European Integration and the Cold War: Ostpolitik-Westpolitik, 1965-1973

European Integration and the Cold War

Post-war Europe was deeply affected by both the Cold War and European integration. All too often the two processes have been studied entirely separately, however. This edited volume therefore brings together contributions from prominent historians in both of these fields. What emerges is the way in which the East–West conflict and the emergence of organised cooperation in Europe did become entangled with one another, despite the attempts of some governments deliberately to avoid any interplay between the two. The period covered is one of major change in Western Europe involving both de Gaulle’s rebellion against the structures of Atlantic and European cooperation and Brandt’s radical new Ostpolitik. It was also a time when the British debate about how to define their world role involved calculations about both their approach to NATO and the EEC. From 1969 onward these changes had also to be carried out against the backdrop of the American foreign policy of Nixon and Kissinger. This book will appeal to students of Cold War history, European politics and history, and International Relations in general. N. Piers Ludlow is a senior lecturer in the Department of International History at the LSE. He is author of Dealing With Britain: the Six and the First UK Application to the EEC (1997) and The European Community and the Crises of the 1960s (2006).

Cold War history series Series editors: Odd Arne Westad and Michael Cox ISSN: 1471-3829

In the new history of the Cold War that has been forming since 1989, many of the established truths about the international conflict that shaped the latter half of the twentieth century have come up for revision. The present series is an attempt to make available interpretations and materials that will help further the development of this new history, and it will concentrate in particular on publishing expositions of key historical issues and critical surveys of newly available sources. 1 Reviewing the Cold War Approaches, interpretations, and theory Edited by Odd Arne Westad 2 Rethinking Theory and History in the Cold War Richard Saull 3 British and American Anticommunism before the Cold War Marrku Ruotsila 4 Europe, Cold War and Co-existence, 1953–1965 Edited by Wilfred Loth 5 The Last Decade of the Cold War From conflict escalation to conflict transformation Edited by Olav Njølstad 6 Reinterpreting the End of the Cold War Issues, interpretations, periodizations Edited by Silvio Pons and Federico Romero 7 Across the Blocs Cold War cultural and social history Edited by Rana Mitter and Patrick Major

8 US Paramilitary Assistance to South Vietnam Insurgency, subversion and public order William Rosenau 9 The European Community and the Crises of the 1960s Negotiating the Gaullist challenge N. Piers Ludlow 10 Soviet–Vietnam Relations and the Role of China 1949–64 Changing alliances Mari Olsen 11 The Third Indochina War Conflict between China, Vietnam and Cambodia, 1972–79 Edited by Odd Arne Westad and Sophie Quinn-Judge 12 Greece and the Cold War Frontline state, 1952–1967 Evanthis Hatzivassiliou 13 Economic Statecraft during the Cold War European responses to the US trade embargo Frank Cain 14 Macmillan, Khrushchev and the Berlin Crisis, 1958–1960 Kitty Newman 15 The Emergence of Détente in Europe Brandt, Kennedy and the formation of Ostpolitik Arne Hofmann 16 European Integration and the Cold War Ostpolitik–Westpolitik, 1965–1973 Edited by N. Piers Ludlow

European Integration and the Cold War Ostpolitik–Westpolitik, 1965–1973

Edited by N. Piers Ludlow

First published 2007 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by Routledge 270 Madison Ave, New York, NY 10016 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2007. “To purchase your own copy of this or any of Taylor & Francis or Routledge’s collection of thousands of eBooks please go to www.eBookstore.tandf.co.uk.” © 2007 N. Piers Ludlow for selection and editorial matter; individual chapters, the contributors All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data European integration and the Cold War : Ostpolitik-Westpolitik, 1965–1973/edited by N. Piers Ludlow. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references. 1. Europe–Military policy. 2. European cooperation–History–20th century. 3. European federation–History–20th century. 4. Detente. 5. Cold War. I. Ludlow, N. Piers, 1968– UA646.E92349 2007 327.4009'046–dc22 2006035816 ISBN 0-203-08897-2 Master e-book ISBN ISBN10: 0-415-42109-8 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-08897-2 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-42109-6 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-08897-5 (ebk)

Contents

Notes on contributors Acknowledgements List of abbreviations

ix x xi

Introduction

1

PIERS LUDLOW

1

The linkage between European integration and détente: the contrasting approaches of de Gaulle and Pompidou, 1965 to 1974

11

GEORGES-HENRI SOUTOU

2

‘Grandeur et dépendances’: the dilemmas of Gaullist foreign policy, September 1967 to April 1968

36

GARRET MARTIN

3

Détente and European integration in the policies of Willy Brandt and Georges Pompidou

53

WILFRIED LOTH

4

New Ostpolitik and European integration: concepts and policies in the Brandt era

67

ANDREAS WILKENS

5

Anglo-French relations, détente and Britain’s second application for membership of the EEC, 1964 to 1967

81

HELEN PARR

6

Stabilising the West and looking to the East: Anglo-American relations, Europe and détente, 1965 to 1967 JAMES ELLISON

105

viii 7

Contents The Netherlands, the Gaullist challenge and the evolving Cold War, 1966 to 1973

128

JAN VAN DER HARST

8

An insulated Community? The Community institutions and the Cold War, 1965 to 1970

137

PIERS LUDLOW

9

Searching for a balance: the American perspective

152

JUSSI M. HANHIMÄKI

Conclusions

174

PIERS LUDLOW

Bibliography Index

180 190

Contributors

James Ellison is a senior lecturer at Queen Mary, University of London. His expertise centres on British foreign policy since 1945 and especially on Britain’s relations with both the United States and Western Europe. Jussi M. Hanhimäki is Professor of International History and Politics at the Graduate Institute of International Studies in Geneva. He has written widely about Cold War history, including a major new biography of Henry Kissinger. Jan van de Harst holds the Jean Monnet Chair in the History and Theory of European Integration at the University of Groningen. He is a member of the European Union Liaison Committee of Historians and has published widely on Dutch foreign policy, European integration history and the Cold War. Wilfried Loth is Professor of Modern and Contemporary History at the University of Duisberg-Essen. He is the Chair of the European Union Liaison Committee of Historians and has written extensively about the origins and development of European integration and about the Cold War. Piers Ludlow is a senior lecturer in the Department of International History at the London School of Economics. He is an expert on European integration history and on Western Europe during the Cold War. Garret Martin completed his Ph.D. on de Gaulle and the Cold War at the LSE in 2006. He is currently teaching in the Department of History at the University of Warwick. Helen Parr is a lecturer at the University of Keele. She has published a book and several articles on the question of Britain’s membership of the EEC. Georges-Henri Soutou is Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Paris-Sorbonne (Paris IV) and a specialist in the international history of the twentieth century. He has published widely on the First World War, the Cold War, Franco-German relations and French foreign policy. Andreas Wilkens teaches at the University of Metz. He is a specialist on postwar German foreign policy. Franco-German relations and the history of European integration.

Acknowledgements

This volume is the outcome of a conference held at Pembroke College, Oxford in September 2004. This event was generously funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council as part of a larger grant awarded to the Department of International History at the LSE for the study of Cold War history. I would therefore like to thank the AHRC for its funding, my fellow award-holders in the Department for their encouragement and practical assistance, Pembroke College for the excellence of its hospitality, and each of the paper-givers for their efforts both during the conference itself and since. I am also grateful to those who participated in the conference without presenting a paper: Odd Arne Westad, Nigel Ashton, Steve Casey, Svetozar Rajak, Takeshi Yamamoto and Holger Nehring all added significantly to the event. I should also like to thank Andrew Humphrys at Routledge for his help in the preparation of the volume. And finally, I have as always received much encouragement, support and proofreading from Morwenna my wife. NPL Oxford, August 2006

Abbreviations

AAPD AdsD AN ANF AOT CAB CAP CDU CIA COREPER CSCE DDF DEA DGI EC ECHA ECSC EDC EEC EFTA ENF EPC EU FCO FDI FO FRG FRUS GATT GDR IMF KVP

Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland Archiv der sozialen Demokratie der Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, Bonn Archives Nationales, Paris Atlantic Nuclear Force Associated Overseas Territory Cabinet Files Common Agricultural Policy Christlich Demokratische Union Central Intelligence Agency Committee of Permanent Representatives Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe Documents Diplomatiques Français Department of Economic Affairs Directorate General I European Community European Commission Historical Archives European Coal and Steel Community European Defence Community European Economic Community European Free Trade Association European nuclear force European political cooperation European Union Foreign and Commonwealth Office Foreign direct investment Foreign Office Federal Republic of Germany Foreign Relations of the United States General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade German Democratic Republic International Monetary Fund Katholieke Volkspartij

xii

Abbreviations

LBJL MAE MBFR MLF NA NAC NARA NATO NIE NPG NPMP NPT NSAM NSC NSF OEEC PNW PRC PREM SALT SDRs SF SPD TNA UN US USSR WEU

Lyndon Baines Johnson Library Ministère des Affaires etrangères, Paris Mutual and Balanced Force Reductions Multilateral Force National Archive, The Hague North Atlantic Council National Archives and Record Administration, Maryland North Atlantic Treaty Organisation National Intelligence Estimate Nuclear Planning Group Nixon Presidential Materials Project Non-proliferation Treaty National Security Action Memorandum National Security Council National Security Files Organisation for European Economic Cooperation Prevention of Nuclear War agreement People’s Republic of China Prime Minister’s Files Strategic Arms Limitation Talks Special Drawing Rights Subject File Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands National Archives, London (formerly the PRO) United Nations United States of America Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Western European Union

Introduction Piers Ludlow

European integration and the Cold War have both played a significant role in shaping the evolution of Europe since the Second World War. Each, in their own different ways, did much to divide Europe and to unify it. The integration process has from the outset drawn a sharp dividing line between those countries which chose to participate in the ‘building of Europe’ and those which did not. It also created strong bonds, economic, political and institutional, between the six, then nine, ten, 12, 15 and now 27 countries which have been involved. Likewise the Cold War underlined not merely the sharp distinction between Eastern and Western Europe, between the communist and free worlds, but also a less clearcut but still important fracture between those European countries which belonged to one bloc or the other and those neutrals which remained detached from the East–West conflict. The Cold War too had a strong unifying effect, establishing lasting ties between the countries of each Cold War alliance and making much more solid and enduring the interconnections between Western Europe and the undisputed leader of the Western world, the United States. Both processes, moreover, were born, or at least institutionalised, in the same crucial five years immediately following the end of the Second World War. In addition, both were profoundly marked by many of the political heavyweights of the postwar period. Ernest Bevin, Robert Schuman, Konrad Adenauer, Charles de Gaulle, Paul-Henri Spaak, Dwight Eisenhower, John Foster Dulles or John F. Kennedy feature prominently in most accounts of both the integration of Europe and the development of Western Europe during the Cold War. Surprisingly, however, the history of each has tended to be studied and told with next to no reference to the other. Much has thus been written about Western Europe and the early Cold War,1 and an almost equal amount of ink has been spilled in attempts to analyse the origins and early development of the European integration process.2 But these two historiographies have tended to develop in parallel with few obvious points of intersection. Cold War historians have thus focused their attention on a narrative which stretches from the establishment of the blocs in the 1940s, through the high tension and confrontation of the 1950s and early 1960s, the détente of the later 1960s and 1970s, the ‘second Cold War’ of the early 1980s and the final collapse of the Cold War system and of the Soviet bloc in 1989 to 1990. Historians of European integration

2

P. Ludlow

meanwhile have refined a story in which the frustrated hopes of those aspiring to European unity in the 1940s were partially realised in the early 1950s, hard hit by the collapse of the putative European Defence Community (EDC) in 1954, dramatically revived in 1955 with the Messina Conference and the start of the negotiations which were to lead to the creation of the European Economic Community (EEC), consolidated by the Community’s early success, depressed by the stagnation of the process during the 1970s and early 1980s, and revived once more by the renewed surge forward of the integration process in the midto late 1980s. These twin tales, moreover, have been expounded, debated and critiqued in different journals and at different conferences.3 And they have been introduced to students in simplified form in separate textbooks designed for separate university courses.4 There are admittedly some partial exceptions to this rule. The most obvious, perhaps, is constituted by some of the writing on the late 1940s and early 1950s. Analysts of the Marshall Plan, for instance, have been able to point out that the European Recovery Programme was not simply a Cold War milestone and a crucial step towards the formation of a solidly Western US-led bloc, but also a policy initiative intended by its creators to foster European unity and to encourage the economic integration of Western Europe.5 Likewise, studies of the EDC have seldom been able to ignore its Cold War origins – it was born in response to the outbreak of the Korean War and the increased urgency which this gave to the issue of whether or not West Germany should be allowed to rearm – or to overlook the enormous energy with which the United States championed the project as both a crucial step towards strengthening Western Europe’s defences against the Soviet threat and as major advance in the direction of that European unity for which the US had called since 1947.6 Revealingly, however, both of these examples of Cold War and integration cross-over are normally regarded as failures. Thus most European historians, at least, would view the Marshall Plan as a major economic success and as vital in establishing the Western bloc, but as something of a flop as far as European unity is concerned. US attempts to force the recipients of Marshall Aid to submit a single pan-European wish-list rather than multiple national requests or to accept the appointment of a heavyweight secretary general of the Organisation for European Economic Cooperation (OEEC), able to bang heads together and oblige the different countries to cooperate, were systematically thwarted by European resistance.7 Over time the Marshall Plan thus did more to cement bilateral links between Washington and each of the major European capitals than it did to nurture multilateral European cooperation. And the institutions that were born out of the Marshall Plan – notably the OEEC – came to be regarded by many of those responsible for establishing the European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC) or the EEC as examples of how not to integrate and as the archetype of ineffective intergovernmental structures doomed to paralysis.8 Similarly, the EDC became European integration’s most celebrated failure – the project that momentarily threatened to bury the whole endeavour.9 Here too, therefore, enthusiastic American backing seemed to have been in vain and possibly even counter-productive. Dulles’ celebrated

Introduction

3

threat that the rejection of the EDC might trigger ‘an agonising reappraisal’ of the US commitment to Europe proved totally futile, with French parliamentarians choosing to call his bluff and vote down the ambitious treaty in August 1954. Overall, therefore, even the two main exceptions to the normally separate narratives of integration and the Cold War in Europe seem only to justify the normal detachment between the two fields. For on the rare occasions where the two did interconnect, Cold War-inspired US pressure led the integration process astray and failed to have a lasting impact. European integration, the implication seems to be, has worked only when it has been carried out by Europeans for European reasons rather than when it has been foisted upon Western Europe by a well-meaning but over-enthusiastic superpower. The gulf between the two fields has only been increased by recent trends in the historiography of both European integration history and Cold War history. The former, for instance, has been deeply marked by the emphasis placed by Alan Milward and his followers on the economic causes of the integration process. The notion that ECSC was the product of a particular crisis in the French steel industry, or that the EEC constituted a Dutch-inspired attempt to rescue the European nation state by consolidating and making irreversible the intra-European trade boom of the 1950s, left little space for Cold War considerations.10 The ‘Cold War’ indeed does not register in the index of either of Milward’s influential two volumes on the origins of European integration.11 Likewise, the proliferation of detailed, archivally based studies of each individual country’s path to the EEC has also tended to lessen the emphasis on the Cold War as a motivation. For the central figures of many of these new studies have been national civil servants, often based in either economic ministries or those portions of the foreign ministry most concerned with commercial affairs, who were much less involved professionally with the parallel evolution of the Cold War than were the statesmen and parliamentarians who populated earlier, less detailed accounts of integration’s origins.12 Cold War historians, meanwhile, have responded in kind. Over the past two decades there has been a fairly systematic attempt to demonstrate that the Western European powers did matter in a Cold War context and that events were not entirely determined by the superpowers.13 But much of this emphasis on the power or even tyranny of the weak has concentrated on the way individual European states were able to manipulate and use Washington to their own ends.14 The emphasis has thus been bilateral and transatlantic rather than multilateral and pan-European. With a few honourable exceptions, neither ‘new Cold War history’ nor the most recent writings of integration experts have broken the pattern described above; many of its products have if anything made the separation more acute.15 This volume and the conference at Pembroke College, Oxford out of which it emerged were designed to examine these parallel histories and to begin to assess whether or not their lack of interconnection was justified. Those invited to participate were historians who had shown interest in either Cold War history or European integration history or occasionally both. Indeed, several of those who attended belonged to that comparatively rare breed of scholar who had published

4

P. Ludlow

about both fields, although revealingly even they had most often done so in different volumes and in different articles rather than in single works.16 The players on which they concentrated – France, West Germany, Britain, the Netherlands, the United States and the Community institutions – were those deemed most likely to have played significant roles in both the Cold War and the European integration process. And the period upon which they were invited to focus – the second half of the 1960s and the early 1970s – was one of some importance to both the development of European integration and the Cold War, but equally one where the interconnections between the two fields had not previously been explored. It therefore constitutes a good testing ground for the hypothesis that the separation between Cold War and European integration history described above was artificial and too extreme. The 1960s were an important period in the development of Western Europe. Economically, the period was one during which the Continent’s remarkable post-war rise seemed to continue.17 There were a few minor interruptions, and the relatively sluggish British economy went on defying the wider trend. Overall, however, the period was one of high growth rates, booming exports, minimal unemployment and controllable inflation – a performance that did much to cement in the minds of Western European policy-makers and citizens an equation between European integration and economic success that would be largely absent from those countries such as Britain that were only to join the EEC in 1973, the very year when the economic bubble burst. Politically, meanwhile, the gradual rise of the political left after the dominance across Western Europe of the centre-right during the 1950s seemed to be occurring in a controlled and unthreatening manner – until 1968 at least. And in international terms, the rapid liquidation in the early 1960s of Western Europe’s remaining colonial empires meant that Britain, France, Belgium and the Netherlands no longer found themselves besieged by world opinion and liable to criticism even from their superpower ally about their imperial policies in the way that had been the case throughout the latter half of the 1950s. The speed and dignity with which each power left its former Asian, African and Caribbean holdings varied significantly – but in all of the European colonial powers the sense of relief at the end of empire seemed to outweigh any regret for diminished international influence. Indeed, Gaullist France was probably not unique in believing that it could operate more effectively on the world stage after it had lost its empire than it had been able to when it still ruled directly over significant portions of Africa and South-East Asia.18 Western Europe’s renewed self-confidence – fuelled by its economic success and facilitated by colonial disengagement – did not however correspond to increased centrality to global affairs. From a Cold War history perspective the 1960s are the decade when the centre of gravity of Cold War confrontation shifted most decisively away from Europe and towards the Third World. This reflected the fact that, while the European status quo was comparatively stable – Trachtenberg talks of a European settlement having been reached by 196319 – the battle over the international alignment of the newly independent states of

Introduction

5

Asia and Africa had only just been joined.20 The way in which headlines and news reports about the situation in Vietnam or the state of Sino-Soviet relations had all but replaced bulletins from Berlin or anxious speculation about the fate of Trieste as the main daily reminders of the ongoing Cold War accurately symbolised the change. Likewise, the manner in which the one clear Cold War crisis which did occur in Europe in the latter half of the 1960s – the crushing of the Prague Spring in August 1968 – was not allowed by either East or West to interrupt more than momentarily the slow progress of détente, demonstrates the extent to which each bloc had accepted, de facto if not de jure, the presence and the geographical limits of the other.21 To a large extent this stabilisation of the European Cold War front was good news for Western Europe. The fading fear of Soviet invasion or subversion certainly contributed to that sense of growing confidence and well-being noted above. But it also significantly reduced the pressure on each European country to march in tight formation behind the United States as far as their international policy was concerned. By the mid-1960s not only had the countries of Western Europe long since rid themselves of that financial dependence on the US which had characterised the early Cold War but they were also self-confident enough to feel that they could each devise their own distinctive approach to East–West relations.22 This allowed the diversity of national approaches which will be analysed in the chapters that follow. And it also carried with it the potential that disagreements over Cold War policy could spill over and interconnect with that other key area of intercourse between European countries, namely the development of the EEC. Dissension in NATO might, in other words, contaminate the successful process of European integration, thereby endangering Western cooperation over much more than just military or security matters. The opening two chapters of the volume focus on France – the first Western country to break ranks significantly in its approach to the Cold War. GeorgesHenri Soutou thus sets out to contrast the European and Cold War policies of the two French Presidents to occupy the Elysée during the 1965 to 1973 period, namely Charles de Gaulle and Georges Pompidou. Both Presidents were supposedly Gaullist. Pompidou indeed won the 1969 elections partly by presenting himself as the candidate of continuity after de Gaulle’s surprise resignation earlier that year.23 But as Soutou demonstrates, each had very different approaches to the Cold War, to European integration and to the interconnections between the two. Thus while de Gaulle’s whole strategy centred upon a belief that the Cold War division of Europe could be overcome and that the Soviet Union (or Russia as he preferred to call it) could be reintegrated into a pan-European system, Pompidou’s vision was much more cautious as far as East–West relations were concerned. This underlying strategic gulf meant that each then turned towards greater Western European cooperation (although neither liked integration as such) in radically different circumstances. For de Gaulle it was a fall-back option to be explored most energetically when the prospects for détente were least encouraging – as they were in the early 1960s. For Pompidou, by contrast, Western European cooperation became most attractive in the latter

6 P. Ludlow half of his presidency when détente appeared to be in danger of advancing too far too fast. Closer European cooperation might give France some degree of control over Germany’s Eastern policies and somewhat lessen the danger of a superpower condominium over Europe. Garret Martin’s chapter, by contrast, adopts a rather different approach. For instead of looking at how French policy developed over the whole of the period, he focuses in some detail on one crucial eight-month period, from September 1967 to April 1968. This allows him to prove how tightly entwined were the different strands of French foreign policy. Thus the mounting frustrations of French Eastern policy – which were ever more apparent during these months despite the seeming success of de Gaulle’s state visit to Poland – were closely connected to France’s growing isolation vis-à-vis its Western partners. And this last was in turn accentuated by the way in which the French struggled to rally Germany and the other EEC member states to its side in the ongoing debate about how global monetary cooperation should be organised, while at the very same time seeking to defy those same Community partners by blocking the widely supported British bid for EEC membership. While Soutou explores the linkages between the Cold War and European integration at the level of overall French strategy, Martin thus reveals the ways in which the two fields could become entangled at a tactical level. In Chapters 3 and 4 the focus shifts to West Germany. The Federal Republic had, for understandable reasons, been the most orthodox and reliable ally throughout most of the early Cold War years. Both its approach to East–West relations and its engagement with European integration had been everything that the United States could have wished for during all but the last few months of the lengthy period when Konrad Adenuaer remained Chancellor. Indeed, if misunderstandings or mistrust did arise between Washington and Bonn in this era, it was normally because Adenuaer’s government proved itself plus royaliste que le roi in its steadfastness towards the East and its enthusiasm for cooperation with the West!24 And even Adenuaer’s brief final flirtation with de Gaulle, which did ring alarm bells in Washington and cast momentary doubt over West Germany’s reliability, seemed to have been decisively ended by Adenauer’s successor, the ultra-loyal Atlanticist Ludwig Erhard.25 Much was to change, however, with the rise of Willy Brandt, initially as Foreign Minister of the Grand Coalition government which ruled the FRG from 1966 to 1969 and then, from September 1969, as Chancellor of a centre-left government. Both chapters on Germany thus centre their attention on the Brandt years. The chapter by Wilfried Loth focuses on the crucial relationship between the new German Chancellor and his French opposite number. Theirs was not a particularly easy relationship: the Brandt-Pompidou pairing has not been treated with the same sort of retrospective reverence in the burgeoning literature on le couple franco-allemand as de Gaulle and Adenauer, Helmut Schmidt and Valéry Giscard d’Estaing or François Mitterrand and Helmut Kohl.26 As Loth shows, however, they did make an effort to find areas where the two countries could cooperate closely and were not totally without their successes. Importantly for

Introduction

7

this volume their dialogue encompassed both the evolving pattern of East–West relations and the question of how the early successes of the EEC could be built upon. Much of their attention was therefore directed towards the possibility of building a more political Europe, one able to assert itself more clearly from the United States over foreign policy matters in general and the direction of détente in particular. Ironically, though, these discussions emphasised the extent to which Germany and France had swapped positions by the late 1960s and early 1970s. In the Brandt era it was thus Germany that put forward the radical ideas as much about transatlantic relations as about the approach to Eastern Europe, while it was France that played the role of conservative brake on a partner prone to over-ambition. Germany’s radicalism is explored still further in Andreas Wilkens’ chapter. This traces the development of Ostpolitik back to Brandt’s formative years as mayor of Berlin during the 1950s and early 1960s, before explaining how the new approach to Eastern Europe and to the German Democratic Republic was implemented when the Social Democrats became the dominant party of government in Germany in 1969. It also explores the extent to which Brandt’s new Eastern policy was rooted in the earlier success of the Federal Republic’s Westpolitik. On this Wilkens suggests some interesting divergences between the ideas of the Chancellor and those of his closest aide and collaborator, Egon Bahr. Chapters 5 and 6 on Britain both concentrate on the years when the United Kingdom found itself outside of the European Community but deeply preoccupied with the question of how to get in. Helen Parr confronts the vexed question of Community enlargement head-on in her chapter, identifying the reasons behind Harold Wilson’s belated conversion to the idea of European integration and elucidating how the Labour government hoped to avoid its bid to enter the EEC being thwarted by de Gaulle in much the same manner as Harold Macmillan’s 1961 membership application had been. Ultimately, of course, the French President did bar Britain’s path once more. However, as Parr explains, the General’s second veto turned out to be a Pyrrhic victory – a short-term success that actually revealed more about de Gaulle’s weakness than it did about his strength. En passant, Parr’s chapter also demonstrates that the question of EEC membership was one of the aspects of early European integration where the interconnections with the overarching Cold War were strongest and most clear. James Ellison’s chapter is somewhat more Cold War-centred in its focus, but again brings out the existence of links between the Cold War and the EEC. A study in Anglo-American relations, the piece investigates the way in which London and Washington coordinated their response to de Gaulle’s March 1966 decision to withdraw France from NATO’s integrated military command. Central to British and American strategies was their shared belief that Britain’s capacity to establish itself as a rival pole of attraction to France and thereby prevent the General’s actions from having the detrimental effects on Western unity which both London and Washington feared was tightly wrapped up with the UK’s attitude towards the EEC. The Wilson government’s realisation that it needed to revive the issue of British EEC membership and move the country

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closer to, and if possible into, the European Community was thus in part a response to the crisis in NATO and to the wider challenge posed by de Gaulle. Other aspects of the same basic strategy involved the resolution of the longstanding question of how to give Germany some in uence over Western nuclear strategy without allowing the Federal Republic to acquire nuclear weapons of its own, the settling of the acrimonious wrangle between the United States, Britain and Germany over the costs of allied troops stationed in Germany, and the public demonstration of NATO s commitment to the pursuit of d tente. The chapter hence underlines both the scale of the challenge which Gaullist France was deemed to pose to the West and the multifaceted nature of the AngloAmerican response. Jan van der Harst s contribution on Dutch foreign policy (Chapter 7) acts as a salutary reminder that in neither NATO nor the EEC did the larger countries have it entirely their own way. The Netherlands in particular emerged as a doughty adversary of General de Gaulle and a determined defender of Atlanticist orthodoxy. This re ected its profound belief that while European integration was economically vital to a small trading nation, Dutch security interests were much better looked after in a wider grouping including the United States and Britain than they would be in any rival European entity. The Hague government was thus strongly opposed to the premature development of a coordinated European foreign policy — in 1962 it had played a central role in blocking the socalled Fouchet Plan, de Gaulle s most systematic attempt to create such foreign policy coordination27 — and deeply suspicious of anything that might lessen the ties between Europe and the US. In an interesting illustration, however, of the potential in uence of public opinion and domestic political change over foreign policy, van der Harst explains how several of the certainties of 1960s Dutch foreign policy were overturned when the veteran foreign minister Joseph Luns was replaced in 1971 by Norbert Schmelzer. The Netherlands moderated, for instance, their hard-line stance towards d tente and became more supportive of the idea that the soon-to-be-enlarged European Community could acquire some involvement in the eld of foreign policy coordination. The presence of the British, after all, was believed likely to minimise the chances of any dangerous drift away from Atlantic alignment. As Piers Ludlow explains in Chapter 8, the Community institutions themselves remained somewhat detached from the Cold War and the question of East—West relations throughout the 1960s. Contacts were thus minimal between the European Commission and a Soviet bloc which still regarded the integration process as a vehicle for German revanchisme; the agenda of ministerial discussions in the EEC Council of Ministers involved little which directly impinged upon East—West relations; and there were both bureaucratic and tactical reasons militating against any real linkage between the EEC s development and the wider Cold War. Despite this, however, Ludlow maintains that there were a number of more indirect connections between the integration process and the East—West struggle. In particular, he argues that the whole environment within which the early Community was able to ourish was profoundly shaped by the

Introduction

9

Cold War alliance between Europe and the United States. As a result it is impossible fully to understand what went on in the Brussels institutions without being aware of parallel developments in the Cold War. Chapter 9 by Jussi Hanhimäki turns its attention to the United States. America’s importance in the calculations of all of the European players examined in the book is obvious, but as Hanhimäki reminds us, Washington was less centrally concerned with European affairs in the late 1960s and early 1970s than it had been a decade or so before. The salience of Western European affairs in American foreign policy had steadily diminished in a period where the key issues preoccupying US policy-makers were the protracted war in Vietnam, crises in the Middle East, and the exciting prospects of superpower détente and triangular diplomacy. By the end of the period reviewed, the Watergate scandal and the domestic failings of the Nixon administration constituted an additional distraction. The US did, however, remain involved in Western Europe – its largest trading partner as well as its main Cold War ally – and was therefore in a position to react to de Gaulle, to co-opt Brandt’s opening to the East into its own policy of détente, to support the enlargement of the EEC, and to engage, albeit belatedly, with the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE). Despite a number of transatlantic contretemps, notably Henry Kissinger’s illfated attempt to designate 1973 as the Year of Europe, the United States continued to be a key actor in Western Europe, exercising a vital influence over both the course of East–West relations and the development of the EEC. This alone added a further layer of interconnection between the Cold War and European integration. The final chapter will then bring together a number of preliminary conclusions before briefly suggesting some of the issues upon which future research might focus. Much more remains to be studied in this field. Serious international history-writing about the late 1960s and early 1970s remains very much in its infancy, and the long-standing divide between Cold War history and the history of European integration is too well established and too profound to be entirely bridged by just one edited volume. Overall, however, there is enough in the chapters of this book to suggest that there were multiple points where the Cold War and integration narratives did intersect and that when they did not their separation was often an act of deliberate policy which deserves to be studied and explained rather than taken for granted. Even in an era of détente largely free from the Cold War crises which had punctuated earlier decades, European countries worked and interacted on an international stage which they were obliged to share with both of the superpowers and which had been deeply shaped by the East–West struggle. Ignoring this fact is a step that no one writing a detailed history of post-war Europe’s efforts to unite can afford to take.

Notes 1 See e.g. Graml (1985), Young (1991), Reynolds (1994), Trachtenberg (1999). 2 See e.g. Milward (1984), Poidevin (1986), Schwabe (1988), Deighton (1995).

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3 Among the specialist journals in each field are Journal of Cold War Studies and Cold War History and Journal of European Integration History and Journal of Common Market Studies. The most complete series of conferences on European integration history are those organised by the European Community Liaison Committee of Historians. These have led, among others, to Poidevin (1986), Schwabe (1988), Serra (1989), Deighton and Milward (1999), and Loth (2001). 4 On European integration history see e.g. Urwin (1995) and Stirk (2001); on the Cold War, Crockatt (1994), Reynolds (2000), Soutou (2001). 5 See e.g. Hogan (1987). 6 On the EDC see Dumoulin (2000); on US policy towards German rearmament see Large (1996). 7 See Milward (1984) and Esposito (1994). 8 See Snoy’s comments cited in Jaumin-Ponsar (1970, pp. 99–100). 9 See Quaroni’s assessment cited in Serra, E. ‘L’Italia e la conferenza di Messina’ in Serra (1989, pp. 93–4). 10 Milward (1984), esp. pp. 362–420 for the former; Milward (1992) for the latter. 11 Ibid. 12 Bossuat (1996), Lynch (1997), Rhenisch (1999), Mahant (2004). 13 Reynolds (1994) is a good example of the genre. 14 See e.g. Esposito (1994). 15 Probably the clearest exceptions to the rule are Schwabe (2001) and Giauque (2002). While both are useful, however, they do not go nearly far enough to undermine the basic contention of this section. 16 Georges-Henri Soutou, Wilfried Loth and Jan van der Harst have all written about both Cold War history and European integration history, albeit normally on separate occasions. 17 Boltho (1982). 18 The sense of liberation felt by Gaullist France following the end of the Algerian imbroglio comes across very clearly in Vaïsse (1998). 19 Trachtenberg (1999, pp. 352–402). 20 In general see Westad (2005). 21 See e.g. Hughes (2004). 22 The altered financial balance between Western Europe and the United States is a central theme of both Zimmermann (2001) and Gavin (2004). 23 Roussel (1994, p. 282). 24 Adenauer’s nostalgia for the Cold War certainties of Dulles and mistrust of Kennedy’s greater flexibility is a central theme of Schwarz (1991). 25 See Bange (1999), and Oppell (2002) and Granieri (2003). 26 See e.g. Bitsch (2001). 27 See Vanke (2001).

1

The linkage between European integration and détente The contrasting approaches of de Gaulle and Pompidou, 1965 to 1974 Georges-Henri Soutou

As usual, the French are a special case: both de Gaulle and Pompidou were against European integration, and neither of them believed in détente in the same sense as American or British leaders. They both feared that the kind of détente sought by Kennedy, Johnson or Nixon would lead either to excessive concessions to the USSR or to an American–Soviet condominium over Europe. As for Europe, they drew an important distinction between Western Europe, which was a reality that had emerged with the Cold War, and Europe as a whole, including, at least potentially, Russia, which remained an historical and cultural heritage they cared for and kept in mind, probably more than other Western leaders at the time. For both of them West European integration was inseparable from Atlantic integration under American leadership – so-called ‘Europeans’ were in their view actually Atlanticists – and as such would antagonize Moscow and prevent any meaningful détente and any eventual overcoming of the Cold War division of Europe. The theme of this book was still meaningful for Paris, but it needs to be investigated in the light of overall French views. Both de Gaulle and Pompidou wanted an ‘organized Europe’ (a favourite Gaullist expression, by which was meant Western Europe) but a ‘Europe of States’, relying upon intergovernmental cooperation, not supranational integration. Both wished to overcome the Cold War, but not in the same way: for de Gaulle the solution would be a new panEuropean security system reminiscent of the Concert of Europe; for Pompidou, who was much less sanguine about the possibility of realizing such a vision, it could only happen through a prudent evolution, relying in the distant future upon a convergence of the USSR and the industrial West. Given the general framework of French foreign policy in those complex years between 1965 and 1974, there was some sort of link between the Cold War theme and the European one. But the link was different and even opposite for the two presidents. Broadly speaking, when the Soviet threat was seen as growing, so did the West European component of de Gaulle’s foreign policy. When the Soviet threat receded, so too did his West European engagement, or at least it became secondary to the Franco-Soviet relationship. Pompidou’s

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European engagement, by contrast, grew when he feared that excessive détente between Moscow and Washington and between Moscow and Bonn might lead eventually to a superpower condominium over Europe. For de Gaulle, détente could be a way to reshape Europe in line with his views. For Pompidou, too rash a détente could be destabilizing and detrimental to French interests. Of course both presidents had to take into account the complex evolution of both détente and European integration, and of the relationship between the two. Both had to pass through different tactical stages, and could not always appear consistent. And both had a clear vision, a preferred concept to which they returned wherever possible. But these visions and concepts differed significantly. For de Gaulle, the preferred concept could be subsumed under his motto ‘détente, entente and cooperation’. This meant that the evolution of the USSR would make it possible to establish a new European security system not unlike a modernized Concert of Europe. Such a pan-European system would include the USSR, but exclude the US; it would rely on privileged Franco-Soviet cooperation, in particular to contain Germany. France would be able to balance the Soviet Union, and thus play a leading role in the system, through her leadership of a Western Europe, organized through interstate cooperation. In such a concept there was clearly a strong link between de Gaulle’s kind of détente and de Gaulle’s kind of Europe. But such a Europe was clearly subordinated to the overall concept, which was meant to achieve the greatest possible freedom of action for France and to maximize her world role. Pompidou’s concept of choice was different. He harboured no great panEuropean scheme ‘from the Atlantic to the Urals’. His vision was that of a collaborative Western world, from which he certainly did not want to exclude America, where France would be in a unique position to mediate between Western Europe and the US, thanks to French leadership over a pragmatically developing Western Europe. As for the Soviet Union, he believed in continued containment and in incremental détente provided it was not detrimental to French interests (he was probably among the first to realize that the Cold War, dividing Germany and engaging the US in the security of Europe, was in the best interest of France!). Slow convergence would ultimately bring Russia back into the fold; by that time the development of Western Europe would prevent the two dangers he most feared: an American–Soviet condominium over Europe, or a German–Soviet one. Détente was less to the fore in Pompidou’s thinking than in de Gaulle’s, and the kind of link de Gaulle established, in his own way, between détente and Europe was far less in evidence with Pompidou. Both presidents had one thing in common, however: they reverted more forcefully to an ‘organized’ European Community (the nearest they could come to integration) when they felt that their preferred concept was endangered or unachievable for the time being. To that extent there was a factual link between Europe and détente, even for Pompidou, because one important factor (if certainly not the only one) which compromised the success of their respective concepts was that both Moscow and Washington, and ultimately Bonn, refused to

The linkage between integration and détente

13

play along. As for London, which could have easily shared at least parts of Pompidou’s and maybe even at times de Gaulle’s concept, Paris had no wish to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for the British and thereby endanger their first priority: France’s leading role.

