An Informed Discussion of the Blockade.

You may be satisfied with the discussion of the blockade of the Straits of Hormuz as presented in the media. If so, great! Want to buy a bridge? Or you may want to know more.

The podcast “School of War” is–so I judge–a right-of-center take on current small wars and demolition. It has the very great virtue of hosting guests who know a lot more than the average person about military and diplomatic affairs. The host is Aaron MacLean. Former Marine officer deployed to Afghanistan; former instructor at the Naval Academy, former staffer for Senator Tom Cotton; book-worm (and so am I). He’s no idiot and his estimable goal is to get his guests to talk about what they know.

He’s branched-out to Youtube. The episode linked here is the second of two recent broadcasts. First one is really good as well. This one will grant you access to a “how it works and what could go right/wrong” take by a knowledgeable person

How Trump’s Blockade of Iran Actually Works with Sal Mercogliano – YouTube

Our War with Iran.

            There were reasonable arguments both for and against war with Iran.[1]  President Donald Trump chose war.  Trump has not offered a clear and persuasive argument for the war.  As is his wont, he has put forth multiple justifications wrapped in clouds of hyperbole.  It has been the same with his evaluations of how the war is progressing.[2] 

The war started well: a decapitation offensive killed much of the senior military, security, and political leadership; the air defenses were largely degraded; ballistic missiles, their launchers, and weapons stockpiles were hit very hard; and the Iranian Navy (such as it was) has been largely destroyed. 

Then, to the apparent surprise of President Trump and Secretary of War Pete Hogwallop, Iran did not surrender.[3]  Pre-war commentary often said that the original widespread revolutionary fervor among Iranians had long since waned.  Now, the ranks of the government were supposed to be filled with careerists mimicking enthusiasm in order to get and keep jobs.  Surely, someone would step up to say “enough is enough!”  This evaluation may have misread the situation.[4]  Rather like the “Black Knight” in “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” Iran refused to concede defeat.  It kept on launching such missiles and drones as it still possessed at its oil-producing neighbors.  It declared the Straits of Hormuz closed.  Perhaps they can’t make good on that decree, but who wants to be on an oil tanker or natural gas container ship if they can?  So, the Strait is mostly closed. 

A two-week cease-fire has been agreed.  The terms are murky and disputed.  In all likelihood, the Iranian government is lying.  In the past, they have denounced as forgeries documents that they signed days before.  Peace-talks were held, but failed.  Now the United States has blockaded Iranian shipping.  Other preparations are undoubtedly underway as the cease-fire clock ticks down.  These preparations may even involve “boots on the ground.” 

            This is not an excuse for quitting on the war that has begun.  Better to see it through.  If we quit now, take some phony deal just to have an “off-ramp,” bad things will happen. 

            We will have run through a lot of our limited stock of munitions for absolutely no gain.  We will be less ready for whatever fight comes next. 

            Our enemies and our friends will see our weakness.  That weakness is in military power, but also in will.  Does anyone really want Iran to obtain nuclear weapons?  Does anyone really want China to seize Taiwan?  Does anyone really want Russia to defeat Ukraine?  Does anyone really want ALL of these things to happen, pretty much simultaneously? 

            Donald Trump started this war on his own, but he can’t be allowed to end it short of victory.  This is America’s war; this is OUR war. 


[1] See: The Argument for War with Iran. | waroftheworldblog ; and The Argument Against War with Iran. | waroftheworldblog 

[2] Not to excuse Trump’s “style,” but after ten years of this kind of thing, you’d think people would accept that it’s how he talks.  Discount the guff and focus on what is consistent.  Counting up all the times that he has over-stated, offended, or lied doesn’t get us anywhere.  Conservative commentators have argued that Progressives often confuse rhetoric with reality.  Acting like Trump is no solution to Trump. 

[3] Neither did Nazi Germany or Imperial Japan when they found themselves in an even worse situation in 1945. 

[4] Possibly, such a misreading could have been based on psychological “projection.” 

The Authoritarian Handbook–V.

The wars themselves, those of the third quarter of the century, had two faces.  Yes, they reshaped the relationships between the so-called “Great Powers.”  They broke the alliance between the arch-conservative powers Austria and Russia; they created two new nations in Italy and Germany; they sent the Austrian Empire spinning toward decay and collapse; and they put a stop to vexing French pretensions to dominate European affairs.  This will gladden the hearts of future historians obsessed by the traditional themes of “Great Men” and dramatic events.[1] 

No, they weren’t chiefly about re-making the balance of power.  Effective “authoritarians” saw that their road to the power to do other things ran through first satisfying a public desire for language-based communities.  That is, “Nationalism” had a powerful grip on the minds of many people.[2]  Some of the benefits of the victory of Nationalism were psychic, rather than material.  People felt pride in their nation.  People felt themselves part of some deeply-rooted and long-denied community.  Parades, flags, memorial columns, school lessons, the talk of older men who had once “done their bit,” and the language itself—salted with historical references and military analogies—all kept the victories of Nationalism alive in the minds of ordinary people. 

