by Nicholas Efstathiou
I answer a lot of questions as a high school history teacher. This one, asked by one of my students, was difficult to answer.
My student posed the question after we reviewed some recent events, beginning specifically with the current administration’s statements regarding Canada and Greenland. I have taught that both countries are our long-term allies, that we can rely on them economically and militarily. I have discussed Canadian troops operating alongside U.S. forces in Afghanistan and how the Danes suffered the second-highest casualties (per capita) in Afghanistan, behind the U.S.
It comes as no surprise, then, that the students are confused by the administration’s desire to take Canada as the 51st state and to seize control of Greenland for security purposes. Some might wonder why the students are confused, and I hope to answer that question here, as I have in the classroom.
Since the end of World War II, the United States has held the dominant seat in the world’s hierarchy. Our nation’s logistical capabilities, determination to bring the fight to the enemy, and vast wealth placed us in a unique position among the surviving world powers. For a brief time after the war, we were still providing financial and material assistance to the Soviet Union, which was reeling from the devastation inflicted by the German Army and the Soviet policy of scorched earth as a defensive tactic. Japan had been burned and radiated by firebombings and the use of atomic weapons. Large portions of England had been devastated during the relentless bombings by the German Air Force. France had suffered under Allied bombings and the passage of Allied armies en route to Germany.
Germany was a shadow of its former self. Cities had been obliterated, and the country’s political and social structures were in shambles. Add to that the horrific realities of concentration camps, death camps, and POW camps controlled by the Germans, and it is not difficult to see that the U.S. held not only financial and economic superiority but also moral superiority. Yes, we had imprisoned our Japanese citizens, but we didn’t put them to death. The U.S. had its own shame, but not on the level of Germany’s “Final Solution” or the nightmare unleashed on the city of Nanking by the Japanese.
When President Harry Truman’s Secretary of State, George Marshall, flew over Europe and saw the devastation wrought by the war, he helped create what would later be known as the Marshall Plan. This plan—the Economic Recovery Plan of 1948—was designed to rebuild the infrastructure of not only our allies but of our enemies as well.
For decades, the United States has helped other nations. Yes, we placed embargoes on some countries. Yes, we invaded or assisted in the invasion of others. However, one fact that has been driven home is the loyalty of the United States to its allies. News outlets, teachers, parents, and social organizations have always stressed loyalty. We have heard how we stood by the British in both World Wars, South Korea when the North invaded in 1950, and our allies in South Vietnam when they asked for assistance.
But what we weren’t told is as important as what we were.
We weren’t told about the abandonment of South Vietnamese troops and citizens with our withdrawal from the country, or of the Montagnards left to face the racism and revenge of the North Vietnamese and the Viet Cong. Today’s news stories rarely highlight the thousands of Afghans abandoned in Afghanistan, or how the Taliban hunts down and executes those who helped us.
To speak about this destroys the narrative of the United States as the cavalry riding in to save the day.
But if we did speak about this—if we did teach this—it would be easier to explain the current situation the U.S. faces. If we had frank discussions about the abandonment of allies and at-risk individuals (Saigon in 1975 and Kabul in 2021), our students would understand that the United States has often had transactional relationships with its allies. This is not a negative truth, but omitting this information leads people to believe the United States has always acted in an altruistic manner.
With an understanding of the U.S.’s past, students might find it easier to comprehend—though not necessarily accept—why the current administration is advocating for the acquisition of Canada, Greenland, and the Panama Canal. While other administrations would use the promise of the carrot—benefits to the host country for allowing the U.S. to increase or establish a presence—this administration is using the threat of the stick.
The President has not ruled out the use of military force to achieve his goals regarding the acquisition of new territories. While there has been a significant amount of back-and-forth between the United States, Canada, Greenland, Denmark, and Panama, there has yet to be any troop movement.
What is unfortunate is that this is not abnormal for U.S. history. In fact, it ties in quite nicely with President Trump’s favorite period of U.S. history—the Gilded Age. The Gilded Age was a time of unimaginable wealth. Unimaginable because those who had it, had it. We can still see their summer homes in Newport, Rhode Island, and the legacies of their wealth around the country. And it was unimaginable for those who did not have it. The poor during the Gilded Age were poor beyond measure. There were no safeguards for the working class, no protections should they become incapable of working. It was labeled the Gilded Age by Mark Twain, who said, “The golden gleam of the gilded surface hides the cheapness of the metal underneath.”
The Gilded Age was also a time of expansion for the United States. It saw the conquest of the Midwest and the acquisition of territories from Spain at the end of the Spanish-American War. It was a time of “might makes right.” The United States took Hawaii and the Philippines for military and trade purposes—though under the guise of liberating them both.
This history is what makes answering “Are we the bad guys?” difficult.
At times, we certainly were.
What I tell my students is that I hope we can keep my answer firmly rooted in the past. I hope I can say, “Yes, we were the bad guys when we invaded the Philippines. Yes, we were the bad guys when we sought the destruction of Native American cultures. Yes, we were the bad guys when we imprisoned Japanese Americans for the crime of being Japanese.”
I don’t want to answer in the present tense. I don’t want to teach about an invasion of Canada, Greenland, or Panama.
I don’t want to tell them, “Yes, we are the bad guys.”
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Nicholas Efstathiou is a husband, father, and grandfather, as well as a dedicated history teacher and author of Killers in Their Youth. Beyond teaching, he enjoys reading, writing, and collecting books. A veteran of the United States Army, Nicholas earned a Master’s degree in Military History from Norwich University.
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