A caveat The link between détente and European integration was a matter of high policy, discussed at the level of the head of state and of the minister for foreign affairs. It did not appear frequently in the day-to-day working of the diplomatic machinery, which tended, in part due to the habit of working along existing organizational lines and also through the necessity to avoid turf battles, to stick either with one or the other. Thinking about Soviet reactions to the EC, for instance, was a rare commodity: in May 1966, in preparation for de Gaulle’s visit to Moscow, the Direction des Affaires politiques issued a note about ‘The USSR and European construction’, which concluded that, despite being less vocal in its opposition to the EC since 1963, Moscow was still opposed, out of the fear of having to deal with a vast and cohesive group which might counteract its influence and attract Eastern Europe.1 But such a document remains an exception. The norm was rather the clear separation between the two topics. For instance, at the regular meetings between the political directors of the French and German Foreign Offices instituted by the Elysée Treaty of 1963, the different topics, including the relations between Moscow and Europe, were clearly separated in the discussion with no cross-fertilization allowed.2 This seemed even to apply at ministerial level: when Maurice Couve de Murville, the French foreign minister, met his German counterpart Willy Brandt on 20 October 1967 (and Brandt would have been an ideal partner with whom to explore the links between détente and the development of the EC), the British candidacy to the Community and the Harmel report were kept firmly apart.3 On occasions, however, the two themes did coincide. For instance, in October 1964 Rolf Lahr, the state secretary at the Auswärtiges Amt, told Oliver Wormser, head of the Economic Department of the Quai d’Orsay, that by deciding to extend long-term loans to the USSR, Paris had broken the necessary unity of the Six towards Moscow.4 But this may have been more an expression of displeasure grounded in German national interest than a sign of a true European preoccupation. The same thing occurred at their next meeting on 27 November, Lahr calling for the formulation of a common economic policy towards the East among the Six. Significantly, Wormser countered that ‘trade policy touches questions of foreign policy and one cannot go very far in that direction without more progress towards a political union’ – a reminder to Lahr of the consequences of the failure of the Fouchet Plan in 1962!5 But the issue was probably less a matter of real substance than part of the running tit-for-tat that characterized Franco-German relations in the mid-1960s. De Gaulle also told Erhard ‘that [a joint approach to East–West trade] would look quite different, if the concept of a common Franco-German policy had acquired real substance’, a

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clear allusion to Bonn’s failure to follow up on the Elysée Treaty of January 1963.6 In normal circumstances, however, it was left to de Gaulle or to Pompidou themselves to raise a linkage which stood far above the normal work of the Foreign Office. De Gaulle, for instance, did it in both private conversations and in public pronouncements, as we shall see. On occasions he could also stress the linkage talking with the Soviets, as he did with Gromyko on 27 April 1965: ‘France stands for balance. That is why it feels that Western Europe must get organized in order to establish a normal cooperation with Eastern Europe and first of all with the Soviet Union.’7 This was a statement which went to the heart of his approach. Pompidou may have gone even further in exploring intellectually the relationship between détente and the development of the EC from the French point of view.

De Gaulle’s initial and favoured concept: a new Concert of European Nation-states When de Gaulle came back to power in 1958 he had already formulated a longterm blueprint for France’s relations with the USSR and for European security: even if in the short term and especially during the Berlin crisis of 1958 to 1962 he realized that Soviet policy was very aggressive and dangerous, in the long term he was convinced that Russia would ultimately discard communism and return to traditional great power diplomacy. France would seek a profound revision of the Atlantic Alliance, ending NATO integration. NATO reform and greater European independence from the Americans would enable France to launch a new détente policy towards Moscow; at the same time the reduction of tension would diminish the dependence of Eastern Europe on the USSR. Germany (through tacit Franco-Soviet cooperation) would be forced to accept its Potsdam boundaries and to give security guarantees to its neighbours, especially renouncing atomic weapons; thus reinsured and able to dispense with the need for Soviet protection against Germany, the countries of Eastern Europe would overcome the artificial ideology of communism and revert to their traditional national interests. The Soviet Union meanwhile, no longer confronted with the danger of an integrated Western Alliance and especially with a strong German–American alliance, but having to address the Chinese menace, would also revert to its long-term national interests. Thus it would be possible to rebuild a European security order freed from ideological tensions, resting on a tacit Franco-Soviet understanding to control Germany. The United States would revert to their former role of outside guarantor of the new European order, as a reinsurance. This would be a return to the Concert of Europe as had existed before 1914, but suitably modernized to take into account the political, strategic and democratic necessities of the twentieth century.8 A new European balance would thus evolve, between a de-ideologized Russia on one hand and a Western Europe led by Paris on the other. Within this new Concert of Europe Germany might ultimately be reunited, if only in some

The linkage between integration and détente

15

sort of confederation (but once again within the borders decided at Potsdam and with security guarantees for its neighbours such as denuclearization). The necessary counterweight to Soviet power would be provided by the United States (but from afar) and first of all by the grouping of Western Europe, including Germany, around France. In this complex of interlocking balances, France would balance Germany with the help of the Soviet Union and the Soviet Union with the help of Germany, thereby staying at the apex of the European system, multiplying its actual power, and remaining able to go on playing a world role. Such a blueprint was largely set out by de Gaulle himself to Soviet diplomats in Paris in 1958 to 1959, just before and just after his return to power.9 He actually published its main lines in the third volume of his Mémoires de guerre, which came out in 1959 and were as much a programme for future action as an account of the past.10 He explained quite clearly for instance to the Italian President, Giovanni Gronchi, as early as 24 June 1959, that the Soviet system was mellowing and that cooperation between Western Europe and Russia might become possible.11 He also explained his views to Alain Peyrefitte, the official spokesman of his government for four years and one of the Elysée’s main links with the media.12 And he told Khrushchev in March 1960 that only a European détente from the Atlantic to the Urals would solve the German problem by ‘controlling the German body in a Europe of peace and progress’.13 De Gaulle’s basic views about France’s relationship with the USSR and his own brand of détente derived from three major considerations. First, the historical necessity for France to control Germany and the German problem; apart from the Franco-German rapprochement initiated by de Gaulle in 1958 which very clearly was devised to draw the FRG away from the US and closer to Paris, the only method which would help France control the German problem was cooperation with the USSR.14 Second, his very strongly held views about the permanence of nation-states, despite internationalist ideologies, as the building blocks of the international system and, beyond that, as repositories of history, civilization, democracy and progress.15 And third, his will to restore the unity of Europe. Europe would overcome the division induced by the Cold War, would include Russia and would rest on a system of cooperation between sovereign states.16 As for Western Europe, de Gaulle had been since the beginning of the 1950s adamantly opposed to the concept of European (or Atlantic) integration. As early as 1951 he publicly explained his scheme for a European system of interstate cooperation, as an alternative to the European Defence Community plan, which in his view would have destroyed French national sovereignty. One of his closest advisers, Michel Debré, provided much intellectual input to organize those ideas, beginning with his 1948 book Projet d’union des Etats européens, and defended them at the Council of the Republic in 1952 and followed them up as Prime Minister between 1958 and 1962. In other words, de Gaulle wanted to achieve his kind of détente for his kind of Europe.

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The organization of Western Europe as a second choice Until 1964, however, Franco-Soviet relations were poor and there was no scope for détente along Gaullist lines. In addition to the Berlin crisis and the failure of the Paris summit in May 1960, there were three sources of discord between France and the USSR: first, the war in Algeria and Moscow’s support of the rebels, culminating with the recognition of the FLN government 24 hours after the signature of the Evian agreements in March 1962 but months before actual Algerian independance.17 Second, Soviet opposition to Franco-German rapprochement – a belief that led the Soviets to accuse Paris of promoting an antiSoviet and revanchist military bloc.18 And third, de Gaulle was furious with the signature of the Moscow Treaty of July 1963 banning nuclear tests in the atmosphere, which for him epitomized American–Soviet hegemonic collusion.19 The priority for Paris during these years was the organization of Europe of the Six under French leadership. The great question at the time of de Gaulle’s return to power was whether he would actually implement the Rome Treaties despite his earlier opposition. He decided to do so, but at the same time he sought to launch a system of political cooperation among the Six European States which much better met his views and was meant to keep the integrative, supranational momentum of the EEC within strict technical limits, to rein in integration and to place the European authorities under the control of the Six governments. As early as 11 August 1958, de Gaulle had stated his views: Europe should become a political, economic and cultural reality, but through cooperation among the governments of the Six; the existing treaties of the European Communities would be fulfilled, but the integrative supranational process should stop there.20 Significantly, given the theme of this volume, de Gaulle relaunched and accelerated his European plans against the backdrop of the worsening East–West situation after the failure of the Paris summit in May 1960. In his TV address of 31 May 1960, he promised to promote interstate cooperation extending to defence matters, so as to build up a European political and economic grouping, possibly developing into a Confederation.21 On 30 July 1960, de Gaulle convinced Adenauer to go along with him in the same direction.22 And de Gaulle’s tactics were clearly expressed in a letter to Debré on 30 September 1960: for the time being Paris would not confront integration head-on. Anyway, the emergence of a system of interstate political cooperation would automatically reduce the scope of the integrated institutions. It was only if the political project failed that Paris would seek the reduction of their powers and a revision of the European treaties.23 The Fouchet Plan for a political union in 1961 to 1962 was the product of this strategy. It failed because at the last minute de Gaulle departed from the prudent tactics of 1960 and introduced provisions reducing the scope of the integrated institutions and of NATO. But the Fouchet Plan was taken up again on a bilateral basis by France and Germany with the Elysée Treaty of January 1963, which, in de Gaulle’s view, was a stepping stone for a comparable agreement

The linkage between integration and détente

17

among the Six leading to ‘a European Europe’. It should be noted here that the Elysée Treaty had a most important strategic and military component and that a major argument to convince Adenauer to break ranks with NATO was that the US military guarantee to Europe was insufficient in the face of the growing Soviet threat.24

Complex overlapping tactical moves De Gaulle being a complex personality, his policies have to be followed at several levels. Thus at one level and at first sight it would appear that he felt initially that there was no immediate possibility of negotiating with Moscow under the pressure of Khrushchev’s Berlin ultimatum.25 As a result, between 1960 and 1964 he tried to establish a privileged political and strategic relationship with Germany so as both to foster his European plans and to form a counterweight to the Soviet threat. Then in 1964 to 1965, as the international environment changed with the beginning of détente, he decided to approach Moscow directly and to return to his initial concept, which now appeared to have a good chance of success.26 The historical reality, however, is more complex than this apparently logical succession of events. His basic blueprint of interlocking balances remained the same all along and these different steps did not supersede each other, but overlapped in a complex and subtle way. Thus, even as he was taking a firm stand on the Berlin crisis, de Gaulle did not hesitate, in March 1959, to recognize the Oder–Neisse line – a clear signal to the Soviets which was supported by subtle feelers in the background.27 As early as 1959 de Gaulle also spoke publicly of a ‘Europe from the Atlantic to the Urals’ and did not hesitate to state to French diplomats and to Adenauer that Soviet communism was mellowing, to mention an inevitable Sino-Soviet rift, and to evoke a new European security order including Russia.28 In May 1962 he stressed publicly that the establishment of close Franco-German cooperation would make possible the establishment of a new European balance between East and West, and thus of a European cooperative system from the Atlantic to the Urals.29 This one sentence revealingly linked steps two and three of his programme. At the same time de Gaulle’s positions were not to be taken always at face value but could be instrumentalized to further his aims. For instance, as soon as the Berlin Wall was erected in 1961 he was aware of the vulnerability of West Berlin; his uncompromising stance (refusing to associate himself with Anglo-American offers of negotiation with Moscow) was probably not so much directed against Moscow as devised to draw an isolated FRG towards Paris and thus to ‘create Europe’.30 Even as he appeared to follow the logic of more European cooperation against a growing Soviet threat, he did not in fact renounce his preferred vision. Nor did he make any effort to hide that basic concept from his Western partners, presenting it as a permanent blueprint independent from the ebb and flow of East–West relations long before he began actually to implement it. On 25 May 1963, Couve de Murville told Kennedy rather clearly how Paris saw the

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link between its kind of détente and its kind of Europe: the pre-condition of East–West balance and of a settlement of the Cold War in Europe would be the emergence of a political and military European entity since American forces would not remain always in Western Europe.31

The years 1964 to 1965: the time appears ripe for de Gaulle’s concept Between 1964 and 1966 all the major problems of French foreign policy (the relations with Washington, Bonn and Moscow and the EEC) came to a head together and were deeply linked: now was the time to try to implement the Gaullist blueprint. With Washington the relations had gone from bad to worse since 1963 and in October 1964 France launched a massive attack against the Multilateral Force (MLF) project, which was now seen as the major tool of American policy to thwart the French concept of a ‘European Europe’. In December the MLF was effectively killed by de Gaulle.32 On 23 December 1964, the Soviet Prime Minister Kosygin lost no time in telling the French ambassador Philippe Baudet that France and the Soviet Union agreed about the necessity of promoting ‘security in Europe’ in order to forestall the dangers of German ambitions and of privileged American–German cooperation. This was an evident offer of cooperation, in the wake of the MLF failure, tailored to French fears about an eventual Bonn–Washington axis.33 Immediately Paris decided to take up the offer. Both states now agreed that the main problem, the division of Germany, was a ‘specifically European’ problem that could only be solved in the framework of a European détente, in which the European countries should play the leading role, marginalizing the US.34 De Gaulle himself told the Soviet ambassador in Paris, Vinogradov, as much on 25 January 1965: France would not recognize the GDR or allow itself to be drafted into an anti-American coalition, but Paris was ready to discuss with Moscow a European solution to the German problem.35 During his press conference of 4 February de Gaulle explained very clearly his whole concept: the USSR and Eastern Europe freed from communist totalitarianism; the German problem solved in the framework of a European security agreement; European cooperation from the Atlantic to the Urals; a Western European grouping to balance the continent; and cooperation between this new European system and America, ‘Europe’s daughter’.36 (But let us note here that one month earlier, on 2 January de Gaulle had told the French ambassador to Washington, Hervé Alphand, that he contemplated a European security system from the Atlantic to the Urals, in which the US would not participate).37 During the next weeks careful soundings between Paris and Moscow took place, until it was announced on 2 March that Soviet foreign minister Andrei Gromyko would visit Paris in April, and Couve de Murville would fly to Moscow before the end of the year.38 On 23 March, Gaulle toasted the outgoing ambassador Vinogradov by evoking ‘the centuries old sympathy and natural affinity’ between the two countries.39 This was widely noted and it became evident that something was afoot. In his talk with Gromyko on 27 April

The linkage between integration and détente

19

de Gaulle was very outspoken. He believed that the partition of Germany was ‘abnormal’ and would not last for ever, but he was ‘in no hurry’ to overcome it, and for the time being partition was ‘an accomplished fact’. Gromyko and de Gaulle agreed on the idea of a European security framework established among Europeans (that is, without the US). The ground was now laid for de Gaulle’s visit to Moscow in June 1966. Meanwhile relations with Washington grew steadily worse, with de Gaulle’s opposition to the Vietnam War being followed by the French departure from the integrated command structure of NATO in March 1966. As for Germany, relations were less easy after Adenauer left the government in October 1963: de Gaulle felt his successor Ludwig Erhard was much too close to the US. As early as the beginning of 1965 de Gaulle was again alluding, publicly and privately, to Germany as the perennial European problem, which could be solved only in the framework of a new European security system and with the help of the USSR. He also foresaw special limitations on Germany, particularly the final recognition of the borders drawn up at Potsdam and the permanent denuclearization of the country.40 At the same time de Gaulle still believed that political and strategic cooperation with Germany was necessary to achieve the security of Western Europe and the overall balance of power in the new Europe which he hoped to construct.41 Parenthetically, it is interesting to note here that the Quai d’Orsay was convinced that ‘the strengthening of Western Europe through the implementation of the Common Market’ encouraged the Eastern European countries to seek more freedom from Moscow and that ‘the corollary was the retreat of Soviet domination’.42 But the order of priority between the organization of Western Europe and the emergence of a new pan-European system now changed: the new European system would not rest primarily on the Franco-German relationship in the framework of a developing Western Europe, but on the Franco-Russian relationship in a pan-European security context. The whole point was now to build through a basic agreement with Moscow a new European order, in which Germany could eventually be reunified (although as we shall see this was a possibility not a necessity) but would anyway be kept under control by a European security system led by Paris and Moscow. De Gaulle explained most clearly in his Press conference on 28 October 1966 that Bonn’s reluctance to follow him combined with the new developments in the East changed the whole situation.43 Détente now took precedence over the West European confederative scheme, although the latter was by no means forgotten.

The year 1966: towards a new European security order? De Gaulle’s trips to Moscow and Warsaw in June 1966 and June 1967 De Gaulle probably never explained his whole concept more vividly than to the American Senator Frank Church on 4 May 1966. The USSR had to come to terms with the West, he asserted, since it was afraid of China and threatened by

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the erosion of ideologies. The German problem could be solved only after the establishment of an overall détente in Europe, which would appease Eastern Europe’s fears about Germany provided she foreswore her ambitions and accepted her borders and denuclearization. But, as we shall see, de Gaulle was perhaps less than candid with his American host (who asked a pointed question to that effect) when he stressed the necessity of the continuing presence of US troops in Europe in order to balance the USSR and stated that the US should fully participate in the negotiations leading to the new system.44 De Gaulle’s trip to the Soviet Union in June 1966 was a very amicable affair. Atmospherics aside, the most important part was the talk between Brezhnev and de Gaulle on 21 June.45 The Soviet leader began with his usual tirade about the German menace. De Gaulle agreed that Germany should not possess any nuclear weapons and should finally recognize her 1945 borders. At the same time he stressed the necessary balance between the US and the USSR: without this balance, France would fall victim to the hegemony of either one or the other power. ‘We are therefore quite happy with your might, and also with that of America.’ None of this was new. More important was the repeated statement that the French were ‘neither very sanguine, nor in great hurry’ to see Germany reunified. Reunification should be a ‘hope’, a ‘perspective’, to prevent dangerous developments in Germany. Reunification was no longer a firm (if hypocritical) element of French foreign policy aims, as had been officially the case since the Paris Agreements of October 1954. And anyway the German problem should be discussed among Europeans, so as to take it out of the Soviet–American rivalry which Germany, de Gaulle implied, was using in a dangerous way for her own purposes. At this point Brezhnev suggested a European security conference without the US. De Gaulle then equivocated: it was too soon for such a conference, but ‘one should go in that direction’: the conference would be the result of détente. As for the Americans, they certainly had rights resulting from the war regarding Germany, but there were grounds to believe that the US might accept a settlement arrived at among Europeans and allowing America to disengage itself from Europe. At another point, de Gaulle agreed explicitly with Brezhnev’s statement that the Europeans should collaborate among themselves without the US. Those two questions (German reunification and American participation in a European security conference) were the most important issues discussed. De Gaulle’s position, as stated rather ambiguously to the Soviets, now went far beyond the previous official French stance. It was one thing to envisage European détente including the mellowing of Soviet communism in Eastern Europe, the reunification of Germany and a continuing American military presence in Europe – the scenario outlined to Senator Church. It was quite another to speak of a European security system without an American presence and with a severely controlled Germany with only a distant prospect of reunification in its midst. The two pillars of such a system would have to be the USSR and France. France with its nuclear weapons and its leadership of Western Europe would counterbalance Russia, which would be contained on one side by China and on the other by the peripheral power of the US.46

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When de Gaulle went to Poland in 1967, he tried to convince the Poles to overcome the ideological barrier in Europe, to affirm their own interests and to help France achieve a new ‘European order’. In his well-known speech to the Polish Diet on 11 September, he exhorted the Poles to affirm their independent role.47 But Gomulka answered that ‘the alliance with the USSR and the treaties concluded with the socialist states of Eastern Europe, including the GDR, were the lynchpin of Poland’s foreign policy’. De Gaulle’s world view was hence unrealistic.48

Reining in integration: the Empty Chair crisis of 1965 Still convinced that the time had now come for his pan-European concept, de Gaulle decided quite logically to rein in EEC integration, which he had tolerated for tactical reasons since 1958. The linkage between his concept of détente and his view of Western Europe is quite evident here: France’s freedom of action, essential for Paris to control the interplay between interlocking balances he wanted to establish, implied the end of integration. In June 1965 Paris launched the Empty Chair crisis, and for six months France boycotted Brussels until the ‘Luxembourg compromise’ of January 1966. De Gaulle had three objectives: first, to block the decisive switch to majority voting which was due to take place in January 1966 (that objective was achieved, at least in practical terms, with the Luxemburg compromise). The second, long-term objective was to thwart the federalist tendency of the Brussels institutions. But the third aim was to force France’s European partners both to move away from integration, whether European or Atlantic, in favour of a ‘Europe of States’ dealing with both superpowers under French leadership, and to adopt his views about a reconstruction of the whole continent through ‘détente, entente and cooperation’ with the USSR.49 As Raymond Aron sensed at the time, there was a close interconnection in de Gaulle’s mind between the mantra of French national independence, the concept of a ‘Europe of the States’ and the blueprint for a new Concert of Europe including Russia.50

The failure of the new ‘Concert of Europe’. A final return to Western Europe? De Gaulle’s basic concept did not succeed, however: no progress was made towards a European confederation of states. NATO overcame the crisis caused by the French withdrawal thanks to the creation on the Nuclear Planning Group in December 1966 and also thanks to the Harmel Report of 1967. As for the policy of ‘détente, entente and cooperation’ with Moscow, the Prague Spring of 1968 made its limits clear. If Brezhnev was quite happy to capitalize on French foreign policy because it led to a loosening of NATO, he was not willing to talk seriously about the future of Europe with France: his real partners were the US, and, quite soon, the FRG.51 Did de Gaulle though retain after 1966 his basic concept of a renewed Concert of Europe, especially after the invasion of Czechoslovakia in August

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1968? The evidence is mixed: the ‘Soames affair’ in February 1969 would seem to indicate that in a climate of renewed East–West tension de Gaulle wished to reactivate the Western European component of his policy.52 It has also been frequently said that relations with Washington evolved for the better when Nixon became president. Actually Nixon’s visit to Paris at the end of February 1969 went quite well. But de Gaulle did not change at all his overall views during that visit: the change was in the atmosphere, not the substance.53 It would seem that de Gaulle remained true to his basic concept to the end. There are good reasons to believe that de Gaulle judged the Czech events to be but an episode, which did not alter the general trend towards détente and hence did not call into question his concept.54 One tended in Paris to ascribe a great deal of the responsibility for the failure of the Prague Spring to Bonn’s policy towards Prague, which was perceived as reckless. The conclusion was that it was now more important than ever for Paris and Moscow to discuss together the future of European security.55

Georges Pompidou’s basic conception and policy until 1972 Georges Pompidou, President of the French Republic from 1969 until his death in 1974, was fully aware of the revolution in international affairs which took place during those years: the ‘Nixon shocks’, détente and Ostpolitik. He basically favoured détente because it could enhance stability in Europe. He believed it represented the best framework in which to try to settle the German problem, which preoccupied him greatly because he feared the basic instability of Germany and the constant temptation of a deal with Moscow which arose from the partition of the country.56 For him détente, provided it was prudently managed without provoking the USSR, was the only possible way to give more leeway to Eastern Europe in its relations with Moscow. It was also the best framework to help the forces to slowly transform the USSR into a modern industrialized society less hostile to the West. As far as the link between détente and integration was concerned, Pompidou (like de Gaulle) believed that détente and integration, whether European or Western, were mutually exclusive. He felt, exactly as de Gaulle had done, that EEC integration was seen by France’s European partners as an indirect means to bring France back into NATO integration. Brandt in particular was suspected of pushing in this direction so as to get France’s nuclear policy under Alliance control.57 Were this to happen, it would endanger détente and destroy the vision shared by both de Gaulle and Pompidou of an independent France acting as the fulcrum of an East–West balance. As Pompidou told Brezhnev on 7 October 1970: ‘whatever the development of the EEC, we shall never return to NATO.’58 He also alluded to the fact that too much European integration could lead to a West European military bloc including Germany and equipped with nuclear weapons, which would of course mean the end of détente. France, he promised, would prevent such a development at all costs.59 Like de Gaulle, Pompidou envisaged a system of intergovernmental

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European cooperation, not integration. Such a system would be compatible with détente. However, as we shall see, Pompidou did not view the relationship between the two processes in exactly the same terms as did de Gaulle. Georges Pompidou’s views were undoubtedly Gaullist: he was insistent on French independence, he was against European and NATO integration as a matter of principle, he was very much on guard against any sign of the US using NATO to control Europe, he was very ambivalent towards Germany feeling that it should be closely controlled in a French-led Europe, and he was in favour of détente with the Soviet Union and of a special French role in Moscow to enhance France’s influence in the world.60 At the same time he was quite ready to have better relations with Washington, feeling that the military and economic coherence of the West was an absolute necessity.61 As for Russia, he distrusted Soviet geopolitical aims towards Europe and the Middle East and deeply feared the totalitarian expansive force of communist ideology, but at the same time he believed that Marxism was ultimately doomed, if only because of the failure of Soviet economy;62 he did not share de Gaulle’s vision of a ‘Europe from the Atlantic to the Urals’ and believed rather that through economic, social and political evolution the USSR would ultimately become part of the Western, industrialized world. Conversely, he feared from the beginning a possible Soviet–American condominium over Europe.63 About the US, Georges Pompidou had quite different views from de Gaulle, even if, once again, he was no Atlanticist and was absolutely determined to uphold French independence. He certainly did not wish America to retreat from Europe. For him Western solidarity in the face of the still present Soviet menace was very important, the United States should remain fully committed in Europe, and for the time being the best solution for Germany was partition. The present balance between East and West was preferable to dangerous innovations along the lines of a grand pan-European security concept, which could only lead either to an American–Soviet or a German–Soviet condominium detrimental to French interests. Détente was useful because it prevented war, brought stability and could in the long run help Eastern Europe get more freedom from Moscow. But it could not be used as a short-cut to further French ambitions in Europe. France’s role in the world would rely on her leadership of Western Europe and on a central role between the two sides of the Atlantic as the first European partner of the US, not on a tacit cooperation with the USSR. Georges Pompidou understood quite well that there was a fine line between détente as a useful way to increase stability between East and West and détente as a series of unilateral Western concessions to the Soviet Union.64 He particularly feared the tendency towards disengagement which was evident in American public opinion and in Congress (Senator Mansfield’s campaign for a reduction of US troops in Europe, for instance) and which he suspected was present even inside the Nixon Administration. That was why for him détente had to be indivisible and to concern not only Europe but also the rest of the world, especially the Middle East and Asia. He feared that if détente was limited to Europe it might lead to a form of superpower condominium over the continent.65

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He was particularly anxious that Moscow and Washington might strike an implicit deal at the expense of the Europeans in order to concentrate their energy on their converging feud with China. Towards the European security conference, which the Soviets had been advocating for years and about which de Gaulle had kept an open mind, Pompidou’s views were complex. On the one hand he favoured it, despite the initial opposition of the Quai d’Orsay which correctly realized that the Soviet’s aims were to achieve recognition of the 1945 settlement and to divide Western Europe from America. For Pompidou it was a way to escape from the ‘two blocs’, a very Gaullist concern which he constantly supported. Anyway, he felt sure that other Western countries would end up embracing the Soviet proposal since the urge for détente was simply too powerful: he therefore believed that France should derive the advantages from being the first Western country to embrace the idea. This was also the only concession he could bring to Moscow for his first visit, scheduled for October 1970. But at the same time he saw in the European conference a way to achieve a modicum of freedom from Moscow for the Eastern Europeans, particularly for countries such as Poland, Romania and Yugoslavia, and to alleviate the consequences of the ‘Brezhnev doctrine’.66 He told Willy Brandt that the security conference could ‘shake up the Eastern bloc as a bloc’; he added that, provided the Western world remained together (which was meant as an indirect warning to Brandt), ‘we could dissolve the blocs, including the Soviet one, a little bit . . . and bring together all nations East and West, including the two German states’.67 And, in a major difference with de Gaulle, he felt that the United States should ‘naturally’ participate in such a conference and he did not hesitate to state explicitly that they were not ‘foreign to European problems’.68 In addition to the European conference, two main topics were discussed during Pompidou’s visit to Moscow in October 1970. First, the participants talked about the United States. Referring evidently to de Gaulle’s 1966 visit, Brezhnev asked if Pompidou agreed with his predecessor that ‘American influence in Europe should be progressively eliminated’. The French President stressed that he remained true to the basic principles of Gaullism, but, in a significant intellectual twist, he went on to explain that if the United States were influential in Europe it was largely because they were militarily supporting European countries against ‘the immense weight’ of the Soviet Union. He was all in favour of an evolution allowing ‘Europe to be fully Europe’, but there could be no question of exchanging ‘what you fear to be American tutelage’ by Soviet tutelage: ‘we want to be friends, but we intend to be free.’69 In similar fashion he announced on the first day of his visit that ‘France was a western country and fully intended to remain such’. The second topic to be discussed at length was Germany. Pompidou repeatedly assured his interlocutors that France would never tolerate German access to nuclear weapons and expressed his satisfaction with the Soviet–German treaty signed in August, because it helped détente and confirmed the existing borders and the partition of Germany. But he asked searching questions about the future

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of the German problem. He enquired, for instance, about where the Soviets stood regarding reunification, stressing that Germany was always an uncertain factor that had repeatedly become dangerous. Noting that both Germanies were now free to ‘get more acquainted’, he also asked how far Moscow would allow this process to go. It is interesting to note that in response Brezhnev escaped into platitudes about the need for the FRG to respect the independence of the GDR without committing himself to oppose reunification, as Pompidou would have wished.70 In these talks Pompidou was evidently promoting his own agenda. He was both following in de Gaulle’s footsteps when he reaffirmed French independence, and following a very different line when he stressed the need for an American military presence in Europe and made no mention at all of his predecessor’s grand security concept for Europe based on a Franco-Soviet entente. Compared to de Gaulle, he was much more prudent towards Moscow. Pompidou’s first contacts with the Americans were largely positive. He did not hesitate, for instance, to state that Europe and France needed the Atlantic alliance.71 Naturally there were differences between Paris and Washington, for instance, over the international monetary system, but also and particularly over the military aspects of détente. Paris feared that the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT) which started in earnest in 1969 might reduce the American nuclear guarantee to Europe and encourage Washington and Moscow to regard smaller nuclear powers as destabilizing factors that needed to be controlled in times of crisis. Paris was also against the proposal made in late 1969 by the Atlantic alliance, with strong American support, for a conference about mutual and balanced force reductions in Europe (MBFR). Apart from the wellestablished French opposition to any negotiation ‘between the blocs’, Pompidou feared that such negotiations could further worsen the existing imbalance in conventional forces and lead to a kind of neutralization of Central Europe. By contrast Paris supported the European security conference, which Washington still opposed. But the French were quite willing to have serious exchanges with Washington about all of these questions; in fact there was to be a non-stop Franco-American dialogue on all questions pertaining to détente, which amounted to a renewed intimacy after the frosty years since 1963.72 Despite the well-known incidents with Jewish groups, Pompidou’s visit to the United States in February 1970 was a success. The French President’s talks with Nixon on 24 and 26 February showed that there was a broad area of agreement about the evolution of the international system towards multipolarity (United States, USSR, Western Europe, China, Japan), about the need for a prudent attitude towards the USSR, about the importance of not isolating China, and about the need to ask the Germans to keep their western partners accurately informed about the development of the Ostpolitik.73 Nixon accepted French foreign and military policy independence and did not try to bring France back into NATO. Both presidents also decided to restart Franco-American strategic talks and military cooperation which had basically stopped since 1962. This led to very important developments under Pompidou and his successor Valéry Giscard

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d’Estaing.74 The Franco-American rift of the mid-1960s was about to be bridged. And of particular importance was the agreement to follow quite closely Willy Brandt’s Ostpolitik. Neither power feared any direct threat from Germany, seeing such anxieties as outdated, but rather the risk of excessive German concessions to the Soviets.75 At the Azores summit of December 1971 Pompidou was to stress that France belonged to the West and remained true to the Atlantic alliance. His aim was to be recognized by Nixon as the spokesman of the European Community and to put France in a privileged strategic position of intermediary between America and Europe. This idea was at the heart of his foreign policy. As for the EEC, Pompidou decided that it was no longer in France’s interest to oppose British entry: London was actually successfully playing the Five against Paris and blocking the evolution of the EEC in matters important for French practical interests. But Pompidou had no intention of relaunching integration: the EEC would be kept as it was, with a measure of progress in technical matters useful for France. At the time (it was to change somewhat after 1973) Pompidou’s concept for Europe was more along the lines of a useful framework to foster a series of pragmatic bilateral relations in economic or technical matters. He did not believe in supranationality, and was convinced that the protestations of federalist faith by France’s partners were hypocritical and selfserving.76 The clearest negative link in Pompidou’s eyes between détente and European integration, which he refused, as opposed to European cooperation, which he supported, appears in the case of Germany. Thus in January 1969 (prior to becoming President) he explained to Brandt that a Western Europe united along prudent intergovernmental lines could manage a meaningful détente with the East and eventually encourage a liberalization of even the USSR.77 But excessive European integration would be different. In particular, he believed Ostpolitik and closer European integration to be mutually exclusive. He told Barzel, the CDU leader, and Brandt himself as much, in quite clear terms.78 He told Helmut Kohl, the new CDU leader, on 15 October 1973, that it was senseless to try to achieve a close-knit, very deeply integrated Europe, because Germany would not hesitate to escape from it if it were necessary to do so in order to solve her national problem.79 Pompidou did not believe German proclamations of European faith. He noted on 24 February 1972, that the official stand in favour of ever deeper European integration and supranationality in Bonn was contradicted by the affirmation of a permanent German nation, which stood at the core of the Ostpolitik.80 Generally speaking, Pompidou was convinced that Brandt’s first foreign policy objective was reunification and that this influenced the rest of Bonn’s policies. In particular, Pompidou was certain that Bonn no longer wished the construction of a strong Western Europe which could hamper its search for a broad settlement with Moscow, and that there was a risk of a divided Western Europe negotiating piecemeal with Moscow.81 At the same time, a prudent détente needed a strong Western Europe, even if it was a Europe built upon effective intergovernmental

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cooperation and not on integration. He told Brandt on 3 December 1971 that ‘the policy of getting closer to Eastern Europe implied a strong Western Europe. If Western Europe divides itself, that policy will soon become dangerous.’82 The overall concept that thus emerges involved a prudent and incremental détente and a prudently developing EEC, strong enough to resist the blandishments of Moscow, admitting Great Britain to overcome the negative effects of London’s opposition to France’s European policy, able to collaborate with the United States on equal footing, but no longer bound to integrate in a manner which could reduce Paris’ freedom of action. In such a context, with good relations with all major capitals, in a state of approximate international balance, and on the verge of a major period of economic progress, France could play an important role and defend her interests, particularly as a an intermediary between the US and a French-led EEC. The linkage between a prudent détente not endangering Western solidarity and a EEC developing in practical terms but not along integrative lines seems clear.