Certainly, “authoritarians” could fail of their goals.  Napoleon III gambled on war to shape Italian unification, then saw the Italians escape his leading-strings.  Napoleon III gambled on war to prevent Prussian domination of a unified Germany, then saw his country defeated, replaced by a mere republic that has become a by-word for ineffective government, personal self-indulgence, and scandals.  The Hungarians had wanted national independence, but had to settle for fifty years of partnership with the despised Austrians.  The ungrateful and stupid heirs of Tsar Alexander II never gave a thought to improving the lives of their people.  Their own psychological weakness led them to seek outward shows of authority.  These men were lath painted to look like iron.

So, neither Peace nor War alone guaranteed the survival of “effective authoritarianism.” 


[1] Editor’s Note.  Actually, this “democratizing” critique became a commonplace theme directed against diplomatic and military historians in later, more “progressive” times.  All the same, what are the “Iliad” or “King Henry V” or “War and Peace” about? 

[2] Why language should prevail over other identities—religion, gender, race, or social class—at this hour in history remains a mystery to us. These other forms of identity seem just as vital as does Nationalism.  They might yet provide the basis for a better organization of community.

The Authoritarian Handbook–III.

We have looked at Authoritarianism Past. Let us consider Authoritarianism Present. 

The last century appeared to witness a rising tide of “liberal” governments.  The United States, France, and Great Britain (in that order) all created representative and “responsible” governments with regular elections, guarantees of civil rights, and a free press.[1]  Even here, however, universal manhood suffrage has been slow in coming.  It came soonest in the United States—for White men—by the 1830s.  It came to France after the Revolution of 1848, then became the basis for the “Second Empire” of Napoleon III.  It came to Britain by stages until 1884.  For a hopeless Optimist, these countries formed the vanguard of a world movement, or at least a Western movement.

Nothing could be further from the truth.  Other places moved in that direction, but stopped short at “false-front” parliamentary systems.  These were mere bones thrown to dogs.  In Europe, Imperial Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire exemplify the “false front” approach.  The right to vote was restricted and manipulated; the governments answered to the emperor, rather than the parliament; and other freedoms were restricted.  Italy, Spain, Portugal, Greece have all reached only a primitive stage of even these repressive systems. 

Many other places remained fully “illiberal.”  Look at a map.  Where DON’T you want to go?  The farther East and South you move from London, the more backward and illiberal the economy, the society, and the government become.  Before the War, a novice British journalist asked the Prime Minister of Serbia about the state of industrialization his country.  The Prime Minister replied that “In my country, a match is a machine.”  (And lentil mush, served twice a day, is the only food in Serbian prisons.)  Russia, the Ottoman Empire, and Manchu China were hulking giants of tradition and oppression.  Whips, hangman’s rope, and massacres—done either by government forces or at the behest of government agents—were and are common tools of “stable” government.  Good for foreign corporations, perhaps, but highly unpleasant for the people who eke out a living there.  Now they are all collapsed into revolution and civil war. 

Anywhere one looks in Latin America, such a false-front parliamentary system is the best that can be hoped for.   Everywhere there are long-serving “Presidentes” and be-medaled “caudillos.”  There are national police forces, but no national school systems.  In the Caribbean islands, government oppresses the poor on behalf of the rich until the poor descend into savagery themselves. 

There are gigantic cattle ranches, supplying beef and mutton to Europe. There are huge cotton plantations, crowding out the subsistence farms of humble peons. There are mines carving up mountains in search of every sort of metal. There are national railroad systems to carry all these commodities to seaports for export to “advanced” countries. All are financed by British capital. The rich few keep their wealth in foreign banks, rather than investing in their own countries. Why? Because they know that they live on the edge of a volcano that might explode beneath them at any moment.

The only hope for an ordinary person in any of these places is emigration to somewhere not good, but less bad.  It is a flight without end.[2] 

So, schools without teachers, hospitals without doctors, and elections without voters. This reality is prettied up by Western diplomats and Western journalists and Western travelers who consort with their own types in such countries. But, if one “rides the rails” or lives in rural villages for a time, one comes away with a more accurate understanding of “modern times.”


[1] Eventually, offshoots of Britain introduced the same systems for their own domestic management: Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa. 

[2] Editor’s Note.  Curiously, this is the title of a 1927 novel by Joseph Roth.  This may be pure coincidence.  It may also indicate that at least one of the authors knew Roth.  From 1916 to 1918, Roth served in the Austro-Hungarian army; from 1918 to 1920, he was a journalist in Vienna; and from 1920, he worked in Berlin.  Perhaps they picked up the phrase from Roth before he put it into use as a book title? 

The Argument Against War with Iran.

            Let’s leave aside the reflexive “If Donald Trump does it, then it must be the wrong thing,” response of many people.[1]  What are real arguments against attacking Iran?   

            War with Iran might be smacking a hornet’s nest with a stick.  Iran isn’t much of a threat to the United States at the moment.  Iran doesn’t have nuclear weapons; Iran’s vast stock of ballistic missiles only have the range to hit our regional allies or the US Navy in the northern Indian Ocean, not the heartland.  Iran made no significant response to the Israeli and American killing of its head terrorist, General Qassim Suleimani (2020), or to their attacks on nuclear sites in Summer 2026.  Nor did they do anything to support the Hamas fight inside Gaza or Hezbollah after the Israeli “pager” attack. 

