1964, 11:24 a.m.. Source: U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1964-68, Volume XXVII, Mainland Southeast Asia: Regional Affairs, Washington, DC, Document Number 53. Original Source: Johnson Library, Recordings and Transcripts, Recording of a telephone conversation between the President and McGeorge Bundy, Tape 64.28 PNO 111. No classification marking. This transcript was prepared by the Office of the Historian specifically for this volume.); https://www.mtholyoke.edu/acad/intrel/vietnam/lbjbundy.htm

[6] Not Even Past; Mark Atwood Lawrence; LBJ and Vietnam: A Conversation; http://www.notevenpast.org/listen/lbj-and-vietnam-conversation

[7] George Washington University National Security Archives; September 11, 2013;  Peter Kornbluh; National Security Archive Electronic Briefing Book No. 437; http://www2.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB437/

[8] The American Prospect; Adam Serwer; May 15, 2009; THE CIA LIE TO CONGRESS? IT’S HAPPENED BEFORE; http://prospect.org/article/cia-lie-congress-its-happened

How A Baby Ended The Wars of the Roses

Our latest installment in the Wars of the Roses looks at the marriage of Richard Plantagenet and Anne Neville – among many other intrigues in the Wars of the Roses. This article follows our introduction to the Wars of the Roses available here and our article on Edward III’s descendants and the causes of the Wars of the Roses available here. Later were the battles of the war from 1455-1464, the Kingmaker, and Prince George’s treachery. Most recently were part 1 and part 2 of a love story.

Historians always warn us that we should never imagine the story of Richard Plantagenet and Anne Neville to be one of romance and true love. But it is hard not to. The two had known each other since infancy and had grown together under the tutelage of the Earl of Warwick at Middleham Castle. War and the choices of the Kingmaker forced these friends onto opposite sides after a life time of watching their fathers fight side-by-side. Anne’s marriage to the Lancastrian heir, Prince Edward, had only been a few months long and had resulted in no children. After the battle of Tewkesbury, Anne was left a fifteen-year-old widow so her sister’s husband, Prince George, took her in.

Richard Plantagenet (Richard III) and Anne Neville from the Rous Roll

But George was anything but charitable. Anne was heiress to all the lands and castles in the north of England. A wonderful, rich fortune she shared with her sister. Since George had half these lands through marriage, he forcefully took the other half by keeping Anne as a prisoner in everything but name. This made George the wealthiest land owner in England. But history tells us that Anne didn’t take this lying down. According to legend, she dressed as a kitchen maid and escaped to the London home of one of George’s friends, where she continued to work in the kitchen while plotting her next move. That move would turn out to be Prince Richard Plantagenet.

The 18-year-old Duke of Gloucester had spent weeks looking for her, making a nuisance of himself in the household belonging to his brother, George. When Richard finally found our heiress, it is said that he spirited her away to a sanctuary in order to protect her from George. Legend tells us that he made it perfectly clear to Anne that his chivalrous rescue had no ulterior motives, and he wanted nothing from her. On May 14, 1472, she married him. The couple had a happy marriage lasting thirteen blissful years that gave them one son named Edward. Unlike the princes who came before and after him, Richard had no interest in London and the royal court. Richard’s heart belonged to his wife, his son and the northlands. Living mostly in Middleham castle, just as they had done as children, the couple rarely made it to London, rarely took up the mantle of royalty. Instead, they spent their days riding, commanding their farms and just generally enjoying one another’s company.

Unfortunately, life was to take one serious turn with the death of King Edward IV. Elizabeth Woodville was an enemy of Richard and an enemy of England. The Prince could not allow the unpopular Queen to crown her underage son and rule through him. Accompanied by 200 mourners, Richard kissed his wife and child good-bye and set out to London. Edward IV had made Richard the protector of the new King, but Elizabeth had sent her brother and 2,000 soldiers to fetch him before Richard could get anywhere near him. Unfortunately for Elizabeth, her brother marched his army directly into Richard’s mourners. The new young King changed guardians and entered London with his uncle and protector. Richard delivered the young King Edward V right to the Tower of London and left him there with his servants. This may sound sinister yet it was anything but. The Tower of London was the home of England’s royalty as well as a prison and even a zoo. As with all monarchs who had come before Edward V, he had been housed in the tower awaiting his coronation.