The years 1972 to 1973: Pompidou’s concept in jeopardy From 1972 onward however, Pompidou began to feel that détente was evolving in anything other than a prudent fashion. Franco-American relations soured between 1972 and 1973, largely due to growing differences over détente and particularly over the military negotiations with Moscow (SALT and MBFR). As early as 1971, Paris realized that a Soviet–American SALT agreement was now to be expected and might have negative consequences for France, reducing the political and military value of its own deterrent.83 As for the MBFR, the French rejected this outright. They feared that it could lead to a withdrawal of American troops from Europe and to a neutralization of Central Europe, allowing Moscow to exert constant and considerable pressure on Europe.84 The growing difference over the strategy of détente thus led to a realignment of Pompidou’s policy towards the United States after 1972: his aim was henceforth less to be the privileged intermediary between Europe and the United States and much more to gather the Europeans together to balance American influence – in a way a return to Gaullism. The American embassy in Paris sensed this change as early as September 1972.85 Paris was concerned by the SALT agreements of May 1972 and their possible implications for France. On the strategic side the agreements reduced the value of the American military guarantee to Europe.86 On the political side the French President wondered aloud when talking to Gromyko on 13 June if these agreements ‘did not amount more or less to a sort of will to establish a condominium over the rest of the world’. This theme would recur frequently.87 And the differences between Paris and Washington about the strategy of détente grew rapidly from the summer of 1973 onward. The turning point was the ‘agreement to prevent a nuclear war’ signed by Brezhnev in California on 22 June. For Paris, the most disquieting feature of this agreement was the clause concerning mutual consultation in case of a conflict between two other powers. Pompidou sensed

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the danger ‘of a kind of tutelage over Europe’, as he wrote to Nixon on 13 July.88 The suspicions about a Soviet–American condominium were growing fast, the more so because Paris believed that there was a convergence between the 22 June agreement, SALT and MBFR.89 Matters were made still worse by the ‘Year of Europe’ announced by Henry Kissinger on 23 April 1973, which was supposed to see the transatlantic relationship defined anew in an ‘Atlantic Charter’. Pompidou and Michel Jobert, his new foreign minister, looked upon these developments with anxiety: were not the Americans going to strike a deal with the USSR at the expense of Europe? Kissinger in his ‘Year of Europe’ speech had referred to Europe as a regional gathering with limited interests. Did Washington envisage itself as the leader of a vast transatlantic grouping?90 Paris and Washington thus appeared ever more divided about the very strategy of détente. Largely as a result, the very important military and nuclear talks which had began between the two countries in 1970 were halted at the end of 1973 (they were to resume only under Pompidou’s successor, Giscard d’Estaing). Paris was under the impression that Washington was now more reticent to share information with the French and give them technical advice because it did not want to compromise SALT. Pompidou thus brought exchanges to a halt and issued instead in February 1974 a new defence directive for the Armed Forces which was characterized by a renewed insistence on the independence of the French nuclear deterrent; it was again a return to Gaullist orthodoxy, albeit of a rationalized kind.91 The growing differences about détente had led Pompidou to revert to a more independent stance vis-à-vis Washington. As far as Ostpolitik was concerned, Pompidou had very mixed feelings. He was not opposed to its first period, namely that leading to the treaties between Germany and the East in 1970 to 1972. After all it had been French policy since de Gaulle’s press conference of 5 February 1964 that the German problem could be solved only after the reconciliation of Eastern and Western Europe, and that Bonn should renounce the territories beyond the Oder-Neisse line. Furthermore, alongside Pompidou’s general wish for détente in Europe, there was a very specific reason for his support of the Ostpolitik’s treaties: they consolidated the partition of Germany. French internal documents from Pompidou’s Cabinet Office allude indirectly to that consideration. The President was unequivocal when he visited Brezhnev in October 1970: he told him that France looked favourably towards the international recognition of the GDR, and that it ‘believed that one should not deprive Germany of the hope of reunification, but that [Paris] was in no hurry’.92 But from the beginning Pompidou suspected both Brandt and Moscow of having ulterior motives. Hence he was much less enthusiastic about any further evolution of Bonn’s policy towards the East beyond the early treaties and anxious about the way that any such German overture might be used by Moscow. Pompidou and his advisers were convinced, as early as December 1969, that Bonn wished through Ostpolitik ultimately to weaken the East German regime and to absorb East Germany. But this policy could misfire: the growing contacts between both Germanies could well play into the hands of the Soviets and lead, not to a ‘destabilization of the East’, but instead to a destabi-

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lization of the West and to increased Soviet influence, a process which Pompidou often described as ‘Finlandization’.93 Pompidou was also afraid that Ostpolitik could lead, given Moscow’s leverage over Bonn, to a vast Soviet–German agreement and to a kind of Soviet–German condominium over Europe, under the paramount influence of Moscow. And it should be noted here that some proponents of the Ostpolitik, certainly Egon Bahr and probably Brandt himself, were actually contemplating the formation of a European security system based upon a broad Soviet–German agreement as a means to solve the German problem, even if they were not sure about the possible timetable for such an evolution.94 In private conversations with French journalists, Pompidou stated as early as September 1970 that he feared both the new German assertiveness towards the Western Allies and the fact that the Soviet Union now had strong leverage over Bonn. He was also concerned about an eventual withdrawal of American troops in Europe (a constant obsession) which might lead to a Soviet–German agreement. Germany might then become reunified, neutralized, and armed with nuclear weapons: three nightmares for the French! The only defence was to anchor Germany to a strong Western Europe in such a way that it could no longer detach itself.95 Nothing better epitomizes Pompidou’s prudence about détente than his attitude towards the negotiations over Berlin. As is well known, the French played an important part in the negotiation of the quadripartite agreement on Berlin from September 1971. But it was the French Foreign Office which supported the negotiation: the President was from the beginning very sceptical and urged the utmost caution. He refused to make an agreement on Berlin the condition of a broad East–West détente; he would have preferred to limit the negotiation to practical matters concerning the life of West Berliners. As he had stated in October 1969: ‘one must not alter the status of Berlin.’ Of course France could not remain isolated and had to go along with the negotiation. But it would seem from the record that Pompidou played an important role in fighting to preserve quadripartite control of the city and in blocking any role for the GDR. Why was the defence of this strictly quadripartite status so important for Pompidou? The answer would appear to be that he was convinced that Berlin was the fulcrum of the East–West balance. In a long handwritten note dated 26 March 1970, the President noted ‘that quadripartism was capital because it implicated the USSR’. Any other solution would enable the East to blackmail the FRG through Berlin – a city that as he told both Brandt and Barzel was ‘the crucial and determining factor of the balance between Eastern and Western Europe’. For him the whole East–West balance and the evolution of the German question hinged on Berlin: if the status of Berlin was altered, Moscow could put pressure on the FRG and France would lose their best instrument to control the evolution of the German problem: their rights in Berlin. This clearly relates to Pompidou’s fears of early German reunification and of a large-scale deal between the Germans and Soviets.96 In 1973 Ostpolitik seemed to the French to be evolving ever more in the

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direction of those ulterior motives which Paris had always feared. On 23 November 1973, Jean-Bernard Raimond, diplomatic adviser at the Elysée, warned the President that Bonn wanted to promote the MBFR as a mean to achieve a European security system ‘relying on the withdrawal of foreign troops [hence the departure of American troops from Europe] and the guarantee of the superpowers’; that is, along the lines which the Soviets had been suggesting for 20 years.97 Pompidou’s unease was increased by what Brandt had told him on 21 June 1973. The Chancellor alluded to the possibility of a European defence organization, ‘duplicating or replacing NATO’, expressing the view that the Franco-German strategic dialogue, which had never ceased since de Gaulle and Adenauer, should become now ‘more practical’, and that in such an organization Germany could not content itself with a second-rate role, even if it was not currently seeking to acquire nuclear weapons. Without fully closing the door to a European defence arrangement, Pompidou remained very non-committal. On 9 November, the German Foreign Minister Walter Scheel brought up the subject once again with Jobert: he was more precise than Brandt, explaining that the European Community would have eventually to ‘free itself from its dependence’ on NATO, and to acquire a nuclear defence capability. Coming from the Foreign Minister of a country purporting to be the staunchest supporter of NATO on the European continent, this was a rather startling statement. What Jobert answered on 9 November is not known, but his reaction can be inferred from his speech to the Western European Union (WEU) Assembly on 21 November and from an article in Le Monde on 27 November, which was visibly inspired by him.98 On those two occasions Jobert stressed the necessity of the Atlantic Alliance, of the permanence of American troops in Europe, and of the American nuclear guarantee. To the Europeans he suggested only ‘an effort of dialogue and reflection’ in the framework of the WEU; a European defence capability ‘was a long-term affair, about which one could only say that it was not for tomorrow’. This was a very low-key answer to Scheel’s suggestions. Evidently Paris reacted quite negatively to the German overture. Quite clearly, and this goes to the heart of our theme, Pompidou’s opposition to a militarily stronger and more independent Europe was not only shaped by his preference for national independence rather than European integration, but also by the fear that such a Europe might stray from a balanced transatlantic relationship and thus steer détente into very dangerous waters as far as French interests were concerned.

Pompidou’s reaction Confronted with what was in his view the derailment of détente, Pompidou reacted in three ways. The first was by reasserting French independence in military and strategic matters: Paris’ attitude towards NATO remained uncompromising and the new presidential directive on defence of 1 February 1974, although not a full return to the ‘tous azimuts’ approach of de Gaulle, stressed French nuclear and military independence most forcefully.99 Gaullist political

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and media circles in Paris, and particularly Jobert, were meanwhile pressing for a full return to Gaullism and for an uncompromising stance towards Washington. The President however preferred to heed the more moderate counsels of the Elysée staff. He tried to reaffirm his concept of European and Western solidarity and his views about détente. An occasion to do so was provided by the difficult negotiations about an Atlantic Declaration in which Kissinger wanted to reaffirm transatlantic links and which the French feared would be an instrument to control the development of the EEC. On 3 October 1973, Jobert drew up a French draft for the Declaration, under instructions from Pompidou.100 This text brought to the fore all the French worries about détente: it reaffirmed the necessity for transatlantic solidarity and for the continuing presence of American forces in Europe; but it stressed also the need for nuclear deterrence reflecting the suspicion that the Americans were drifting towards a non-nuclear stance and fear of the possible negative consequences of SALT. The French wording stressed that the United States would not allow Europe to be put under any ‘external pressure, political or military, which might affect its freedom’ – a statement designed to block the possible consequences of the 22 June Soviet–American agreement. The text also underscored the ‘specificity’ of Europe’s defence and the contribution made to the Atlantic alliance by both European conventional forces and the nuclear deterrents of Great Britain and France. This was a way to persuade the Alliance to recognize the usefulness of the French Force de Frappe and also to open up the possibility of a future European defence identity – albeit one approached with the caution outlined by Jobert’s WEU speech. The French draft was to be a major success, much of its wording finding its way into the Ottawa Declaration adopted by the Atlantic Council on 19 June 1974 following Pompidou’s death. The French had thus managed to bring the Alliance to endorse some of their more important views about nuclear deterrence, about détente, and against ‘condominium’. At the same time they had reaffirmed Atlantic solidarity at a time when the Germans (Brandt and Scheel at least) were exploring the possibility of a new European security system and of a European defence arrangement outside of NATO in order to help German reunification. Their stance thus epitomized the rationalized Gaullism of Georges Pompidou: steadfast defence of French independence but basic solidarity with the United States in the face of the Soviet threat and the risk of Germany drifting towards neutralism. Pompidou’s third reaction was meant for the long term. He certainly believed that a deepening of European intergovernmental solidarity, possibly extending to foreign policy and defence, was the only way to steer détente into safe waters, to contain the Soviets, to keep Germany firmly in the West and to force Washington to take more into account European interests.101 In his press conference of 27 September 1973, he suggested that the European heads of state and government meet regularly to discuss political cooperation. This was to lead to the Summit of the Nine in Copenhagen in December 1973 and, ultimately, to the present

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European Council, which, it should be noted, is an organ of intergovernmental cooperation not of integration. But in his view Europe would have to develop pragmatically due to the Cold War, the German problem and the ambiguities of détente; to try to go too far too fast could be very dangerous and eventually counter-productive. As he explained to Kohl on 15 October 1973: in the case of a major East–West crisis Germany (and maybe others) would certainly not hesitate to discard European integration if it could help them safeguard their vital interests. Hence the development of Europe had to rely on practical progress, on the progressive formation of common links, interests and habits. Such links would be more difficult to discard at a time of crisis than a series of European treaties would be; it was useless for Europeans ‘to build up a wall of paper which would not survive a crisis’.102 As he wrote to Brandt on 17 October 1973, it was more important to develop Europe in practical terms than to engage in theoretical words or arguments for or against integration which would just hide the heart of the matter and prevent true progress.103 Pompidou’s world view thus remained basically Gaullist, probably even more so after détente began to take what he regarded as a dangerous direction after 1972. He told Brandt on 22 January 1973, that to become a reality Europe would have to distinguish itself from both the USSR and the US. It would be even more difficult with America, because Washington wanted to take part in the Community decision-making process and to appear as its mentor.104 He also told the Soviet ambassador in Paris on 6 November 1973 that his recent suggestions for closer cooperation among the Nine were in no way meant to regroup the member states against Moscow.105 The Elysée was quite aware of the fact that the Soviets were suspicious about the discussions of a European defence system, which went on in Western Europe in a particularly lively way in 1973.106 Furthermore, Pompidou was careful to dispel such fears when he met Gromyko on 15 February 1974: discussions about cooperation in conventional armaments were of an economic nature, not a political or military one.107 He said much the same to Brezhnev at Pitsounda on 13 March.108 Once again, it was felt that imprudent progress on some aspects of the European agenda could endanger détente and the delicate Franco-Soviet balance. At the same time, it would seem that if the linkage between détente and European integration had a special meaning for the French, it did exist and was not without long-term effects on policy. Both Pompidou and de Gaulle were convinced that European integration in the full supranational meaning of the word and détente were mutually exclusive. The relationship was more complex and less negative between détente and the Gaullist kind of cooperative Europe. But that link was reversed for de Gaulle and Pompidou: de Gaulle laid more stress on Europe when the Soviets appeared more menacing and détente was in jeopardy, while Pompidou insisted more on Europe (albeit a cooperative not an integrated one) when détente threatened to grow by itself beyond the scope of French interests.

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Notes 1 Ministère des Affaires étrangères (MAE), Europe 1966–1970, URSS, Box 2672, 25.5.1966. 2 See, for instance MAE, Europe 1961–1965, URSS, vol. 1932, meeting 17.5.1965. 3 MAE, Service des pactes, vol. 322. 4 MAE, Papiers Wormser, vol. 3, Conversation 6.10.1964. 5 MAE, Papiers Wormser, vol. 3, Wormser note, 27.11.1964. 6 Letter to Erhard, 29 July 1964 cited in de Gaulle (1987, p. 82). 7 MAE, Europe 1961–1965, URSS, vol. 1932. 8 Soutou (1990), (1996, ch. VIII); Maillard (1990, pp. 247–52). 9 See the fascinating account by a Soviet diplomat based in Paris at the time: Erofeev (1988, pp. 143–53, 152–60). 10 See de Gaulle (1959, p. 62). 11 Archives Nationales (AN), Michel Debré Papers, 2 DE 62. 12 See esp. Peyrefitte (2000, pp. 195–207). 13 de Gaulle (1970a, pp. 239–42). For his 1944 to 1945 ideas see Soutou (1994). 14 Soutou, ‘Frankreich und die Deutschlandfrage 1943 bis 1945’ in Volkmann (1996); Soutou (1996). 15 Fondation Charles de Gaulle (2000). 16 Fondation Charles de Gaulle (1999). 17 See e.g. the very cool talks between de Gaulle and Vinogradov on 23 November 1960 (MAE, Cabinet du Ministre, entretiens), on 23 February 1961 (MAE, Europe 1961–1965, URSS, vol. 1930) and ‘note pour le secrétaire général a.s. Relations franco-soviétiques’, same volume, 29.3.1962. 18 MAE, Europe 1961–1965, URSS, vol. 1930, note, 21.9.1962; telegrams from Moscow, 5 and 6.2.1963; circular telegram, 8.2.1963; note, 14.2.1963. 19 Vaïsse (1993, pp. 41–53). 20 de Gaulle (1985, p. 73). 21 de Gaulle (1970b, p. 220). 22 de Gaulle (1985, pp. 382–3). 23 de Gaulle (1985, pp. 398–9). 24 Soutou (1996). 25 Froment-Meurice (1998, pp. 202–3). 26 See Soutou (1996). 27 Wolton (1997, pp. 272ff). 28 Froment-Meurice (1998, p. 213). 29 de Gaulle (1970b, p. 411). 30 Froment-Meurice (1998, pp. 228, 234–5, 237–8). 31 MAE, Série des Pactes, vol. 409. 32 Soutou (1996, pp. 277–80). 33 MAE, Europe 1960–1965, URSS, vol. 1931, note, 5.1.1965. 34 Ibid., Paris to Moscow telegram, 8.1.1965. 35 Ibid., note, 25.1.1965. 36 de Gaulle (1970c, pp. 338–42). 37 Alphand (1977, p. 445). 38 MAE, Europe 1960–1965, URSS, vol. 1931, multiple notes. 39 de Gaulle (1970c, pp. 348–9). 40 Soutou (1996, pp. 287ff). 41 De Gaulle explained his views to a Cabinet committee on 4 February 1966. See de Gaulle (1987, pp. 246ff). 42 MAE, Europe 1961–1965, URSS, vol. 1932, note by the Sous-direction d’Europe oriental, 20.4.1965. 43 de Gaulle (1970d, pp. 101–2).

34 44 45 46 47 48

49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

G.-H. Soutou de Gaulle (1987, pp. 295–6). MAE, Europe 1966–1970, URSS, box 2672. Maillard (1990, p. 241). For de Gaulle’s views in 1944 to 1945 see Soutou (1994). de Gaulle (1970d, pp. 212–13). Renaud (1999). See also Soutou, ‘De Gaulle’s France and the Soviet Union from conflict to Détente’ in Eastern Europe and Western Europe in the Cold War (1965–1975), proceedings of the Conference in Muenster, 21–23 October 2004 (forthcoming). Newhouse (1967); Peyrefitte (1997, pp. 284. 295–6). ‘Perspectives européennes’, 27.12.1965; ‘Quel est le grand dessein?’, 4 and 5–6.2.1966 (reprinted in Aron (1997)). Weit (1971, p. 188). Françoise de La Serre, ‘De Gaulle et la candidature britannique aux Communautés européennes’ in Institut Charles de Gaulle (1992). Kissinger (1979, pp. 106–11). See de Gaulle (1970d, pp. 332–5); see also Wormser (1978, pp. 590–605, 31–45). Debré (1993, pp. 260–1). He expressed these fears frequently, for instance, to Heath on 21 May 1973. Cited by Roussel (1994, p. 653). Georges-Henri Soutou, ‘L’attitude de Georges Pompidou face à l’Allemagne’, in Association Georges Pompidou (1995). AN, 5AG2 1018. AN, 5AG2 1018, meeting with Brezhnev 13.10.1970. For Pompidou’s views before 1969 see Sulzberger (1973) and Peyrefitte (1994). Sulzberger (1973, pp. 216–17). Pompidou (1974). See Peyrefitte (1997, p. 25) and Sulzberger (1973, pp. 4, 406). AN, 5AG2 1017, Pompidou’s annotation on Moscow telegram, 2.1.1971. He said as much to Brezhnev on 29 October 1971, AN, 5AG2 1018. AN, 5AG2 1041, esp. Raimond note, 7.8.1969 and Pompidou conversation with Jean de Lipkowski, 6.1.1970. See also AN, 5AG2 1018, Pompidou underlinings on Quai note, 2.10.1970. AN, 5AG2 1011, Pompidou–Brandt meetings, 4.12.1971, 10.2.1972. AN, 5AG2 1022, Pompidou–Rogers meeting, 8.12.1969; National Archives, RG59/67–69/Box 2103; AN, 5AG2 1041, Raimond to Pompidou, 18.11.1969, 21.1.1970; AN, 5AG2 1021, Pompidou to Nixon, 1.7.1972. AN, 5AG2 1018, Brezhnev–Pompidou meeting, 13.10.1970. AN, 5AG2 1018, Pompidou meeting with the Soviet leadership, 7.10.1970. AN, 5AG2 1022, Pompidou–Shriver meeting, 23.7.1969. AN, 5AG2 1022, Pompidou–Rogers meeting, 8.12.1969; National Archives, RG59/67–69/Box 2103; AN 5AG2 1041, Raimond to Pompidou, 18.11.1969, 21.1.1970. In his private conversations after the meeting Nixon declared himself quite satisfied; see Sulzberger (1973, pp. 614–15). Soutou (2000). As Kissinger told Lucet on 13 April 1970; AN, 5AG2 1021, Lucet to Schumann, 14.4.1970. Association Georges Pompidou (1995). AN, 5AG2 1010. AN, 5AG2 1010, Pompidou to Barzel, 5.3.1970; Pompidou to Brandt, 25.1.1971. AN, 5AG2 1012. AN, 5AG2 1009. AN, 5AG2 1010, meeting with Brandt, 25.1.1971. AN, 5AG2 1011.

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83 AN, 5AG2/1041, Pompidou marginal notation on a document from the Quai d’Orsay, 13.5.1971. 84 AN, 5AG2/1018, Raimond to Pompidou, 8.10.1971. 85 National Archives, RG 59/Nos 70–3/Box 2278, Paris telegram, 20.9.1972. 86 AN, 5AG2 1018, Raimond to Pompidou, 12.6.1972. 87 AN, 5AG2 1018. 88 AN, 5AG2 1021. 89 AN, 5AG2 1019, Quai note, 20.6.1973. 90 AN, 5AG2 1021, Raimond to Pompidou, 3.5.1973. 91 Soutou (2004). 92 Roussel (1994, pp. 395ff). 93 This was Raimond’s point of view. See AN, 5AG2 1010, notes 6.11, 8.12.1969. 94 See W. Link ‘Außen- und Deutschlandpolitik in der Ära Brandt 1969–1974’ in Bracher et al. (1986, pp. 169ff). 95 Roussel (1994, pp. 393–4). 96 For a more detailed account see Soutou (2004b). 97 For the Cabinet splits this caused, see Link, ‘Außen- und Deutschlandpolitik’ in Bracher et al. (1986, p. 231). 98 See Le Monde, 23.11.1973. 99 Soutou (2000). 100 AN, 5AG2 1021. 101 Soutou, ‘L’attitude de Georges Pompidou face à l’Allemagne’, in Association Georges Pompidou (1995). 102 AN, 5AG2 1012. 103 AN, 5AG2 1009. 104 AN, 5AG2 1012. 105 AN, 5AG2 1019. 106 AN, 5AG2 1019, Robin to Pompidou, 13.2.1974. 107 AN, 5AG2 1019. 108 AN, 5AG2 1019.

2

‘Grandeur et dépendances’ The dilemmas of Gaullist foreign policy, September 1967 to April 1968 Garret Martin

During de Gaulle’s tenure as French President, France famously twice vetoed British applications to join the European Economic Community (EEC). The first veto, made during de Gaulle’s press conference of 14 January 1963 is certainly the more famous and spectacular of the two. De Gaulle, in his characteristically grandiloquent style, not only vetoed the British application but also rejected the American offer to set up a Multilateral Force (MLF), and by doing so effectively kick-started a more ambitious and independent foreign policy for France. The second veto of December 1967, while seemingly less spectacular and more cautious, was nonetheless also a very categorical no to the British.1 Not surprisingly, the literature on de Gaulle has tended to focus far more on the first rejection of the British candidacy than the second. This is unfortunate since the second rejection proved an equally important event. As had been the case in January 1963, the need to decide on the British candidacy in December 1967 took place at a time when the future of the Western world seemed at a crossroads, with important ongoing negotiations on the international monetary system and the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) approaching their conclusion. Yet, unlike 1963, the second British question also reached its climax during an important period for East–West relations in Europe. Thus, while the first veto by France announced a new ambitious foreign policy in the aftermath of the Algerian War, the second veto and other intertwined events dramatically underlined the limits and shortcomings of Gaullist foreign policy. The prestige of Gaullist France relied greatly on its strong commitment to key principles, such as national independence, détente in Europe, or the value of gold in a new international monetary system. However, in the period September 1967 to April 1968, France faced an underlying dilemma: was it preferable to be in the right and true to one’s principles, but alone; or compromise, at the risk of being in contradiction with one’s principles, so as to avoid international isolation?

Immobilism in the East . . . De Gaulle undoubtedly attached great importance to his trip to Poland in September 1967. De Gaulle had gone to Moscow in June 1966 with the idea of convincing the Soviet leaders to accept détente in Europe and to show more

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flexibility on the German question. The trip to Poland, by contrast, was, according to French Foreign Minister Maurice Couve de Murville, part of the plan ‘to disengage Europe from the bloc system and to accentuate the opening of Eastern Europe, while still recognising the postwar borders’.2 France could not hope immediately to detach the satellite states from the Eastern Bloc, but to overcome the Cold War in Europe it had to encourage them to become more active in European affairs and show more independence from Moscow. Finally, the trip would hopefully promote French prestige, strengthen Franco-Polish relations, and prove an important stage in the blossoming rapprochement between Western and Eastern Europe. Such a rapprochement depended ultimately on West Germany improving its relations with the states of the Eastern Bloc. The Grand Coalition, in power in West Germany since December 1966, had made a new Ostpolitik one of its major policy aims, and relations with France had consequently improved as Bonn had enlisted the support of its neighbour. Bonn’s appreciation of help from Paris had only grown once its policy towards Eastern Europe started to face increasing resistance from the satellite states. In the weeks preceding de Gaulle’s trip to Poland, West German officials repeatedly lobbied the French government. The West German ambassador in Paris met de Gaulle a few days before his departure to find out more details about the trip. The chargé d’affaires of the West German Embassy in Paris, Limburg, in a meeting with Jacques de Beaumarchais, the Directeur Politique of the Quai d’Orsay, expressed the hope that de Gaulle would treat the question of post-war borders with maximum discretion. He further indicated that Bonn would appreciate it if France could not only support its Ostpolitik in front of the Poles, but also point out that West Germany sincerely wanted to improve relations with Poland.3 Bonn’s plea for help proved a mixed blessing for France, however. On the one hand, it gave the French government a trump card in its relations with Bonn, allowing it to demand cooperation in other political fields. For example, after de Gaulle’s visit to West Germany in July 1967, Couve had made it ‘brutally clear’ that West Germany had now to choose between either forceful support for the British application for admission to the EEC or alignment with de Gaulle on the policy of détente. On the other hand, de Gaulle faced a difficult juggling act with his trip to Poland. He needed to plead the West German cause while giving the Poles satisfaction on the issue of post-war borders. He also needed to encourage Poland to show more independence while not angering Moscow. Despite the warm reception which the French President received, the inflexibility of the Polish leaders, and especially Gomulka, meant that de Gaulle’s trip to Poland was at best a half-success. To de Gaulle’s claims, in a speech to the Polish Diet, that security in Europe could only exist through détente and entente between the states rather than through the futile opposition of two blocs, Gomulka firmly replied by describing the alliance with the Soviet Union as the ‘cornerstone of Polish foreign policy’.4 During private talks, Gomulka proved equally inflexible on the issue of West Germany. He pointed out to de Gaulle that Polish policy on the German problem (i.e. rejecting German reunification in

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favour of the recognition of the two Germanies) was even more dogmatic than Soviet policy and the only good policy, and that France could not expect concessions from Poland on the subject.5 Privately, de Gaulle clearly felt frustrated with the limited results of his trip. During a meeting of the French cabinet, de Gaulle poured scorn on a Polish government which ‘barely remembers that Poland is in Europe’.6 Yet, whether they described the trip as a half-success or a half-failure, de Gaulle and his aides considered the trip to be a true breakthrough. Looking at it on a long-term basis, they surely believed that the trip would provide momentum to the struggle of the peoples of Eastern Europe for the liberalisation of their regimes and greater independence towards Moscow.7 Thus, despite the negative experience in Poland, de Gaulle refused to give up on a policy for Europe to which he was greatly attached.8 For de Gaulle, a temporary setback could not stop the inexorable march towards East–West détente in Europe. Not all observers, however, shared de Gaulle’s optimism. While Le Monde acknowledged that the trip had produced some interesting results, especially for Franco-Polish relations, it also pointed out that the visit to Poland highlighted the limits of Gaullist policy. The states of Eastern Europe applauded French policy when it weakened Western solidarity, but their leaders quickly ran away when asked to follow in France’s footsteps.9 Such an assessment proved all too accurate, and many authors later singled out the trip to Poland as an important turning point in explaining the shortcomings of de Gaulle’s attempts to foster East–West détente in Europe. Thus, Jean Lacouture concluded that the trip to Poland showed de Gaulle that the ‘the Kremlin would control any possible contacts between East and West’, while Catherine Durandin observed that Gomulka’s speech to the Diet ‘clearly marked the limits of French ambitions’.10 There is certainly no clear consensus, however, when it comes to assessing whether de Gaulle’s own performance in Poland played a part in provoking the backlash against French policy. On the one hand, Maurice Vaïsse points out that while de Gaulle’s speech to the Polish Diet was less blatant in style than the famous speeches in Quebec or Phnom Penh, it was equally clear in content as he called on Poland to follow France’s independent model and distance itself from Moscow; and for Rey, this call for ‘revolt’ undoubtedly worried the Soviet leaders.11 On the other hand, Thierry Wolton talked of the trip to Poland as an embarrassment for de Gaulle and his supporters. After the speeches of Phnom Penh and the Quebec scandal, ‘it was hard to find equivalents in the speeches in Poland that would credit the idea that de Gaulle maintained a good equilibrium between East and West’; Charles Roussel agreed, pointing out that de Gaulle showed a very moderate attitude towards the socialist bloc and lacked conviction when criticising the policy of blocs in the Polish Diet.12 Yet, while both views are to a certain extent correct, they tend to ignore the central point. Of course, de Gaulle’s calls for greater Polish independence from Moscow tended to be lacklustre and cryptic. On one occasion, for example, he invited Poland to ‘look a bit further, a bit bigger’ and pointed out that: ‘Obstacles that seem insurmountable today, you [Poland] will overcome without

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doubt. You know what I am referring to.’13 But he could neither afford nor did he want to cause the same degree of shock as with the speeches in Phnom Penh and Quebec. As mentioned before, de Gaulle went to Poland with the idea of increasing the momentum of East–West détente in Europe. In order to do so, he needed to keep Poland, West Germany and the Soviet Union happy and on board, a feat that was only possible through nuanced and carefully balanced rhetoric. France, however, faced a dilemma in the sense that while it possessed a clear strategy, it lacked a vast array of tactics. During his visit, de Gaulle gave the Poles satisfaction on the question of post-war borders and shied away from major criticism of the Soviet Union, but in exchange he met with serious Polish inflexibility on the German question and little to show for Bonn. Aside from promoting the policy of détente, what else could France do to influence other countries, to keep the momentum of détente going if a country or group of countries showed greater rigidity? In the months following de Gaulle’s trip to Poland, France’s policy of East–West détente in Europe faced ever growing obstacles. This is not to say that the policy lost its momentum altogether. Indeed, the process of consultation and mutual visits with the countries of the Eastern Bloc continued unabated. The Czech President Josef Lenart visited Paris in October 1967, while his Hungarian counterpart Jeno Fock followed in March 1968; the French General Ailleret visited Moscow in October 1967, and the French Minister for Armies Pierre Messmer met his Soviet counterpart in April 1968. These regular contacts, nevertheless, could not hide the fact that the French efforts towards détente clearly appeared to be stuttering in this period. Both Moscow’s growing rigidity and the Soviet attempts to restore discipline within the Eastern Bloc – suggested by Gomulka’s speech to de Gaulle and confirmed in the following period – played a central role in frustrating France’s policy. In addition, as some of the satellite states showed less flexibility; the tone they adopted towards France became far less lenient. For example, Prace, the organ of the Czech trade unions, welcomed de Gaulle’s visit to Poland, but it also sent an explicit warning to the French President: The noble words of De Gaulle did not fool the sharp observer when it came to the little diplomatic subtleties by which he tried to tell his interlocutors about the need for stronger national feelings. De Gaulle would obviously welcome what in the West they describe – in the relations between socialist states – as the ‘policy of independence’ towards the Soviet Union. It is also why there are some divergences in views between France and Poland on the German problem.14 Like Gomulka, the journal wanted to reaffirm the solidarity between the socialist states and the Soviet Union, and warn de Gaulle that French policy would go nowhere if it tried to threaten that link. Not surprisingly, France’s attempts to foster East–West détente further faltered because Franco-Soviet relations suffered from Moscow’s hardening stance

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in European affairs. As pointed out by Jacques Andréani, deputy director of the Quai d’Orsay in charge of Soviet and Eastern European affairs, ‘for some time now Russia and we have been playing hide and seek with each other’. He added that the Soviets kept suggesting taking a new step forward, but then remained very vague about what that step should be.15 The Soviet Union remained very wary, especially of West Germany, and far more interested in the status quo.16 During talks with their French counterparts, Soviet officials wanted primarily to discuss the question of a European security conference and a possible FrancoSoviet pact. Any such conference would undoubtedly confirm the status quo in Europe, and in bonus the Soviets could exploit the theme of the conference in order to jeopardise Western solidarity. For example, Valerian Zorine, the Soviet ambassador to Paris, suggested to de Gaulle that a time close to April 1969, or the date of the revision of the North Atlantic Treaty, constituted a favourable period to consider the question of European security in a different manner than through military blocs.17 Similarly, the insistence with which Zorine pushed for a FrancoSoviet pact led Hervé Alphand, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, to believe that Moscow was seeking nothing else apart from further detaching France from the Western world.18 On the other hand, the Soviets remained deaf to any French calls for help on the issue of East–West détente in Europe. In particular, de Gaulle insisted to Zorine in two meetings that any improvement in Moscow’s relations with Bonn could have a vital impact on the cause of détente.19 If anything though, the Soviet attitude towards Bonn hardened in the period between late 1967 and early 1968. Moscow added more and more pre-conditions to any signing of a declaration with Bonn banning the use of force, and stepped up its propaganda campaign against the Federal Republic. In December 1967, for instance, Moscow denounced the rise of neo-Nazism in West Germany, and in January 1968 a further note condemned Bonn’s policies towards West Berlin. France obviously appeared powerless when it came to convincing the Soviets to show more leniency towards West Germany, and, to make matters worse, external problems made Moscow even less amenable to East–West détente. This became very apparent following the nomination of Alexandr Dubcek as the new General Secretary of the Czech Communist Party in January 1968 and the start of his attempt to liberalise the country’s regime. For, if de Gaulle welcomed the arrival of Dubcek as a victory for the supporters of liberalisation, he also undoubtedly feared the chain impact of this nomination in Eastern Europe.20 As Messmer was to find when he visited Moscow during the spring of 1968 there was a high risk that the Soviets might intervene to restore discipline in Czechoslovakia. Marshal Gretchko, the Soviet Minister for Defence, for instance, commented of the Prague Spring: ‘We won’t tolerate for long this Czech policy supported by the German revanchards. We will soon take the right dispositions to end this.’21 As with the Soviet’s relations with West Germany, France again appeared powerless and incapable of influencing the events in Czechoslovakia. The fate of Eastern Europe and East–West détente was not in France’s hands; all it could do was wait, hope the events would develop in its favour, and certainly not interfere or try to worsen the dissensions within the Eastern Bloc.22

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The French government certainly seemed very aware of the difficulties encountered by its policy of détente towards the end of 1967. Couve, for example, complained to Willy Brandt, the West German Foreign Minister, about the rigidity of Soviet policy, and the general immobilism in East–West affairs and within NATO. However, he also added that immobilism was an easier position to adopt, at least in the short term.23 Once again, a categorical belief in the success of the French ideas of détente in the long term led many within the French government to underestimate the difficulties faced by their policies. Asked in an interview to give his impressions about the general immobilism in East–West affairs, Couve first pointed out that the idea of détente was now accepted by nearly all the states of Europe. He then explained that the relative stalling of détente was down to an unfavourable international context – with the continuing Vietnam War – and the ongoing German problem that would take a long time to solve.24 Convinced of the validity of its ideas, France resigned itself to a passive attitude, waiting for the international context to become more favourable. However, time was evidently not on France’s side. In the East, the growing rigidity risked worsening as the Soviets debated about how to deal with the Czech efforts to liberalise their regime. Moreover, developments in the West threatened to offer a more credible alternative to the French model of East–West détente. On 16 December 1966, during a NATO Ministerial Meeting, the North Atlantic Council (NAC), on the initiative of Belgian Foreign Minister Pierre Harmel, decided to ‘undertake a large analysis of the international changes that have occurred since 1949, in view of determining their influence on the Atlantic Alliance and to define the tasks that it should accomplish so as to reinforce the Atlantic Alliance as an element of lasting peace’.25 The NAC expected the representatives of the member states to complete their analysis by the NATO ministerial meeting of December 1967. The Harmel report, as it came to be called, sought mainly to prepare the Atlantic Alliance for the date of April 1969, and to give it a new political raison d’être after the shock of the French withdrawal from NATO’s military integrated structure. The problems over the sections of the Harmel report dealing with East–West détente in Europe only really began to surface for France as the drafting of the report reached its critical phase in the autumn of 1967. According to Bozo, France faced a clear dilemma. It realised that the Harmel report offered an opportunity for the US to reunite the Atlantic Alliance and to lead the process of détente, thereby undermining the French impact in the East–West dimension. Yet, as the Harmel report took on board many of de Gaulle’s ideas on détente, France could find itself in clear contradiction with its own policies if it distanced itself too far from the report’s conclusions.26 Unquestionably, the US hoped to give NATO a larger role in the conduct of East–West affairs. The American Permanent Representative to NATO, Harlan Cleveland, pointed out in an interview that the Atlantic Alliance offered ‘an appropriate frame to organise the policy of détente’ and that the West faced ‘more and more a problem of political and diplomatic coordination’.27 Such an approach, of course, was not compatible with a French policy that

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refused the ‘institution, even in appearance, of a policy of blocs which, while claiming to reinforce and harmonise the initiatives of allies, would only perpetuate a situation of Cold War’.28 Yet the relative unity and determination of the 14 other members of NATO to proceed with the Harmel report offered little room for a totally negative French position. The best Roger Seydoux, the French Permanent Representative in NATO, could do was to focus on the drafting of the report, and to remove the formulas that referred to the ‘organisation’ or ‘harmonisation’ of détente within the Atlantic Alliance, or that sounded like a refutation of Gaullist foreign policy.29 In conclusion, as argued especially by Vaïsse and Bozo, the adoption of the Harmel report in December 1967, with its twin emphases on defence and détente, represented a great victory for the US and its conception of détente. By ‘Atlanticising’ détente, NATO said yes to détente and no to the dissolution of blocs, which was one of the central aims of de Gaulle’s policy of détente.30 The Harmel report effectively gave NATO a new impetus to take a more active role in East–West détente. In the spring of 1968, in order to give the Harmel report a concrete content, General Secretary of NATO Manlio Brosio came up with a list of proposals focusing on arms control, disarmament the promotion of East–West détente, and the German question.31 The setbacks of France’s policy of East–West détente in both the Eastern and Western world naturally affected the confidence of some French officials. Alphand, for example, complained that: Everything is in a dead end: West Germany is not accepting either the postwar borders or the existence of East Germany, the Soviets prefer the status quo, and Brandt still persists with the search for détente with Eastern Europe.32 A similar gloom also applied to some of the West German officials. After some minor successes during the summer of 1967, with the trade agreement with Czechoslovakia and Brandt’s visit to Romania, Bonn’s Ostpolitik seemed once again to be stalling in the face of the rigidity and inflexibility of some of the states of the Eastern Bloc. During the meeting of the West German representatives in Eastern Europe in Bonn on 4–5 December 1967, the mood was decidedly pessimistic. They agreed that in 1968, with the exception of Yugoslavia, West German diplomacy could expect no key development with Eastern Europe.33 Such dejection was not without consequence for Franco-German relations. De Gaulle’s declarations in Poland on the irreversible nature of the postwar borders created controversy in the West German press. The discussions then spread to the whole of West Germany’s Ostpolitik. With the latter’s lack of success, some implicitly questioned the usefulness of the Paris–Bonn link, considering that France’s aid had not enabled the German government to achieve its aims.34 With the stalling process of East–West détente, France was in serious risk of losing its trump card over Bonn and endangering the latter’s cooperation in other political domains, especially for Western affairs. To sum up, de Gaulle’s policy of détente faced serious problems well before

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the Soviet coup in Prague in August 1968, even if the coup effectively sounded its death-knell.35 Due to both the growing rigidity within the Eastern Bloc and the competition within the Western Bloc, French ambitions were quickly losing steam in late 1967 and early 1968. Moreover, this faltering in East–West affairs undoubtedly weakened France in other political domains. Concretely, the stalling affecting East–West affairs undermined the Paris–Bonn link, and symbolically, France appeared more vulnerable at an important period for the future of the Western world.