These were limited attacks.  Iran’s rulers could see a huge attack, when combined with the mass protest demonstrations of recent months, and calls for regime change, as a mortal threat to the Islamic revolution.  This combination of threats could tip the regime over the edge into a wide ranging counter-attack.  This might combine attacks on American bases in the Middle East (and on the friendly governments that host those bases), a new “tanker war” to close the Straits of Hormuz oil-shipping lanes, and terrorism abroad.[2]  In short, we should be afraid, very afraid. 

            “Regime change” is going to be hard to do and the effort would have an uncertain  outcome.  On the one hand, airpower has been oversold from when it was just a twinkle in the eyes of Billy Mitchell and Arthur “Bomber” Harris.  The Second World War offers abundant proof that strategic bombing alone, whether of the “carpet” or “precision” variant, isn’t enough to win a war against a determined opponent.  Successfully attacking key Iranian nuclear sites in Summer 2025 didn’t budge the regime.  Do we want to commit ground forces to finish the job? 

On the other hand, Iraq (2003), Egypt (2011-2012), Libya (2011).  The United States intervened in all these places to change the regime.  Each adventure ended badly.  Foreign countries are just as complex societies as our own.  They are just as full of factions, conflicts, ambitions, and hatreds.  Dictatorships tend to repress these forces, while—alas—democracy allows them full play.  What if we pitch Iran from tyranny into civil war? 

            The Iranians have said that they will agree to never pursue nuclear weapons.  Why not take the win?  Declare victory and negotiate a mutually satisfactory form of words.  That form of words would include an Iranian commitment to never pursue nuclear weapons; to close its nuclear weapons sites (Fordo, Isfahan, Natanz); and to commit to not enrich uranium beyond a low level; all of it under close international supervision.[3]   

We should not run grave risks for very uncertain outcomes. 

This isn’t to say that we should do nothing.  The regime is unpopular with many Iranians.  The US can covertly support selected dissidents in hopes that Iran will have a better revolution. 


[1] It’s an understandable response, but not entirely correct. 

[2] The threat is not to be sneezed at.  It has been credibly alleged that Iran inspired the bombing of the US Marine and French Foreign Legion barracks in Beirut, the US Air Force residence in Saudi Arabia, and Jewish sites in Argentina.  See: Anthony H. Cordesman, The Iran-Iraq war and Western Security, 1984–1987: Strategic Implications and Policy Options (1987); James Risen and Jane Perlez, “Terrorism and Iran: Washington’s Policy Performs a Delicate Balancing Act,” The New York Times, 23 June 2001; and Daniel Politi, “Argentine Court Says Iran Was Behind Israeli Embassy and Jewish Center Attacks,” The New York Times, 12 April 2024. 

[3] See: Nicholas Kristof, “The Folly of Attacking Iran,” NYT, 1 March 2026. 

The French War in Indochina, 1946 to 1954 Part 1B

The Backwater in a Global War. 

Developments in French Indochina depended on the course of the Second World War, in which the French colony played no important part.  In Summer 1940, Germany defeated France and drove the British off the Continent.  In this moment of crisis, the French Third Republic gave way to the “Vichy Regime.”  Germany held the whip hand over Vichy: the Germans occupied two-thirds of the country (and eventually all of it); retained hundreds of thousands of French P.O.W.’s; and ruthlessly exploited the French economy.  At home, Vichy pursued a “National Revolution,” while simultaneously trying to defend its overseas empire.  The latter proved to be difficult.  Dissident and colonial nationalists sought to engage the “Anglo-Saxons.”  Eventually, French possessions in the Levant, the South Pacific, and Africa all fell under the control of anti-Vichy forces. 

A variety of this larger pattern arose in French Indochina.  There, the colonial administration declared for Vichy.  Almost immediately, predators gathered.  In this case, it was Japan.  Japan had been at war in China since 1937.  As the Japanese campaign had bogged down short of a Chinese surrender, Japan had sought to cut off the sources of external aid to China.  These ran through British-ruled Burma and French-ruled Indochina.  The rise of German power in Europe came to pre-occupy British and French leaders.  Painfully aware of their own weaknesses, Britain and France increasingly sought to accommodate Japan in the Far East. 

Only meager French forces defended the colony.  The “Colonial Army” consisted of French soldiers of the all-volunteer force (sometimes called “Marines”) and regiments of indigenous troops under French officers.  In addition, there were three battalions of the Foreign Legion.  The regiments of indigenous troops—“Tirailleurs”–numbered about 48,000 men, the French and Legion troops numbered about 17,000 men.  Neither supplies nor new recruits reached Indochina after France’s defeat in 1940.  French air forces in Indochina totaled only about 100 planes, many of them obsolete.  The French Navy ships in Indochina consisted of a light cruiser and at least four corvettes. 

