Alternative history, counter-factual history—there are a number of ways by which we can designate historical suppositions when, here or there, on one human pathway or another, consideration is given to factors other than those which ultimately proved to determine the course of events. No discipline is more congenial than history to speculation on what might have occurred if, at some forking of the road, affairs had moved in a different direction. There will, of course, always be differences of view on how far the historian may digress from the beaten path in such speculation. He will prove more venturesome if he remains mindful of the fact that all life is shaped by potentialities. Awareness that the more challenging of these should not be ignored professionally is evidenced by the common practice of dwelling on the concluding phases of historical studies on how, at critical junctures, affairs could well have moved in a different direction. In fact, the historian may well discover that the examination of such possibilities can assure a more thorough understanding of what ultimately did occur.
Looking for answers to queries on the “what ifs” of history compels more searching examination of factors which, though not finally determining, still formed a vital part of the fundamental picture. Evaluating and interpreting these factors leads to new avenues of investigation that invite or even compel intensive scrutiny. Response to this challenge is calculated to provide a more comprehensive form of historical analysis. It does not convey a license for descent into flights of fancy. The pages that follow are not the intellectual meanderings of idle hours, but the fruit of intensive analysis. Above all, each of these essays has sought the stamp of plausibility.
Plausibility, as the necessary brake and control element, has been our most essential guide. It is the most vital rule of historical interpretation generally. It is the more essential in view of the inexactitude of so much historical evidence. In his stimulating and provocative presidential address before the December 1986 meeting of the American Historical Association, William H. McNeill stressed “the elastic and inexact” element of history and characterized much of what has been produced as “myth,” largely made-to-order in response to bias, prejudice, and ideological or national interests. McNeill held this to be especially true when dealing with human conduct. He had little faith of its gaining in exactitude through the strivings of iconoclastic revisionists. There seems here a strong argument that only in the light of competing alternatives can one approach objective reality. In its truest sense, history needs to observe that flexibility which is aware at every significant juncture of alternatives and their limitations.
If history, even that which strives most sincerely to approximate the Ranckean ideal of “wie es eigentlich gewesen,” tends to take the form most satisfactory to those who write it, how much less will many expect of its alternative form which lacks the discipline of a factual framework? If, as McNeill argues, the historian is subject to a constant inclination to write what best suits him, how much greater may be the temptation to do so in the relatively unfettered area of alternative history? Awareness of this, especially of taking the “if only” approach, has perhaps led us as often as not to depict a course of events involving even greater hazards or disastrous consequences than those of the road actually thought to have been taken. It has helped to minimize for us the “multiple commitments” that sway us in the study of the past. We can only submit ourselves here to the judgment of our readers.
By attending to the most demanding “what ifs” of history, we can anticipate significant progress in relation to such fundamental and endlessly debated problems of historical interpretation as determinism and the role of accident and of the individual. An impressive number of historians of renown have maintained that “objective historical forces” basically decide the course of human affairs and that little or nothing beyond them can turn them aside. An equally eloquent and probably growing number would hold with Isaiah Berlin that the difficulty with determinism is that one can do nothing with it. If contingency, diversity, personality and chance are to be eliminated from history, he holds, one would find oneself in an area without signposts or dimension. Yet the lives of nations, like those of individuals, are beset by potentialities. Nowhere does this appear more true than in dealing with eras of protracted world conflict when every human resource and social, economic, ethnic and political factor somehow comes into play. In short, except in terms of broadest and most fundamental superiority of resources, the idea of an inevitable outcome is highly questionable.
It is easy to argue persuasively the truism that the lessons of history are best derived from what actually happened, rather than from what nearly happened. It should be added, however, that what happened becomes more fully comprehensible in the light of the contending forces that existed at moments of decision. Understanding of the total historical setting is bound to contribute to a clearer view of the actual course of affairs. Unless we can reconstruct the realities of the historical conjunction, no lesson we can draw from it can achieve completion. Events must be appraised in terms of the competing alternatives if history is to claim subjective reality. As much was stressed by Hugh Trevor-Roper in a provocative essay a half decade ago.1 We should perceive here, he argued, the opportunity for deriving lessons from the past which history as a mere record of decisions will frequently ignore.
In dealing with a protracted conflict period such as that of World War II beginning with numerous European and African theaters and developing into a true world conflict by extension into the Pacific, the number of problems lending themselves to consideration of alternative courses is infinite. Every imaginable area of national and international activity was continually in play. Problems of domestic politics, national policy, diplomacy, coalition affairs, economic mobilization, and social impacts—all were present. And none were more hospitable than those concerned with military affairs to the weighing of alternatives. In both the Atlantic and Pacific areas the clash of armies, navies, and air forces shared in and competed for the limelight. Most fundamentally our selection of “what ifs” for consideration has been guided by the desire to deal with the more significant junctures of the conflict, notably such as have been subjected to widespread controversy. No doubt we have also been mindful of the particular expertise and insights of our contributors.
Inevitably consideration of each “what if” has required a certain amount of background in the form of some review of the actual course of events. In view of the high expertise of the various contributors in the areas with which they deal, early drafts tended to lack focus on the suggested alternative course of affairs. We hope that the end result in each case has been an appropriate balance.
Readers of these pages will here and there discover varying and occasionally clashing viewpoints where topics cross lines or are in some way related. Though in some instances this has been brought to the attention of the concerned contributors, there has been no concerted effort to bring contrasting views into line. Any student of history knows or should know that one frequently gains the most insight from confrontation with opposing interpretations that oblige one to review one's own opinions and to check their logic. It is our conviction, also, that the presentation of varying interpretations can convey better understanding of the complexity of the concerned issues and how much can be gained from looking at problems from varying perspectives.
A number of these essays are the fruit of collaboration. Where this is the case, the order of the names given is entirely alphabetical and in no sense measures relative contributions.
Though most of the discussions in the volume are presented in essay form, in a number of instances contributors have chosen to give freer reign to their imaginations and have developed detailed scenarios. We feel that this diversity of treatment will be welcomed by our readers.
Words fail me in seeking to express my appreciation of the assistance I have received from Edward M. Coffman. “Mac” did not feel sufficiently at home in the World War II era to undertake one of the “what if” assignments, but generously offered to assist in the editorial process to whatever extent we might desire. He has proved a tower of strength in every way we have called upon him; has read pre-final drafts, and made innumerable useful suggestions. We owe him a great debt of gratitude.
Dennis Showalter initially agreed to act as back-up editor in the event it should prove difficult for me to continue. Aside from collaborating with me on a number of essays, he has read and critiqued my personal contributions and has ever been at hand with valuable advice and suggestions. We are particularly grateful for his important assistance in reviewing our practice of footnoting and achieving something like a common pattern.
To our great distress, Captain (Ret.) Paul Schratz died in the very week in which he completed and submitted the final draft of his important chapter on the conclusion of the war with Japan. Paul was the author of a number of important books and served in various significant submarine commands. It grieves us greatly that he can not share in the satisfactions associated with the completion of our project.
Harold C. Deutsch 1997
1 Hugh Trevor-Roper. “The Last Decade in History”, in New York Review of Books, V15/N116. October 27, 1988