Defeat in the West Events during the summer of 1967 led some members of the international press to speak of a certain ‘thaw’ in France’s relations with the Western world, and especially with the US. Problems still existed, of course, between the two countries, but the Ailleret-Lemnitzer agreement of August on the cooperation between French troops and NATO troops in West Germany, the London agreement of 26 August on the reform of the international monetary system, and the French decision to return to an annual authorisation for US overflights of French territory suggested at least a certain respite in the ongoing FrancoAmerican conflict.36 Yet, rather than a thaw, this proved to be the calm before the storm. Many elements of this thaw were in fact highly misleading. In early September 1967, a compromise on the reform of the international monetary system appeared possible. A system where the Special Drawing Rights (SDRs) progressively replaced the dollar, subordinated to the same discipline as other currencies, and that gave the Six greater influence, was compatible, in key issues, with the ideas on the international monetary system of de Gaulle’s press conference of February 1965. But this compromise was fragile and unlikely to last.37 Moreover, on the issue of the annual authorisations for US overflights, it actually turned out that the decision had been taken without de Gaulle’s clearance.38 Finally, the discussions around the Harmel report and the British application to join the EEC had not yet reached their critical phase. Between late 1967 and early 1968 however, the storm effectively erupted because several questions central to the future of the Western world approached their conclusion, including the Harmel report, the reform of the international monetary system and the British application to join the European Economic Community. The challenge for France was how to deal with these intertwined but largely independent questions, brought closer to one another by the coincidence of timing. De Gaulle faced as complicated a juggling act with his Westpolitik as he did in his relations with the Eastern Bloc. An inherent tension existed between the various aims pursued by France and it needed to find a way to reconcile them. Indeed, there is a grain of truth in Kuisel’s assertion that France’s campaign against the dollar, and the quest for monetary reform, resulted from a will to elevate Europe and France over the Anglo-Saxons in the running of the international monetary system, and to end the Anglo-Saxon dominance of the

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International Monetary Fund (IMF).39 This really meant that, without the support of the other members of the EEC, the French government would find it near impossible to achieve the desired reform of the international monetary system and the IMF. For example, French Minister of Finance Michel Debré primarily accepted the London agreement as a way of highlighting the cohesion of the six members of the EEC, and because it ensured the EEC a veto in the IMF voting procedure on the SDRs.40 On the other hand, France also wanted to veto the second British application to join the EEC and limit the impact of the Harmel report, which stood in stark contrast with the other members’ support for both the British candidacy and the efforts to strengthen NATO. Thus, the test for France was how to keep the other members of the EEC on board in the monetary sphere while achieving its aims towards the Harmel report and the British candidacy. As the problems of interdependence became more acute for France from September 1967 onward, the need to elaborate a successful strategy grew accordingly. In the monetary field, France put a primacy on maintaining cohesion between the Six. This desire only increased as the fragile London accord started to erode. In a letter to the American Secretary of the Treasury Henry Fowler, Debré expressed his concerns about some of Fowler’s declarations that appeared to contravene the decisions of the London agreement. Debré pointed out that the SDRs could not be considered reserve instruments of the same quality as gold or dollar and sterling, and he reaffirmed his desire for both a reform of the IMF and a resolution of the US’ balance of payments problems.41 Clearly, Debré felt that the Anglo-Saxon powers were stepping up their attacks in the monetary field, especially the US. In his view, the Americans followed the age-old tactic of ‘divide and rule’, putting under constant pressure and trying to win over to their policies some of the states of the EEC, with a view to both preventing a unanimous opposition of the Six to the implementation of the SDR mechanism, and to limit any reform of the IMF.42 In these circumstances, France could feasibly maintain the cohesion of the Six only if it dealt with the questions of the Harmel report and the British application with great tact. Fundamentally, France’s opposition to the British candidacy was well known. It distrusted Britain and its intentions towards Europe, and these misgivings were only increased by the sudden nature of the Labour government of Harold Wilson’s conversion to the merits of EEC membership.43 However, despite this opposition, France still needed to determine the best strategy to go about rejecting the British bid. A fascinating document from the Archives Nationales – basically a memorandum of an Inner Cabinet meeting involving de Gaulle, Prime Minister Georges Pompidou, Couve, Debré and French permanent representative to the EEC Jean-Marc Boegner – offers a rare insight into the French top-level decision-making and choice of strategy. All the participants agreed to reject Britain’s entry to the EEC, but expressed differing opinions on how best to proceed. While de Gaulle emphasised mostly the need for France to be firm in its position, the other participants attached more importance to presentation and tactics. A consensus, though, seemed to emerge on two

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distinct tactics: first, pushing forward a discussion about whether or not Britain was ready to join the EEC, with the clear implication that it was not ready, especially due to its monetary problems; second, playing the card of cohesion by suggesting that a Community of ten members might not be viable, and could disintegrate because of the increased number of obstacles it would face.44 These tactics, in the French view, possessed distinct advantages. According to Couve, they were likely to confuse the other EEC member states, as they amounted not to a straight yes or no, but to a debate about the state of Britain. In addition, they placed the onus on Britain to demonstrate its suitability for EEC membership rather than obliging France to make a strong case against.45 France wanted the discussions between the Six to centre mostly on Britain’s state, and had early on adopted the issue of the UK’s monetary problems as a possible way of rejecting the British application.46 Yet, as the pressures on the pound sterling to devalue grew inexorably in October to November 1967, France attempted to kill two birds with one stone. In effect, France indirectly tied its opposition to the British application with its opposition to the current international monetary system. In his public speeches during this period, Couve did his best to give the impression that France did not reject the British candidacy a priori, but he pointed out that an enlarged Community might not survive. He then added, for Britain only, that it was hard to imagine the latter joining as long as the pound sterling remained an international reserve currency, and thus remained at odds with the national currencies of the Six.47 When Britain finally devalued the pound sterling on 18 November, France used the opportunity to step up its attacks. During his press conference of 27 November, de Gaulle used the devaluation of the pound to both launch another scathing attack on the dollar and to advocate a new international monetary system centred on gold, and to veto the British application to join the EEC.48 French problems with the Harmel report began to loom ever larger from September 1967 onwards. As Bozo notes, France’s dissatisfaction during this period threatened to turn into all-out opposition.49 The member states of NATO had agreed to create four subgroups for the report, each of which was to complete draft conclusions by the end of September: the first group, headed by Watson and Schuetz, focused on East–West relations; the second, headed by Paul-Henri Spaak, on inter-allied relations; the third, headed by Foy Kohler, dealt with defence policy; the fourth, headed by Professor Patijn, examined NATO’s relations with the outside world. If France tolerated the ideas of the first group and was indifferent to the conclusions of the third, it considered the views of the second and fourth group to be barely hidden attacks on French policy.50 Yet, France avoided an all-out confrontation on the Harmel report in September to October, mainly in order to maintain cohesion with its allies in the EEC. Rather, it adopted the tried-and-tested method of the carrot and the stick with the intention of limiting the impact of the Harmel report. For the stick, de Gaulle relied on the threat of withdrawing from the Atlantic Alliance altogether. During a meeting with Manlio Brosio, the NATO Secretary-General, de Gaulle sent a clear warning to his Allies. While reaffirming France’s loyalty to the Atlantic

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Alliance and its likely adherence to the Treaty after 1969, he stated that any attempts by the Allies to ‘transform the Atlantic Alliance’ or to turn the Atlantic Alliance into a political alliance designed ‘to control and direct East–West relations’ – an oblique reference to the Harmel report – might force France to act otherwise.51 At the same time, France tried to coordinate policy with West Germany and convince Bonn that the Harmel report should not be too ambitious. Couve insisted to Brandt that he perceived the Harmel report to be a purely academic report, which should not attempt to define a common foreign policy of the 15 member states of NATO.52 Yet, for all its efforts, France could not altogether avoid the dilemmas and the tensions inherent in a strategy – maintaining the cohesion of the Six in the monetary field while acting cautiously in NATO and over the British application – that required France to play its limited cards extremely well at all times. In essence, the difficult juggling act within its Westpolitik drove France towards imperfect solutions. Starting with the monetary question, France could not escape the fact that ‘the five partners of the Common Market, under strong Anglo-Saxon pressure, were slowly accepting the idea that the SDRs might not be a form of credit, but rather the outline of a real international currency detached from gold’.53 Such a development, of course, was anathema to de Gaulle as it involved both the Five accepting the Anglo-Saxon monetary theses and a rejection of gold, which for de Gaulle was to play a central role in a new international monetary system. Moreover, and perhaps even more problematic, to what extent was the financial context favourable for a reform of the international monetary system? After Britain devalued the pound sterling, France seemingly fanned the speculative flames by leaking unsettling financial news to the press – for example, by informing Le Monde of its secret withdrawal from the gold pool in June 1967 – and by encouraging other countries, especially China, Algeria and the communist states, to convert their dollars into gold. However, by mid-December, France had become more concerned with the deepening financial crisis and afterwards generally refrained from unsettling actions.54 Paradoxically, the deepening crisis within the international monetary system made matters more difficult for France and its quest for reform. A complete breakdown of the current system was hardly in the interest of France, due to the unforeseeable consequences for its economy. Equally, France faced increasing dilemmas as the Harmel report reached its critical phase between late October and mid-December 1967. France felt trapped, clearly finding many of the Harmel report conclusions unacceptable, but hesitating to break completely with the 14, especially West Germany. In addition, the fear of isolation was even more acute at a time when the possibility of France vetoing the British application caused problems with its EEC partners.55 To make matters worse, the US and Belgium were extremely aware of the need to find a good balance between firmness and openness when dealing with French obstruction.56 They both pressured France and avoided actions that would push it to the sidelines, while they discreetly informed the other states of

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their determination to go through with the Harmel report and to give it a meaningful content. The result was that as the Harmel report approached its conclusion, France increasingly faced a hardened and regrouped opposition from the 14, which significantly reduced its margin of action.57 In the end, as Cleveland put it, France ‘preferred the embarrassment of compromises to the risk of rejection’.58 It accepted the Harmel report, which undoubtedly was a great victory for the US. France compromised on the Harmel report in part because it did not want to further anger its partners within the EEC in view of their imminent veto of the British candidacy. In the end, France realised it could not gain satisfaction on both fronts and had to choose. However, the decision did not prove as beneficial as expected. As mentioned previously, Couve and others felt confident that the French tactic towards Britain – placing the onus on Britain – would be successful in preventing a full-blown crisis within the EEC of the sort which had occurred in 1963. Others, though, felt differently. Alphand believed that the great forthcoming crisis would occur once the partners of the EEC realised that France viewed the opening of any negotiations with Britain as pointless;59 and his judgement proved all too accurate. France, as pointed out in the early part of this chapter, expected Bonn to cooperate in Western matters in return for its support for Ostpolitik. In particular, while France realised that West Germany was favourable to Britain joining the EEC, it did not expect Bonn to start a confrontation on the matter. Indeed, Kiesinger in his speeches opposed the idea of forcing France on the issue of Britain, because he viewed relations with France as essential and because he felt that ‘if you want to bring a girl to the altar, you must first persuade her’.60 Nevertheless, pressure was mounting on the German government in the latter months of 1967 to support Britain more vocally. The relative loss of popularity of de Gaulle in West Germany, added to the frustration with the slow progress of Ostpolitik, pushed many Germans to insist that Britain join the EEC, despite the problems it would cause.61 For example, in early December the Commission for Foreign Affairs of the Bundestag asked the German government to be firm and not let Paris ‘create a breach between Bonn and its four partners’.62 In the end, France gained satisfaction. The EEC Council of Ministers could only note the disagreement at the meeting on 19 December and decide to postpone sine diem the negotiations with Britain. Couve, a day later, expressed his relief as the meeting ended in disagreement, but not with the crisis desired by Britain.63 However, while the French veto did not cause a crisis as in 1963, it was still to have some important consequences, noticeably in the important negotiations over the international monetary system in early 1968. Indeed, the IMF countries had agreed at the end of the Rio meeting, on 29 September 1967, that they would study by 31 March 1968 at the latest a report concerning the implementation of the SDRs and the reform of the IMF. The prospects for France, though, seemed quite gloomy in early 1968, especially following the difficult compromise over the Harmel report and the pyrrhic victory on the British question. True, the French veto did not cause a crisis as

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spectacular as the one in 1963, and the other members reacted with a mix of anger and resignation. But the British application remained on the EEC’s agenda, and as such was likely to continue to undermine the cohesion between the Six. This could only have important consequences, considering that the discussions around the international monetary system were approaching a critical phase. The Five were already on their way towards accepting the Anglo-Saxon theses and France, as Debré confided to Alexei Kosygin, already felt very isolated. Debré realised that France could only be successful if it swayed its European partners back towards its ideas.64 By Europeans, of course, he essentially meant West Germany. In view of the weaknesses of the international monetary system, de Gaulle emphasised the need to consult and maintain Franco-German solidarity in these circumstances.65 However, the worsening Franco-German relations in the early months of 1968 prevented any kind of purposeful cooperation. For a start, if the French veto of the Britain candidacy did not cause any open wounds between Paris and Bonn, it was not without consequences. In early 1968, West Germany harassed France on the possibility of a transitional arrangement for Britain with the EEC so as to keep the question of Britain on the agenda.66 On top of this, the so-called ‘Brandt affair’ erupted soon after. On 4 February, according to a German press agency, Brandt had publicly claimed that the Franco-German friendship was strong enough, especially among the youth, to overcome the rigid and anti-European conceptions of a head of state ‘thirsty for power’.67 Despite the many complaints and denials, this incident left its mark. De Gaulle certainly gave the impression that he would not forget this incident easily.68 Alphand even went so far as to claim that this episode marked the end of the ‘honeymoon’ with the Kiesinger government.69 The FrancoGerman summit that took place a few days later in Paris produced little and was held in a difficult atmosphere. Apart from the agreement between both countries to envisage a form of association between Britain and the EEC, little was done. This was very problematic for France at a time when more than ever it needed Bonn’s cooperation in the negotiations over the international monetary system.70 In the end, and again paradoxically, another crisis in the international monetary system provided the setting for France’s undoing. The brief respite of early 1968 that followed the run on gold and the devaluation of the pound in November 1967 did not last. A significant new run on gold occurred in March 1968, forcing the Bank of England to close for one day. Yet this crisis actually offered a great opportunity for the US to move away from the tyranny of the gold–dollar link and to start forging new and more flexible arrangements for the development of the international monetary system.71 On 16 March, the governors of the Central Banks of the member states of the gold pool met in Washington to discuss how to solve this gold crisis. The US, for its part, wanted to end this run on gold and give a boost to the SDRs – whose negotiations were approaching their climax – as being fully equivalent to gold. As its trump card, the US could rely on the threat of suspending the convertibility of dollars into gold. The aims of the European states were less clear, but ultimately they wanted to put an end to the crisis atmosphere, and so accepted the US proposals.72

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On the eve of the crucial meeting in Stockholm of 29 March 1968 to discuss the SDRs and the IMF, the French government – not privy to the Washington meeting of the gold pool – debated its tactics during a Council of Ministers. If not all the participants agreed when it came to assessing the negotiations – de Gaulle seeming more confident and Debré very pessimistic, complaining of France’s isolation – all agreed that it was crucial to find a common position among the Six.73 But this was not to be the case. As Prate explains in great detail, France faced a tough choice before the Stockholm meeting. If it refused to accept the new monetary system, it would keep its freedom of action, but could not oppose the creation of a ‘dollar zone’ spreading to large parts of the Western world. Alternatively, should France prioritise European cohesion, accept a solution that could only cause deterioration in the international monetary system and world inflation, and give up on the Munich compromise? De Gaulle’s conclusion was not to accept the failure of talks, but to ‘push negotiations to their limits’. He added that ‘if precise promises are obtained from US that they will redress their balance of payments, if the majority rules give the Six a right of veto, France would give its assent’. Yet France only gained satisfaction on the question of majority rule, and so refused to support the decisions of the Stockholm meeting.74 This proved to be a particularly painful blow. Debré complained that ‘I was abandoned by our European partners’ and that ‘the subordination to the US was total and humiliating’.75 As the British were to observe, France’s isolation during the Stockholm meeting was of ‘considerable political significance’; the meeting proved to be the ‘last fling of the French attempt to destroy the confidence in the dollar’.76

Conclusion: France caught in a political no-man’s land? In the end, when it came down to it, France made the choice of grandeur, of independence, of loyalty to its principles, rather than the choice of compromise and dépendance. Between influence and status, France preferred the latter. Such a dilemma plagued France during the period examined in this chapter, but was also a choice which France was obliged to make on a longterm basis and which goes a long way towards explaining the limits and shortcomings of the Gaullist project. The Gaullist model of foreign policy, with its repeated emphasis on the value of national independence, proved a very valuable tool for France when it came to making a claim for Great Power status. While still within NATO and within the EEC, France could rely on the power of obstruction to make its voice heard, and to give credence to its desire to be treated as a Great Power. Once France stepped up and seized the mantle of Great Power, the dynamics of its policies fundamentally changed. What France gained in status, it also lost in influence. As Bozo points out, the conclusion of the Harmel report underlined the limits of the French margin of manoeuvre once it withdrew from the military integrated structure of NATO.77 Equally, once France withdrew from the gold pool in June 1967, it lost part of its capacity to influence the outcome of the

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negotiations over the international monetary system, especially during the troubled period of March 1968. Fundamentally, France found itself trapped, or lost in a kind of political no-man’s land between the Eastern and Western worlds. During the high point of its policy of détente in 1966, the Eastern Bloc welcomed France with open arms, especially because of its value as a troublemaker within the Western world. Once the tide of détente started to turn, however, France was powerless to stop the efforts within both the Western and Eastern blocs towards greater stability and discipline.

Notes 1 Viansson-Ponté (1970, p. 324). 2 Peyrefitte (2000, p. 293). 3 Ministère des Affaires etrangeres (MAE): Europe 1966–1970, Pologne, vol. 2500: Note de De Beaumarchais, 18.8.1967. 4 Documentation Française (DF): La Politique Etrangère de la France (PEF), Textes et Documents 1966–1967: de Gaulle and Gomulka’s speeches to the Polish Diet, 11. 9.1967. 5 MAE: Cabinet du Ministre (CM), Couve de Murville (CD), vol. 388: de Gaulle–Gomulka meeting, 11.9.1967. 6 Peyrefitte (2000, p. 298). 7 L. Salgo, in Institut Charles de Gaulle (1992, p. 478). 8 Rey (1991, p. 61). 9 MAE: Europe 1966–1970, Pologne, vol. 2500: Le Monde, 13.9.1967. 10 Lacouture (1986, p. 541); Durandin (1994, p. 101). 11 Vaïsse (1998, p. 439); Rey (1991, p. 61). 12 Wolton (1997, p. 439); Roussel (2002, pp. 843–4). 13 MAE: Europe 1966–1970, Pologne, vol. 2500: de Gaulle speech in Gdynia, 10.9.1967. 14 MAE: Europe 1966–1970, Pologne, vol. 2500: Note of Sous Direction Europe Orientale, 18.10.1967. 15 National Archives Record Administration (NARA): Record Group (RG) 59, Central Foreign Policy Files (CF), 1967–1969, Box 2104: Wallner to State, Airgram no. 1751, 22.3.1968. 16 Couve de Murville (1971, p. 281). 17 MAE: Secrétariat Général (SG), Entretiens et Messages (EM), vol. 32: Zorine–de Gaulle meeting, 4.10.1967. 18 MAE: Europe 1966–1970, URSS, vol. 2666: Alphand–Zorine meeting, 20.9.1967. 19 See MAE: SG, EM, vol. 32: de Gaulle–Zorine meeting, 4.10.1967; MAE: CM, CD, vol. 391: de Gaulle–Zorine meeting, 20.2.1968. 20 Lefort (1999, p. 231). 21 Messmer (1992, p. 299). 22 MAE: SG, EM, vol. 33: Couve–Stewart meeting, 26.4.1968. 23 MAE: CM, CD, vol. 389: Couve–Brandt meeting, 17.10.1967. 24 DF: PEF, 1966–1967: Couve interview with French Television, 14.12.1967. 25 MAE: Service des Pactes (Pactes), 1961–1970: Note no. 348 of the French delegation to the NAC, 20.7.1967. 26 Bozo (1996, p. 174). 27 MAE: Pactes, 1961–1970, vol. 277: Roger Seydoux to Couve, 30.11.1967. 28 Bozo (1996, p. 175). 29 Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS): 1964–1968, vol. XIII: Document 277. 30 Bozo (1996, pp. 176–7); Vaïsse (1998, p. 395).

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31 MAE: Pactes, 1961–1970, vol. 277: Roger Seydoux to Couve, Telegram no. 382–287, 15.3.1968. 32 Alphand (1977, p. 494). 33 MAE: Europe 1961–1970, Allemagne, vol. 1545: François Seydoux to Couve, Telegram no. 6543–6547, 9.12.1967. 34 MAE: Europe 1961–1970, Allemagne, vol. 1608: Note of Sous-Direction Europe Centrale, 22.11.1967. 35 A fact acknowledged by Vaïsse (1998, p. 395). 36 NARA: RG 59, CF, 1967–1969, Box 2102: Lucet–Eugene Rostow meeting, 18.9.1967. 37 Prate (1978, p. 225). 38 de Gaulle (1987b, p. 134). 39 Kuisel (1993, pp. 174–5). 40 Archives Nationales (AN): 5ème République Archives de la Présidence De Gaulle (5AG1), Carton 29 Affaires Economiques, Conseils Restreints: Note of the Secrétariat Général de la Présidence, 23.8.1967. 41 LBJL: Private Papers of Francis Bator, SF, Box 10: Debré to Fowler, 7.9.1967. 42 AN: 5AG1, Carton 29 Affaires Économiques, Conseils Restreints: Debré note, 14.9.1967. 43 Couve de Murville (1971, p. 418). 44 AN: 5AG1, Carton 29 Affaires Économiques, Conseils Restreints: Conseil sur les Affaires Économiques et Financières, 16.10.1967. 45 Peyrefitte (2000, p. 273). 46 See e.g. AN: 5AG1, Carton 29 Affaires Économiques, Conseils Restreints: Debré note, 14.9.1967; AN: 5AG1, Carton 29 Affaires Économiques, Conseils Restreints: Conseil sur les Affaires Économiques et Financières, 16.10.1967. 47 See e.g. Fondation Nationale de Sciences Politiques (FNSP): Couve de Murville 2 (CM2) Speech to the European Communities, 23.10.1967; FNSP: CM2: Speech to l’Assemblée Nationale, 7.11.1967. 48 de Gaulle (1970d, pp. 231–45). 49 Bozo (1996, p. 352). 50 MAE: Pactes, 1961–1970, vol. 276: Note of Service des Pactes, 4.10.1967. 51 LBJL: PP, NSF, Agency File, Box 36: Cleveland to Rusk, Telegram no. 5, 15.10.1967. 52 MAE: CM, CD, vol. 389: Couve–Brandt meeting, 17.10.1967. 53 Prate (1978, p. 225). 54 LBJL: PP, NSF, Country File, Box 174: CIA Intelligence Memorandum, 20.3.1968. 55 Bozo (1996, pp. 354–5). 56 FRUS: 1964–1968, vol. XIII: Document 267. 57 MAE: Pactes 1961–1970, vol. 277: Roger Seydoux to Couve, Telegram no. 673–675, 24.11.1967. 58 FRUS: 1964–1968, vol. XIII: Document 277. 59 Alphand (1977, p. 494). 60 FRUS: 1964–1968, vol. XIII: Document 272. 61 Seydoux (1977, p. 101). 62 MAE: Pactes 1961–1970, vol. 277: François Seydoux to Couve, Telegram no. 6393–6400, 2.12.1967. 63 Peyrefitte (2000, p. 274). 64 AN: 5AG1, Carton 188, URSS: Debré–Kosygin meeting, 11.1.1968. 65 Peyrefitte (2000, p. 284). 66 See e.g. MAE: SG, EM, vol. 33: Brunet–Lahr meeting, 16.1.1968. 67 Seydoux (1977, p. 105). 68 MAE: SG, EM, vol. 33: de Gaulle–Luebke meeting, 5.2.1968. 69 Alphand (1977, p. 500).

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70 For French efforts to enlist Bonn’s cooperation, see AN: 5AG1, Carton 164, Allemagne RFA: Debré–Schiller meeting, 15.2.1968. 71 Schwartz (2003, p. 200). 72 Solomon (1977, p. 120). 73 Peyrefitte (2000, pp. 285–7). 74 Prate (1978, p. 226). 75 Peyrefitte (2000, p. 287). 76 Schwartz (2003, p. 204). 77 Bozo (1996, p. 356).

3

Détente and European integration in the policies of Willy Brandt and Georges Pompidou Wilfried Loth

As closely related as the chancellorship of Willy Brandt and the presidency of Georges Pompidou in France were in time, the differences between the two leaders outweigh the points of agreement. Contemporaries remember the irritations that the Eastern initiatives of the Brandt/Scheel government caused in France, close observers emphasize the differences in disposition and political styles, and analysts point out the incompatibility of conceptions and strategic interests. Alongside such conceptual differences, however, there was also enough common ground to allow shared policies and shared successes. This applies in particular to the process of détente – something which for both leaders needed to be much more than a simple re-evaluation of national positions.1

Complementary concepts In essence, Willy Brandt’s Eastern policies were pan-European policies. Ever since the mid-1960s, Brandt, like General de Gaulle, was convinced that Germany would only grow back together as part of the process of overcoming the East–West conflict in Europe. As he explained in an interview in the summer of 1967 during his term as Foreign Minister of the Grand Coalition, ‘We need an orientation that puts the German Question within the European context, and for this purpose we need a concept that contains the basic traits of a peace order.’2 And he confirmed this basic belief to Georges Pompidou in January 1971: ‘We have become convinced that our national problem will not be resolved in isolated fashion, but that it will be if there is a modification which affects both halves of Europe.’3 ‘Modification’ for Brandt meant the renunciation of aggression guaranteed by treaty, balanced troop and arms reduction, confidence-building measures, the ‘levelling off of borders’ and ‘new forms of cooperation’ between the East and the West. Freedom of information and movement were to be realized and in the longer term all human rights would be guaranteed, including the right to ethnicity and self-determination of each people. Within the framework of such a ‘European peace order’ the Germans were to regain their unity as well.4 It remained unclear, however, what the security architecture of this new Europe would look like. In the planning phase of the ‘new Eastern policies’,

54 W. Loth Egon Bahr contemplated a security system of equal European states that was to replace the existing pacts. As he outlined in a planning study of the Foreign Ministry in June 1968, the new arrangement would be guaranteed by the two superpowers, but they would not be members themselves. This study was based on a draft by the Centre d’Études de Politique Etrangère in Paris which had foreseen the possibility of a Central European zone free of foreign troops and nuclear weapons, composed of the two German states, the Benelux countries, Poland and Czechoslovakia.5 Such an arrangement, however, was neither in the interest of the United States nor in that of the Soviet Union. For both superpowers it meant – as the French draft had already concluded – the loss of influence in Europe; for the Soviet Union it also implied the breaking up of the communist regimes in Europe. By the same token, Bahr’s vision threatened the previously special roles of both Great Britain and France, and was incompatible with the common notions of the political unification of Western Europe. As a result, Bahr acknowledged that the plan would be impossible to carry out in the foreseeable future: ‘An agreement on a new security system that replaces the previous military alliances cannot be anticipated,’ he wrote on the 21 September 1969 in a memorandum entitled ‘Thoughts on the foreign policies of a future federal government’.6 The result was that Brandt opted to use that which already existed in his search for a European peace order, in other words not to break up the existing alliances but to reorganize their relationship to each other. In an interview with Der Spiegel he argued that it was necessary ‘to re-organize the existing relationship [between the two blocs] and then to see how the process can be taken further, that is to further develop existing structures and to renew them’.7 He demonstrated this conviction by avoiding a premature reaction to the Warsaw Pact’s 17 March 1969 Budapest Appeal for a ‘European Security Conference’ and instead insisting that the West should not respond unless and until the Alliance had agreed on a united position.8 Likewise, when he was elected Chancellor he sent Carlo Schmid, his special assistant for Franco-German affairs, to Paris to reassure Pompidou that France had nothing to fear from the initiatives of the new federal government: ‘Franco-German cooperation will become the fulcrum of our policy.’9 This also meant that Bahr’s notions of a gradual transition to a collective security system were illusory. Despite being aware of the opposition that his ideas would encounter, Bahr did ‘not want to exclude’ agreements ‘that allow for the continuation of the existing system on a lower level, while at the same time serving as the preliminary stage of a new order’.10 But for Brandt steps towards a new order could only go as far as the Federal Republic’s allies were willing to countenance. It was thus impossible to anticipate how far and where this approach would lead. The Chancellor’s notorious vagueness in describing the European peace order – a European security system that ‘will bring the present alliances . . . to form a certain relationship to each other’11 – was hence not the product of indecisiveness or conceptual vagueness. Rather, it was the necessary result of a political approach that simultaneously aimed at balancing

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out common interests and changing the perception of each power’s selfinterests.12 Pompidou shared Brandt’s understanding of détente in Europe at least in principle. He too understood the loosening up of the communist bloc to be ‘in the general interest of Europe and of peace’; he too thought that it was necessary ‘to communicate’; and he too recognized that following the suppression of the Prague Spring, communication primarily had to involve Moscow.13 ‘We do not intend to obstruct a policy of détente towards the East, however limited this may be’, he told Schmid at their meeting on 7 November 1969.14 And as he told Brandt in early 1971, he was convinced that cooperation would one day be rewarded with the liberalization of the system: A moment will come when it will be necessary to liberalise. At that point many questions will be resolved. This will not happen at once, but we must not enclose ourselves in a system which, vis-à-vis the East is a type of closed bloc and which would deprive them of all hope of cooperation.15 Yet Pompidou feared Soviet military power and its potential psychological effects on Western Europeans more than the Chancellor did. In particular he feared the possibility of the Federal Republic’s breaking out of the Western alliance. In December 1971, he told Brandt frankly that he considered this to be in the natural interest of Soviet policies;16 and despite Brandt’s claims to the contrary he could not help but worry that the Germans might accept such an offer for the sake of reunification. Thus in February 1972 he warned: We feel very strongly that the Soviet Union, in appealing to Germany’s fundamental national aspiration for reunification, may well feel that at some point in time a form of neutralisation of Germany could be the means to bring reunification about.17 In Pompidou’s view, a united and strong Western Europe was thus a prerequisite for the success of détente. As he concluded in a conversation with Brandt in December 1971: ‘For me, a policy of rapprochement with Eastern Europe – yours as much as ours – presupposes a strong Western Europe. If Western Europe is divided, such a policy would quickly become dangerous.’ Two months later he argued more precisely: I feel that if we are all united, we could dissolve the blocs to some extent, including the Soviet bloc. The rapprochement of all the peoples of East and West, and also of the two German states, will become possible to carry out in an atmosphere of political cooperation and detente rather than that of the neutralisation of central Europe and therefore of Germany.18 Pompidou thus linked his warnings about German solo efforts with an offer to cooperate and the prediction that such cooperation would bear fruit.

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At about the same time he explained his vision of a united and strong Europe to US President Richard Nixon: I then believe that it is necessary to give Western Europe the greatest possible unity in the economic field, then in the political one, and probably, if all goes well, in that of defence. After all, it is the only possible counterweight to the Soviet Union, and this is all the more true given, I am sure, that the United States will gradually want to relinquish the burden of defending Europe. As I have already told you, I do not want your presence to diminish rapidly, but it will inevitably decline and it will therefore be necessary for Europe to be united so as to be solid in the face of the East.19 The unity of Western Europe was all the more important since the reduction of the American presence in Europe was inevitable. As a result, Europe in the medium term would need a unified approach to defence matters also. ‘If we manage to build Europe not only on the economic level, but also on that of foreign policy, we will have to accept that there cannot be either a single policy nor a single economy without some sort of common defence policy’, he acknowledged to Edward Heath in March 1972.20 This approach meshed well with Brandt’s plans, since the Chancellor wanted to pursue the path towards a European peace order alongside his Western allies and did not merely see European unification as a means to an end. Ideas of European unity thus represented a potential foundation for shared Franco-German efforts at détente. However, the two countries differed both in their perception of the Soviet threat and in the degree to which their foreign policy was dependent on the progress of détente. As a result this foundation was not effectively built upon. Instead, Franco-German relations oscillated between joint action and underlying mistrust of German motives on the part of the French.