In July 1940, Governor Admiral Jean Decoux signed an agreement with Japan under duress.  It allowed Japan to station forces in Indochina and to transit through the territory for other operations.  Then Japan exploited France’s subordination to Japan’s ally Germany to extract more substantial concessions.  In September 1940, Japanese troops marched into the northern territory of Tonkin; less than a year later, in July 1941, they moved into southern Indochina.  Just as Vichy served as Germany’s puppet in the metropole, so did the French colonial administration serve as a Japanese puppet in Indochina.  Thereafter, French troops still manned the defenses; French bureaucrats still handled the pettifoggery; French businessmen and planters still managed the economy.  All was done under the suspicious gaze of the Japanese.[1] 

Already in control of much of China, from late 1941 to mid-1942, Japan’s military over-ran a vast swath of territory belonging to the Western powers.  British Malaya, the Dutch East Indies, the American Philippines, and a host of islands to the south and east all passed under Japanese rule.  French Indochina lay isolated at the center of the Japanese empire.  Then the tide of Japanese victory began to ebb, as did that if its ally Germany.  By Summer 1944, the final outcome of the war seemed as certain as can be in anything so risky and surprising as war.  The Anglo-Americans liberated France and joined the Soviet Union in the direct assault on Germany.  A long string of American victories in the Pacific had destroyed Japanese naval power and brought American bombers within range of the Home Islands. 

A footnote to these great events appeared in the effort by the government of liberated France to assert its control over French Indochina.  In 1940, Winston Churchill had ordered the creation of a new organization to assist anti-German resistance movements in Europe.  This “Special Operations Executive” (S.O.E.) then added a Far Eastern element (Force 136) to work against the Japanese.  In later 1944 and 1945, Force 136 airdropped 40 French “Jedburghs”[2] into northern Indochina.  These men had exciting adventures, but made little difference on the ground. 

More importantly, Governor Admiral Decoux grew restive under Japanese control as Japan’s own doom drew near.  He made contact with the new government in France; he began to prepare an uprising against the Japanese; and he refused to turn over to the Japanese American Navy fliers downed during a carrier raid in the South China Sea. 

The carrier raid into the South China Sea alarmed the already-edgy local Japanese commander.[3]  He feared an imminent American invasion of Indochina and had some knowledge of Decoux’s preparation for a French uprising.  The Japanese Army began moving troops from surrounding areas into Indochina, almost doubling the size of the occupation force by the end of February 1945.  They spread out to key positions around the country.  On 9 March 1945, after obtaining permission from the government in Tokyo, Japanese troops in Indochina swarmed over the French garrisons around the colony.  The French fought in a number of places, but all resistance had ended by mid-March 1945.  As often had been the case during the Japanese offensive wave of 1941-1942, victories were accompanied by massacres of their defeated opponents. 

            The Vietnam Famine of 1944-1945.[4] 

            The global war weighed heavily upon political events in Indochina.  The same can be said of other, non-political events.  So, too, did other larger forces. 

            Coastal Vietnam had long suffered from droughts, floods, and typhoons.  All of these threatened the food supply.  Before the French arrived, the government had created rice storehouses.  French construction of a north-south coastal railroad drew part of its motivation from the desire to move food from the Mekong in the south to the central coast and mountains.  The French also built substantial flood control and irrigation infrastructure.  During the Depression of the 1930s, the French colonial administration had encouraged the cultivation of cash crops.  This did not seriously harm food production. 

The war seriously disrupted the rice market.  For one thing, the French government had imposed a mandatory government purchasing system which fixed a price paid to producers for the rice.[5]  The producer price remained fixed, while the sale price of rice on the market soared.  Ordinary peasants could not purchase enough rice to feed their families or plant for the next season.[6]  For another thing, the Japanese Army fed itself off local food production.  The presence of an eventual total of 140,000 Japanese troops meant that there were many more mouths to feed.  Moreover, the Japanese had the determination and the means to see that their troops got adequately fed, regardless of who else did not.  The food supply available for civilians shrank, while the market price rose.  Military factors compounded the difficulties.  The Japanese commandeered all sea vessels of more than 30 tons displacement.  Off and on, American planes attacked coastal shipping and the north-south railroad.  These attacks further disrupted the shipment of food to the hardest-hit areas.  Famine became widespread in the north during 1945. 

            The “Empire of Vietnam.” 

            A knock-on effect of the Japanese coup against the French came in the creation of a new “puppet state,” this one led by Vietnamese.  It marked the first play of the nationalist card as a device to maintain outside control.  It would not be the last. 

On 11 March 1945, two days after the Japanese “coup” began, the Emperor Bao Dai read a speech prepared for him by a minor[7] Japanese official.  He declared independence for the “Empire of Vietnam,” with himself as the head of state.  Two chief tasks preoccupied the emperor for the next six months.  First, the political structures of the new nation had to be created.  Second, Tonkin and Annam remained administratively separate from Cochinchina.  His government pursued national unification. 