This is where history leaves us wondering. Richard, who had up until this point been unbelievably loyal to his brother, now suddenly steals the throne from his nephew and crowns himself King. What had happened to bring this about? Critics of Richard say he was simply showing his true colors by usurping a child. Richard’s supporters claim that he was pushed by his wife to take the crown, just as her father - the Kingmaker - would have done. Or that maybe Richard simply saw a chance to be King and took it. I, personally, think it is a bit more complex than that. Richard was loyal to his brother, and his brother had once been loyal to England. Then Elizabeth Woodville showed up. Was Richard, who would have still been in mourning, simply honoring his brother’s original plan? If Edward V had been King, the Woodvilles would have ruled and who knew what they would have done to the country. But if Richard ruled, he could undo all the damage the hated family had done and get England back on track. Was Richard - who hated court, hated London, hated royal life - putting his feelings and freedoms aside to become King and save England? Once again, history’s lips are sealed.

Before George had been executed, he had started a rumor about Edward IV being pre-contracted to another woman, meaning Elizabeth was not his true wife and making their children illegitimate. Richard dragged this rumor from the grave, used it as evidence and had all of Elizabeth’s children illegitimated. Richard was now heir to the throne. He was crowned Richard III on July 6 1483. Unlike Shakespeare tried to tell us, Richard was a much loved prince - if anything he was the people’s favorite prince - and London celebrated their new King and Queen with joyous excitement. After nearly thirty years of civil war, no one wanted a child King. But the idea of a decorated war hero leading the country was one they could get on board with.

So Richard toured his kingdom, with his beautiful and beloved Queen. They were joined by their son, the Prince of Wales, when his health allowed a trip with his parents. And they were happy.

If only Henry Tudor had stayed in France.

By M.L King, a history enthusiast and part-time blogger. You can connect with her on Facebook here.

The final installment in the Wars of the Roses series is available by clicking here.

Do you want to try your hand at some history writing? If so, click here for more information and then get in touch!

References

• British History by Miles Kelly
• Measly Middle Ages by Terry Derry
• www.english-heritage.org.uk
• www.battlefieldstrust.com
• www.learningsite.co.uk

Happy New Year! Our image of the week is from 19th century Australia

In order to celebrate the New Year, our image of the week is from a very old party.

Happy New Year!

We thought it only fitting that this week’s image comes from a New Year’s celebration. In fact we’re going all the way back to 19th century Australia.

Our image shows a big party with ladies in beautiful Victorian clothing, horses at work, and children at play – all amid the crowds. It is a scene from George Street, Sydney, near the markets, on New Year’s eve. And the year? All the way from December 31, 1878.

It comes from the Australian Town and Country Journal, 4 January 1879, page 24.

Happy New Year!

Want to find out about what’s happening with us in the New Year? Click here to join us and then find out more!

George Levrier-Jones

Top Posts of the Year - “What the ice gets, the ice keeps”: The amazing Endurance Expedition to Antarctica

In the last of our top posts of the year, here we remind you of the story of Ernest Shackleton’s fascinating expedition to Antarctica on the Endurance and his very lucky escape.

The Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition, sometimes called the Endurance Expedition, under Sir Ernest Shackleton was finally under way. After many days of careful planning the first steps toward the great feat of crossing the continent of Antarctica were being made. Just days after World War I broke out, Endurance set sail from England on August 8, 1914. After Shackleton joined the ship in Buenos Aires, Endurance was put on a course for the Antarctic. But by November she was lingering at a South Georgia whaling station. The ice conditions that year were somewhat hazardous and the locals recommended that Shackleton wait for conditions to improve. And so Endurance remained for a month. On December 5 she departed for Weddell Sea. Despite the wait, the ice remained obstinate; much was encountered and at times there was no other alternative but to plow through the large floes. Throughout January Endurance struggled onwards - at times stuck in the ice and awaiting an opening in the floe… She was not always successful and soon she was icebound. 

Photograph of the ship Endurance in Antarctica taken during the British Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition, 1914-1917. Source: State Library of New South Wales.

Efforts to cut away the ice which held Endurance captive proved fruitless. And so the expedition members settled into routine, shipboard life. Morale generally ran high. The living quarters were renovated to form a number of tiny cubicles which served as rooms; they were dubbed “The Ritz”. Morale had to be kept up and Shackleton made every effort to ensure that it was. Frank Worsley, captain of Endurance, wrote, “Our free time we spent playing hockey and football on the ice.” In addition to that there were other activities, among them caring for the 60-odd sled dogs Endurance carried. A little village was built on the ice for them where they were housed in dogloos.