Troop reductions and a security conference The difficulties in French–German relations became especially obvious in the two countries’ respective approaches to arms reduction in Europe. Both Brandt and Bahr saw arms control as a decisive step towards a European peace order alongside agreements on the renunciation of aggression and the start of greater cooperation with the Eastern Bloc countries. German politicians, moreover, knew that multilateral arms control was all the more important due to the risk that the American military presence could be reduced independently. There was also the danger of an agreement between the superpowers on arms reduction in Europe being carried out behind the back of the Europeans.21 Brandt told Pompidou in January 1971 that this was the reason why he wanted to include negotiations on balanced troop reductions in Europe as a central item on the agenda of the Conference on Security in Europe.22 In Pompidou’s view, by contrast, immediate negotiations on troop reductions posed the danger of weakening the West unilaterally. Should the Russians leave

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Poland, he answered Brandt, it would not be long before the Americans left Germany.23 A militarily thinned out zone in Central Europe only favoured the Soviet Union, further damaged the credibility of the American deterrence guarantee, prevented the building up of a militarily strong Western Europe, and opened the doors to the neutralization of Europe under German leadership. In the light of all these risks, he did not support American disengagement plans. As he explained to Nixon in December 1971: It is true that Brandt is hostile to the idea of neutralisation, of Finlandisation, but once there are no longer American forces in Germany, or Canadian, British or French troops for that matter, Germany will not be far from neutralisation.24 At first, Pompidou sought to impress Brandt with the argument that negotiations on troop reductions would only hasten an American withdrawal.25 When the two leaders met in Bonn on 6 July 1971, for instance, Pompidou warned: ‘The French government, if only for intuitive reasons, foresees that the West will inevitably be the loser in this affair.’ There would either be an ‘an exclusive deal between the United States and the USSR’ or the ‘neutralisation of Central Europe, a sort of resurrection of the Rapacki Plan, which France at least does not wish to see’. Brandt, however, appeared unmoved by these arguments. So the French President tried again once the foreign and defence ministers had rejoined the gathering: ‘M. Pompidou wishes to be heard and to note on the record of the meeting his words of warning: “Achtung, Achtung!” ’26 Later in the same meeting, the German Foreign Minister Walter Scheel insisted on the importance of French participation in the disarmament negotiations. Even if the French government had reservations about the ‘bloc character’ of negotiations between NATO and the Warsaw Pact, it should at least participate ‘as an associated member or observer’ in the Western alliance’s preparations for the conferences. In talking to his French counterpart Michel Debré, Helmut Schmidt, the Minister of Defence, emphasized the US interest in disarmament: basically, it was all about either unilateral or balanced troop reductions. If the Western Europeans did not participate in the negotiations, American–Soviet rapprochement and a drastic reduction of the American military presence might result. And in his reply to Pompidou, Brandt again argued that the French participation in the preliminary talks of the alliance ‘would be an extremely appreciated assistance to the Federal Republic’.27 None of these efforts to recruit and to convince the French helped, however: all that the participants in the Bonn summit of 1971 managed finally to agree was that there would be further consultations. Nor did it help matters when in September, Brandt travelled to Oreanda in Crimea and succeeded in convincing Brezhnev and the Soviet leadership of the need to take up negotiations on balanced troop reductions.28 Pompidou again categorically ruled out negotiations at the present time. As he told Brezhnev on the occasion of the Soviet Secretarygeneral’s visit to Paris at the end of October: ‘We believe that the reduction of

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forces, which will surely come about one day, should be made subordinate to the moral and political effort to obtain greater security.’29 France did not participate in NATO’s preliminary talks and sought to postpone negotiations on troop reductions as long as possible by making them conditional upon a satisfactory agreement over Berlin. Pompidou was almost certainly aware that such negotiations could not be delayed indefinitely. It was just, he insisted to Brezhnev, that they had to take second place following the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE): The conference on security must have priority. On the basis of the success of this conference, which might well create a deep détente between the two parts of Europe and contacts amongst all the States, it is possible to imagine and wish that this will have a knock-on effect at the level of armaments. As a result, in one form or other, whether in a special committee born out of the conference or in some other forum, it will become possible to discuss such questions; but amongst all, and not between two blocs, represented, let me be blunt, by the Soviet Union and the United States. Sooner or later negotiations on troop reductions would become inevitable, he added: We believe it essential to give priority, in timing and not only in spirit, to the security conference. Once this has met and can begin the examination of all that you have mentioned about détente and the rapprochement between peoples, I think like you that we will inescapably be drawn into a discussion about the reduction of forces and of the tension created by the presence of armed forces, whether they be national or foreign.30 At the NATO Council meeting in early December 1972 Foreign Minister Maurice Schumann hinted that the French government might modify its position on troop reductions in Europe: consultations on the foreign military presence, and on the American and Soviet troops in particular, were a prerequisite however.31 And when, in their meeting in Zaslavl near Minsk at the beginning of January 1972, Brezhnev again urged the French President to participate in the disarmament negotiations, Pompidou even showed some flexibility in public: There was no question, of course, of us modifying our position overnight. But I took note with interest of the detailed discussion we had with the Soviet Union about the conference, about its procedures and about its objectives . . . and we have agreed to discuss it further.32 Yet, for the time being, this concession did not amount to more than a further argument in favour of the Conference for Security and Cooperation. Pompidou welcomed the CSCE in principle, provided that all European states

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participated on an equal level and were free to communicate as they pleased. In this way it would be possible to embed Germany’s Ostpolitik in a multilateral framework. Furthermore, Pompidou also saw a real chance to unsettle the Eastern Bloc and to multiply contacts between East and West. France, therefore, was the first Western power to take up the Budapest appeal. Schuman concluded his 1969 visit to Moscow with a communiqué announcing that efforts would be made to convene an all-European Conference: The two ministers believe that, effectively prepared, a European conference could be a means to develop cooperation amongst all European states through their common efforts, to bring to an end the division of Europe into blocs, and to thereby reinforce security and peace.33 When Brandt and Pompidou first talked about the security conference project, they found some common ground. It included the German demand that the Soviet leadership satisfactorily settle the Berlin Question before any such conference opened. Pompidou adopted this demand in talking to his Soviet interlocutors.34 By the same token both sides agreed that the conference agenda should include not only questions concerning the renunciation of aggression and economic cooperation, but also cultural exchange, free passage of people and ideas as well as human rights. After the breakthrough in the negotiations on the Berlin Question in the summer of 1971, Pompidou argued in favour of the speedy convention of the CSCE. In his view, this was the only way to prevent the linking of the security conference to the negotiations on troop reductions, to which the other NATO members meanwhile gave priority. Furthermore, with the Soviet leadership showing reservations about the NATO approach to balanced troop reductions, a greater French commitment to the CSCE project might allow France to regain some of its once privileged role in Western dialogue with the Soviet Union. When Brezhnev visited Paris at the end of October 1971, Pompidou was thus able to present himself as the Soviet Union’s partner in urging for the opening of the CSCE.35 Brandt was quite uncomfortable with this, because he preferred to conclude the negotiations on the basic treaty with the GDR prior to the opening of the CSCE.36 But he was obliged to accept the NATO Council’s May 1972 decision in favour of separate negotiations on troop reductions, as well as Henry Kissinger’s agreement in Moscow in the second week of September that preliminary talks should begin on 22 November. Brandt and Pompidou were by contrast in agreement on the agenda of the planned conference. When preparing for the Franco-German summit of early July 1972, Jean-Bernard Raimond noted that: ‘German views on the security conference, other than on the question of force reductions, are fairly close to our own.’ And at the summit meeting Brandt suggested that the two countries ‘encourage’ the foreign ministers of the EC ‘to continue with political cooperation’, and especially with ‘preparations for the CSCE’.37

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Pompidou also argued in favour of making the CSCE a permanent body. This, he explained to Brandt in December 1971, would only increase the effectiveness of the conference: ‘The Eastern Bloc would be loosened as a bloc.’ In January 1973 he added that such a body might make more difficult potential Soviet aggressions within its sphere of influence. He did not mention, however, that it might also serve to negotiate troop reductions, as Raimond noted in June 1972.38 Brandt had some reservations, presumably because a permanent body in which the GDR participated could be understood as the acceptance of the status quo on the German question. In November 1972 the foreign ministers of the EC agreed to reject the Soviet proposal to establish a permanent political body. However, the federal government then showed some support for the Czech proposal to establish a permanent consultative body of the CSCE members. In November 1973 Bahr suggested that this body be seated in Berlin.39 European defence integration? Brandt tried to assuage French fears of a German drift towards neutralization by speeding up moves for a Western European defence identity. In December 1971, for instance, he moved quickly to remove any anxieties that might have been created by his meeting with Brezhnev in Oreanda. Neutralization he insisted was not his aim. Furthermore, he too wanted to slow down the American retreat from Europe and simultaneously to get the Europeans to cooperate more closely in defence questions. It was necessary for NATO to remain, but also ‘that its European part be differently organised’. By the same token this was necessary for the further development of the European Community as well: How will it be possible, for that matter, to develop Europe beyond the realm of economics in the years ahead, if we do not also have a common representation on defence matters. I believe that this will first emerge in the political domain and then gradually move into defence matters.40 Pompidou did not react right away. When on 5 April 1973 the new French Foreign Minister, Michel Jobert, used a speech in the National Assembly to call upon the West Europeans to think about European defence with an ‘independent character’, the German Chancellor therefore made yet another effort.41 At the summit of 21–22 June 1973 he assured his interlocutor that he did not want unilateral disarmament even if the German public opinion favoured it, and then argued for concrete decisions in the question of European defence: ‘The time will come when we must become more concrete in our discussions and go beyond theoretical studies.’ He also explained that a common defence organization required movement in the French nuclear doctrine: I do not want there to be any misunderstanding. I am not seeking and have never sought to obtain nuclear weapons for Germany. But if Germany is to

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be in a common defence organisation complementing or replacing NATO, it will not be possible for it merely to play the role of infantry.42 Indirectly, this also showed that Brandt found a united European defence project suitable to solve those problems which the French decision for a national nuclear strategy had posed for the Germans. He used the intolerability of the present situation, in which the Federal Republic would not be consulted on the use of French nuclear weapons on its territory, as an additional lever to convince the French partners to realize the European solutions which both sides called for: I need your response to a number of questions. . . . How should we understand the French intervention plan, which are the towns targeted by French nuclear weapons, in which part of Germany are these towns? Are they even in the part of Germany which is so closely linked to France? I am not talking about the French army in Germany and its special position there, but the Ailleret/Lemnitzer agreement of 1967 which sketched out this situation no longer corresponds to the position of our two countries.43 Pompidou had to agree that the French strategy had not been sufficiently thought through: ‘We are somewhat in a state of flux.’ Regarding the present situation he assured Brandt: ‘We have no targets on the territory of the FRG – keep that to yourself but I give you my word of honour.’44 He then pleaded once more for cooperation in armament production and the enrichment of uranium. On Brandt’s demands for movement towards European defence he only commented that it was ‘obvious that on a strategic level we could not content ourselves with a European defence strategy that was based only on conventional weapons’. Brandt answered Pompidou’s hesitations by applying more pressure. At the end of September he let the French President know that he wanted ‘a detailed and confidential exchange of views’ between the two foreign ministers ‘on the future development of European security’.45 On 9 November, Scheel met with Jobert and reported in detail on the views of the federal government: it was necessary for the Europeans to develop a common defence strategy that would enable Europe ‘to secure its defence with its own means’. He believed ‘that the day will come when Europe must, come what may, liberate itself from this “indissoluble” dependence [on the US]’. Scheel further emphasized ‘that a European Community with a central political will and wishing also to defend itself would necessarily have to have a nuclear defence policy’. This solution did not pose any problems for the non-proliferation treaty for nuclear weapons, because the Community would inherit the corresponding rights of France and Great Britain.46 Pompidou, however, could not summon up the courage to respond to Brandt’s movement away from the traditional Atlantic orientation of West German security policy. Jobert confined himself to an ‘effort of dialogue and reflection’ on the problems of defence within the framework of the Western European Union (WEU) which he presented to the parliamentary assembly of

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the WEU on 23 November.47 Four days later he also had a journalist write in Le Monde: ‘As for a specifically European defence policy, it is a long term endeavour about which it can only be said that it is not a question for tomorrow.’48 And when Brandt hinted at the summit of 26–27 November that the federal government was prepared to speak about European defence, Pompidou reacted evasively.49 All he noted in the margin of a telegram from his ambassador in Bonn reporting that the Germans wanted to discuss the ‘definition of security policies within the framework of the Nine’ in the Franco-German study group for strategic questions was: ‘Prudence!’50 In his last meeting with Brezhnev on 13 March 1974 he emphasized that the political unification of Europe would not go beyond mere cooperation: It must not impinge upon the independence of states, and of our own in particular. There can be no question of defence. We are simply seeking, with only mediocre success, to establish whether it is possible to reach agreement in arms production. Matters must not go any further and should in no case impinge upon the essential, namely the nuclear domain.51 One can only speculate about the reasons for Pompidou’s reservations. Part of the problem, it would appear, was that he lacked the power to realize a vision – which he previously had only formulated in vague terms anyway – when confronted with the orthodoxies of France’s military and diplomatic establishment. But he also lacked that degree of trust in Brandt and the continuity of his policies that would have been necessary for the further development of the French security system. Constantly worried about the possibility of a German drift to the East, he concentrated on that which in his eyes was the best antidote: securing the American presence in the Federal Republic. Pompidou’s mistrust was further strengthened by the publication of Bahr’s planning paper of 1968 which a Bonn diplomat associated with the opposition leaked to the magazine Quick at the very moment when Brandt was intensifying his offensive about European cooperation.52 That which Bahr had sketched out as the optimal albeit unrealistic constellation for reunification now appeared to be the real objective if not of Brandt himself then at least of strong forces within the Bonn coalition. Raimond, who as early as June 1972 had suspected ‘old tendencies within the social democratic party in favour of disengagement plans for Central Europe’ behind Bonn’s urging for troop reductions, now wrote in a preparatory statement for the Franco-German summit of 26–27 November 1973 that the Bahr paper of 1968 ‘explains to a large extent the sometimes strange positions adopted by the FRG on the question of force reduction’.53 Bahr’s conception ‘gave to MBFR the character of a gradual progression towards a European security system close to that which the Soviets have been proposing for twenty years’. The publication of the old planning staff paper thus thwarted Brandt’s attempt to overcome French distrust of negotiations on security issues by playing upon French notions of an independent Europe. French diplomats (and

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presumably Pompidou as well) used the supposed contradictions in Bonn’s policies as a pretext not to discuss the demand for Europeanization of the French nuclear weapons included in Brandt’s security political offensive. France did not participate in the negotiations on Mutual and Balanced Force Reductions (MBFR) which began on 30 October 1973 in Vienna; and in the light of the French reservations, the federal government confined itself to proposals for minor reductions of foreign troops in a first phase of the process. Confronted with all this opposition, Brandt played for time: the MBFR negotiations were to last for a long time, he had explained to Pompidou in June 1973.54 As far as the CSCE was concerned, the growing French concerns about possible ‘German drift’ away from NATO and towards a new European security arrangement led to a reversal of the French and German approaches to the negotiations: now it was France that warned against too rigid a structure of any follow-up body, and Paris also opposed the Soviet suggestion of a spectacular summit of the heads of state and government in the third phase of the conference.55 In the opening session of the CSCE in Helsinki on 4 July 1973, Jobert warned of the dangers of the project: The public has to know that a conference, as prestigious and as long expected as it may be and despite its intentions, can mislead opinions by wrong assurances. . . . Security needs to be earned, it cannot be won in a tombola.56

Common successes In the meantime, the range of common positions, which the EC foreign ministers had worked out in their preparations for the CSCE, was sufficient to allow the Western Europeans to appear united when the negotiations began in Geneva in September 1973. On the invulnerability of the borders, for instance, the German interest in keeping the German Question open dovetailed well with French efforts to loosen Soviet control over the Eastern European satellites. Thus on 19 October 1973, the French delegation acting in the name of the nine EC governments presented a text on the unanimous change of borders that was based on an earlier German draft. Both sides also aimed at the highest level of ‘exchange of people, information and opinions’ (such was the wording in the so-called ‘Basket 3’ of the negotiations) without being set on drafts that were absolutely intolerable for the Soviet Union, and thus likely to lead to no more than sterile polemics.57 Thanks to the mutual support that the French and Germans gave one another, the final conference documents contained more emphasis on change than acceptance of the status quo.58 Willy Brandt had thus been unable to realize his intentions of persuading the French to accompany him all the way along the path towards a European peace order. Accordingly, détente in the 1970s remained far short of what had once seemed possible. On the other hand, the France of Georges Pompidou did not apply the brakes as continuously as some observers have suggested. Especially

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regarding the opening of the borders, the two leaders achieved much more together than they would have been able to obtain had they acted on their own. At the same time the realization of their notions about contacts across the borders gave some substance to European political cooperation. The European Community became an independent actor in détente. Brandt and Pompidou did not only confront one another; they also shared common successes.

Notes 1 This chapter is based on the published German foreign policy documents, the Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland [AAPD], as well as on the archives of Georges Pompidou’s presidency: Archives Nationales [AN], 5 AG 2: Archives de la Présidence de la République, 1969–1974. I would like to thank my assistant Dr Claudia Hiepel for finding the sources in the Archives of the Presidency. 2 Interview with Deutschlandfunk, 2 July 1967 cited in W. Link, ‘Außen- und Deutschlandpolitik in der Ära Brandt 1969–1974’ in Bracher et al. (1986, p. 169). 3 AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 25.1.1971; see also the German version in AAPD (1971, pp. 115–23, citation p. 122). 4 On the revisionist aspects of Brandt’s Eastern politics see Niedhart (2002, pp. 233–66). 5 AAPD (1968, pp. 796–814). The French study in its German translation in EuropaArchiv (1968, pp. 51–64). See also Link, ‘Außen- und Deutschlandpolitik’ in Bracher et al. (1986, p. 171f.); Garton Ash (1995, p. 121f). 6 AAPD (1969, pp. 1047–57, citation p. 1052). 7 Der Spiegel, 27.9.1971. 8 See the dossier worked out by Pompidou’s diplomatic advisor Jean-Bernard Raimond in preparation for the Franco-German summit of 3/4 July 1969: AN, 5 AG 2, 1010, Note pour GP, 3.7.1969. 9 AN, 5 AG 2, 104, Pompidou–Schmid meeting, 7.11.1969. 10 AAPD 1969, p. 1052; see also n. 6. 11 Interview of 2.7.1967; see n. 2. 12 Compare this with the preparation for The Hague Summit Conference 1969; see Hiepel (2003, pp. 63–81). 13 AN, 5 AG 2, 104, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 30.1.1970. 14 AN, 5 AG 2, 104, Pompidou–Schmid meeting, 7.11.1969. 15 AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 25.1.1971; see also AAPD (1971, pp. 115–23, here p. 122). 16 AN 5 AG 2, 1011, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 4.12.1971; see also AAPD (1971, pp. 112–27, here p. 118). 17 AN 5 AG 2, 1011, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 10.2.1972; see also AAPD (1972, pp. 112–27, here p. 118). 18 Ibid. 19 AN, 5 AG 2, 1002, Pompidou–Nixon meeting, 13.12.1971; cited in M.-P. Rey, ‘Georges Pompidou, l’Union soviétique et l’Europe’ in Association Georges Pompidou (1995, p. 146). 20 AN, 5 AG 2, 1015, Pompidou–Heath meeting, 19.3.1972. 21 See Link, ‘Außen- und Deutschlandpolitik’ in Bracher et al. (1986, pp. 176f). 22 AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 26.1.1971. 23 AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 25.1.1971; see also AAPD (1971, pp. 149–62, here p. 159). 24 AN, 5 AG 2, 1022, Pompidou–Nixon meeting, 13.12.1971. 25 He first used this argument in the conversation of 3 July 1970: see AN, 5 AG 2, 1010;

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26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

47 48 49 50

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AAPD (1970, pp. 1069—80, here p. 1077); and again in their meeting of 25/26 January 1971: see AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 25.1.1971. AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 6.7.1971; see also AAPD (1971, pp. 1076—85, here p. 1080). AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 6.7.1971. AAPD (1971, pp. 1385—99 and 1408—19) on MBFR ibid., pp. 1392ff. and 1411ff.; see also Brandt s identical reports to Pompidou, Heath and Nixon of 19 September 1971, cited in Vogtmeier (1996, p. 175). AN, 5 AG 2, 1018, Pompidou—Brezhnev meeting, 29.10.1971, cited in Roussel (1994, pp. 455—60). Ibid. Le Monde, 9.12.1972. Press conference after the meeting of 11/12 January 1973, quoted in Le Monde, 14/15.1.1973. Communiqu of 13 October 1969, quoted in Rey, Pompidou in Association Georges Pompidou (1995), p. 152; cf. ibid., pp. 152—5. AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou—Brandt communication, 25—6.1.1971; see also AAPD (1971, pp. 149—62, here p. 155). On the junktim with the Berlin Question see also Meimeth (1990, pp. 159—61), as well as J.-B. Raimond, Georges Pompidou et l Union sovi tique in Association Georges Pompidou (1995, pp. 171—83); for details on the role of the French ambassador Jean Sauvagnargues in the negotiations on the Berlin Agreement see Wilkens (1990, pp. 123—76). Cf. Rey, Pompidou in Association Georges Pompidou (1995, p. 158) and Meimeth (1990, p. 162). AN, 5 AG 2, 1011, Raimond s analyses of 18.6.1971 and 23.6.1971. AN, 5 AG 2, 106, Raimond, Note pour GP, 23.6.1972 and ibid., Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 4.7.1972; see also AAPD (972, pp. 1893—911, here p. 1896). AN, 5 AG 2, 105, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 4.12.1971 and AN, 5 AG 2, 106, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 22.1.1973; Note Raimond 23 June 1972, ibid. 1011. AN, 5 AG 2, 1012, Note de synth se du Quai d Orsay, 22.11.1973. AN, 5 AG, 105, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 4.12.1971; see also AAPD (1971, pp. 1893—911, here p. 1903). Jobert (1974, p. 267). AN, 5 AG, 106, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 21.6.1973; partially cited in Soutou, G.-H., L attitude de Georges Pompidou face l Allemagne in Association Georges Pompidou (1995, pp. 267—313, here p. 300). Ibid. The French had had air-based tactical nuclear weapons since 1972. The stationing of plutonium carrier missiles that had a range of 130 km was planned for 1974. See Soutou (1996, pp. 330—3). This passage is only contained in the original minutes of AN, 5 AG 2, 1012; the particular page is in a folder with the heading: Page contenant un paragraphe ne pas communiquer . AN, 5 AG 2, 1009, Brandt—Pompidou meeting, 29.9.1973. AN, 5 AG 2, 1012, Scheel—Jobert meeting, 9.11.1973; quoted in Soutou, L attitude in Association Georges Pompidou (1995, p. 302). Contrary to Soutou (p. 304), the German proposals were neither fort ambigues nor were they likely to lead to the creation of a neutralistic security system based upon an accord germano-sovi tique . They simply explained that which Germany deemed necessary in order to realize the independent defence of Europe which France had demanded. Text in Le Monde, 23.11.1973: see also Soutou, L attitude in Association Georges Pompidou (1995, p. 302f). Jean Schwˇbel writing in Le Monde, 27.11.1973. AN, 5 AG 2, 106, Pompidou—Brandt meeting, 26.11.1973. AN, 5 AG 2, 1009, Bonn telegram, 3.12.1973.

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51 AN, 5 AG 2, 1019, Pompidou–Brezhnev, 13.3.1974. 52 ‘Wie Egon Bahr Deutschland neutralisieren will’, Quick, 27.9.1973. Only a little later the American political scientist Walter F. Hahn reported a conversation of January 1969 in which Bahr had outlined the planning staff study to him: Hahn (1973, pp. 859–80). 53 AN, 5 AG 2, 1012, Note, 23.11.1973. For Raimond’s earlier suspicions, see AN, 5 AG 2, 1011, Note 23.6.1972. 54 AN, 5 AG 2, 106, Pompidou–Brandt meeting, 21.6.1973; see also his assurance ‘that our approach remains very careful and will not be in opposition to your notions’ in the conversation of 22 January 1973, ibid. 55 AN, 5 AG 2, 1012, Note de synthèse, 22.11.1973. 56 Jobert (1974, p. 245f). 57 See the remarks on the reports of the French conference delegation: AN, 5 AG 2, 1012, Note, 23 November 1973; also Meimeth (1990, pp. 169–73). 58 See the short analyses of the course of the conference in Loth (2002, pp. 2–4, 118, 130–2); on the Geneva negotiations in detail Ferraris (1979, pp. 99–398).

4

New Ostpolitik and European integration Concept and policies in the Brandt era Andreas Wilkens

The ‘new Ostpolitik’ of Brandt’s government is something of a historical curiosity. Deeply controversial in the early 1970s, it had become the object of widespread consensus only 12 years later. Blamed by many of its domestic critics for perpetuating indefinitely the division of Germany, it alarmed some, outside of Germany, for diametrically opposite reasons: beyond the opening of a dialogue with the other German state and its publicly proclaimed objective of tempering the effects of division, was it not a policy designed to pave the way towards actual reunification? It is also misleadingly named. For while it did involve, in one way or another, all the states of Eastern Europe, the ‘German Question’ lay at its heart and was the issue it was intended primarily to resolve. As a result, it was natural that German Ostpolitik had implications and ramifications which stretched far beyond the Eastern policies of any other Western European state. Despite the interest Ostpolitik has always provoked, its historical analysis is still in its infancy. Researchers do now enjoy access to a rich array of documents, however, which should in time allow a better understanding to emerge of the origins, development and effects of a policy which will be linked forever to the names of Willy Brandt and his closest adviser and collaborator Egon Bahr. It must also be said that German reunification in 1989 to 1990, by dramatically altering all perspectives, has not really facilitated a balanced assessment of the policies conducted 20 to 30 years earlier.

The genesis and articulation of new Ostpolitik The building of the Berlin Wall in August 1961 has often been seen as the starting point for the formulation of a new approach to the German Question. It is true that the brutal cordoning off of East Berlin and the German Democratic Republic did have so profound effect as to make many contemporary observers feel that 1961 constituted a new ‘zero hour’ in Germany, a break in developments after which nothing would ever be as it was before. And both Brandt and Bahr in their retrospective writings have seemingly endorsed the idea that the strategies which underlay their new approach were devised in the aftermath of and in reaction to the building of the wall.1 Nevertheless, in the volume of memoirs which he published in 1989, Brandt did somewhat qualify this view,

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referring back to some of his appeals for closer links between the two halves of Germany from 1956 onwards.2 Recent research suggests that the roots of Brandt’s and Bahr’s ideas may be traced back to the second half of the 1950s.3 A detailed analysis of Brandt’s declarations during those years shows a gradual evolution in the direction of what would later be seen as the strategy which underpinned Ostpolitik. Thus as early as 1955 certain elements were already in place: the conviction that the solution of the German Question would take time and could only be the culmination of a process which involved all the affected countries; the readiness to negotiate with the East Berlin authorities so as to facilitate contacts across the city divide while remaining careful to avoid a recognition of the East German state; and finally, an appeal to the West German government to take the initiative and to act rather than to limit themselves to declamatory rhetoric in place of policy. In an address at Chatham House on 13 March 1958, the then mayor made the point that ‘the West has been far too much on the defensive in its dealings with the peoples of Eastern Europe’, thus implicitly criticising Adenauer’s approach.4 He also called for the development of what he called an ‘open door policy’ designed to lead to a certain ‘degree of normalisation’ in Berlin and possibly between the two Germanies, a speedy solution of the German problem being ‘unlikely’. There was thus a dialectic between the recognition of realities and their dynamic evolution. In his 25 November 1960 speech to the SPD party conference in Hannover, Brandt referred explicitly to the need to fix the status quo so as to ‘acquire the freedom of manoeuvre indispensable for any political move beyond the status quo’.5 In the same speech Brandt portrayed the communist system as already lacking dynamism and having an ideology which had lost any power of attraction. He therefore appealed to the West to respond to Khrushchev’s challenge, certain that it would be Western democracies which would triumph in any form of ‘peaceful co-existence’. Brandt ended with this remarkable affirmation: ‘We have all the means to carry out a self-confident Ostpolitik.’6 Even before the culmination of the Berlin crisis, Brandt had thus begun to develop the ideas which would underpin his thinking throughout the 1960s. The day-to-day reality of life in the 1950s in the divided and isolated former German capital doubtless played a part in encouraging Brandt to develop an approach that reached beyond the normal pieties about the division of Germany. As Mayor of Berlin, he could have few illusions about the aims of the Soviet and East German leaders, and was hence driven to acknowledge the situation as it was and to begin a process able to transform a seeming impasse. The building of the wall in August 1961 materially completed the division of Germany. It also undermined the dominant approaches to the German Question, including those of the SPD mainstream who had shown their enduring belief in a purely national solution to division with the presentation of their 1959 ‘Plan for Germany’.7 For it was clear to Brandt and his advisers that it was necessary both to think in terms of a much longer time scale and to realise that there could not be any solution to Germany’s division unconnected with the wider evolution of East–West relations.

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Once the immediate crisis over Berlin was over, Brandt and Bahr sought to devise an overall approach which was based on the ideas they had developed long before 1961 but which also took account of the new situation. This last included not merely the ‘stabilisation’ of the GDR brought about by the erection of the wall, but also the outcome of the Cuban Missile Crisis and the clear desire on the part of the Kennedy Administration to begin a dialogue with Moscow, notably over arms control. It was in a speech at Harvard in October 1962 that Brandt first presented in a systematic fashion his ideas on the new international context and its implications for the German Question.8 A year later Egon Bahr attracted much more attention and controversy by trying to apply these new ideas to the relationship between the two Germanies, using on this occasion the celebrated and highly effective, if still ambiguous, formula ‘Wandel durch Annäherung’ – change through rapprochement.9 Bahr, unlike Brandt, was ready to talk very openly and to challenge directly the taboos of Deutschlandpolitik. He believed that it was pointless to hope to detach the GDR from the Soviet empire or to await its imminent collapse. The only strategy which could deliver results, according to Bahr, was one based upon improving the living conditions of the East German population – and doing so in ‘homeopathic dosages’ so as not to transform the situation too rapidly thereby provoking a violent reaction. Creating structures so as to permit trade, meetings or communication was already an end in itself. And in the long term, the multiplication of these small openings would contribute to the transformation of the Eastern European regimes. It was true of course that Bahr spoke of the progressive transformation of the GDR as leading eventually to reunification, but this was not primarily a plan designed to bring about an end to the division of Germany; it was instead designed to ease tensions and to favour solutions to some of the humanitarian problems caused by the country’s partition. A unification of the two states was not seen as something within the range of practical politics. Instead, it was viewed as a historical eventuality which would only arrive at the end of a process which could last indefinitely. As a result, Brandt and Bahr preferred to talk less of reunification and more of the ‘right to self-determination’ of which the German people should not be deprived. By so doing the problem was transferred to the level of human rights rather than being based upon historical, legal or national demands. The formula also suggested that any eventual changes to the European status quo need not concern the OderNeisse line (i.e. the border between East Germany and Poland), but would be limited to a transformation of the relationship between the two German entities. The relationship between a new Ostpolitik and European integration was not mentioned in either of the programmatic speeches of 1962 and 1963, implying that the two issues were seen as lying in entirely different spheres, with little possibility of interlinkage. It was only at a more general level that Brandt took every opportunity to insist that the solid anchorage of West Germany within the European and Atlantic structures was a pre-condition for any Eastern policy.

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Brandt’s thoughts moreover were turning ever more often during the latter half of the 1960s away from the specific German case and towards the forms and conditions of a rapprochement between Eastern and Western Europe – an indispensable accompaniment to any normalisation of relations between the two Germanies. The term which Brandt used to describe this medium-term objective was a ‘European peace-order’ (europäische Friedensordnung).10 Any long-term agreements on European cooperation would only be possible however once something had been settled about inter-German relations. This meant that Brandt found himself edging towards a two-stage plan in which the establishment of a bilateral modus vivendi with East Germany and the other countries of Eastern Europe would be followed by a multilateral round of negotiations at European level, designed to reinforce cooperation, devise confidence-building measures and negotiate disarmament. One of the key challenges which Brandt faced during the second half of the 1960s was integrating his new policies towards Eastern Germany within a wider European approach.11

The mixed fortunes of Ostpolitik during the 1960s International developments during the 1960s both encouraged Brandt and Bahr to push on with their new ideas and threw up unexpected difficulties. One source of encouragement was the growing climate of East–West détente and the seeming willingness of other Western governments, especially the US and France, to explore the possibilities of dialogue and negotiation with the Eastern Bloc. Brandt’s ideas were certainly not caused by the new thinking in Washington or Paris, but it was nevertheless vital to his ambitions that the West developed a coordinated and if possible harmonised approach. This was not just a matter of prudence; it also reflected his whole political strategy. For the medium-term objective to which he aspired, namely the transformation of East–West relations, could only be attained if all the main actors involved were ready to throw their weight behind the cause and push Europe into a new era of negotiations. Very revealing in this respect is the memorandum of 26 August 1964 that Brandt, then still Mayor of West Berlin, sent to the American Secretary of State Dean Rusk.12 This made clear the importance which Brandt attached to what he believed to be the first stirrings of foreign policy independence within the Eastern Bloc. The cases of Yugoslavia and Romania, then Poland and a little later of Czechoslovakia, and finally – at a different level – that of the Italian Communist Party had all caught his attention. It was true of course that the GDR was a special case given that the East Berlin government could not turn to its national past in order to justify a greater distance between itself and Moscow. But the overall trend was something which Brandt hoped to encourage across Eastern Europe, by multiplying contacts, trade and cooperation at all levels. Other states and organisations should also play an active role in this policy of openness towards the East, especially the United States and the EEC, but also GATT and the various United Nations bodies. This clearly demonstrates the

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extent to which Brandt had rejected the notion that the German Question could be settled in isolation. Only a much wider process could, in due course, bring about the changes in Europe which would then allow the relationship between the two parts of Germany to be improved. It went without saying for Brandt that the existing organisations of Western cooperation such as NATO or the EEC were in no way dispensable, even in the long term. It was up to them, however, to adapt and to make their contribution to the ‘restoration of Europe’ as a whole.13 The emphasis on the multilateral approach was indeed one of the most distinctive features of Brandt’s policies once he became Foreign Minister in December 1966. The recommendations of the Harmel report agreed in December 1967 stipulating that the Atlantic Alliance should henceforth have the double objective of security and détente was thus fully in line with Brandt’s thinking.14 Likewise the ‘Reykjavik signal’ of June 1968 by which NATO declared itself willing to engage in negotiations about the balanced reduction of arms in Europe owed much to the direct involvement of the German minister.15 As was noted in the SPD prise de position pushed through by Brandt in March 1968, NATO reform ‘should not weaken the Atlantic Alliance but instead contribute to the reduction of East–West tension.’16 A further encouraging factor was the evolution of German public opinion. Initially reticent and wedded to the patterns of the Cold War and confrontation, the German public became progressively more conscious of the need to address the realities of the situation directly and to find a modus vivendi with all of Germany’s Eastern neighbours. It was time to come to terms with the past and to recognise fully the consequences of the Second World War. This debate was pushed forward by intellectuals, some newspapers of the centre-left such as Die Zeit, Süddeutsche Zeitung and Der Spiegel, and also, from 1965 onwards, by both the Protestant and Catholic churches.17 Opinions which were still isolated and very much in the minority during the first half of the 1960s had begun to attract a much wider degree of acceptance by the end of the decade. Thus, if opinion polls are to be believed, the percentage of West Germans who favoured the recognition of the Oder-Neisse line as Germany’s Eastern border rose markedly during this period: in February 1966 it was 27 per cent whereas by November 1967 it had become 47 per cent.18 However, while taking note of this evolution, which he himself had encouraged, Brandt was careful not to rush matters. His rhetoric thus developed slowly partly on the basis of how far public opinion could go in recognising realities, and partly in reaction to international events. In reality, the prospects for an agreement between the two Germanies on Bonn’s terms grew ever less good. By the autumn of 1966 this was not just the view of Brandt and Bahr, but also that of the influential State Secretary at the Auswärtiges Amt, Karl Carstens.19 The Hallstein doctrine was becoming more and more difficult and costly to apply, especially in the Third World.20 As Carstens noted somewhat bitterly, even Germany’s Western allies were less and less inclined to defend Bonn’s traditional insistence that it represented all of Germany, the so-called Alleinvertretungsanspruch.

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As West Germany showed greater flexibility in its approach to the German Question, so the position of the GDR tended to harden. Thus from 1967 onward, East Germany began to insist upon full recognition as a sovereign state as a precondition for any negotiation with Bonn. Likewise, the East Germans took steps to prevent the establishment of diplomatic relations between Romania and the FRG in January 1967 from setting a precedent which might allow Bonn to marginalise East Berlin, appealing to their socialist brothers to refrain from forming closer links with West Germany. This hardening was in line with Moscow’s own priority which was to end the trend towards greater autonomy within the socialist bloc. According to Brandt, the Soviet Union was also tempted during this period by a strategy of selective détente which would single out West Germany so as to be better able to impose conditions. This gave Brandt an additional reason to emphasise the integration of West Germany’s new policies into a wider and coordinated Western approach. In all respects, West–West consultation and coordination was thus an indispensable pre-condition for any satisfactory East–West negotiation.21 In this context, the question of timing became of fundamental importance to the West Germans. If East Germany succeeded on its own in securing an ever greater degree of international recognition, Bonn would have lost what it viewed as one of its few assets – its ability to lift its veto on the generalised acceptance of the GDR as a second German state. Brandt and Bahr were therefore convinced that it was necessary to begin negotiations while the East in general and Moscow in particular could still see the advantage of paying a price for West Germany’s recognition of the status quo. Initiatives like the proposed conference on European security launched by the USSR in July 1966 were clearly intended to consolidate the position of the GDR. As soon as the Grand Coalition between the Christian Democrats and the Social Democrats was formed in December 1966, Brandt began to push for a process of dialogue and negotiation with all the countries of Eastern Europe, including the GDR. This last would not be fully recognised as a state, but Brandt and the majority of the SPD favoured its de facto acceptance since this alone would clear the way towards negotiated agreements. Such an objective, however, collided head-on with the maximalist positions adopted by Moscow and East Berlin; it also inflamed some of the divisions which already existed within the ruling coalition in Bonn.22 Laborious internal bargaining was thus necessary before the government could agree on the conditions of a dialogue with Moscow or East Berlin and no decision at all could be reached on the question of whether or not to sign the nuclear non-proliferation treaty. The Soviet intervention to crush the Prague Spring had comparatively little impact upon Brandt’s ideas. No Western government wanted to allow the repression in Czechoslovakia to interrupt the general improvement of East–West relations in Europe.23 Bahr, who had visited Prague repeatedly during the period of liberalisation, did not see the Prague coup coming. Underestimating the imminence of danger, he was still advising Brandt as late as 19 August 1968 to go to Prague himself in order to meet Alexander Dubèek.24 It is true that it was

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tempting to see the Prague Spring as a sign of the way in which the blocs were being overcome and of the possibility of the East European regimes acquiring a human face. It was also true, however, that the changes carried out in Czechoslovakia far exceeded the ‘homeopathic dosages’ which Bahr himself had regarded as necessary were a violent reaction to be avoided.25 What Brandt termed Moscow’s ‘imperialist action’ forced the German Foreign Minister back to a more realistic position and acted as a reminder of how far the continent still was from anything approaching a ‘European peace order’ based on the selfdetermination of all peoples. This long-term objective remained valid, Brandt insisted, ‘even if others sought to exempt themselves from its implications’.26 At another level, the Soviet invasion also reinforced the conviction in West Germany that the country’s Atlantic and European links were more necessary than ever to the maintenance of stability and security. At a more operational level, Bahr drew the conclusion from the events of 1968 that it was now even more important to ‘prioritise the Soviet Union’.27 In a memo which he wrote on ‘Ostpolitik after the occupation of Czechoslovakia’, he foresaw a German initiative after the ‘consolidation’ of the situation in Czechoslovakia – an initiative which would be all the more propitious given that it contained ‘the recognition of some elements of the status quo’. One aspect of Bahr’s analysis thus remained very much based on an acceptance and recognition of existing power relations in Europe. At the same time, Bahr still declared himself convinced of ‘the erosion of the Soviet sphere of interest’, thereby implying that his objective continued to be that of going beyond the existing status quo. Brandt, by contrast, was both more careful and more sceptical. In his handwritten corrections to Bahr’s note, he replaced the phrase ‘going beyond the status quo’ with the more cautious ‘modify’ the status quo.28 This is one of the few instances where it becomes possible to identify a clear difference of opinion between Brandt and his close collaborator. The documents which have become available over the past few years provide a fairly precise indication of the way in which Brandt’s entourage viewed the state of East–West relations at the moment when Brandt became Chancellor in October 1969. Bahr’s reflections in a note on ‘the foreign policy of a future federal government’, dated 18 September 1969, demonstrate that what was expected was not a rapid transformation of the situation but instead a difficult process of negotiation, full of potential pitfalls.29 The document did predict that the Soviet Union would face growing difficulties – at an economic and technological level, but also in terms of the cohesion of the communist world – but it did not feel that these would call the regime itself into question. Nor was there any question of ‘expecting progress towards reunification as traditionally envisaged by the West’. Equally improbable was any agreement on the replacement of the military pacts (NATO and the Warsaw Pact) by a European security system. The scenarios about this last which Bahr had had drawn up in June 1968 and which would subsequently cause much controversy when they were leaked and published in 1972 to 1973 were thus theoretical simulations rather than concrete plans for the short or medium term.30

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By contrast the central question for the years ahead was that of how to lure the GDR into signing a framework agreement which would certainly give it a degree of recognition as a separate state, but which would also contain a number of elements underlining the persistence of a German nation. Given that the GDR had potentially the most to lose from a process of détente and cooperation, Bahr had to rely on the self-interest of Moscow and the pressure which it would be able to bring to bear on East Berlin in order to obtain the necessary concessions from the GDR leadership. These tactics appeared all the more appropriate, since Moscow had since the spring of 1969 shown itself to be less systematically hostile towards Bonn and more interested in the start of discussions.