As a first order of business, Bao Dai appointed Tran Trong Kim as his prime minister.[8]  Tran, in turn, began assembling a cabinet.  It would be considered a cabinet of “technical experts,” rather than a collection of representatives of any particular political outlook.[9] 

The work of the brief Tran Trong Kim government reminds one of the “Professors’ Parliament” of Germany during the Revolution of 1848-1849.  At the same time, they had no knowledge of future external events that would shape political developments.  For them, the cliché “the fog of war” was very real.  All the war news brought ill-tidings for Japan.  Who could tell when the roof would fall in?  On the other hand, France had been wrecked by the war and the Vietnamese had seen the French in Indochina humbled.  Real independence might well be within reach, particularly if it had the support of the Americans and the Nationalist Chinese.  What was worth doing that might set the stage for future developments?  The emperor, his prime minister, and the cabinet spent several months figuring out what to try to do in the very uncertain conditions. 

By the second half of June 1945, they were ready to take the next steps.  The Emperor created four committees: a “National Consultative Committee”; a committee on a constitution; a committee on basic administrative systems (administrative reform, legislation, and finance); and a committee on education.  They also worked on fostering a sense of national identity.  They designed a flag and  they renamed the country’s regions.  The set up a committee to pick national heroes for inclusion in a “Temple of Martyrs,” city streets were renamed from the French colonial names.  In some places French statues were torn down to remove a reminder of French triumphalism over the indigenous population. 

The Justice Minister amnestied some of the political prisoners held by the French.  They proclaimed freedom of the press.  A tide of anti-French publications flowed in.  Later, the criticism would turn against the emperor’s government.  The government, made up of middle-aged men, sought to mobilize “Youth” for the national cause.  Physical training and small-group organization presaged the formation of military units.  Sometimes “Youth” had other ideas.  Very soon the university at Hanoi became a hotbed of political activism. 

The second axis of effort for the “Empire of Vietnam” lay in creating territorial unity.  The French had established a “colony” in Cochinchina in the far south; then had established “protectorates” over Annam in the center and Tonkin in the north.  When the Japanese had prompted the declaration of independence by the “Empire of Vietnam” in March 1945, they had allowed Bao Dai authority over only Tonkin and Annam.  Cochinchina, far closer to the approaching enemy, remained under direct Japanese control.   Bao Dai insisted that the Japanese engage in negotiations to complete the unification of the country. 

In May and June 1945, Bao Dai’s Foreign Minister Tran Van Chuong eroded the Japanese resistance.  Eventually, in July, the Japanese yielded.  They agreed to begin the process of uniting Cochinchina with Annam and Tonkin.  Under normal conditions, this would have been a substantial victory for Indochinese nationalism.  Conditions weren’t normal. 

Most importantly, the famine entered its most severe stage in late 1944 and continued to wreak havoc through mid-1945.  Committees, flags, and formalities of diplomacy disappeared in significance when people could see the streets littered with emaciated corpses.  The inability of the “Empire of Vietnam” to respond effectively undermined its legitimacy in the eyes of many Vietnamese. 

This is not to say that the government stood around with its hands in its pockets.  However, the government’s response was confused.  The government liberalized the regulations on the rice trade to encourage entrepreneurs to buy and transport rice and the Minister of Supply was ordered to Saigon to co-ordinate famine aid.  It also worked against liberalization by imposing new controls on prices and stockpiles and it created a “Northern Economic Intelligence Service” to crack-down on smuggling.  The crux of the matter lay in the fall off in the rice harvest combined with the Japanese primacy in feeding their troops.  Eventually, the crisis eased, but not from government efforts.  Good harvests returned in May and June 1945, and—as a result of the famine–there being many fewer mouths left to feed.  Estimates vary between half a million and two million deaths during the famine.  Fairly or unfairly, the “Empire of Vietnam” bore much of the blame in the eyes of ordinary people. 

The “Empire of Vietnam” held no monopoly on organizing for the future.  When the Japanese overthrew French rule, the Viet Minh took action.  Hanoi and the port of Haiphong in the north, Saigon in the south, and Hue in the center formed the essential Japanese goals.  Japanese forces had little presence in the countryside beyond guarding lines of supply.  Beyond that, they wanted things quiet at a low cost to themselves.  They expected the “Empire of Vietnam” to maintain orderly government that did not interfere with Japanese activities.  For the Viet Minh, opportunity knocked. 

In a meeting in Hanoi in the third week of April 1945, the Viet Min’s Tonkin Revolutionary Military Conference struck a militant nationalist pose that set it apart from the cautious gradualism of the “Empire of Vietnam.”  They made a rhetorical call for resistance—an uprising, guerrilla war–against the Japanese. 

The Viet Minh had no real military force to speak of.  Much attention has focused on the group of soldiers from the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS) who parachuted into northern Vietnam on 16 and 29 July 1945.  The set about creating a training program for Viet Minh recruits.  They also provided the weapons for several hundred Viet Minh soldiers.  However, they only remained in Vietnam until the end of August.  In all likelihood, much more help came from several hundred Japanese soldiers, either prisoners or deserters from the Japanese Army, who served with and advised the Viet Minh.  In any event, the Viet Minh didn’t do much fighting against the Japanese.  They didn’t have the forces for it. 