But for all the good spirits Endurance was in danger. All around her pressure plates were pressing together causing ice to be pushed up until they reached large heights. If Endurance was ever caught in a severe case she could easily be damaged to the point of being irreparable. In one case, the dogs narrowly missed a breakup in which their dogloos were destroyed. In the days leading up to October 24, the pressure damaged the rudder, the ship’s beam buckled and other damage was sustained. At one point, Endurance took on a list of 30° as the ice pushed her on her side. Thankfully it was corrected. But October 24, 1915 was to prove a fateful day. As ice pushed from three different directions converging at one point, which happened to be where Endurance sat, the ship shuddered as she was twisted. And then she began to take on water. If they wanted to save Endurance, the crew would have to move fast. The water was pumped out, but try as they might, saving Endurance was a lost cause. An evacuation that took place three days later was well managed though. The dogs and other supplies were taken off as well as three lifeboats which would later be used to sail for land. In temperatures that plunged below zero (-18°C) and where 29°F (-2°C) was a heat wave, the group disembarked. For those who had called the little ship home for so many months, it was a sorry thing to see her go.

Once off the ship, Shackleton decided they would try to make for land 300 miles away. It was a task easier said than done. “We all discarded everything save the barest necessities,” Worsley wrote. Three of the puppies who had been born on the voyage, the carpenter’s cat and one dog had to be destroyed before setting out on the journey. It was a sad task no one relished. Slogging across the ice and snow proved too much and to walk 300 miles to land was virtually impossible. A few days after leaving Endurance Shackleton decided to make camp. In all that time they had made little progress and the broken Endurance could still be seen in the short distance - she would eventually sink on November 21.

Frank Hurley and Ernest Shackleton at camp. This photograph was published in the United States in Ernest Shackleton's book, South, in 1919.

By late December the party was on the move again. Shackleton decided they would march as the floe they now camped on, was carrying them farther away from a potential landing spot. Just like before, the march made little progress.

1915 turned into 1916. It seemed it would be an eternity before the floes finally broke up. And with food supplies shrinking the last of the dogs were also destroyed. Morale plunged. While Shackleton tried to maintain an optimistic outlook those under him were beginning to grow more concerned about their situation. When land was finally sighted on March 23, the castaway could not set sail because the ice still had them pinned in. But the floes were growing thinner; so much, in fact, that one of the members grew seasick from the motion.

On April 9, the three boats were launched. At last they were making for land. Providing all went well. The first night they camped out on a small floe only to have two sleeping men dumped into the water where the ice had cracked under them. Shackleton was able to pull one man out while the other climbed back onto the ice. The days dragged on. Seasickness, dysentery, exhaustion and saltwater boils were all part of the package. Some of the men had gone slightly mad after living under the constant strain and horrible conditions. When they finally landed on Elephant Island on April 15 it was beyond a doubt a welcome pleasure. Since their month-long stay in South Georgia, not one of them had set foot on land. But life on Elephant Island wasn’t a picnic either. The weather was particularly harsh and there were other contributing factors that made life on the ice floe seem much more comfortable.

Just days after landing, Shackleton was on the move again. One of the lifeboats, James Caird, was made more seaworthy and loaded with supplies in anticipation of a voyage to South Georgia where help could be reached. With five other men Shackleton set sail on April 24. Frank Wild, his second in command, was left behind to oversee the rest of the party. If they failed to reach South Georgia, Wild was to take the two lifeboats and leave for the whaling grounds of Deception Island in the spring. For those left behind, Wild attempted to keep everyone on their toes while establishing a routine. It would be a difficult time on the island. Food sources in the form of seal and penguin could not always be relied on and much had to be set back should a spring voyage prove necessary. It was going to be a challenge.

On James Caird it was, as to be expected, tough and miserable going. The six men each “stood” their own watch as the little boat sallied forth on her nonstop journey. With water constantly washing over Caird the boat grew heavily laden with ice which had to be chipped away. On another occasion a tidal wave - which Worsley theorized had been created by a capsizing iceberg - nearly sunk Caird. It was an exhausted party that landed on an uninhabited part of South Georgia on May 10. That was a remarkable feat in itself.

In Sight of Our Goal - Nearing South Georgia. This artwork was published in the United States in Ernest Shackleton's book, South, in 1919.

Just nine days later, Shackleton, Worsley and Thomas Crean were off on an overland trek for Stromness, where they arrived on May 20. Worsley wrote “I learnt afterwards that we had crossed the island during the only interval of fine weather that occurred that winter…Providence had been with us.” The trio was taken to Thoralf Sørlle, whom they had met with in 1914. Now as Shackleton stood before him, Sørlle had no idea who he was. When Shackleton introduced himself it came as quite a shock!

Plans were soon underway to rescue those left on Elephant Island. But in the meantime a ship was sent back to pick up the other three men who waited on the other side of South Georgia. Worsley was aboard when they fetched the men and when he landed the men grumbled about how none of their own had come back for them and had left it to the Norwegians. “Well, I’m here, am I not?” Worsley said. They hadn’t recognized him since he had cleaned up.