European policy and the anchoring of the FRG By the end of the 1960s, Willy Brandt could justifiably argue that he had been in favour of an organised Western Europe for fully 20 years. It is known that he belonged, from the late 1940s onwards, to that minority of social democrats who were convinced that it was in the interests of West Germany to participate in the first steps towards European integration even if doing so involved a number of concessions on the part of Bonn. Participation would underline the return of Germany to the democratic fold; and it would also bolster the country in the face of the threat from the East. In these circumstances, Brandt had never perceived any incompatibility between the integration of the Federal Republic into the structures of Western economic, political and military cooperation, and the long-term objective of overcoming the division of Germany. Rather the reverse: from the 1950s onwards, Brandt argued that the FRG’s secure membership of the West was a vital foundation for any active policy towards the East. Some of his speeches in the early 1950s thus contain the same range of rhetorical formulas about Western alignment which he would use again two decades later. Thus Brandt never stopped underlining the importance of Germany’s ‘anchorage in the West’, repeatedly rejected any ‘balancing act’ between East and West, and wove constant variations on the theme that Germany could not ‘meander between two worlds’.31 The fundamental continuity of Brandt’s basic position on this issue cannot therefore be doubted. Brandt’s vision of European integration was not however exactly the same as that of Bahr. 32 For the former, a German commitment to the organisation of Europe was both an end in itself and also a pre-condition for any dialogue with the East. The latter, by contrast, was by no means convinced that the end of the era of nation-states was approaching and thus favoured a Europe based on cooperation rather than tight integration. In a book written towards the end of 1965 and early 1966, Bahr drew a clear distinction between economic cooperation within the EEC, which he supported, and the various plans for European political unity which could – he feared – have negative effects on the chances of reunification.33 It was for this reason that Bahr was openly supportive of de Gaulle’s emphasis on the persistence of national interest and the French President’s attempts to put the brakes on the process of integration.

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It was hence without regret that Bahr noted in January 1968 that European political integration, in the manner in which it had been conceived of in the 1950s, was no longer a realistic proposition and that, as a result, the European Community did not represent a real obstacle to any plans of rapprochement between East and West and especially between the two Germanies.34 Both European integration and the surpassing of blocs in the East, indeed, were slow processes which were unlikely to become too seriously entangled. It should also be pointed out that Bahr’s activity was very much concentrated on Bonn’s Eastern diplomacy; he had no influence over the development or implementation of the Federal Republic’s Westpolitik. A new start in policy towards the European Community was one of the priorities of Brandt when he arrived at the Chancellery in October 1969. Of particular importance was advance in those fields where practical progress seemed urgent and realisable: enlargement and monetary cooperation. Also of significance were two areas where it was necessary to overcome French reticence: political cooperation and the consolidation of the Community institutions. As with his Eastern policy, Brandt thus intended to base his European policy on the realities of the situation when he came to power and those forward steps which seemed feasible. The longer term direction did matter, however. From the Hague Conference in December 1969 onward, the Chancellor insisted upon the long-term political goal of European unity as the only means of giving direction to the integration process.35 Brandt was conscious that his main counterparts, Georges Pompidou and Edward Heath, were much more reserved about this.36 Bonn’s approach was therefore to seek to advance in a pragmatic manner but without losing sight of the longer term objectives – hence, for instance, its initiatives in the fields of social policy or defence. Important external factors, such as the international monetary turmoil of the early 1970s, or later, the effects of the first oil shock would subsequently mean that several of the projects formulated in this period were only partially realised. In some fields, notably the vital one of monetary cooperation, it would become clear that a much more gradual and less ambitious timetable was necessary. And yet despite these failures and slowdowns, the EEC of the early 1970s did enter a new era, overcoming the blockages of the 1960s, successfully completing its first enlargement and underlining its status as the central framework for European cooperation. Brandt’s own contribution to this notable and quite rapid advance was very significant. A close analysis of German decision-making does suggest, however, that Bonn’s policy would have been exactly the same, down to the last comma, had there not been a process of Ostpolitik underway in parallel. The speed with which a bilateral Ostpolitik was launched, leading to the treaties in Moscow in August 1970 and Warsaw four months later, appears surprising at first sight. Ostpolitik, however, had been in gestation for many years, allowing Brandt and his collaborators to arrive at a clear definition of what was acceptable and necessary and what was not. The unifying feature of the bilateral treaties was that they involved the renunciation of force, a principle which was applied quite explicitly to both the frontier between the two

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Germanies and the Oder–Neisse line. This degree of recognition of the status quo was to be the basis indefinitely for the cohabitation of the Federal Republic with its Eastern neighbours. There were however a number of indications that the idea of one day achieving unity between all Germans had not been entirely abandoned. This was already apparent in Brandt’s policy statement of 28 October 1969 – the speech which for the first time referred to the GDR as a ‘state’: ‘Even if there exist in Germany two states, they are not foreign to one another; their relations cannot but have a special character.’37 Brandt had thus played the card of GDR state recognition at the very outset, while at the same time making clear the limits of his flexibility. In their bilateral relations, the two states could henceforth be seen as equals – thereby opening the way to political contacts and, as far as was possible, to the ‘normalisation’ of their relations. Equally, however, the two states would remain within a single German nation, thus respecting both the legacy of history and the sense of responsibility which the Federal Republic felt for the East German population. When assessing this approach retrospectively, it is important to avoid the error of anachronism. The core of Ostpolitik in the early 1970s was the desire to be realistic and truthful about the situation in which Germany found itself. The German population needed to be rid of the delusions it had long harboured about the prospects of reunification or the return of the Eastern territories. The signature of the treaties was thus, as was noted by the contemporary but still highly relevant analysis of the political scientist Richard Löwenthal, nothing less than the end of the provisional state and a sort of self-recognition by West German society.38 This did not mean however closing the door entirely to long-term evolution or dropping the FRG’s insistence on the inalienable right of self-determination of the German people. The architects of Ostpolitik were certainly aware that, in all likelihood, history had not had its last words about the ‘German Question’. ‘There is no day which does not see the creation of new realities’ as Brandt put it, expressing a solid belief that the international constellation was not fixed and immutable.39 The long-term aspiration to a European peace order remained, moreover, conjuring up a vision of a Europe in which the divide between the two blocs and the two Germanies would have been replaced by peaceful and organised links. This was already an ambitious target to aim for, given the depth of Cold War hostility which had existed. An early return to a single German state, in whatever form, looked out of reach in the 1970s including to those who devised Ostpolitik and the German approach to détente. The support of Germany’s Western allies was also of fundamental importance to Brandt. This reflected a number of realities. First, by its very nature, bilateral German Ostpolitik could only clear the way for the European and multilateral level of negotiation which would be necessary for any lasting transformation. An isolated Ostpolitik in other words would not be able to attain its objectives. Second, it was only with the solid backing of the other Western powers that the West Germans could hope to pressurise the Soviet Union into

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making certain compromises. Central to this solid backing was the non-recognition of East Germany unless and until the two German states had agreed upon their future relations. It is also true, of course, that early recognition would have contradicted the notion of quadripartite rights and responsibilities – something which none of the four major powers were intending to relinquish. Third, in the specific case of negotiations over Berlin (which were to lead to the Quadripartite agreement of 3 September 1971), the three Western powers had a direct say over a vital part of the Ostpolitik agenda. The Americans in particular had a real ability to accelerate or slow the rate of negotiations – an option that Henry Kissinger was to use on several occasions.40 Bonn in turn tried to place pressure on the Soviet Union and its three Western allies by means of the link – or junktim – which it had established between a ‘satisfactory’ solution to the question of Berlin and the ratification by the German Parliament of the Moscow and Warsaw treaties. Finally, the prises de position of Bonn’s partners were of some significance in the German domestic debate about Ostpolitik, with statements of allied support being seized upon by Brandt and his allies, and signs of dissent within the Western Bloc emphasised by the Christian Democrat opposition Party. The attitude of the Western allies did thus have an influence over the fate of Ostpolitik. It was for this reason that Bonn sought to conduct its negotiations with the Soviet Union, Poland or East Germany in as transparent a fashion as possible. In addition, there were intensive consultations between Germany and its partners, whether at senior political level or among civil servants, notably the Bonn Group. No detail of the negotiation therefore escaped the carefully watching eyes of Washington, London or Paris.41 However, if Brandt’s government had every reason to seek the agreement and support of its main partners, it was also determined to press ahead so as to implement a policy which it believed to be in line with the well-understood interests of Germany. The allies’ desire to be kept informed was thus totally legitimate, but there could be no question of giving ground or delaying the process simply out of fear of discomfort in other West European or American government circles. This explains the celebrated exchange between Bahr and Kissinger in October 1969 in the course of which the former warned the latter that the new German government would be ‘less comfortable’ to deal with than its predecessors, especially as Brandt and Heinemann would ‘not be the representatives of the defeated Germans but of the liberated Germans’.42 Kissinger on the same occasion noted that the Brandt government ‘was asking not for our advice but for our cooperation’.43 Indeed, one of the characteristics of the new German government was its desire to establish a certain autonomy of action, larger than that of its predecessors. Brandt had been quite explicit about this at the very start of his mandate, claiming that the Federal Republic was in the process of ‘returning to a basis of equality’ with other countries and noting that it would defend its legitimate interests even against its Western allies.44 Looking beyond the necessary degree of entente with its Western partners over Germany’s new policy towards the East, it is possible to ask whether there

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was any interference between the Ostpolitik and the integration policy conducted in parallel by the Brandt government. It would be legitimate to claim that the German government sought tangible progress in its European policy, in part to prove the continuity of its overall foreign policy to its own public as much as to its neighbours. Nevertheless, this calculation never seems to have been decisive in German decision-making. It is thus impossible to link this or that compromise made by Bonn at a European level to the desire to obtain the ‘goodwill’ of its Western partners for its Eastern policies. The evidence indeed seems to indicate rather that the two policy areas were kept as separate from one another as was possible: thus Brandt was ready to place ever greater pressure on Georges Pompidou over the British membership negotiations in the EEC despite his ongoing need for the French President’s support over Ostpolitik. Likewise, the delicate final stages of the Berlin negotiations in the spring and summer of 1971 did not seem to prevent multiple confrontations between Bonn and Paris over monetary issues. It would therefore seem that Germany’s European policies and its Eastern policies evolved according to their own criteria and did not really intersect – at least as far as it is possible to tell on the basis of the archival records. Overall, Bonn therefore widened its margin for manoeuvre at an international level by solving indefinitely its own ‘private battle’ with the Eastern Bloc. Brandt, however, was well aware of the limits that still applied to West German foreign policy, not least due to its exposed position and its security dependency. He was also highly conscious – how could it have been otherwise? – of the responsibilities that Germany bore for the catastrophes of the twentieth century. But at the same time he believed that, a quarter of century after the end of the war and after the consolidation of its own democracy, it was in everybody’s interest that Germany became seen as, and saw itself as, a fully fledged participant in international diplomacy. The country had become ‘adult’, to use Brandt’s expression, and was hence in a position to contribute fully both to the building of Europe in the West and to the normalisation of its relations with the East.

Notes 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Brandt (1976, pp. 9–41); Bahr (1996, p. 125ff). Brandt (1989, p. 64). Schmidt (2001, 2003, pp. 521–63); see also Speicher (2000). Speech on 13 March 1958, entitled ‘The East–West Problem as seen from Berlin’, in International Affairs 34 (1958) 3, pp. 297–304 (p. 301). Speech of 25 November 1960. Published in Krause and Gröf (1984, pp. 23–40 (p. 31)). Krause and Gröf (1984, p. 32) (‘Wir können uns eine selbstbewußte Ostpolitik leiste’). H. Soell ‘Die deutschlandpolitischen Konzeptionen der SPD-Opposition 1949–1961’, in Kosthorst et al. (1976, pp. 41–61); Klotzbach (1996, pp. 482–94). Published in Brandt (1963). Text in Dokumente zur Deutschlandpolitik, IV. Reihe 9 (1963), pp. 572–5; cf. Bahr (1996, pp. 152–61); see also the dossier ‘Wandel durch Annäherung’ in Egon Bahr’s

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11 12 13 14

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

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papers, Archiv der sozialen Demokratie der Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, Bonn, vol. 123/2 (hereafter: AdsD); on the term itself see also Bender (2000, pp. 971–8). Willy Brandt, ‘Grundvorstellungen einer europäischen Friedensordnung’, interview with Deutschlandfunk, 2.7.1967, in Bulletin der Bundesregierung, 4.7.1967, no. 70, pp. 604–7; Willy Brandt, ‘Our objective: a European peace order’. Speech to the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Düsseldorf, 30.11.1967, in Brandt (1971a, pp. 57–72). For overviews see Bender (1995) and Potthoff (1999). Text in Dokumente zur Deutschlandpolitik, IV. Reihe 10 (1964), pp. 877–83. Reprinted in Brandt (1971b, pp. 115–24). The phrase was used by Brandt. Memo to Rusk (n. 12), p. 883. See his plaidoyer in favour of the Alliance assuming ‘new tasks’ and against ‘the excess of bilateralism in East–West relations’ in Brandt (1967, pp. 449–54); Dujardin (2004, pp. 637–57); H. Haftendorn, ‘The Adaptation of the NATO Alliance to a Period of Détente: The 1967 Harmel Report’, in Loth (2001, pp. 285–322). See Brandt’s speech to NATO foreign ministers, 24.6.1968, cited in Brandt (1971b, pp. 199–205); also Brandt (1976, pp. 189–91). SPD motion adopted at the Nuremberg conference, March 1968. Cited in Schönhoven (2004, p. 424). For an overview see Baring (1982, pp. 197ff). Polling by the Allensbach Institute, cited by Schönhoven (2004, p. 394). Carstens note, 19.10.1966, ‘Die Problematik unserer Deutschland-Politik’, in Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1966 (hereafter: AAPD), Munich, Oldenbourg, 1997, doc. no. 333. For a critical analysis of the Hallstein doctrine, see Kilian (2001). See Brandt’s comments to the SPD Fraktion in the Bundestag, 11.4.1967, cited in Brandt (2005, pp. 126–9). This is very clear from Schönhoven (2004, pp. 380–408); see also W. Link, ‘Die Deutschlandpolitik der Bundesregierungen Erhard und der Großen Koalition (sowie die dazu geführte Diskussion in Parlament und Öffentlichkeit)’, in Enquête-Kommission Aufarbeitung von Geschichte und Folgen der SED-Diktatur in Deutschland (1995, pp. 1676–743). Schwarz (1999, pp. 159–86). Bahr to Brandt, 19.8.1968, Egon Bahr’s papers, AdsD, vol. 399/1. Tutzing speech – see n. 9. See Brandt’s comments on events in Czechoslovakia in Brandt (2005, pp. 160–5); also his interview with Der Spiegel, 9.9.1968, in Brandt (2005, pp. 178–87); Brandt (1969, pp. 20–6). Bahr note, ‘Ostpolitik nach der Besetzung der CSSR’, 1.10.1968, AAPD 1968, doc. no. 324. Draft of the above note, 19.9.1968, Egon Bahr’s papers, AdsD, vol. 399/3. Brandt had replaced the term ‘Überwindung’ with ‘Abwandlung’ and the verb ‘verändern’ with ‘abwandeln’. See also Niedhart (2002). Note, ‘Überlegungen zur Außenpolitik einer künftigen Bundesregierung’, 18.9.1969, AAPD 1969, doc. no. 296. The elections which brought Brandt to the Chancellory took place on 28 September, 1969. Memo ‘Betr.: Europäische Sicherheit’, 7.6.1968, Egon Bahr’s papers, vol. 396; reprinted in AAPD 1968, doc. no. 297; Hahn (1972, pp. 859–80); cf. Bahr (1996, pp. 226–9). Speech in Hamburg, 3.9.1970: in Bulletin der Bundesregierung, no. 118, 5.9.1970, pp. 1225–8. Bahr himself felt that the development of the EEC was the only question of importance on which he and Brandt differed. Bahr (1996, p. 176). This manuscript, entitled ‘Was nun?’ (What now?), in which Bahr tried to develop a multi-stage plan leading to the unification of the two German states was never published because of Brandt’s objections. On this see Vogtmeier (1996, pp. 80–95).

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34 See the meeting between Bahr and Carl-Friedrich von Weizsäcker, 18.1.1968, note for Brandt, 23.1.1968, Egon Bahr’s papers, AdsD, vol. 399. 35 Wilkens (1999, pp. 73–102); Wilkens, ‘Relance et réalités. Willy Brandt, la politique européenne et les institutions communautaires’, in Bitsch (2001, pp. 377–418). 36 See e.g. the tone of Pompidou and Heath’s discussions on 20.5.1971: Archives nationales (Paris), 5 AG 2, vol. 108. The British record is in the same file. 37 Speech to the Bundestag, 28.9.1969, in Deutscher Bundestag, Stenographische Berichte, 6e législature, pp. 20–34 (p. 21). 38 R. Löwenthal, ‘Vom Kalten Krieg zur Ostpolitik’, in Löwenthal and Schwarz (1974, pp. 604–99) (p. 691). Having emigrated to Britain during the Second World War, Löwenthal was close to Brandt in Berlin during the 1950s and 1960s. 39 From his speech ‘Deutsche Außenpolitik nach zwei Weltkriegen’, Berlin, 6.10.1967, in Bulletin der Bundesregierung, 10.10.1967, no. 109, pp. 933–7. 40 D.C. Geyer, ‘The Missing Link. Henry Kissinger and the Back-channel Negotiations on Berlin’, in Geyer and Schaefer (2004, pp. 80–97); Hanhimäki (2004, pp. 85–91). 41 For the reactions of other governments see: R. Morgan, ‘Willy Brandt’s ‘Neue Ostpolitik’: British Perceptions and Positions, 1969–1975’, in Birke et al. (2000, pp. 179–200); G. ‘Niedhart, The Federal Republic’s Ostpolitik and the United States: Initiatives and Constraints’, in Burk and Stokes (1999, pp. 289–311); A. Wilkens, ‘Accords et désaccords. La France, l’Ostpolitik et la question allemande 1969–1974’, in Pfeil (2000, pp. 357–78). 42 Bahr note, ‘Betrifft: Gespräch mit Henry Kissinger am 13.10.1969’, 14.10.1969, Egon Bahr’s papers, AdsD, vol. 439/2. See also Bahr (1996, pp. 270–3). 43 Kissinger (1979, p. 411). 44 Brandt speech, ‘Für den Frieden kämpfen. Ein Jahr der Initiativen in Europa’, in Bulletin der Bundesregierung, 13.11.1970, no. 157, pp. 1653–4.

5

Anglo-French relations, détente and Britain’s second application for membership of the EEC, 1964 to 1967 Helen Parr

Britain’s second application for membership of the EEC in 1967 has been widely regarded as a failure: ‘another Wilsonian initiative had bitten the dust.’1 In 1961, when Harold Macmillan applied to join the European Community, the Foreign Office, press and public opinion had contemplated the possibility that the French President General de Gaulle would prevent British entry, but did not consider his veto to be inevitable. Britain’s membership application was launched ‘amid considerable (and fully justifiable) optimism’.2 The fact that it had taken de Gaulle eighteen months to deliver his negative verdict, and that negotiations between Britain and the Six had made considerable headway, gave succour to this judgement. Indeed, Edward Heath insisted, despite evidence to the contrary, that de Gaulle vetoed in part because the negotiations were on the verge of success.3 Harold Wilson’s 1967 application, by contrast, was viewed at the time and since as certain to meet rejection at the hands of the irascible de Gaulle. As Richard Crossman reportedly remarked having agreed to Britain’s application: ‘the General will save us from our folly.’4 That it took de Gaulle only eight months to make apparent his opposition, and that official negotiations did not even begin, has supported the sense that Wilson’s application was ill-conceived and fated for rejection. Commentators taking a different line have not challenged the sense of unavoidable defeat, but have argued instead that Wilson’s decision was a triumph in terms of domestic public opinion.5 It was essential to make the initiative regardless of its short-term fate. That Wilson did so, and that he agreed to ‘leave the application on the table’ put pressure on the French to lift their veto to enlargement and consequently expedited British accession in the early 1970s.6 Thus, with the exception of very recent work, there has been little attempt to consider the diplomatic foundations of Wilson’s initiative, and still less effort to connect this policy with Britain’s broader foreign policy objectives.7 The aim of this chapter is to assess the diplomatic rationale underlying Wilson’s bid for membership, and to explore the connections between British policy towards the EEC and Britain’s response to the foreign policy challenge delivered by de Gaulle’s approach to NATO. Documentary evidence shows that in formulating their diplomacy for the second initiative, the British had learnt

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from the shortcomings of the first. Foreign Office officials concentrated on making Britain attractive to the Community as a whole, undermining the pretexts under which de Gaulle could justifiably exclude Britain from the EEC. Contrary to the impression of Britain as a reluctant European player, and of Harold Wilson as an ambivalent and directionless Prime Minister, the second bid also had a political content. Wilson delivered a convincing vision of Britain’s future role in Europe, a vision that could appeal to de Gaulle, but was also designed to pose an alternative view of Europe to that espoused by the General. Whereas de Gaulle preferred a ‘cosy nest’ of Europe of the Six, the British supported an enlarged and strengthened Europe, one that would play its part between the superpowers, but would act in fellowship with the Atlantic world. Wilson thus tried to use British entry into the EEC to promote the idea of European integration within an Atlantic shell. In this way, Britain’s approach to the EEC played a role in an AngloAmerican response to the French challenge to NATO.8 The idea of détente – in this case of Europe’s position in the ultimate reconciliation between the two Germanies and between Eastern and Western Europe – was an essential element of the competing French and British visions for the Community’s future. However, the primary aim of Wilson’s application was to secure British membership of the EEC: the application was not a diplomatic weapon to fulfil other foreign policy objectives.9 Rather, the gradual shift of British policy towards Europe represented a genuine reorientation of Britain’s foreign outlook and acceptance of Britain’s diminishing influence in the world. Wilson failed in his primary objective to secure British entry into the EEC. Nevertheless, in addition to the benefits in terms of a domestic reconciliation to the EEC, the failed application did have a certain degree of diplomatic success in drawing attention to the limits of de Gaulle’s foreign policy goals.

Britain, the empty chair crisis and NATO, 1965 to 1966 The empty chair crisis in the latter half of 1965 and the French withdrawal from NATO in 1966 led to a shift in Harold Wilson’s position towards the European Community. Up until this point, Wilson did not consider policy towards the EEC to be a priority. Wilson hoped to encourage ‘functional collaboration’ in technological projects with the French. The ‘bridge-building’ initiative in May 1965 sought to create links between the European Free Trade Association (EFTA) and the European Community, primarily in order to ensure continued economic dynamism in the EFTA countries. Although Wilson was aware of the political arguments in favour of entry, and did not oppose the idea of ultimately joining a European Community of ‘the right sort’, he was not prepared to accept the economic sacrifices which membership of the existing Community would involve.10 Evidence suggests that Wilson first began to revise his stance in January 1966. Although the process of Wilson’s move towards accepting membership of the Community was complex, and primarily connected to shifts in Britain’s international power position, the timing in relation to the empty chair crisis is

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compelling.11 In dealing with the empty chair and NATO crises, Wilson took heed of Foreign Office warnings that the French stance was a threat to Britain’s interests in Europe and globally. British policy reflected four consistent concerns. First, that Britain’s own influence in Europe would weaken if French dominance remained unchecked. Second, that the Atlantic Alliance and the idea of European integration within the Atlantic framework was in jeopardy. Third, that the Soviet Union could extend its influence over a weakened Europe, and finally that France’s actions could encourage nationalism in Germany. Although France posed an immediate danger, the more threatening prospect was the reemergence of German power in ways that could undermine the ever-fragile European peace. When the empty chair crisis began in July 1965, Britain’s initial reaction was one of ‘sympathetic inactivity’. The Foreign Office was concerned that Britain should not appear to be gloating over the Community’s difficulties, and did not want to be seen to capitalise on the crisis.12 As the Six failed to resolve their difficulties, the reasons to respond increased. This was primarily because, from the Foreign Office’s point of view, the longer the crisis endured, the more likely were the Five to acquiesce to France’s demands in order to bring France back into the European roost. The crisis concerned the issue of supranationality, as France attempted to stall the introduction of qualified majority voting and to curb the influence of the European Parliament and the European Commission. It was also a dispute about agricultural financing, as the French wished to prolong and to consolidate the existing system whereby member states’ contributions to the agricultural fund were calculated based on the quantity of agricultural imports from third countries.13 Furthermore, de Gaulle’s diplomacy ensured that the crisis was also about politics and defence. As the Five resisted the French in September and October, de Gaulle suggested that France would withdraw from NATO. The Foreign Office worried that in order to forestall this greater danger the Five could sacrifice their position in the European Community.14 The connection between the empty chair crisis and the perpetuity of Western European integration tied to the Atlantic world led the Foreign Office to demand an urgent British reaction. Stewart wrote to Wilson on 10 December to recommend that Britain should make a declaration of intent to accept the Treaty of Rome in order to ‘stiffen’ the Five against acquiescence to French terms.15 The British administration was divided as to which side to take in the Six’s dispute. George Brown, First Secretary of State and Secretary of State for Economic Affairs, felt that the destruction of supranationality would prove an advantage for Britain. His department, the Department of Economic Affairs, wrote to the Foreign Office to counsel that a French victory would remove one of the primary obstacles to British accession and would facilitate Britain’s advance towards Europe.16 Harold Wilson was minded to agree. In response to Stewart’s minute on 10 December, Wilson wrote: Why should we find the acceptance of French conditions dangerous since they reject supranationality, play down the Commission and oppose

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H. Parr majority voting. These ought to help us and also minimise the dangers of an exclusively European foreign policy and an ultimately European deterrent. On agriculture and the Commonwealth there seems to be no analysis of the cost to our balance of payments. All the figures I have seen would seem to be ruinous to our already vulnerable balance of payments. It is still a recipe for high prices therefore high wages and high industrial costs. On planning I am sure that had we been in the EEC last year we would have had to accept full deflation – as Italy was forced by the EEC to do.17

Wilson’s response indicated that he had not thought much about Community membership. The Prime Minister was still concerned about the economic impact of going into the EEC, particularly because the Labour government had not convincingly resolved Britain’s persistent balance of payments crises. Like Brown, Wilson felt that the removal of supranationality would benefit Britain, but unlike Brown, he regarded acceptance of supranationality as an affront to Britain’s national sovereignty. His stance reflected a crude view that entry into a Europe with political content would force Britain away from commitment to the Commonwealth and away from Britain’s historic destiny as an international power. As former Labour leader Hugh Gaitskell argued in 1962: how can one really seriously suppose that if the mother country, the centre of the Commonwealth, is the province of Europe (which is what federation means) it could continue to exist as the mother country of a series of independent nations?18 Moreover, Wilson felt that entry into a supranational Europe would lead to an ‘exclusively European foreign policy and ultimately European deterrent’. Such a sentiment was a throwback to British attitudes at the inception of the Community. When the Six had met at Messina in 1955, the British government had wished to remain aloof from supranational integration. From the point of view of the Foreign Office, British security depended upon the continuation of the Atlantic Alliance, in partnership with the Western European powers. Europe should integrate in order to pacify the Franco-German relationship; but Britain’s role was to steer Europe’s development in an outward-looking direction. It was essential that Western Europe continued to look towards the Atlantic for its defence, and for America to defend Western Europe.19 The creation of a powerful and federated Europe could weaken these bonds. Partly, this was because Germany would come to dominate a political unit of the Europe Six. As Macmillan put it we did not mind other European powers federating if they wished, but in fact if they did so and became really strong it might be very embarrassing for us. Europe would be handed over to the Germans, a state of affairs which we had fought two wars to prevent.20

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Wilson believed that if Britain participated in a supranational European union, Britain’s power would correspondingly weaken, augmenting the forces that tended to tip Europe away from the Atlantic. Similar concerns had been expressed about the possibility of a European nuclear force: ‘there would be a risk that US and Europe, although neither may desire it, will begin to drift apart.’21 Hence Wilson hoped that the dissipation of support for a supranational Europe would strengthen the voice of national governments within the EEC. As a consequence, in the event of British accession, the British would have sufficient national power to promote Atlantic connections in defence: consolidating the ties between the twin pillars of the Alliance. The Foreign Office, however, disagreed with Wilson’s view. Partly, this was because de Gaulle’s anti-American stances in politics, finance and trade created a global threat, bringing France into combat with Britain in a number of policy areas: the mainspring of General de Gaulle’s policy is his belief that France must play a leading part in world affairs separate from and to some extent in conflict with the policies of the United States. In fact de Gaulle, and his propaganda, is working against United States interests around the world.22 Thus, should de Gaulle defeat his partners in the empty chair crisis, the Kennedy Round of trade negotiations in GATT was unlikely to succeed. Not only would this cause a serious obstruction to Britain’s objective of generalised tariff reductions, essential to the spread of prosperity and thus stability, but Britain’s historic trading role would also come under question. ‘The failure of the Kennedy Round might well undermine the existence of the GATT and of the “most favoured nation” principle, which have formed the cornerstone of our commercial policy for the last 20 years.’23 Furthermore, the French had a different way of organising their economic relationships with their former colonies, the associated overseas territories (AOTs). Stewart argued that the arrangement between the EEC and the AOTs was ‘illiberal’, and ‘works much more in favour of France than of her partners’.24 The Yaoundé Convention between the EEC and the AOTs demanded that the AOTs grant the same tariff advantages to all EEC countries, creating a preferential (and closed) trading unit. Commonwealth countries such as Nigeria could be tempted to retreat from their history of nondiscrimination and sign up to the French terms in order to gain access to the lucrative EEC market: ‘the EEC will inherit our place in a large part of Africa. This is a process that could spread to other areas.’25 In international monetary affairs, de Gaulle’s policy of buying up gold led France and Britain into conflict in the International Monetary Fund (IMF). The British wanted to create a new reserve asset. From Britain’s perspective, a new asset would ease the burden on sterling and would increase the amount of liquidity in the world. Enhanced liquidity would, the British felt, assist the less developed world to promote trading links. The French, on the other hand, sought to create a reserve asset that would gradually terminate the role of sterling and the dollar as reserve currencies.26

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The dominant fear in the Foreign Office, however, was the impact in Germany of a French destruction of supranationality. On the one hand, the Foreign Office’s conception of the impact of France’s policy in Germany was rather blunt. Stewart seemed to fear that the opportunity for domination would prove irresistible to the Germans: some of France’s partners, having bowed to her will, would be tempted to adopt – for they would have proved effective – her methods. The example of French nationalism might finally prove contagious in Germany, and Germany might begin to see her future in a closer partnership with France in the defence sphere as in others. Of such a partnership Germany might hope, in due course, thanks to her greater numbers and economic power, to become the leader.27 The fear of German resurgence – exaggerated perhaps to appeal to a Prime Minister who shared the Labour left’s traditional hostility towards German power – was also expressed in a more nuanced way. The death of the ideal of Western European integration, should de Gaulle destroy the impulse to supranationality, would shatter the aspirations that had held the Franco-German partnership together since the Second World War. Western European unity offered a vision for the rehabilitation of Germany and if it were obliterated, Germany’s politicians could find it more difficult to refute nationalistic currents of opinion. Displaying mistrust not only of German politicians, but also of German people, Stewart explained: ‘Deprived of it [idealism about Western European unity] and disillusioned by its failure, Europe could easily become a much more dangerous continent. Germany in particular has a lot invested in this ideal, and its bankruptcy could lay her open to dangerous temptations.’28 De Gaulle’s stance also had implications for European defence. De Gaulle sought to expunge American influence from the continent and to offer the French force de frappe as the method for independent European defence. He did not want to provide Germany with a ‘finger on the nuclear trigger’, but deprived of America to balance Europe’s influence and progressively weakened by the strain of creating a European defence force, de Gaulle’s ‘successors might be persuaded to do so under German and internal financial pressure’.29 The French President’s policies also had a bearing on the course of East–West détente. Stewart suggested that de Gaulle had stopped trying directly to create a political and defence partnership between the French and the Germans, but had turned instead to intensify his Eastern policies. If de Gaulle could develop friendly relations with the Soviets, he could appeal to German opinion by appearing to offer reunification and an alternative defence arrangement to the American umbrella. Alternatively, the Germans could be tempted to use their newly discovered dominance to bargain independently with the Soviets in return for unification. One way for de Gaulle to persuade the Germans that they had no choice but partnership with France was through direct threats: ‘De Gaulle can blackmail West Germany by threatening to recognise the East German regime.’30 De Gaulle

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could use the prospect of improved relations with the East European countries to jeopardise West Germany’s national objectives – non-recognition of East Germany and ultimate reunification – hoping to draw Germany directly into his embrace. Alternatively, in the absence of alternative routes to German unification, West Germany’s politicians could find the pressure of public opinion to turn to the French overwhelming. As one Foreign Office official put it: ‘General de Gaulle is endangering British and western interests largely because he is contriving to appear as the only western statesman who knows where he wants to go and says so, loud and clear.’31 The combined dangers of weakening American influence, Russian incursion and potential German dominance were exacerbated when de Gaulle announced France’s withdrawal from the integrated command structure of NATO on 9 March 1966. It was less that the Foreign Office felt de Gaulle’s policies could work: ‘it is doubtful how far he can really expect to move towards an East–West settlement independently of the United States and without full German support.’32 However, de Gaulle’s menace lay in the way in which his rhetoric appealed to public opinion: he knows that in minimising the Soviet threat, in emphasising the risk of entanglements with American policy outside Europe and in working for more enduring relations with the Soviet bloc, he is playing on a responsive chord in sections of French and European opinion.33 Particularly in the era of the Vietnam War, de Gaulle’s argument that America was not capable of relaxing tensions with the Soviet Union could gather force. The association of America with unnecessarily aggressive policies towards international communism was a simple message that drew attention to America’s inability to work towards détente with the Soviet Union. By stressing the idea of a ‘European Europe’ de Gaulle hoped to separate ‘Atlantic’ from ‘European’ concerns. In so doing, he appeared to provide a solution to the Cold War: a European effort to promote international peace would by definition be different to an Atlantic one. If America could never bring the end of the Cold War, European and German divisions would perpetuate. The growth of support for de Gaulle’s ideas could thus translate into calls for the ejection of American influence from Europe. Other NATO countries, such as Greece, Turkey or Portugal, could be tempted to follow the French line, and doubts about the rightful place of NATO to offer security for Europe could spread in Scandinavia.34 Thus, Britain’s task was to strengthen the legitimacy of the Atlantic Alliance in European public and political opinion as a vehicle capable of working towards East–West détente and German unification. Partly, the British wanted to promote the value of American influence: ‘In two world wars,’ the Foreign Office argued, ‘an earlier application of American power and, in a degree, American political principles, might have stemmed the flood of aggression and totalitarianism before it overwhelmed so much of Europe.’ It was American support that had permitted the ‘revival of Germany as a nation . . . on politically

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democratic and internationally sane lines’. Moreover, the British believed that détente could only be reached from a position of Western solidarity: ‘détente, like defence, can only be achieved from a position four-square within the alliance.’35 De Gaulle’s policies would encourage splits in Western Europe, providing the Soviet Union with the possibility to demand concessions in return for any moves towards détente. Finally, the Foreign Office also sought to undermine the ties between the Soviet satellites and their imperial master. The promotion of an economically protectionist Community of Six in Western Europe, the Foreign Office felt, was not the most effective way to do this. On the one hand, a coherent Europe of Six created hostility with the Soviet Union because the Soviets bordered a potentially dominant Germany: ‘enhanc[ing] the tendency of Europe to polarise along lines of East–West tension.’36 On the other hand, a grouping governed by unanimity rather than by majority voting would merely seem to replace one form of imperialism with another. Unanimity could not provide an example of democratic practice to act as a pole of attraction to Eastern Europe. The Foreign Office’s analysis of the dangers facing Britain in Europe was therefore consistent with former British policy. London feared potential German resurgence, Russian incursion and the loss of American assistance, developments that would seriously weaken Britain’s own influence both in Europe and the USA. However, in the ten years since Messina, when Macmillan warned that federalism could lead to German dominance, the Foreign Office had radically altered its perception of how to deal with these problems. In 1955, the Foreign Office maintained that Britain’s interests were best served by remaining aloof from supranational European integration. Anticipating Harold Wilson’s arguments by nearly a decade, the Foreign Office had suggested that British involvement would weaken Britain and encourage Europe to move away from the Atlantic Alliance, raising the dangers of German strength. By standing outside the EEC, Britain could guide Europe towards an outward-looking policy, leading Europe to America and America to Europe. In 1965, confronted with the empty chair crisis, the Foreign Office argued that Britain no longer possessed the international influence to steer European development from the outside. In fact, because of France’s position towards supranationality, the British had little option but to state support for the supranational Europe favoured by the Five. Michael Stewart argued that Britain should announce its acceptance of the Treaty of Rome and demonstrate that the terms of entry which Britain had sought in 1961 to 1963 were no longer relevant.37 The weakening of Britain’s international position meant that Britain’s objectives in Europe could only be met by participation in a supranational European grouping. Thus, the Wilson government’s shift to adopt a policy of seeking membership of the EEC and the twin European crises were clearly connected. In January 1966, in response to further prompting from the Foreign Secretary, Wilson agreed to embark on studies of the economic implications of membership.38 The outbreak of the NATO crisis only strengthened the case for British accession. As Steward argued: ‘the effective withdrawal of France from the integrated military work of the alliance creates a gap which the Five, and certain sections of public

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opinion in France, will hope to see filled by a stronger British influence in Europe.’39 However, there was no direct link between NATO’s problems and Wilson’s decision to seek accession to the EEC. In fact, the NATO crisis created certain tactical difficulties. Wilson’s earlier preference for partnership with the French led the Foreign Office to worry that the Prime Minister could be tempted to do a deal with de Gaulle, making concessions in NATO in return for accession to the Community.40 It could be difficult quietly to condemn France’s NATO policies while seeking French approval for Community membership.41 Wilson’s decision to advance towards Community membership, taken in October 1966, was the consequence primarily of the repeated evidence of the decline in Britain’s international influence. After the sterling crisis of July 1966, when Wilson realised that Britain’s defence commitments in the Far East could no longer hold, the Prime Minister accepted that Britain had no choice but entry into the Community if it wished to remain a power with international reach.42 Britain’s second application for membership of the EEC was a response to a British problem, not a concerted Anglo-American response to de Gaulle’s activities.43 However, the fact that the British were trying to join Europe meant that Britain’s application could play a role in curbing France’s influence in Europe.