The real focus of their efforts lay toward the future.  They called for independence from France.  They denounced the “Empire of Vietnam” as a Japanese puppet.  They created seven military districts.  The countryside lay open before them.  Faced with famine, the Viet Minh led peasants in the seizure and distribution of the contents of 75-100 warehouses full of rice.  They intimidated tax collectors.  None of this did much to ease the famine, but it was dramatic and visible.  In contrast, the actions of the government were bureaucratic and veiled.  Many a peasant must have said “At least the Viet Minh did something!”  Peasant recruits began to come in.[10]  Like Bao Dai’s government, the Viet Minh wanted to lay the foundation for action in the near future. 


[1] The Japanese left it to the French to stamp out local revolt (Cochinchina, November-December 1940).   

[2] There are several academic books on the ”Jeds,” but you’re best served by consulting David Hogan, U.S. Army Special Operations in World War II (Center for Military History, 1992).  See: Wayback Machine 

[3] On the raid, see: South China Sea raid – Wikipedia 

[4] Geoffrey Gunn, Rice Wars in Colonial Vietnam: The Great Famine and the Viet Minh Road to Power (Rowman and Littlefield, 2014) is deeply researched. 

[5] This was an extension of the wartime farm price purchasing system adopted in metropolitan France.  There it led to an extensive black market. 

[6] The government price for 1943 was 1.4 piastres/10 kilograms.  The market price rose to 6-7 piastres in mid-1944.  During the height of the famine in 1945, the market price rose to 60-70 piastres/10 kilograms. 

[7] Minor in the scheme-of-things.  I’m sure that Yokoyama Seiko, the Minister of Economic Affairs at the Japanese diplomatic mission, gloried in his elevated position. 

[8] On Tran, see: Tran Trong Kim – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia 

[9] The article on Tran, Tran Trong Kim – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, lists the cabinet members with links to the biographies in the Vietnamese Wikipedia. 

[10] There is another aspect to the famine that is worth exploring.  What social and psychological effects did the famine have on the worst-hit area? The famine was concentrated in the north.  This area became the base of the Viet Minh.  Doubtless, much of this depended upon proximity to China.  The Chinese Communist Party could offer some support and shelter to Indochinese Communists.  Covert travel to Annam and Cochinchina would be much more difficult.  Still, the failings of the Bao Dai government’s response would have been stark in the north, less so in the south.  Moreover, all the deaths would have torn apart families and villages.  Networks of social and intergenerational support—and obligation or duty—would have broken down.  Parents, wives, siblings, children would have died.  Perhaps many young men lost all the ‘hostages to fortune” that held them in place in their village.  Why not go to the forests and find a Cause for which they could fight?   From starvation to depression: unveiling the link between the great famine and late-life depression – PMC 

War Movies: “Anthropoid” (2016).

If you want a look at a true case of “state-sponsored terrorism” and at one approach to counter-terrorism, watch “Anthropoid” (dir. Sean Ellis, 2016).  It gives a compelling view of the May 1942 assassination of Reinhard Heydrich (the head of the Reich Main Security Office and also “Reich Protector of Bohemia and Moravia”[1]) and of what followed. 

In the movie, the motive for the assassination is the desire on the part of the Czech government-in-exile to inspire more resistance in the Nazi-occupied country.  The team of killers (Josef Gabcik, Jan Kubis[2]) is air-dropped at night; overcome difficulties to reach Prague; find that the Germans have wrecked the resistance movement and they must rely upon a small group of locals; eventually, they are joined by some other parachutists who had been dropped later; and they improvise an attack on Heydrich.  The German is mortally wounded; a gigantic manhunt begins; the Germans track the parachutists to a Prague church; and one hell of a gunfight ensues.  The few surviving parachutists kill themselves rather than be taken alive. 

The movie strives for realism: it was filmed in Prague and mostly on the sites where events occurred; the pervasive fear of the Germans among the Czechs is brought out, not minimized; the semi-botched assassination is clearly portrayed; and the ferocious Nazi manhunt should leave anyone squirming. 

Still, the movie simplifies or omits some things.  First, it begins with Gabcik and Kubis on the ground in a Czech forest.  The movie elides the origins of “Operation Anthropoid.”  In fact, Eduard Benes, the leader of the Czech government-in-exile, feared that the West would sell out his country after the war if the Czechs didn’t show some fight.  The British and French had surrendered the Sudetenland to Hitler at Munich (September 1938) and had shrugged their shoulders when Germany occupied the rest of the country (March 1939).  Several thousand Czech soldiers had found their way to the West before the Second World War began (September 1939), but this wasn’t much of a contribution.  Internal resistance had mostly been the work of the Czech Communist Party after Germany attacked the Soviet Union (June 1941).  If the Germans lost the war, the Communists might claim a moral right to rule as the only true “resisters.”   A dramatic act might arouse non-Communist resistance, but it would surely make the government-in-exile appear to be doing something.  So, kill Heydrich now for a distant gain.    

Second, Heydrich had crushed the resistance by a combination of carrot and stick.  He had good material.  Few Czechs wanted to run risks for the sake of the Western powers that had betrayed them before.  Wages and working conditions in factories were improved at the same time that Gestapo penetration agents combatted the Communist underground. 