The rescue of the men on Elephant Island was to prove very problematic. Vessel after vessel was forced to turn back as the ice prevented them from landing near the island. The disappointments wore heavily on Shackleton. To Worsley, the ordeal seemed to have aged the revered leader a great deal. To Chile went the credit for success, however. They sent a tug and on August 25 Shackleton, with Worsely and Crean, were finally steaming for Elephant Island.

On August 30, the men on the island were going about their everyday routine when a vessel was sighted. They hoisted a jacket as a makeshift flag and the vessel responded with a Chilean ensign. Shackleton and Crean came ashore as their excited comrades greeted them. It was a happy reunion to say the least. Not one soul had been lost from the original Endurance party that had set sail in August 1914. They had failed the expedition true, but they had made an enormous journey that would not be soon forgotten.

By J.G. Burdette, the owner of the fascinating blog http://jgburdette.wordpress.com/

For more great articles like this as well as a free book and exclusive podcasts, join us. Just click here!

References

Alexander, Caroline. The Endurance: Shackleton’s Legendary Antarctic Expedition.

Worsley, F. A. Endurance: An Epic Polar Adventure.

Lansing, Alfred. Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage.

Top Posts of the Year - Fourth Shore: The Italian Colonization of Libya

This is the second article we have chosen as we end the year by re-publishing some of our top blog posts.

In a follow-up to articles on the initial Italian colonization attempts and Mussolini’s bloody conquest, we continue the story of how Italy brutally conquered Libya here. 

Going a few years back from Mussolini’s invasion of Libya, one of the main reasons for the original Italian invasion of Ottoman Libya was to expand Italy’s comparatively small colonial empire. Another concern was the rapid emigration of Italians to the United States and other countries (650,000 were estimated to have migrated to the US in 1910 alone). After the end of the Italian-Ottoman war, the Italians began to create plans to transport thousands and thousands of Italian colonists into the country’s newest territorial acquisition.

An photo of the 1937 Tripoli Grand Prix

State-sponsored colonization

It formally began in 1913 with the establishment of the Ufficio Fondario (the Land Office), which had the job of assigning land to would-be Italian colonists. The Land Office initially assumed that all uncultivated land was private property and only assigned public lands to the colonists. However on July 18 1922, the Italian governor of Libya, Giuseppe Volpi (who would later order the Reconquista of Libya), issued a decree declaring all uncultivated land to be in the public domain, increasing the amount of land available to Italian colonists tenfold.  Further decrees issued caused the confiscation of land owned by rebels or those aiding the rebels, in an effort to crackdown on dissent.

In 1928, de Bono (Volpi’s successor) issued subsidies and additional credits to help attract more colonists. Despite these measures, Italian immigration rates were much lower than what the government had expected, with little capital being invested in Libyan lands.

The situation changed in the early 1930s as a result of the Great Depression. A negative balance of trade, rampant unemployment and a strong lira encouraged mainland Italians to emigrate. Libya provided the perfect solution. With Omar Mukhtar executed and the rebels defeated, many public-works and infrastructure project ideas could finally be undertaken, in addition to resettlement projects. Indeed, all of these projects required manpower. It was the perfect region for the typical poor Italian patriot.

In 1934, Tripolitania and Cyrenaica were merged together to form a Tripoli-based province. Four years later, Mussolini would declare Libya an integral part of the Kingdom of Italy, forming the country’s nineteenth region, dubbing it La Quarta Sponda d’Italia (Italy’s Fourth Shore).

Mussolini, who was imprisoned in 1911 for his criticism of the original Italian invasion, had visited Libya three times; in 1926, 1937 and 1942. His 1937 visit was to open what was described as the largest public works project in Libya, the 1,132 mile long strada litoranea (coastal highway), which ran from the Tunisian border to the Egyptian frontier. Though the Italians insisted it was only to help improve tourism in the region, contemporaries saw the strategic military value of such a road. Indeed, this road proved to be crucial to victory in the North African front of World War II (and more recently, the Libyan Civil War). The press in Italy hailed it as a feat of Italian engineering, despite it being built on the back of Libyan laborers.

Two major waves of immigration occurred in the 1930s; one in October 1938 and the other in 1939. Both were organized by the Italian governor Balbo - he led a convoy of around 10,000 Italians to Libya in 1938 and another 10,000 in the following year. His plan was to settle 20,000 colonists annually for five years, with the ultimate goal of reaching 500,000 colonists by 1950. In what could be seen as a precursor to reactions against Jewish migration to British Palestine, Italian migration evoked resentment and protests in the Muslim World, with agitations against it appearing as far away as Baghdad.