What kind of Europe? Wilson and Brown’s tour of the Europe Six At a meeting of nearly the whole Cabinet at Chequers on 22 October 1966, Harold Wilson announced his intention to conduct a tour of the countries of the Six to see if the conditions existed for membership. In January, Wilson and his new Foreign Secretary George Brown began their trip around the EEC capitals and, on 2 May 1967, Wilson revealed to the House of Commons Britain’s application to join the EEC. Once Wilson had persuaded the Cabinet to accept his probe of the Six in November 1966, he became absolutely determined to take Britain into the Community.44 He was, of course, aware that de Gaulle was unlikely to admit Britain. The Foreign Office commented, in a paper on the attitude of France, that de Gaulle thought the British ‘too Anglo-Saxon’, bringing with them extra-European influence in politics and economics into the Community. Ultimately, the Foreign Office claimed that the ‘real reason’ for de Gaulle’s objection to British entry was that ‘France will lose influence in the Community’.45 Wilson understood that de Gaulle was likely to obstruct Britain’s accession, commenting to his Private Secretary Michael Palliser that ‘our whole strategy should be based on the fact that the Five at the end of the day would probably not oppose our entry . . . and the French might – indeed probably would’.46 He told the Guardian editor, Alastair Hetherington, that ‘he would do all he could to win de Gaulle round, but the prospects were not too bright’.47 Comprehension of de Gaulle’s probable attitude did not mean that Wilson was certain his initiative was preordained to fail, as one historian has claimed.48 Wilson’s approach was that although de Gaulle did not wish to admit Britain, he did not want to be pressed into a second deliberate veto either: ‘de Gaulle does

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not want us in; but he may find the political disadvantages of keeping us out too difficult.’49 Palliser expressed the dilemma further in a personal letter to Wilson’s outgoing Private Secretary Oliver Wright. ‘My own conviction,’ Palliser began, ‘is that there is no prospect whatever of General de Gaulle letting us into the Common Market as long as he is in control of events.’ Britain’s task in the intervening period was to make ‘life thoroughly difficult for the General by explaining to all and sundry how thoroughly willing we are to go in and thereby forcing de Gaulle to find much more explicit reasons than hitherto for keeping us out’. Britain could attain this goal partly by ‘playing the German card’, stressing to French and to European opinion de Gaulle’s inability to control the potential power of Germany alone. Such a stance, Palliser suggested, could work by appealing to public opinion in France and thereby narrowing de Gaulle’s freedom for action: ‘most thinking Frenchmen, including Gaullists whether of the Pompidou or Debré variety, want us in as a counterpoise to Germany.’ Combined with willingness to accept the terms of entry, the British could hope to ‘prepare for a post de Gaulle situation where our entry – together with that of Denmark, Norway, etc. can become possible within the reasonably near future, and perhaps even before the next general election’.50 Thus, London’s tactics were to enter the Community by making it impossible for de Gaulle to deliver a convincing veto. In 1963, the French President had grounded his exclusion of Britain on the evidence of the difficult months of negotiations in Brussels. De Gaulle had argued that the original Six shared similar trading and agricultural patterns, whereas Britain’s interests were global. British entry would hence tear apart the ties that bound the Community together, transforming the Community into an entirely different entity: ‘in the end, there would appear a huge Atlantic Community dependent on, and led by, America which would soon absorb the European Community.’51 Despite the considerable risk de Gaulle took in delivering his judgement, the rest of the Six, as well as the Commission, could feel some sympathy with de Gaulle’s argument, if not his methods.52 With their second attempt, officials were determined that de Gaulle should not be granted an easy veto. Britain should: avoid giving the General any chance to represent plausibly to the Five and to French public opinion that the UK could not be regarded as an acceptable candidate for entry because she cannot yet subscribe to the basic rules of the club.53 Moreover, headed by Harold Wilson, renowned as uncertain about the merits of Community membership, the British sought to demonstrate their sincerity in wishing to enter. The impressively large House of Commons majority in favour of and cross-party support for the application could be employed to demonstrate the commitment of the British people to membership. Wilson was ready to adopt his officials’ recommendations, declaring that Britain could accept the Treaty of Rome. Importantly, although he stressed that Britain would require satisfaction on ‘some sticking-points on which we see difficulty’, the Prime Minister did not

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make British entry conditional in advance upon the satisfaction of certain terms.54 The demonstration of Britain as a willing European power was the more important element of London’s tactics. The most important aspect of British tactics was to emphasise Britain’s commitment to Community membership on the Community’s terms. Such a stance illustrated Britain’s readiness to make concessions in negotiations, and meant that Britain could persist in demanding membership even in the face of de Gaulle’s objections. However, Wilson also wished to overcome the Gaullist obstacle in the short term. In order to do this, Wilson hoped to appeal directly to the French by painting a vision of a Europe strengthened economically by British entry and led by Britain and France. In addition, Wilson recognised the importance of the German attitude in ensuring consistent pressure on the French. To this end, the British sought to engage those elements of German opinion that distrusted de Gaulle’s motives in defence and security policy. William Nield, head of the Cabinet Office’s ‘European Unit’, argued that Britain should seek to ‘erode the psychology of the cosy nest’.55 In other words, Britain had to combat de Gaulle’s vision of a Europe limited to Six, and deliver a convincing and positive exposition of the benefits of an enlarged Europe. Although London’s tactics were double-edged – designed simultaneously to appeal to the French but to undermine the Five’s support for French security and defence policies – Britain’s longer term shift towards Europe was genuine. Wilson’s primary objective was not exclusively to ‘isolate de Gaulle within the EEC and also within France’, although these were a part of Britain’s tactics, but to secure British membership of the EEC.56 Therefore, there was no direct connection with Britain’s policy towards NATO. The application could further Britain’s objectives in NATO, but it could also complicate Britain’s Alliance policy, as a paper by George Brown in November 1967 made clear. ‘Our position is more delicate in that we are pressing for entry into the EEC and do not want any unnecessary conflict with France.’57 However, in a strategic sense, particularly when taken alongside retrenchment from a defence role East of Suez, Britain’s second application did represent a major reorientation of Britain’s outlook. We have already shifted the emphasis of our defence policy towards Europe, and it may well be that further moves along the same lines will serve both to give a new look to the Atlantic Alliance and also to outflank French claims to champion the European cause.58 Thus, Wilson and Brown’s political arguments were not solely expediencies. As Britain’s geopolitical stance evolved towards Europe, so the British began sincerely to formulate a vision of the future shape of the European Community and Britain’s role in it. Such a role would alter the make-up of the European Community, consolidating the Community’s Atlantic orientation and thereby weakening the French position.

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Wilson’s primary argument was that British entry would bring ‘strength, unity and independence’ to Europe. Wilson argued that Britain would introduce much-needed technological prowess. Only access to Britain’s expertise, combined with the integration of Europe’s economies into an enlarged home market of 200 to 250 million people, would enable the European countries to match the economic and technological strength of the superpowers. Emphasis on the technological and economic benefits of enlargement was consistent with Wilson’s stance since taking office in 1964. He had persistently sought to create connections with other European countries in high technology: proposing joint efforts in computers, aeroplanes and space technologies, and investigating other areas, such as telecommunications, electronics and civil nuclear research where collaboration could prove fruitful.59 Britain’s fear was that America and, to a lesser extent, the Soviet Union were able to maximise research and development investment because they possessed larger home markets which guaranteed better returns.60 Failure of the British to keep up would jeopardise Britain’s capacity to secure access to the newest technologies from America. The Foreign Office Planning Staff felt that: the [American] administration is moving towards the view that if Britain joins the Common Market there will be comparatively little significance in the ‘technological gap’ and that if she does not there is little that the United States can or will be willing to do about the gap.61 Thus, Britain’s position as an independent and influential player was at stake and collaboration with the European countries could be one way to ensure an alternative means of sustaining access to cutting edge technology. The British did not envisage that a technologically strengthened Europe would turn its back on America. ‘This does not imply any conflict of interest with the United States.’62 However, an enhanced European technological effort would clearly increase Britain’s ties to Europe. Although Britain’s connections with the United States would still exist, connections with Europe would assume greater importance. Moreover, the technological argument provided Wilson with an alternative vision of Europe to that offered by de Gaulle. Whereas de Gaulle felt that Europe would be strong by eliminating Atlantic influence and consolidating its European ties, Wilson suggested that Europe could only play a strengthened, independent role when enlarged to admit Britain and thus in partnership with the Americans. Bolstered by Britain’s technological input, Europe could play its proper part between the superpowers. Such an argument could hope to appeal to the French by showing that Britain and France could together lead Europe. Wilson told de Gaulle: The task of the great European powers, of France and of Britain, was not to be mere messenger boys between the two great powers. They had a bigger role to play – and other nations wished them to play it – than merely waiting

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in the ante-rooms while the two great powers settled everything direct between themselves. That was why France and Britain had to make effective their enormous potential industrial strength by giving that strength a chance to operate on a European and not a national scale, or a series of national scales. Only if France and Britain did this could they exert all that went with industrial strength and independence in terms of Europe’s influence in world affairs.63 However, a strengthened Europe would be better able to play a constructive role within the Atlantic Alliance and other international fora. Wilson argued to the German Chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger: Independence did not mean cutting Europe off from other parts of the world. If the Community admitted Britain and other members of EFTA, Europe would have strength to assert herself in such international groupings as NATO or the UN or in any other international forum.64 Britain’s vision of Europe was also a means to challenge de Gaulle’s view of détente. The General sought to create a ‘European Europe’, excluding Atlantic influence from the continent and thereby demonstrating that Europe was better placed to approach the Soviet Union.65 Wilson hoped to show that a Europe supported by America could still search for the reconciliation of the continent. On the one hand, the simple numerical augmentation of Europe’s strength could bolster Europe’s bargaining power with the Soviets. Wilson and Brown argued to the French that Britain’s objectives were the same as France’s: to facilitate better relations with the Soviet Union. ‘Inside the Community, we should not be inimical, and would indeed be sympathetic to the General’s external interests, we both want a détente with the east.’66 To the Germans, Wilson maintained that the strengthening of Europe would augment a European (and therefore a German) voice in the pursuit of détente. ‘British membership would make it far easier to pursue effectively the policies of East–West détente which both our governments desire.’67 Wilson also suggested that an enlarged Europe would be more favourable to the Soviets. The existing closed Community of Six caused Russia to fear a resurgent Germany. The Six had political ambitions, and a tightly knit, federated Europe appeared as a bulwark against communism and as a vehicle for German domination. An enlarged Europe would have a less obvious political content: the new Europe would not seek union, but unity. Wilson’s stance on unity was partly a way for the British to wriggle out from a distinct commitment to a ‘supranational’ Europe, as he believed that: the twentieth century would go down to history as an age in which man had vision to create a new unity, greater for building on diversity of nation states, so that national characteristics would be enriched by their association in a wider outward looking unity.68

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However, a Europe founded on unity suggested a continent less fuelled by the Cold War than one brought together by economic interests and the common bonds of history. Such a Europe could ultimately transcend the Cold War by appealing to universal values. Wilson told Kiesinger: ‘The unity, strength and independence of an enlarged Community would moreover be of great political advantage in easing international tension.’69 To the Soviet Foreign Minister Kosygin, Wilson had argued: If we succeeded in joining the Community we should do so not in order to enter a narrow, inward looking club, but on the contrary in the desire to enlarge the Community and make it more outward looking, thus helping the progress of détente between East European countries and West European countries.70 Moreover, the idea of European unity would provide a locus of attraction for the Eastern European countries.71 A Community in which one power did not have a veto was a stronger role model for democracy, and a looser organisation would appeal to the democratising tendencies in the Eastern European countries.72

A successful failure? Britain’s second application for membership of the EEC Wilson launched Britain’s second request for Community membership on 2 May 1967. In contrast to the first application, the Prime Minister did not attach conditions to be fulfilled in advance of accession. Rather, he sent a direct one-line application for membership under Article 237 of the Treaty of Rome and Article 98 of the Treaty of Paris.73 In the House of Commons, he outlined the main areas for which the British would seek some kind of provision: exports of lamb from New Zealand and sugar from the Commonwealth, and he suggested that the burden of agricultural financing was ‘inequitable’.74 In delivering an application uncluttered with provisos, the British hoped to combat Gaullist resistance. The British could meet a French rebuttal with a restatement of Britain’s will to enter and ability to do so. After each obstacle, Britain should return ‘the ball firmly but politely into the General’s twenty-five’.75 The simple application could leave de Gaulle unwilling to risk the political odium of a veto and, through lack of alternatives, lead to negotiations ‘in one form or another, by the end of this year or early next year’.76 If de Gaulle did choose to veto, such a veto should be politically painful for him: ‘he must not be surprised if the consequences prove to be more damaging to his policy and to the position of France than he is at present calculating.’77 The Prime Minister did still hope to convince de Gaulle to admit Britain in political negotiations, telling Palliser that his discussions with the General, at Trianon on 19 June, would be ‘haute politique, and pretty haute at that’.78 Wilson’s aim was to persuade de Gaulle that Britain was moving away from America and was thus capable of turning resolutely towards France. The

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retrenchment of forces from the Far East indicated how Britain’s role was changing and Britain and France could act in concert to promote European action, for example, over the Middle East crisis. The most profound demonstration of Britain’s European orientation, Wilson felt, was in defence technology. The Prime Minister hoped to tell de Gaulle that Britain’s decision not to continue with Polaris and not to purchase the next generation of American missiles, Poseidon, meant that by the mid-1970s, Britain would be free to choose the orientation of her defence policy. Future decisions as to nuclear policy ‘would be influenced largely by the possibilities presented to us of fuller European development in the economic, political and defence fields’.79 In addition, Wilson hoped to dangle two tentative lures to entice de Gaulle to support Britain’s bid. First, some in the British administration speculated, supported by information from Pierre Maillard, a Minister in the French Foreign Service, that the French did not yet know how to make a thermonuclear bomb. Without thermonuclear knowledge, the French nuclear force, the force de frappe, could not be used and therefore France might be tempted by a sincere British offer of assistance.80 Second, Wilson offered collaboration in the production of enriched uranium U235. U235 was employed mainly for civil purposes, but it was also used in the propulsion engines of submarines.81 The British had been investigating a new method for enriching uranium, the gas centrifuge technique, and it was not inconceivable that they could do so in collaboration with France, as both France and Britain had enrichment plants. Ultimately, Britain was to explore this new technology in partnership with West Germany and the Netherlands.82 Before Wilson went to Trianon, Foreign Secretary George Brown had urged caution in any offer of a defence initiative with the French. Britain’s agreements with the Americans were a restraining hand on any sharing of nuclear information and Britain would be dependent upon access to American information at least until any successor force to Polaris was ready. Moreover, it was questionable whether the British wanted to create a defence community in partnership with France. An Anglo-French-led European force would not solve the problem, under discussion in NATO, of Germany’s access to nuclear weaponry. Any suggestion of such a force could only antagonise the Americans and Germans, particularly after Britain’s opposition to America’s plan, supported by the Germans, for a European Multilateral Force (MLF). Brown emphasised that a hint of Britain’s interest in a European nuclear force would be damaging to Britain’s relations in the Atlantic Alliance. The Foreign Office also felt that Britain should desist from providing France with access to British information. After all, de Gaulle opposed Britain’s objectives throughout the world, not least in refusing access to the Community.83 Therefore, although Wilson may have dropped hints, it seems unlikely that he made any concrete offer to de Gaulle of thermonuclear collaboration and the records do not suggest any such move. Nevertheless, Wilson did ‘play the technology card’, stressing that Britain and France could collaborate in the production of aero-engines and civil nuclear technology, as well as mentioning

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missile development as one area for investigation.84 The idea that Britain’s entry would strengthen Europe’s economic base was the foundation of Wilson’s political arguments. Only by admitting Britain could Europe stand strong against the injection of American investment. Such investment was stifling the development of genuinely European cutting-edge technologies: ‘the French computer industry had not only been raped, but was now aborted.’85 Britain’s entry offered a ‘European’ alternative, a method to secure Europe’s economic and political independence and strength. Wilson’s meeting with de Gaulle convinced the Prime Minister that the General would not admit Britain. As he commented bitterly in the aftermath of the meeting, ‘we are past the point of forecasting his actions on the basis of rational judgement’.86 Despite the efficacy of Britain’s tactics, and the appeal of the vision of a strengthened Europe, de Gaulle remained obdurate. Nevertheless, the British perceived the French to be in a weakened position. De Gaulle had appeared to acknowledge to Wilson that he was aware that France’s preference for a European Europe could not ultimately prevail: it was conceivable that one day the Atlantic concept would submerge them. In that case there would be no Europe, or at least no European Europe and no specifically European character or personality. They did not wish this to happen. But they recognised that they might be unable to prevent it.87 De Gaulle’s pessimism led Wilson to comment to Johnson that de Gaulle was ‘obsessed in his fatalistic way by a sense of real impotence (a word he used twice with me)’.88 Sir Patrick Reilly, Britain’s ambassador in Paris, wrote that he was ‘paradoxically encouraged’ by the visit, and that it ‘may in the end prove to have been an important stage in the long process of wearing down the General’s opposition to our entry into the EEC’.89 Although all knew that de Gaulle did not want to let Britain in, it appeared that he did not know how to prevent the opening of negotiations. Following the Trianon visit, Britain’s tactics turned more decisively towards courting favour among the Five. On 4 July, George Brown delivered Britain’s negotiating position to the WEU. The speech was fulsome in its explanation of Britain’s political objectives in seeking entry and it emphasised that Britain would be able to accept the ‘conditions’ of accession. Brown stressed only that Britain would need safeguards for the Commonwealth sugar producers after 1974 and for the New Zealanders’ exports of butter. Britain could negotiate agricultural financing arrangements in 1969.90 Moreover, Wilson noted that Britain should switch from efforts to make technological partnership with France to ‘blatant technological co-operation with individual members of the Five or bilateral co-operation’.91 Such technological cooperation would bring home to the French what they were missing by excluding Britain from the Community, and British collaboration with members of the Five would emphasise France’s increasing isolation in Europe. Once the possibility of Anglo-French cooperation over the EEC was removed, the British felt better able to take these more direct

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steps. Britain’s shift in tactics did relate closely to developments in NATO and détente. Indications were that de Gaulle intended to withdraw completely from the Atlantic Alliance by 1969.92 Since June, the NATO powers had been discussing Pierre Harmel’s proposals to increase the role of NATO in pursuing détente, proposals that were supported but regarded suspiciously by the French.93 Thus, by placing pressure on France, and demonstrating the distance between France and the other Community members, Britain could hope to make it hard for de Gaulle to take an isolationist line in these other areas. Evidence does suggest that the British succeeded in making de Gaulle’s life difficult. In October, de Gaulle uncharacteristically summoned Patrick Reilly to a private meeting. The fact that he had done so led Reilly and Palliser to comment that de Gaulle was acting defensively. The General reiterated his view that Britain was unready to enter the Community. He commented that Britain was excessively dependent on the US, but did not dwell on Britain’s political ties to America, observing that the British were ‘moving a little’ in this respect. Economically, Britain’s balance of payments difficulties meant Britain was too weak to adopt the agricultural levy system. The British would therefore demand substantial changes, transforming the existing arrangements: ‘No doubt the British government sincerely believed that they could accept the essential principles of the Community, but the truth was they could not.’94 Reilly was unsure about de Gaulle’s motives, but suggested that de Gaulle did not know how best to handle the application. He intimated to Reilly that the French had not changed their mind, as if to say: ‘if only you would drop all this nonsense about coming into the EEC now, how happy we would be to collaborate with you in all sorts of ways.’95 Palliser concurred: ‘all of this is unlike his usual behaviour, and I believe it shows that our patient persistence has for once shaken his own stubborn obstructionism.’ Although this did not mean that de Gaulle was less likely to veto if he concluded there to be no alternative, ‘this conversation . . . shows how reluctant he is to take this extreme step’. Palliser noted that domestic pressure, in the form of farmers’ riots, local elections and the fall-out from de Gaulle’s ‘vive le Quebec libre’ speech and his visit to Poland, not to mention the support of the Five for enlargement, was taking its toll: ‘even the General is at last showing some sensitivity to the kinds of pressure that are at present bearing on him.’96 At the Council of Minister’s meeting on 23 October, the French Foreign Minister Couve de Murville established ‘economic preconditions’ to the opening of negotiations. Before negotiations could start, the health of Britain’s economy would have to be approved by the Community and Couve suggested that the reserve role of sterling would have to be terminated.97 The Five resisted Couve’s interpretation, arguing that Britain’s economy would recover as the negotiations progressed – indeed the mere opening of negotiations would help the recovery process.98 The devaluation of sterling, announced by Wilson on Sunday 18 November, provided evidence, however, of Britain’s political and economic weakness and seemed to encourage de Gaulle to make his judgement explicit. Previously Reilly, while conceding that de Gaulle could prevaricate, concluded

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that de Gaulle would probably wait until the New Year before delivering a decisive verdict. In the short term, I think that the General’s aim will be to get through without a showdown until the New Year, when Parliament here will be in recess until April and France will have the chair in the EEC. The first six weeks or so of 1968 might then be a period when he would feel able to face a crunch and give time for the effect of a French veto to wear off before Parliament met again.99 However, at his press conference on 27 November, de Gaulle decided to make clear his opposition to the opening of negotiations. At the Council of Ministers one month later, the decision not to open negotiations was confirmed. The final month of 1967 was the period in which de Gaulle’s veto of Britain’s second candidature was given form. The second veto was remarkable for three main reasons. First, despite de Gaulle’s protestations, it demonstrated the political character of his opposition to British membership of the EEC. De Gaulle stressed that Britain’s economy was weak and would not be able to bear the obligations placed upon it by membership. Sterling’s devaluation illustrated too clearly its frailties. Payment of the levies demanded by the agricultural fund would prove impossible for the British. The reserve role of sterling illustrated Britain’s continued international obligations and suggested that Britain would not be able to adopt the unity demanded by Community membership. Thus, Britain would seek to transform the character of the Community. Britain’s entry would inevitably ‘break up a Community that was built and operates according to rules which do not tolerate such a monumental exception’.100 Although de Gaulle dwelt on Britain’s economic incompatibility and weakness, the case that British accession would transform the existing Community was the core of de Gaulle’s argument. The President equated the existing Community with a vision based upon the exclusion of ‘Atlantic’ influence from the continent. Britain had argued that only through the injection of British technological know-how could Europe hope to make itself strong enough to play a leading role between the superpowers. De Gaulle countered that Europe could only be strong and able to play a leading role if the Community consolidated its existing bonds. British entry would weaken Europe by inviting in the economic influence of the United States, opening up Europe to infiltration by American interests and values. By contrast, concentration on the existing Community would enmesh the elements that resisted American influence: ‘in order that Europe may counterbalance the immense power of the United States, it must not weaken, but on the contrary, tighten the bonds and rules of the Community.’101 Enlargement would weaken, not strengthen, the EEC. Exposure of the political nature of de Gaulle’s veto depended in large part upon the unwillingness of the Five to accept his judgement. Thus, the second reason to highlight the remarkable nature of the veto period was that although de Gaulle felt domestically strong enough to venture a unilateral rebuff, his influ-

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ence inside the EEC (and as events were to show, at home) was weakening. Since the inception of the Community, the French had been adept at securing their own national interests within the Community framework.102 France’s interests had been met in the provision for harmonising social security costs, in the association of France’s former overseas colonies, and in the rapidity and form with which the Six had adopted the CAP. Assent to French requirements reflected France’s importance to the process of integration, a fact they had successfully exploited in the 1963 to 1964 agricultural negotiations by threatening to withdraw from the Community. When de Gaulle attempted this tactic in discussion of agricultural funding in 1965, however, the Germans, Italians and Dutch had called his bluff, leading to the six-month refusal to participate in Community institutions.103 French hegemony in the Community had already been challenged. After de Gaulle’s press conference, the Five’s refusal to agree that enlargement negotiations should not start further indicated that the heyday of French dominance in Europe was over. In 1963, de Gaulle’s veto had effectively removed enlargement from the Community agenda until Britain’s second request. In contrast, at the Council of Ministers on 19 December 1967, the German Foreign Minister Willy Brandt led the protestations that Britain’s economic fragility was not an obstacle to the opening of negotiations. The Five agreed that should negotiations open, Britain would likely be able to make the concessions necessary to secure success.104 While not denying that Britain’s position over agricultural levies would require serious negotiations, the Five thereby rejected de Gaulle’s argument – an argument tacitly endorsed in 1963 – that the British were responsible for their own exclusion.105 Moreover, the Five did not accept de Gaulle’s view that enlargement would weaken and destroy the existing Community. The communiqué of the Council of Ministers’ meeting made plain that all states supported the principle of enlargement, but one state believed that enlargement would modify the character of the Community in a ‘profound fashion’.106 Rather than withdraw their application, the British had created sufficient goodwill within the Community in support of their initiative justifiably to leave the bid ‘on the table’.107 De Gaulle’s verdict was not taken as the end of a chapter, but as a temporary setback that in no way reduced the need for a solution. The French were to discover after the veto that progress in other areas – agricultural levies, political union, monetary union – was impeded by the failure to resolve the enlargement question. It was this pressure that led de Gaulle’s successor President Georges Pompidou to lift France’s veto at the Hague Summit in December 1969, the surest signal that the compatibility between France’s preference for a cosy nest and the wider interests of the Community had been brought to an end.108 Third, the weakening of de Gaulle’s influence in the EEC presaged France’s weakening in other areas, in particular in NATO and in the international monetary negotiations. The British were well aware of this. Following de Gaulle’s press conference on 27 November, the British deliberately placed pressure on members of the Five to elicit a decisive verdict as to whether to open

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negotiations in the Council of Ministers. Part of the British motive in doing this was to continue to make life difficult for de Gaulle. NATO countries were preparing to sign the Harmel report on 13–14 December; moreover, de Gaulle’s withdrawal from the gold pool created pressure on the dollar. Brown commented that: ‘by facing these various issues in isolation, we allow de Gaulle to choose his time for piecemeal attacks and so to defeat us in detail.’109 A clear breach between de Gaulle and his five partners would make it harder for the General to take a divergent path on these issues. Once it was plain that the division in the EEC resulted from French intransigence, public opinion could prove anxious about further distancing from NATO, either in the form of refusal to join Harmel or complete withdrawal from the Alliance. The fact that de Gaulle did sign up to Harmel revealed France’s weakening ability to influence the course of East–West détente as an ‘independent’ power. Any remaining credibility for de Gaulle’s opening to the East was lost when the Soviet Union invaded Czechoslovakia in 1968. Moves towards a Nuclear Planning Group in NATO to provide a solution for German access to nuclear hardware also showed that de Gaulle had not succeeded in bringing Germany into a French-based political or defence union and demonstrated that NATO could function without the French. France’s policies of buying up gold were dealt a harsh blow in the gold crisis early in March 1968, a crisis that helped to cement an Anglo-Saxon solution to the problem of international liquidity. The Gaullist era was over; and Britain’s second application played its part in demonstrating de Gaulle’s weakening appeal.

Conclusion This chapter demonstrates that the traditional view of Britain’s policy towards the EEC as reactive and reluctant requires revision. In fact, the British under Harold Wilson turned sincerely towards membership of the European Community. Despite de Gaulle’s veto, Wilson’s application illustrated that Britain would be able to accept the rules of the European ‘club’, and Britain’s policy of leaving the application on the table added to the pressure on the French to lift their veto to enlargement at the Hague Summit in December 1969. Britain’s foreign policy-making had also shifted from its earlier reactive construction. In essence, Britain’s diplomatic goals remained constant. Within Europe, the British sought to manage the rise of German power, to prevent the spread of communism across the West, to prolong Western Europe’s ties to the Atlantic and to ensure that America remained committed to the defence of Western Europe. The French challenge to the EEC and to NATO led Britain to articulate these goals, as they sought, along with the Americans, to limit the damage de Gaulle could do to the cohesion of the West. An approach to seek membership of the Community was one element in the Anglo-American response to the General. However, the dominant motivation for the British to turn to the Community was the gradual realisation of the constraints on British international power. Thus, Wilson’s application was a sincere effort to come to terms with Britain’s altered status.

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Once Wilson had taken his decision to advance towards the Community, British policy was surprisingly proactive. The Foreign Office dominated policymaking, a shift from earlier periods. Determined first to get into the Community, Foreign Office officials designed a strategy aimed to make it difficult for de Gaulle to veto by showing Britain’s suitability as a European power. At the same time, Wilson sought to appeal to de Gaulle by presenting a vision of a Europe strengthened by its enlarged economy, and the input of technology, able to play a role between the superpowers. This vision also served to combat de Gaulle’s preference for a European ‘cosy nest’ of Six, positing an enlarged Europe as an alternative arrangement for Europe’s future. Even though the initiative failed, Britain’s position as a European power was accepted on the continent to a far greater degree. For de Gaulle, his veto of Britain’s application was a turning point. The Five repudiated de Gaulle’s interpretation of the Community as an entity limited to the Six, and Pompidou realised he had little choice but to accept enlargement in order to make progress in other areas. The era of French domination of the Community was at an end. Moreover, Wilson sowed the seeds of a British vision of the European Community that flourished only later. Wilson maintained that Europe should be a looser grouping of independent states united by economic ties and ties of history, an outward-looking union forming a home for the Eastern European countries. Ultimately, as Wilson argued to de Gaulle in June 1966, it was Wilson’s vision of Europe rather than de Gaulle’s that proved the more enduring.

Notes 1 Morgan (1992, p. 297). 2 N.P. Ludlow, ‘A Mismanaged Application: Britain and the EEC, 1961–1963’, in Deighton and Milward (1999, p. 273); for Macmillan’s own ‘modest optimism’ see Horne (1989, p. 257); for an assessment suggesting that Macmillan was aware but self-deluded about de Gaulle’s attitude see Kaiser (1996, p. 167). 3 Heath (1998, pp. 235–6); A. Deighton and N.P. Ludlow, ‘A Conditional Application: British Management of the First Attempt to Seek Membership of the EEC’, in Deighton (1995, p. 108). 4 Marsh (1978, p. 96). 5 Kitzinger (1973, pp. 276–8). 6 Ludlow (2006, pp. 174–98); Pine (2003, pp. 37–66). 7 For two works which do examine the diplomacy of Wilson’s initiative see Pine (2003) and Parr (2006). A work that connects Britain’s EEC policy and Britain’s policy towards NATO is Ellison (2006). 8 See also, Ellison (2006, pp. 85–111); Ellison, ‘Dealing with de Gaulle: AngloAmerican Relations, NATO and the Second Application’, in Daddow (2003, pp. 172–87). 9 On EEC applications as diplomatic weapons see Moravcsik (1998, pp. 159–76); Kaiser (1996, pp. 194–203). 10 On Wilson’s position on taking office see Parr (2006, pp. 15–40), and on the bridgebuilding initiative and the empty chair crisis see ibid., pp. 41–69. 11 Ibid., pp. 56–64, 70–100. 12 TNA CAB128/39, C(65)36th, 8.7.1965. 13 On the genesis of the crisis see Ludlow (1999, pp. 231–48); A. Varsori, ‘Italy and

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H. Parr the Empty Chair Crisis, 1965–6’, in Loth (2001, pp. 215–25); A.G. Harryvan, and J. van der Harst, ‘For Once a United Front: The Netherlands and the Empty Chair Crisis of the Mid-1960s’, in Loth (2001, pp. 173–92). TNA FO371/182378/M10810/102, Barnes to O’Neill, 14.10.1965. TNA PREM13/904, Stewart to Wilson, 10.12.1965. TNA T312/1015, Roll to Gore-Booth, 20.10.1965; Wallace (1975, pp. 142–3). TNA PREM13/904, Wilson comments on Stewart to Wilson, 10.12.1965. Hugh Gaitskell, Speech to Labour Party Conference, 1962, cited in Labour Party (1962, p. 12). For the influence of these considerations on the Foreign Office’s attitude to the Messina process see Ellison (2000, pp. 15–25). Ibid., p. 18. TNA T312/1011, Greenhill to Keeble, 28.8.1964; see also PREM13/26, discussions between Gordon-Walker and Rusk, 26.10.1964. TNA CAB129/124, C(66)16, France: General de Gaulle’s Foreign Policy over the Next Two Years, 28.1.1966. Ibid. Ibid. TNA PREM13/306, Stewart to Wilson, PM/65/38, 3.3.1965. O’Hara (2003, p. 269); Schenk (2002, p. 363); see also Kunz (1997, pp. 112–13). TNA PREM13/904, Stewart to Wilson, 10.12.1966. Ibid. TNA PREM13/904, Foreign Office draft on ‘Why would a French victory be dangerous?’, 7.1. 1966. TNA CAB129/124, C(66)16, France: General de Gaulle’s Foreign Policy over the next two years, 28.1.1966. TNA FO371/184288/W6/12, Palliser to Nicholls, 9.2.1965. TNA CAB148/69, OPD(66)9, The International Consequences of General de Gaulle’s Foreign Policy, Foreign Office, 25.3.1966. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. TNA PREM13/904, Stewart to Wilson, 10.12.1966. Ibid. TNA PREM13/905, Stewart to Wilson, PM/66/3, 21.1.1966, reporting meeting between Stewart and Wilson on 19.1.1966. TNA CAB148/25, OPD(66)18th, 5.4.1966. TNA BT241/1323, Stewart to Wilson, 4.5.1966. TNA CAB148/69, OPD(66)9, The International Consequences of General de Gaulle’s Foreign Policy, Foreign Office, 25.3.1966. Parr (2006, pp. 70–100); Young (2004, pp. 147–8). Ellison (2006, pp. 99–101) discusses the American desire for Britain to show support for Community membership. Parr (2006, pp. 101–28). TNA CAB134/2812, EURO(66)36, The attitude of France, Foreign Office, 10.1.1967. TNA PREM13/1475, Wilson reply on Palliser to Wilson, 7.12.1966. Parr (2006, p. 106). W. Kaiser, ‘The British EEC Applications of 1961 and 1967’, in Broad and Preston (2001, pp. 69–72). TNA PREM13/1475, Palliser to Wilson, 6.1.1967. TNA PREM13/897, Palliser to Wright, 21.10.1966. Ludlow (1997, pp. 206–12; quote on pp. 207–8). N.P. Ludlow, ‘A Short Term Defeat: Community Institutions and the Second British Application to Join the EEC’, in Daddow (2003, pp. 147–8).