Third, the Germans unleashed a savage response to the attack on Heydrich.  Mass arrests; right to torture in the pursuit of some clue; massacres of villages on the mere rumor that someone had sheltered the killers.  In a society where few people actually backed resistance, this worked.  Finally, one of the parachutists betrayed someone else to save his own family; and the betrayed finally gave up the hiding place of the other parachutists. 

“The Battle of Algiers” openly confronts truths that “Anthropoid” skims over. 


[1] Also the driving force behind the implementation of the Holocaust.  On this, see: “Conspiracy” (dir. Frank Pierson, 2001), with Kenneth Branagh as Heydrich and Stanley Tucci as Adolf Eichmann. 

[2] Played by Cillian Murphy and Jamie Dornan respectively. 

An Episode of Appeasement: The Anglo-German Naval Pact, June 1935 4.

            Having decided to accept the German proposal for talks on a naval agreement, the government spent the next few months quietly setting the stage.  First, in January 1935, the Foreign Secretary, Sir John Simon, informed King George V that an agreement might help get Germany back into “the comity of nations.”  In February 1935, Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald met with the then very anti-German French Prime Minister Pierre Laval.  The “communique” afterward expressed their hope that talks with Germany would lead to enhanced security in Europe.  In late March 1935, Simon had a preliminary meeting with Hitler in Berlin.  The German dictator told Simon that he was done with the arms limitations imposed by Versailles Treaty.  Germany would expand its army from the 100,000-man limit imposed by Versailles to 500,000 men, begin conscription, and build an air force.  However, Hitler would make commitments to Britain to limit naval forces.  Hitler also announced that Joachim von Ribbentrop, a Nazi schemer, rather than an experienced diplomat, would lead the German delegation in such talks. 

Yet no talks began.  The British foreign policy-makers were divided in their attitudes.  Sir Robert Vansittart, the chief British diplomat, believed that Hitler meant to conquer all of Europe, so the best solution was a strong alliance with France, Italy, and even the Soviet Union if necessary.  Anthony Eden, the second-ranking political figure at the Foreign Office, wanted British commitment to Western Europe, but would abandon Eastern Europe; he also put more stock in the League of Nations than in an Italian alliance.  Sir John Simon, the Foreign Secretary, had no views of his own and went where Vansittart pushed. 

The British were busy negotiating the “Stresa Pact” with France and Italy.  Signed on 14 April 1935, it committed Britain, France, and Italy to resist any future German violations of the Versailles Treaty.  The Stresa Pact” could not be squared with a bilateral Anglo-German agreement to violate the naval limits in the treaty. 

At the end of April 1935, the Germans prodded the British by informing them that they had launched new U-Boats and had begun construction of 12 more.  They meant “We’re going ahead; with or without you.”  This got the British moving.  On 29 April 1935, Simon told the House of Commons that Germany had begun building U-Boats; on 2 May 1935, Prime Minister MacDonald told the Commons that he would seek a naval agreement with Germany. 

Things moved fast.  Ribbentrop came to London on 2 June 1935.  On 4 June, he told the British that Germany would accept the 35 percent ratio, but nothing less, and that the British had a few days to decide.  Simon, the Foreign Secretary, walked out in answer to such rude behavior.  Stil, on 5 June the government accepted Ribbentrop’s proposal.  Two days later, Simon left the Foreign Office and Sir Samuel Hoare became Foreign Secretary.  During further discussions, the Germans accepted the British requirement that the German fleet be symmetrical with the Royal Navy.  The two parties signed the completed agreement on 18 June 1935. 

The Anglo-German agreement enraged the French.  Britain had not consulted the French or the Italians.  The agreement of the British and Germans to “legalize” a violation of the disarmament clauses of the Versailles treaty could not be squared with the “Stresa Pact.”  It appeared to fall into the tradition of “Perfidious Albion.”  It’s hard to form an alliance against a common danger when the parties don’t trust each other.  That’s part of the story of appeasement. 

An Episode of Appeasement: The Anglo-German Naval Agreement, June 1935 3.

            Adolf Hitler’s view of Britain wavered between implacable foe and natural partner in a division of the world.  In Mein Kampf (1925), he castigated Imperial Germany for pursuing a pointless fleet-building program that forced Britain into alliance with its traditional colonial enemies France and Russia.  In the “Hossbach Memorandum” (1937) he described both France and Britain as “hate-filled” opponents who would never accept Germany’s revival.  In 1934-1935 he still had hopes of winning over Britain, if only to disrupt the emerging Franco-British-Italian common front. 

            In November 1934, the Germans told the British that they wanted to reach a bilateral agreement that would allow the Germany navy to rise to 35 percent of the British navy.[1]  The offer simultaneously attracted and disturbed the British.  The Germans seemed bent on rearming in defiance of the Versailles Treaty in any case.  The British most feared German bombing of cities.  An agreement on navies could lead to an agreement on air forces.  So, the German offer deserved consideration. 

Several questions had to be resolved.  First, could Britain tolerate ANY German naval rearmament?  The Royal Navy had to be dispersed to meet its global responsibilities, while a German fleet would be concentrated in the North Sea and North Atlantic.  Could Britain defend itself in Europe against a fleet one-third the size of the Royal Navy? 