More support for colonists emerged in the form of the agricultural corporation Ente which was meant to attract farmers. Using confiscated land, the colonists (numbering 50,000 in the late 1930s) worked on 2,000 farms. By 1939, the Italians had built 400 kilometers of new railroads and 4,000 kilometers of new roads. Until 1940, there was even a Tripoli Grand Prix organized annually, while Italian archaeologists excavated the ruined Phoenician settlement of Leptis Magna and sent artifacts to museums in the mainland.

The Libyan Side

Many of the colonists were poor, but were generally better off than the native Libyan population. Libyans, mostly paupers, resented Italian development, still remembering the virtual genocide committed by them. It was only in September 1933 that the concentration camps were finally shut – and they left a horrifying toll. 40,000 of the 100,000 total internees died in the camps. Though Libyans resented the foreigners, Italian propaganda portrayed a very different story. In Mussolini’s 1937 visit, he declared Libya to be “morally and profoundly Italian”, to which the Muslims of Tripoli greeted him by addressing him as “the greatest man of the century and a sincere friend of Islam.” He was even awarded the ‘Sword of Islam’ (a Florentine sword with a fabricated history) and was declared the “Protector of Islam.”

For the native Libyans, life was not easy. All Libyans, of whatever faith, were expected to give the Fascist salute. Most wore black shirts during Mussolini’s 1937 visit to Tripoli. And in an effort to spread the wonders of Fascism, the Italian government ordered the formation of a Fascist group for Libyan youths, the Gioventu Araba (Arab Youth), modeled after Italy’s Opera Nazionale Balilla.

In 1939, the Italians allowed Libyans to apply for Cittadinanza Italiana Speciale (special Italian citizenship) effectively relegating Libyans to second-class citizens. At the time, Libyans were not allowed to work professionally in jobs involving Italian subordinates. That said, it seemed unlikely to be a great problem anyway as soon enough there were only 16 Libyan university graduates in the country. All told, even if the Italian occupation led to significant improvements in infrastructure and agricultural output, it left behind a native Libyan population that was not skilled and largely uneducated, while the country lacked effective political institutions. The effects of this would be apparent in the following decades.

With the outbreak of World War II, Balbo’s plan was in tatters. Most of the fighting occurred on farms allocated to the colonists. By 1941, only 8,426 colonists remained. Within a year, this number had halved. Following the end of subsidies and government support, the colonists abandoned Libya. The Allied forces occupied Libya in 1943. Libya was to declare its independence in December 1951.

By Droodkin, the owner of the international history blog – click here to see the site.

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References

• Libya: From Colony to Revolution by Ronald Bruce St. John, pages 1936-1939
• Libya and the West: From Independence to Lockerbie by Geoff Simons, pages 12-13

Further reading

If you would like to read in more depth about what life was like in Italian Libyan, I recommend Brian McLaren’s Architecture and Tourism in Italian Colonial Libya: An Ambivalent Modernism.

Merry Old Santa Claus from the 19th century. Our image of the week

With Christmas only hours away, today’s image of the week is a classic 19th century image of Santa.

The origins of Christmas go very far back. Santa Claus, or Saint Nicholas, first dates to over 1500 years ago. Indeed, Saint Nicholas is a Greek saint from the fourth-century. Later in this Christmas tradition came Sinterklaas in Holland and Father Christmas in the UK.

But various factors caused Santa to become more well-known and more popular. Many people believe that it was Coca-Cola who invented Santa (in fact, a colleague of mine who used to work at Coca-Cola also claimed that), but that is not quite true. There are various images and references to Santa in both the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Our image of the week shows a drawing of Santa from Harper’s Weekly in 1881 entitled ‘Merry Old Santa Claus.’ It was drawn by Thomas Nast and went a long way to showing the Santa we know and love today. Santa is smoking his pipe, has what appears to be mistletoe in his hair, and has hands overflowing with toys and other gifts.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

Did you miss last week’s Christmas image on the World War I miracle? Click here to find out more!

George Levrier-Jones

Top Posts of the Year - How can a car define a nation?

We started our blog back in the summer, and as we end the year, we’re sharing some of our best and most popular blog posts this week!

In this post we look at the East German car the Trabant, and how it was symbolic about so much of that hardline Communist country.

The author's cousin's chicken coup Trabant top

My cousin lives about an hour north of Berlin, in a cozy, 400 year farmhouse that leans a bit to one side. He has a couple of horses and keeps chickens for eggs. They roam around the enclosed yard, the cut-off top of his old Trabant their chicken coup.

All the cars are good for anymore, he tells me. Who says Germans have no sense of humor? Yet these noisy, unreliable, pollution spilling relics of the Cold War played both a practical and symbolic role in German reunification.

The first Trabant rolled off the Sachsenring assembly line in 1957, and over the next 34 years, over 3 million were produced. Intended to be the East German equivalent of the West German VW Beetle, a variety of models were produced in the decades that followed, including a station wagon, a hatchback and even a convertible.

In some ways, the first Trabants were ahead of their time. While the Big Three automakers in Detroit were coming out with behemoths of steel and chrome, the Trabant was small and light weight, with front wheel drive and a unified body. It got 34 miles to the gallon on the highway. Yet there, the innovation ended. Its two-stroke engine was loud. It belched more pollutants in three seconds as a Mercedes S class does in 30 miles. Its top speed was 70 miles per hour and it could barely manage 62 miles per hour in 21 seconds. Due to a lack of steel in Soviet Bloc countries, the body was made of a Fiberglas-like substance called Duroplast, which included cotton and other organic materials. Rat poison had to be incorporated into its construction, since the rodents had been known to gnaw at them. Due to shortages and the notorious inefficiency of Communist-run factories, East Germans had to wait more than a decade for their new Trabant to be delivered, and when it finally did arrive, they found that it often broke down.

Yet, because the Trabant was the only choice of car for most East Germans, and because it took so long to get one, the Trabant was often prized by its owners. They affectionately (or mockingly, depending on who you ask) called it the Trabi and took great care in maintaining them. This maintenance was made easy by the simplicity of its engine. Most owners could do their own repairs, and the motor was so light that a single person could lift out the engine single-handedly. As the saying went, Mitt Hammer, Zange und Draht, kommst du bis nach Leningrad. - With hammer, pliers and wire, you can get to Leningrad.

Leafing through my cousin’s photo albums from the DDR era, many of the pictures prominently display his Trabi – going on family picnics or a weekend of camping. Often, everyone is posed around the car, as if it was a member of the family.

      Still, jokes abounded:

      Question:   When does a Trabi reach its top speed?

Answer:     When it is towed away.

Question:   Why do some Trabis have heated rear windows?

Answer:     To keep your hands warm while pushing.

Question:   How do you double the value of your Trabant?

Answer:     Fill up its gas tank.

The Trabant was, in essence, the epitome of East German society – unreliable and inefficient, yet somehow managing to function, even if it was just sputtering along. The butt of jokes, but still cherished, because, after all, it was all they had.

In the fall of 1989, I sat in the living room of my Grandmother in Ravensburg, Federal Republic of Germany, and watched on TV as tens of thousands of East Germans flooded into West Germany from Hungary and Czechoslovakia. Some actually walked across open fields. But many drove across the border in their cherished Trabis, packed with people and luggage, the air thick with blue exhaust as they made their way to freedom. It was the beginning of the end for the DDR. The East German government could not quash this exodus, nor could it stop the protests in the streets calling for Democracy. Weeks later, the Berlin Wall fell.

In the years that followed, many East Germans had trouble adjusting to a reunified Germany based on a free market and democracy. Unprofitable and inefficient Communist run factories were closed down and millions who had once had guaranteed work now found themselves without jobs and without the skills needed to find new ones. Like the factories that built it, the Trabant was also considered obsolete. Many East Germans abandoned them once they crossed into West Germany. They could be seen left to decompose in open fields along the roadsides, grass growing tall around them. Some were even left in what had been the No Man’s land between the two Berlins. Still more were ground up and spread across icy roads to provide traction in place of sand and salt. In 1989, a new engine was developed to try to update the car, but it was not enough. It couldn’t meet the West’s strict environmental and safety standards. Production ceased in 1991.

But just as East Germany has slowly adjusted to being part of a greater Germany, so too has the Trabant. Today, it is valued by collectors. They buy them for less than 50 dollars on internet, and then put thousands of dollars into new engines, custom paint jobs and booming stereo systems. Hundreds of web sites are maintained by its devoted fans. In 2009, a prototype electric version of the Trabi, updated to look similar to a Mini, was unveiled at the Frankfurt Auto Show, but is yet to see mass production.

I don’t think my cousin would be interested. Nowadays, he drives a Renault. More dependable and more luxurious. I doubt it would ever make a decent chicken coup.

What cars have impacted countries? Share your thoughts below..

By Manfred Gabriel

Want to know more about East Germany? Click here for our podcast on ex-East German leader Walter Ulbricht.

Of Sailors and Kings - 19th century tattoos

The Victorian era was a time of great conservatism and when tattoos were more than taboo for most of society; however that didn’t stop some of the most important members of the British Royal Family obtaining tattoos – including future Kings!