Second, would it be best to shape that rearmament to the kind of German fleet would be easiest to deal with?  Would such a German fleet be symmetrical with the Royal Navy (in battle ships, cruisers, destroyers, submarines)?  Or would it be a “lighter” fleet organized for attacking merchant shipping (lots of submarines and light cruisers, but few battleships)? 

Third, British rearmament would prioritize the Royal Navy and the Royal Air Force, while German rearmament was already prioritizing the Army (Wehrmacht) and the Air Force (Luftwaffe).  Both the British Army and the Germany Navy got the leftovers.  Expert opinion held that the Germany Navy would not reach 35 percent of the present Royal Navy until 1942.  By that time the Royal Navy would have been greatly expanded.  The Germans would never really catch up.  Seen from this perspective, a naval agreement might be a strategically meaningless concession while perhaps improving the climate of relations between the two countries.  A more meaningful agreement on air forces might follow. 

Fourth, the agreement could create diplomatic problems with the French.  Britain and France were working up a common front with Italy to check further German violations of Versailles.[2]  A bilateral agreement to end the naval disarmament conditions of the multi-lateral Versailles Treaty would be understood in France as both slimy and a betrayal. 

            Committees considered the issues.  They concluded that a German fleet 35 percent the size of the Royal Navy marked the maximum that could be accepted, but it could be accepted.  It would be best to insist upon a symmetrical fleet to short-stop one organized for a “guerre de course.”  A naval agreement should be followed by pursuit of an agreement on air forces.  Finally, “the French be damned” went unspoken, but not unthought. 


[1] Joseph Maiolo, The Royal Navy and Nazi Germany, 1933–1939: Appeasement and the Origins of

the Second World War in Europe (1998). 

[2] See No more coals to Newcastle. | waroftheworldblog 

An Episode in Appeasement: The Anglo-German Naval Agreement, June 1935 2.

            Various “truths” emerged from the early histories of the origins of the First World War.  Prominent among them: arms races lead to war, so—by implication–disarmament would lead to peace.   The reasoning behind this “truth” ran something like the following.  Military equality led to stability.  Military inequality led to instability.  Military inequality could emerge from either countries creating larger armies or from new technologies.  Imbalances of either sort created a sense of insecurity on the weaker side and aggressive behavior on the stronger side.  Building up one’s own power to restore stability became an entrenched response.  Mutual fear and suspicion became entrenched, building up psychological tension.  Linked to this idea of a spiral of power and fear, was a belief that the “Merchants of Death” (MOD) winding-up governments and publics in order to increase their profits.  Corrupt politicians and journalists served the MOD as the agents of influence.  After the war, disarmament became one chief purpose of diplomacy. 

            Therefore, naval armaments remained a live subject after the First World War.  The Washington Naval Conference (1922) had agreed on a ratio of 5:5:3:1.75:1.75 in the number of battleships and battlecruisers between Britain, the United States, Japan, France, and Italy.  The Geneva Naval Conference (1927) tried and failed to strike an agreement on the size and number of cruisers.  The American and British concepts could not be reconciled.[1]  The issues were revived, and this time agreed upon, in the London Naval Treaty (1930).  The countries compromised on different classes of cruisers, while also limiting submarines and destroyers.[2] 

Germany participated in none of these conferences because its navy had been severely limited by the Versailles Treaty.  The Versailles Treaty did allow Germany to replace existing ships once they were at least 20 years old.  The oldest of its battleships had been built in 1902, so by the mid-Twenties, Germany designed a new type of ship, the “Panzerkreuzer” (or “pocket battleship”).  When the wartime Allies learned of these ships, they tried to prevent their construction.  Germany offered to not build the ships in exchange for admission to the Washington naval treaty with a limit of 125,000 tons.  The Americans and British were willing to appease German demands, but the French refused. 

Meanwhile, Germany argued that either all countries should disarm or Germany should be allowed to rearm to the level of other countries.  The League of Nations and many right-thinking people took this argument at face value, so it sponsored a World Disarmament Conference (1932-1933). 

Mid-stream, Hitler came to power, abandoned the Disarmament Conference (October 1933), and announced that Germany would rearm in defiance of the Versailles Treaty.  On the one hand, this tipped Britan toward a policy of gradual rearmament (1935-1939).[3]  On the other hand, it led to the creation of the Stresa Agreement (14 April 1935) between Britain, France, and Italy to resist future German violations of Versailles.  Could the “allies” maintain solidarity?  Yet no British leader wanted war.  Could Germany be either deterred or appeased?  


[1] The British wanted more light cruisers for protecting imperial trade routes, the Americans wanted fewer, but heavier cruisers.  The Japanese wanted a ratio of 70 percent of the American fleet, not the same 5:5:3 ratio of 1922. 

[2] One effect of the naval treaties combined with the Great Depression appeared in the collapse of the British shipbuilding industry.  Beating arms into breadlines, so to speak. 

[3] British rearmament in the Thirties. | waroftheworldblog