A young Prince of Wales - the future King Edward VII. Some years after this portrait, he was to receive a tattoo! Alas pictures of the tattoo are difficult to come by,

You might think tattoos only became popular in the 20th century in the West. Well, that is far from being true. In fact, Tattoos were popular amongst various military personnel as well as the highest of the high…

In 1862 no lesser person than the Prince of Wales received his first tattoo. The Prince was the son of Queen Victoria and the future King Edward VII. His tattoo was a Jerusalem cross by Francois Souwan, obtained while he visited Jerusalem. He was then around 20 years old, and sent to the East by Victoria who seemed to have not been particularly fond of her dandy son.

While most British ports had had professional tattoo artists in residence since the 18th century, Edward’s tattoo started a fad among the aristocracy. In 1882, Edward’s sons, the Duke of Clarence and the Duke of York (the later George V), were tattooed by the Japanese tattooist Hoti Chiyo. The Duke of York received a tattoo of a dragon on his arm. Later, the prince received more tattoos from Tom Riley and Sutherland Macdonald.

He wrote in a letter, “we have been tattooed by the same old man who tattooed papa, and the same thing too, five crosses. You ask Papa to show you his arm,” although that sentence has been the subject of debate.

All the 19th century dictionaries and encyclopedias suggest that among Europeans, tattooing was confined to seamen, and sometimes soldiers. The first permanent tattoo shop in New York City was set up in 1846 and later began a tradition by tattooing military servicemen from both sides of the civil war. Samuel O’Reilly invented the electric tattooing machine in 1891.

However, in 1861 the French naval surgeon Maurice Berchon published a study on the medical complications of tattooing, and after this, the navy and army made efforts to ban tattooing within their services.

Another aspect of 19th century tattooing was people who claimed to have been unwillingly tattooed. For example, John Rutherford arrived on the exhibition scene in 1827 with a full Maori Moko tattoo on his face. He made quite a profit from telling how he was captured and tattooed by force.

Sadly, none of the British princes seems to have been keen on showing off their royal tattoos in public and to this day photos are rather difficult to come by.

Do let us know if you come across any!

This article is provided by Geerte de Jong from http://19thcentury.wordpress.com.

Enjoy the article? Well, why not read about the British royal family’s civil war in a very different age? Click here.

The miracle of World War 1 at Christmas. Our image of the week

This week’s image of the week looks at a fascinating time when troops put war aside and celebrated together during the World War I Christmas Truce…

Christmas can be one of the most difficult times of year in war. Away from family. Freezing temperatures. Armaments going off all around. Well, except during Christmas 1914.

In the photograph we can see troops from Germany and Britain staring in to the camera. One appears to be doing some buttons up, while others seem to be smartly dressed in scarves and long coats to fend off the cold. The photo features German soldiers of the 134th Saxon Regiment with the British Royal Warwickshire Regiment. As many troops did that Christmas, they met in No Man’s Land on the Western Front. The photo is dated December 26, 1914.

Want to know more about the Christmas Truce? Take a look at the interactive essay in the new edition of History is Now digital magazine. Click here to find out more!

George Levrier-Jones

Seeking hope in Stalin’s Soviet Union - Communism and Harlem

In this article we preview an article in the current edition of History is Now magazine…

Looking back from today, the Soviet Union in the 1930s may not seem like a promised land, but in Depression-era America many US citizens migrated there. Perhaps the most interesting group who made this journey were African-Americans. In this article we look at the fascinating inter-relationship between Harlem, racial issues, the Great Depression and Communism, and how these factors combined to lead some African-Americans to move to Stalin’s brutal Soviet Union.

A glorified, almost saintly, portrait of Stalin, circa 1937. Alas, behind the surface, Stalin was far from being a saint.

Looking back from today, the Soviet Union in the 1930s may not seem like a promised land, but in Depression-era America many US citizens migrated there. Perhaps the most interesting group who made this journey were African-Americans. In this article we look at the fascinating inter-relationship between Harlem, racial issues, the Great Depression and Communism, and how these factors combined to lead some African-Americans to move to Stalin’s brutal Soviet Union.

In 1917, Russia was a very unstable place. Against the backdrop of the extraordinary suffering that World War I was inflicting on the Russian people, major protests against the government soon produced an earth-shattering change. That change was the Russian Revolution, in which Lenin’s Bolsheviks gained power at the expense of the centuries-old Russian monarchy. After the Revolution, the Russian Civil War broke out, and some Western countries actively supported anti-Bolshevik groups.

One of the reasons for this Western intervention in the Russian Civil War was that the West feared the possibilities for social, economic, political and cultural revolutions that the new Russia brought with it; however, such sentiments were mirrored by the Bolsheviks, who thought that the West might be a territory in which they could expand and grow Communism, although such thoughts did not last.  By the end of the Russian Civil War, the hopes that some Bolsheviks harbored about the potential for exporting revolution across Europe were largely extinguished and the ‘revolutionary moment’ in the aftermath of World War I had expired by the end of 1919. Russia, through the medium of the international Communist group known as the Comintern, found America not to have much revolutionary potential at all, despite its revolutionary tradition.

There was one exception though. Through the filter of Marxist-Leninist discourse, America’s black communities appeared to be fertile ground for the Communist Party of the USA (CPUSA). Their experience of slavery, segregation and Jim Crow seemed to present the party and its leader, Earl Browder, with ideal recruits to the cause. This led to an unsuccessful project to develop an all-black Communist movement in America, and after that failed, an inter-racial party initiative to ‘raise the condition of the blacks’ began in the late 1920s. As we shall see, this initiative, as well as others, produced mixed results. This was no truer than in the place that could claim to be the center of African-American culture at the time, Harlem.

Communism in Harlem

The fact that in Harlem, as Mark Naison shows in Harlem Communists during the Depression, the party was largely unsuccessful in flourishing in a majority black neighborhood, would tend to suggest that while the Comintern looked to African-Americans to be their revolutionary vanguard, most African-Americans had at best mixed feelings towards Communism and the Soviet Union. One factor that played a role in reducing the influence of the CPUSA was that it had to compete with pre-existing, exclusively black organizations such as Marcus Garvey’s United Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) and Thurgood Marshall’s National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP).

Naison’s history of Harlem Communism sees the party pass through several distinct phases; its inception, in the aftermath of World War One (the 1920s), the depression years (1929-34), the Comintern’s attempts at developing a Popular Front (1934-39), and the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact/war years (1939-45). In each phase, Naison shows how African-American Harlemites within and outside of the party transposed their interpretations of the USSR and Soviet Communism on to the challenges facing the black community. Looking internationally for solutions to racism and poverty in America was not a new phenomenon. Marcus Garvey’s UNIA had proposed the resettlement of African-Americans to Africa, after a hypothetical armed uprising had taken place to force out white European colonists. Some African-Americans in the South even looked to Japan to be the world leader of non-white people during the 1930s, given the challenge it presented to the British, French, Dutch and Americans in the Asia-Pacific region. The focus on the USSR as a multi-racial state free of segregation or racial persecution was attractive to a broad range of non-Communist Harlemites, although there is little evidence that the core tenets of Soviet Communism penetrated deeply into the black community.

The CPUSA generated great levels of support in Harlem prior to the Popular Front years when it gained a reputation as being an ally against discrimination. It was helped in this as it championed two high profile cases, the trials of the Scottsboro Boys and of Angelo Herndon. The Scottsboro boys were nine African-American teenagers accused of the rape of two white girls in Alabama on flimsy evidence and sentenced to death. The CPUSA persuaded the families to allow the party, not the NAACP, to represent them. Herndon was an African-American labor organizer sentenced to death in Georgia in 1932 under antiquated laws dating back to the pre-Civil War era that equated such activity with slave insurrection and sedition.

These endeavors from the CPUSA did not automatically translate in to more widespread support for the idea of Communism in African-American communities though.

Cyril Briggs

Naison describes the experience of Cyril Briggs, a West Indian journalist who had been fired from the Harlem Amsterdam News in 1917 for his anti-war stance. Briggs founded the Crusader, a broadly Nationalist magazine espousing ideas that were: “dedicated to a renaissance of Negro power and culture throughout the world.” Briggs was suspicious of Garvey’s dominant Nationalist movement, the UNIA, and despite a strong affinity with Garvey’s emancipatory views, he began to view him with mistrust by 1919 as the anti-Communist crackdown across America gathered pace and Garvey, dismissing key leftists from the UNIA, seemed to be cooperating. His initial Crusader editorials, according to Naison, were ‘strikingly similar’ to Garvey’s views, combining black liberation and Nationalism with anti-capitalism.

Naison identifies Briggs’ initial interest in the Bolshevik Revolution as being based largely on what he saw as the Soviet Union’s ‘anti-imperialist orientation’, which was consistent with his pan-African emancipatory Nationalism; the Soviet Union might not be able to do much to prevent lynchings in the Southern states or the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan, but it could potentially challenge European imperial dominance in Africa and Asia. Unfortunately for Briggs, Lenin’s interest in Africa was minimal. Beyond rhetoric and a small number of African students and revolutionary visitors to Moscow, the USSR was no threat to British, Belgian or French colonies in Africa. Briggs eventually joined the CPUSA in 1920, but his drift to the political left had begun as he moved away from the more accepted Black Nationalist positions of mass repatriation to Africa, and began to argue for a multi-racial, egalitarian America, one that could be achieved through revolution.

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This article is provided by Nick Shepley from www.explaininghistory.com, a site that has a wide array of history ebooks.