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TNA CAB134/?, EURO(67)12, Steering Brief for Paris, Foreign Office, 20.1.1967. For example, TNA CAB134/2705, E(66)3rd, 22.10.1966. TNA PREM13/1477, Nield to Wilson, 10.2.1967. Kaiser, ‘British EEC Applications of 1961 and 1967’, in Broad and Preston (2001, p. 71). TNA CAB148/34, OPD(67)87, France and the Atlantic Alliance, Foreign Secretary, 20.11.1967. Ibid. TNA PREM13/317, Wilson to de Gaulle, 29.1.1965; PREM13/324, Wilson to De Gaulle, 2.4.1965, 11 a.m.; Edgerton (1996, pp. 56–82); Coopey (1991, pp. 115–27). TNA CAB134/1773, EEP(65)28, Future Relations with Europe, DEA, 14.5.1965. TNA FCO49/45, ZP10/3, Memo by Thompson, 10.1.1967. TNA FO371/190534/W6/10, Barnes draft on Defence and our Approach to the EEC, 16.12.1966. TNA PREM13/1476, Wilson to de Gaulle, 24.1.1967. TNA PREM13/1477, Wilson to Kiesinger, 15.2.1967. Vaïsse (1998, pp. 381–96); Bozo (2001); Bozo (1996, pp. 345–8). TNA FCO30/66, Hancock to Campbell, Notes for Paris, 19.1.1967. TNA PREM13/1477, Bonn to FO, tel. 268, 9.2.1967. TNA PREM13/1475, Wilson to Moro, 16.1.1967. TNA PREM13/1477, Wilson to Kiesinger, 15.2.1967; also PREM13/2114, Wilson to Kosygin, 7.2.1967. TNA PREM13/2114, Wilson – Kosygin, 7.2.1967. TNA FCO33/44, Lush to Simpson-Orlebar, 24.4.1967. See also Parr (2006, pp. 111–12). TNA FCO30/91, FO to Brussels, tel. 439, 6.5.1967. Hansard House of Commons Debates, vol. 746, col. 311–12, 2.5.1967. TNA PREM13/1485, Palliser to Wilson, 6.10.1967. Ibid. TNA PREM13/1521, Palliser to Wilson, 10.6.1967; on Britain’s policy, see Parr (2006, pp. 103–7, 153). TNA PREM13/1521, Palliser to Wilson and Wilson’s comments, 26.5.1967. TNA CAB130/325, MISC153(67)1st, Nuclear Aspects of Technological Cooperation, 15.6.1967. TNA PREM13/1479, Reilly to Mulley, 20.4.1967; PREM13/1482, Ramsbotham to Campbell, 14.4.1967. TNA PREM13/1521, ‘Review of French Efforts in the Nuclear Weapons Field as They Might Be Seen Through General de Gaulle’s Eyes’, Zuckerman, 13.6.1967. Schrafstetter and Twigge (2002, pp. 256–8). TNA CAB130/325, MISC153(67)1st, Nuclear Aspects of Technological Cooperation, 15.6.1967. TNA PREM13/1731, Wilson to De Gaulle, 19.6.1967, 4 p.m. See Parr (2006, p. 105); on the Wilson to de Gaulle meeting see pp. 156–60. TNA PREM13/1484, Wilson comments on Chalfont to Wilson, 19.7.1967. Ibid. TNA PREM13/1521, Wilson to Johnson, 22.6.1967. TNA PREM13/1483, Reilly to Gore-Booth, 28.6.1967. Brown Statement to the WEU 4 July 1967, Keesings Contemporary Archive, vol. xvi, part 1, 22248, 9–16.9.1967, Parr (2006, p. 161). TNA PREM13/1484, Wilson’s comments on Palliser to Wilson, 15.7.1967; Young (1993, p. 100). TNA FCO30/170, Reilly to Gore-Booth, 14.7.1967; PREM13/1484, Palliser to Barnes, 14.7.1967.

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93 Bozo (2001, pp. 193–6); H. Haftendorn, ‘The Adaptation of the NATO Alliance to a Period of Détente: The 1967 Harmel Report’, in Loth (2001, pp. 285–322). 94 TNA PREM13/1485, Reilly to FO, tel. 975, 5.10.1967. 95 TNA PREM13/1485, Reilly to FO, tel. 983, 6.10.1967. 96 TNA PREM13/1485, Palliser to Wilson, 6.10.1967. 97 TNA PREM13/1486, Marjoribanks to FO, tel. 9, 23.10.1967; Maitland to Brown, 24.10.1967. 98 TNA PREM13/1486, Marjoribanks to FO, tel. 9, 23.10.1967; Maitland to Brown, 24.10.1967. 99 TNA PREM13/1486, Reilly to Gore-Booth, 26.10.1967. 100 De Gaulle’s Press Conference, 27.11.1967, cited in Kitzinger (1968, p. 315). 101 Kitzinger (1968, pp. 315–16). 102 In particular see Ludlow (1999, pp. 233–6). 103 Ibid., pp. 236–48. 104 TNA PREM13/1488, Brussels to FO, tel. 89, 19.12.1967. 105 On the Community’s difficulties after the 1967 veto see Ludlow (2006, pp. 146–73). 106 TNA PREM13/1488, Brussels to FO, tel. 421, 19.12.1967. 107 Pine (2003, pp. 37–66). 108 Ludlow (2006, 146–73); L. Badel, ‘Le Quai d’Orsay, la Grande Bretagne et l’élargissement de la Communauté, 1963–1969’, in Catala (2001, pp. 235–60); Milward (2003, pp. 120–1). 109 TNA CAB129/134, C(67)187, The Approach to Europe, Foreign Secretary, 28.11.1967.

6

Stabilising the West and looking to the East Anglo-American relations, Europe and détente, 1965 to 1967 James Ellison

Introduction The attempt by the President of Fifth French Republic, General Charles de Gaulle, to achieve for his country the leadership of a European Europe free from American influence, to force the reform of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation (NATO) and to secure the leading voice in European détente, reached its height from 1965 to 1967.1 To the United States government of President Lyndon B. Johnson, these actions amounted to a full challenge to American leadership of the West and American tutelage over Western Europe’s future relationship with Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. In rising to de Gaulle’s challenge, and ultimately directing its defeat, Johnson invigorated America’s European policies. On 7 October 1966 in the key speech of his presidency on US policy towards the Atlantic Alliance and Europe, he called for movement ‘ahead on three fronts: [f]irst, to modernise NATO and strengthen other Atlantic alliances; [s]econd, to further the integration of the Western European community; [t]hird, to quicken progress in East–West relations.’2 In this speech, Johnson did not simply uphold the formula of Atlantic partnership and European integration which had been the basis of US policies from the 1950s; he also adapted it to incorporate a new emphasis on détente with the East. Furthermore, during 1966 and 1967 his government presided over the evolution of NATO from an institution dedicated to defence of the West to one which was also dedicated to détente with the East. Johnson did not utter the words détente, entente, coopération, but to all intents and purposes he had appropriated them from de Gaulle. It was in the process of deflecting de Gaulle’s challenge that the Johnson administration sought the cooperation of the British. In many respects, the Americans saw Britain as one of Europe’s problems, not least due to its economic frailty. It is also true that the Anglo-American relationship endured one of its post-war lows during Johnson’s presidency.3 Nevertheless, Anglo-American cooperation did develop to deal with de Gaulle in the mid-1960s. In American expectations, the British could be relied upon to act as a stabilising influence, countering the actual and potential ill-effects of the Gaullist challenge and leading Western Europe in a direction that was sympathetic to US policies.

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Hence, the role granted to the British over the NATO crisis of 1966, and the encouragement given to the Wilson government’s 1967 application to the European Economic Community (EEC), are two areas of focus in this chapter. The British recognised that they could play such a part in transatlantic relations and embraced the opportunity to do so. Helping defeat de Gaulle’s challenge to NATO and the Atlantic Alliance would enable Britain to show leadership in Europe, while mounting the second application promised foreign policy dividends for Britain’s place in the world. Thus, both the Americans and the British shared common interests in the solution to the major challenges presented by de Gaulle to the Atlantic Alliance and Europe. They also shared a belief in the need to pursue European détente. The Johnson administration and the Wilson government upheld the principles of multilateralism and interdependence above bilateralism and independence in international affairs. They considered that a unified Europe set within the Atlantic Alliance was the best means to control West Germany’s ambitions for reunification with East Germany and for the West to approach the East. Thus, the two governments sought to attain for NATO the leading voice on détente, wresting it from de Gaulle as a result. Where they differed, however, was on how to foster détente and how feasible a relaxation of tensions really was. Johnson himself was personally committed to détente privately and publicly, but in the mid-1960s the prominence given to it in his foreign policies was largely tactical. Détente, for the Americans, was a long game in which NATO could only play a small part, despite its new remit in 1967. Yet talking détente was vital both in West–West relations, to repel de Gaulle’s challenge, and in East–West relations, to fight the Cold War. The principal American objective in meeting the Gaullist challenge, therefore, was the maintenance of ‘the US conception of the political order’ as one authority has put it.4 As this chapter will show, while the British did not want to go as far as de Gaulle in reforming this political order, they wished to have some influence over it, and their pursuit of European détente initiatives and their optimism about relations with the Soviets led to some disharmony in Anglo-American relations.

American and British attitudes towards the Gaullist challenge De Gaulle’s policy of opposition towards further integration in the EEC and in NATO was central to his plans for France to play an independent, leading role in Western Europe and in negotiations with the Soviet Union to bring about détente between East and West. A Europe of nation-states, run by a political confederation led by France and founded on the Franco-German relationship, would not be divorced entirely from the United States, as only the Americans could provide comprehensive defence for the West in the Cold War. Instead, Europe would ally with the United States but it would not be subordinate to American leadership and, given this freedom, it would seek under French direction a new European security arrangement through negotiations with the Soviets. Of de

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Gaulle’s objectives in these actions, the control of West Germany through French dominance in Western Europe and through the agreements with the Soviets was a primary aim.5 Such foreign policy objectives clashed with two basic premises of policies shared by the Americans and the British from the mid-1950s: an interdependent US–European relationship based on NATO and in support of the EEC, and a sated West Germany, tied to Western institutions.6 Although de Gaulle’s infamous double veto on 14 January 1963 of Britain’s first application for EEC membership and John F. Kennedy’s Grand Design for an Atlantic Community was the first indication of the volatility that he could create in the West, it was not until the second half of 1965 that he activated his challenge fully. It was also then that the Americans began to seek British assistance in response. On 1 July 1965, France began a six-month boycott of EEC institutions, pitching the EEC into a period of intense uncertainty as the French confronted their partners, led by the Germans, the Dutch and the Italians, over critical questions concerning the Community’s future.7 De Gaulle had brought instability to one of the West’s main institutions and on 9 September 1965 he threatened to bring it to another. In a press conference, the French President vocalised in unprecedented terms his long-held criticisms of NATO by stating that ‘by 1969 at the latest, the subordination called “integration” that NATO entails and which puts our destiny under foreign authority, will cease as far as we are concerned’.8 This statement, although hazy on the specific timing of action, was nevertheless full of portent for the Atlantic Alliance which was already strained by questions related to its purpose in the post-Cuban missile crisis era of détente and its effectiveness given the problem of nuclear sharing. In the background, America’s involvement in the war in Vietnam also continued to raise concerns.9 The Anglo-American collaboration on the allied reaction to de Gaulle’s tactics, which would persist during the height of his diplomacy in 1966 to 1967, began in June 1965. On 3 June, the Secretary of State, Dean Rusk, suggested to Britain’s ambassador in Washington, Patrick Dean, that the US and UK governments hold preliminary discussions ‘on a discreet basis’ on how to deal with the question of France and NATO before the American position became firm.10 NATO, rather than the EEC crisis, was at the forefront of minds in Washington. The EEC crisis could not, as a Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) report put it, ‘be influenced directly by the US, but in a real political sense [it was] closely related to the coming confrontation with France in the Atlantic alliance’.11 Without agreement in NATO, it was difficult to see how European unity, including the question of Britain’s position, could advance. In 1965 there was little movement on Britain’s relationship with the EEC as the Wilson government continued with its policy of building bridges between the EEC and EFTA.12 There was, however, movement in Britain’s policy towards a future NATO crisis. Indeed, the day before Rusk suggested US–UK talks, the British Embassy in Paris gave its American opposite number details of a review produced in the Foreign Office in London which concluded that the ‘proper course . . . is to plan ahead for an “orderly confrontation” ’ with de Gaulle after the December

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elections, the moment when his move against NATO was expected, ‘to carry the “5” along with the UK and the US . . . to preserve the essence of the Alliance’.13 It was this strategy which the Americans and the British discussed in Washington on 15–16 June. The talks ‘disclosed broad agreement’ between the two on de Gaulle’s intentions and on the need to use the rest of the year to prepare steps in response.14 As Rusk initiated ‘discreet’ discussions with the British on policy towards France and NATO, he was also aware of German anxieties about American policy towards Europe. In a discussion with the former Secretary of State Dean Acheson on 3 June, the West German Foreign Minister Gerhard Schröder agreed with the suggestion that early preparations ahead of action by de Gaulle were necessary and stressed that what was ‘missing in Europe’ was ‘a clear concept of the stand of the US on these matters’. In terms which must have brought a chill to Washington, Schröder added that there ‘was a mixture of resignation and hopelessness [in Europe]. De Gaulle’s ideas offered no healthy substitute. . . . The US should throw its full weight into the scales, despite its commitments in other parts of the world.’15 In the atmosphere of uncertainty largely created by de Gaulle but, as exemplified by Schröder’s final comment, also influenced by American involvement in Vietnam, the Johnson administration was very sensitive to any signs of dissatisfaction in Bonn. On 9 July 1965, a State Department report reiterated ‘the divisive nature of [de Gaulle’s] views and their baneful effects on [US] interests’. It noted that Germany’s position was central to all issues and that the administration should assist in a rapprochement between the Germans and the British ‘at the heart of the alliance’. Reflecting an established view held by elements within the State Department, the report suggested that as: progress is made, instead of the existing special relationship with the UK and a deepening and separate special bilateral relationship with Germany, these three great members of the West can work more intimately together and with Italy and other European nations for the common good. The report presented its recommendations in three sections, the first two of which concerned continued support for NATO and integration in Western Europe. The third addressed specifically the ‘incorporation of Germany in the evolving European and Western framework’ and exemplifies the link made by the US government between Germany, the Western alliance and détente: ‘Finding an equal and adequate place for Germany in the Western structure is of crucial importance if a frustrated Germany is not to turn East in its search for an end to its partition.’16 It was the prospect of revived German nationalism, born from discontent at the state of affairs in the Western alliance, which caused particular unease in Washington and heightened the importance of strengthened US–UK–West German cooperation. In July 1965, Walt Rostow, the Chairman of the Policy Planning Council, warned that the Germans felt ‘isolated and alienated’ by de Gaulle’s attempts to ‘keep the Germans in their place’ and the tendency of the

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British government to indulge in opportunism at the expense of Anglo-German relations.17 Rostow’s solution was one which gained support in Washington and became policy over the coming months: ‘the most promising point of attack [was] the UK’: ‘If the UK, U.S., and Germany can come together in constructive ventures . . . they may be able to overcome current divisive concerns.’ Failing that, ‘the revived nationalism we have feared since 1945 may . . . threaten European and Atlantic cohesion sooner than we thought’. Giving the Germans a sense of equality, especially in the arena of nuclear defence, would be one of the aims of the tripartite US–UK–West German talks that were promoted in Washington as a solution to the problems of Europe by the State Department from August 1965.18 Britain had shared de Gaulle’s opposition to the American plan for a NATO Multilateral Nuclear Force (MLF), advocated by the Kennedy administration from 1961. Designed to give the West Germans a restricted but satisfying role in nuclear defence via a mixed-manned surface fleet, it also involved Western European nuclear powers (i.e. Britain and France) surrendering their national deterrents. Both stood against the MLF, although the British made an arguably positive contribution to the impasse on the issue with their December 1964 plan for an Atlantic Nuclear Force (ANF). The ANF contrasted with the MLF principally in that it did not commit Britain to a surface fleet and enabled the British to retain its independent nuclear deterrent outside of the NATO area. Yet it still failed to solve the fundamental dispute: the West Germans desired a hardware solution to the problem of nuclear sharing (some say in the control of nuclear weapons in the Alliance) which the British and the French, and some Americans, saw as contrary to their national interests.19 The State Department’s desire to put an end to vacillation and indecision in American policy was a part of the reason it pushed US–UK–West German tripartite talks. Nuclear sharing would be a high-priority agenda point for those talks and a successful tripartite solution would eliminate one of NATO’s lasting problems, weaken de Gaulle’s criticisms of the Alliance, and ensure that German dissatisfaction, with all its unpalatable possible outcomes, did not grow. The connections between the problem of de Gaulle and NATO, tripartite US–UK–West German talks, and a resolution to the nuclear-sharing question were made clear during two high-level Anglo-American meetings held in Washington on 11 October 1965. The British Foreign Secretary, Michael Stewart, proposed that in the absence of certainty about de Gaulle’s plans, the US and UK should compare studies on France and NATO and then confer with the Germans and other allies. Reflecting as it did the tactical approach evolving in Washington, Stewart’s suggestion found agreement with Rusk noting that American and British views were ‘close together’.20 Views were not so close together, however, on the issue of nuclear sharing. Rusk reiterated the State Department line that ‘at a minimum collective arrangements must leave open the possible inclusion of hardware’; in reply, Stewart reaffirmed that Britain still supported the ANF, making no reference to hardware.21 The only common ground was that between Rusk’s recommendation for American–British–West German talks and Stewart’s statement on ‘the desirability of placing the UK and Germany on a

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basis of equality within NATO’. Stewart’s words were formulated for their American audience but they also reflected British acceptance of the need to work with the Germans. Indeed, improved Anglo-German relations were one important component of the policy evolving in London over 1965 which sought to counter the effects of de Gaulle’s policies on Britain’s conception of Atlantic and European relations and its place in the world. Prompted by his Foreign Office officials, Stewart submitted a minute to Wilson on 3 March which argued for a rejuvenated policy towards ‘the right sort of Europe’ within an Atlantic framework to halt Britain’s marginalisation. Although the Minute became the basis of a Cabinet memorandum, at this stage the Foreign Office was ahead of Wilson’s thinking and a new policy towards Europe and the Atlantic Alliance would not emerge until 1966.22 There was, however, a real sense in the British government that influence in Europe and the Atlantic Alliance and thus in the United States was being jeopardised by exclusion from the EEC, difficulties over nuclear sharing in NATO, and de Gaulle’s disruption to the stability of both institutions. Stewart attempted to bring the potentialities to the Cabinet’s attention again in August 1965 in a memorandum on policy towards Germany. The fear of ever-decreasing British influence and impending crisis in the Atlantic Alliance ran throughout its paragraphs. Unless Anglo-American–West German cooperation in NATO was promoted to settle the problem of nuclear sharing and resist de Gaulle, Britain’s relationship with the United States could be weakened by new special American–German relations. Close relations with Germany over the EEC was the only way that Britain could help shape Western Europe’s future along lines acceptable to the UK, and given Bonn’s authority in Washington and NATO, any British initiative towards détente would need German support. Finally, Britain’s economic weakness and German economic strength made the friendship of West Germany vital. These points were significant in and of themselves, but in combination they were formidable and were made all the more so by Stewart’s closing point that ‘General de Gaulle’s nationalistic policies are striking an echo throughout Europe with inevitable consequences in Germany’.23 Avoiding such consequences, seeking to protect the Atlantic Alliance and improve Britain’s position in Europe, and deflecting de Gaulle’s challenge thus became priorities for the British government throughout 1965 and explain the efforts to collaborate with the Americans over NATO in particular from June onwards. What the Gaullist challenge amounted to was a threat to the stability of Atlantic partnership but until it was mounted in NATO, neither the Americans nor the British could do anything concrete to repel it. Instead they had to watch and wait as de Gaulle disrupted the EEC, threatened NATO and attempted to secure a European voice in East–West détente, unsettling the West Germans on all points.

The NATO crisis of 1966, the West and détente The crisis in NATO which followed de Gaulle’s announcement on 7 March 1966 that France wished to withdraw from the Organisation’s integrated military

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command structure and intended to restore sovereignty over its own territory by expelling NATO men and materials was, as Bozo has written, ‘above all a political rupture’.24 Military disruption was overshadowed by the political disorder that this dramatic change of bearing in French policy could bring. Although France’s allies in NATO would very quickly reject his unilateral action, the possibility remained that his criticism of the Organisation’s legitimacy in an era of détente would find some support. After all, questions about NATO’s relevance and purpose had been largely unresolved since the late 1950s and worsened by the inertia surrounding the MLF/ANF debate.25 That inertia had been felt keenly by the West Germans, leading to perennial concerns about revived German nationalism which in turn were heightened by de Gaulle’s actions in March 1966. The uncertainties of the crisis were also amplified by another troubling possible consequence of French diplomacy: de Gaulle’s attempts to secure independent standing in East–West relations. Although the French themselves disputed any link between de Gaulle’s move in NATO and his Moscow visit in June 1966, such a link was widely accepted.26 So too was the likelihood that the Soviets would seek to exploit events in NATO for Cold War gains. Evidence of this materialised rapidly. On 17 March, the Soviet ambassador to Paris, Valerian Zorin, declared that the Soviet Union would consider either a treaty of alliance or a non-aggression pact with France and announced that a ‘relaxation of NATO could have as a corollary a relaxation of the Warsaw Pact’. Twelve days later in his opening speech at the 23rd Congress of the Soviet Communist Party, Leonid Brezhnev, the Secretary-General of the Party, noted the improvement in FrancoSoviet relations and called for an international conference on European security.27 The ability of de Gaulle to foster détente through negotiations with the Soviets was always a moot point, but the capacity of the Soviets to seek propaganda victories was never at question. The stakes in the NATO crisis were thus very high and made a swift, successful solution vital. With this in mind, the Johnson administration welcomed energetic British diplomacy in the early stages of the crisis. There was agreement and immediate collaboration on the tactics of not rising to de Gaulle’s bait, of expressing sorrow rather than anger, and of isolating France by giving France’s 14 NATO allies political cohesion. The Americans awarded the British the lead in organising the 14’s official response to France in the form of the Declaration of 18 March which affirmed their faith in the Alliance, its purpose and its future.28 Had the Americans themselves rallied the 14 they would have risked transforming the NATO crisis into a struggle between France and the United States, thus playing into de Gaulle’s hands. They also encouraged the British because they saw the crisis as an opportunity to promote British involvement in Western Europe. In response, the Wilson government, which needed little encouragement, grasped the opportunity readily to defend British interests in NATO, Europe and East–West relations, and to enhance Britain’s reputation as first ally in Washington and first European power in the Atlantic Alliance. Thus, AngloAmerican conformity on the immediate tactical response in NATO was matched by accord on the wider strategy of converting the crisis into an opportunity. The

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local and specific military and political problems raised by French withdrawal would be solved, but thereafter, more substantive general measures would be taken to remodel NATO into an institution which, though primarily directed towards defence, was also committed to détente.29 It was the Wilson government that took the initiative to shape the agenda in the NATO crisis by quickly urging the Johnson administration to face up to the weaknesses in the Atlantic Alliance and to adopt a progressive policy with a clear emphasis on détente. The Americans were themselves alive to the need for effective resolution in NATO but debate within the administration was dominated by divisions over the public response to de Gaulle and over the nuclearsharing question.30 Aware of the fluidity in US thinking and in particular that the administration, having not ruled out a hardware solution to nuclear sharing, would use the opportunity provided by the NATO crisis to settle this issue, Wilson wrote to Johnson twice in March, first in brief on 21 March and then in full on 29 March.31 The second letter was a carefully composed statement condemning de Gaulle’s actions and counterbalancing a firm message on the MLF/ANF with forward-thinking recommendations on pressing ahead in NATO. Wilson’s central premise was that the crisis could prove positive for the Alliance if the allies recognised that not all of de Gaulle’s ‘thoughts are wrongheaded’. Thus, he saw ‘the General’s action . . . both as a threat and as an opportunity’. The threat was that de Gaulle could succeed in destabilising the Alliance if its problems were not solved; the opportunity was in the solution to those problems and in NATO’s regeneration. Wilson used his letter to outline the priorities as Britain saw them: NATO’s structure, force levels and financial arrangements needed ‘radical examination’; West Germany ought to be encouraged to seek reunification from within the Alliance through a ‘gradual process of détente’ and to adapt her policies to this goal by giving up on a hardware solution and accepting a consultative role in NATO nuclear policy; finally, in reforming NATO, the allies should ‘always keep our eyes on the importance of an eventual détente with the East’. It is significant that Wilson grouped the more contentious points together and balanced them with a strong endorsement of modifying NATO into an institution-seeking détente. The question is whether he had given prominence to forward-looking measures to compensate for his firmness on hardware. Given that Wilson had only an intermittent interest in détente and that his government had little influence on its course, such a view has some credence.32 It needs to be balanced, however, by the fact that the British government had reached substantive conclusions about the links between the NATO crisis, its resolution and détente. The British did not see the NATO crisis as a dispute limited by the Organisation’s institutional and operational boundaries but as one which affected Britain’s wider objectives in the Cold War and Europe. Moreover, it was perceived as a moment in international affairs which if taken at the flood, could bring political stability as a foundation for détente and enhance Britain’s influence in the United States, West Germany and the EEC. These were the recommendations of a comprehensive report on the international consequences of the

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crisis prepared for ministers.33 The report outlined three main British interests. First was ‘[p]olitical stibility [sic] and military security in Europe’ as a requirement for global agreements on détente and ‘a settlement or at any rate an amelioration of East–West tensions in Europe itself’. The second interest, ‘[a]s much influence as possible on American and German policy’, also had an East–West complexion. Although this influence was intended to prevent ‘AmericanGerman cooperation at British expense’, it also aimed to avoid ‘independent American action with the Russians detrimental to Europe’s interests’ and ‘independent German action, which might endanger world peace’. The NATO crisis was thus an ‘opportunity to re-fashion the alliance on a more efficient and more economical basis and to go on from there to try to build a firmer foundation for East–West relations in Europe’. In direct contrast to de Gaulle’s approach, the British believed that the only path to détente was to demonstrate to the Soviets in the allied response to de Gaulle that his disruption had failed: ‘[d]étente, like defence, can only be achieved from a position four-square within the alliance.’ The Cabinet Secretary, Burke Trend, endorsed this view but noted that little headway would be made until the Soviets were convinced of the American commitment to European defence, ‘the politico-military cohesion of Western Europe’, and ‘that any realistic assessment of relative power must always rate an isolated France lower than an integrated Atlantic Alliance’. He added that ‘[t]his may take some time’.34 Standing ‘four-square within the alliance’ and securing the ‘politico-military cohesion of Western Europe’ was to be augmented by the third British interest in the NATO crisis: the achievement of ‘[s]atisfactory economic relationships with our allies including the option for Britain to join the Common Market on acceptable terms’. The idea that the British should and could ‘strengthen our own position in Europe’ amid the NATO crisis, one which would later be described as ‘the NATO-EEC complex’, rested on the assumption that French actions created ‘a gap’ which France’s EEC partners would want to be ‘filled by a stronger British influence in Europe’.35 It would take until the autumn for Wilson to endorse a new EEC policy but pressure for it began in April. In Whitehall, Sir Eric Roll’s report on ‘Future Relations with Europe’ gave momentum to arguments for a new European policy.36 Roll noted in particular that de Gaulle’s NATO policy created an opening in Europe which France’s five partners and certain sections in France wished to see filled by the British. Events in NATO had thus become embroiled with Britain’s position in Europe. Here was an opening, recognised by Whitehall officials and by some of Britain’s European partners, for Britain to make up ground in Europe. In response, the government indicated its interest in doing so by sending George Thomson, the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, on a tour of European capitals and Washington principally to discuss the NATO crisis but also to listen to views about Britain and the EEC.37 In essence, what the Wilson government aimed to realise in the resolution of the NATO crisis was enhanced political stability in the Organisation as a precondition of European détente and, in the process, improved status for Britain in

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Western Europe. Indeed, the correlation between these three factors – NATO, European relations and détente – suggests that Wilson’s emphasis on reducing East–West tensions in his letter to Johnson was not purely a tactic but a genuine British objective. In time, the same objective would become the centre-piece of the US government’s response to the crisis, but it was not in a position to take up Wilson’s recommendations immediately. In the weeks following de Gaulle’s announcement the administration was preoccupied with managing the public response to France, reaching positions on the political and military implications for NATO, and seeking, once and for all, a solution to the nuclear-sharing question. Hence, the British got caught up in the internal wrangles in the Johnson administration between the sometimes belligerent State Department and the comparatively measured White House staff.38 When Wilson’s letter of 29 March arrived in Washington, Francis Bator, the President’s deputy special assistant for national security affairs, informed Johnson that it held ‘implications for the full range of our policies vis-à-vis Europe and the Soviets’ and that ‘the reply will require some careful work . . . [and] a Presidential decision on how to handle the German nuclear sharing problem’.39 It was not until 17 April that détente became a feature of policy-making in Washington when Walt Rostow, the President’s special assistant for national security affairs, raised the idea of incorporating ‘East–West bridge-building’ into the US response in NATO.40 Thus, on 22 April, in National Security Action Memorandum (NSAM) 345, Johnson called for governmental studies of hardware and non-hardware solutions to nuclear planning in NATO and ‘forwardlooking proposals that would increase the cohesion of NATO and the North Atlantic community’ embracing military and non-military cooperation and ‘[c]onstructive political, diplomatic and economic initiatives addressed to Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union’.41 The ensuing studies marked advances in US policy. In May, the report on nuclear planning indicated that hardware was no longer a shibboleth for the State Department and soon the administration as a whole began to support a software (i.e. consultative) solution by promoting McNamara’s Special Committee.42 In June, Acheson’s report on forwardlooking measures underlined the significance of détente-oriented policies in the solution to the problems in the West, and on 8 July, Johnson instructed the US government in NSAM 352 to ‘actively develop areas of peaceful cooperation with the nations of Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union’.43 Johnson himself had already indicated publicly his administration’s interest in the relaxation of tensions with the East in Europe. Speeches in March, April, May and June all made connections between the Atlantic Alliance and improved East–West relations, and foreshadowed the essence of his keynote speech in October.44 On 3 May, for example, the President outlined forward-looking developments in NATO and supported Western European unity, adding that from ‘this base of collaboration, fruitful ties to the East can best be built’.45 On 15 June he went further by reviewing his administration’s efforts to enhance East–West relations over the past year.46 Each of these speeches intended to demonstrate amid the NATO crisis that the Johnson administration remained

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committed to Europe and was ready to negotiate with the East. It was no coincidence, however, that the Rose Garden speech came just 15 days before de Gaulle would board a plane to travel to Moscow unencumbered by full NATO membership. Leadership of European détente had become part of the propaganda battlefield in the NATO crisis, even if the Americans held reservations about how much détente could be achieved in the immediate future. As the Johnson administration developed and announced proposals to ease relations with the East, it was cautious about how much it would achieve. While Rusk encouraged the British and the Germans to join with him at the NATO meeting in June ‘to demonstrate publicly . . . that NATO has an equal concern in moving towards improvements of relation with the East’, it was clear, as his letter to Schröder reveals, that he harboured doubts about the actual prospects for détente: I do not myself believe that there are major opportunities close at hand for securing fundamental changes in East–West relations or that the time is ripe for presenting basic new proposals. It will continue to be a slow and gradual process, but we should continue to work at it. Rusk’s real purpose was to prevent de Gaulle from being ‘in a position to claim a monopoly in East–West relations’.47 Similarly, as Acheson submitted his June report on forward-looking measures and East–West relations, Rostow offered the President its context: on East/West matters we wish to do as much as it is sensible to do, but we must always remember that the limit on what we can do is largely set by changing attitudes in Moscow and Moscow’s commitment to keep East Germany tightly as a satellite. It is the plug in their whole security and ideological system. That system is changing; but we have no evidence other than that it will change slowly and that Moscow is not now ready for ‘neutralization’ and all that. In light of this, Rostow suggested that the US encourage ‘environmental’ changes and in the meantime ‘maintain momentum in the Atlantic connection and in support of Western European unity’. Otherwise, the possibilities of détente ‘could be damaged or destroyed if we became casual about NATO, the Atlantic connection as a whole, and the unity of Western Europe’.48 The Americans would work towards the day when East and West could be reconciled in the knowledge that this was a long game. It was nevertheless imperative that the Americans spoke publicly of détente and their pursuit of it or risk either disorder in allied diplomacy or the initiative passing to the East or both. In March 1966 the West German government had issued a peace note to 115 countries, including the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, proposing arrangements to promote disarmament, arms control and European security. This was followed in July by the Warsaw Pact’s Bucharest Declaration which proposed various East–West

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measures including a European security conference which would agree on a declaration of cooperation. The idea of such a declaration was then taken up by the British who circulated thereafter a Draft Declaration on Europe intended for use by East and West as a code of behaviour.49 None of these proposals achieved significant progress, but their presence, together with de Gaulle’s diplomacy, forced the Americans to develop their own policy on East–West relations. Such was the ammunition required to outmanoeuvre de Gaulle in the public battle for leadership of the West and to hold the allies firm on the principles of Atlantic partnership and European unity. And it was the security of those principles that received greatest American attention during 1966. For the Johnson administration, two essential ingredients in the resolution of the NATO crisis and in buttressing the West were for Britain to foster strong Anglo-German relations and for the US, the UK and West Germany to collaborate. When in May all of this seemed to be endangered by the possibility that the Wilson government would taint talks with Erhard in London by being avowedly anti-hardware, Johnson wrote to the Prime Minister, stressing the ‘grave danger that the Germans will over time feel that they have been cast adrift . . . we cannot risk the danger of a rudderless Germany in the heart of Europe’. Although Johnson flattered Wilson in closing his letter, he also reflected his administration’s belief when he noted: I am sure, also, that you and your country hold the key to this possibility and that you can play a role of great leadership in Europe. When all is said and done, no one has come up with a better formula than that of European unity and Atlantic partnership, and I doubt that anyone will.50 It was one of the ironies of the NATO crisis that it did not ultimately breed instability but stability. This was exposed in the cordiality exhibited by the British and the Germans during Erhard’s visit. Wilson and Erhard were in agreement on de Gaulle’s challenge and how to respond to it, and both felt that nuclear sharing ‘was really a secondary issue’. The Prime Minister was moved to describe the meetings to Johnson as ‘something of a high-point in our relations with Germany’, adding that ‘the unity of purpose and the unity in action of the alliance will have been strengthened by this meeting’.51 Complementing as it did American objectives, Johnson welcomed this news as ‘really good and strengthening’, and remarked that ‘I was very pleased to hear that you and Erhard had a good talk about your EEC situation’.52 The NATO crisis had the effect of placing the question of Britain’s future relationship with the EEC back on to the international agenda. The Wilson government’s active diplomacy within NATO combined with the call from allies on the continent for Britain to play a greater role in Western Europe, and the fact that George Thomson’s brief included NATO and the EEC, all led to expectations of movement in British policy. In Washington, Johnson was pressed by the State Department to encourage such movement on the occasion of Wilson’s visit on 29 July. Under-Secretary of State George Ball called for a redefinition of the

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‘so-called “special relationship” ’ as it was ‘basically unhealthy to encourage the United Kingdom to continue as America’s poor relation’, a view seconded by Rusk.53 In reply, Johnson’s national security advisers recommended a less radical approach to the British which would acknowledge the barrier de Gaulle placed in front of an entry bid but advocated ‘that the common interest would be served by a series of British statements and actions which signalled to the Continental Europeans persuasively that Britain had decided to move towards Europe’.54 It was this guidance that Johnson heeded; he placed no direct pressure on Wilson in the meetings of 29 July where the issue was covered in a perfunctory fashion.55 Instead, Rostow raised the matter with Michael Palliser, Wilson’s private secretary, explaining that Johnson felt it was not enough for Britain ‘just to wait for de Gaulle to disappear’ and that demonstration of political will to join would increase the pressure on the Six to work towards Britain’s entry.56 This came in the autumn when the Labour government announced a probe of the Six to determine the prospects of EEC membership.57 From that moment, there was little expectation in Washington that de Gaulle would consent to Britain’s entry but the Americans nevertheless welcomed the probe as an indication that the British were on the long road to membership. For the US government it was in many ways immaterial whether the Wilson government achieved early entry or not; what was important was that Britain had revived its interest in the EEC and, by so doing, would help calm the waters troubled by de Gaulle’s policies and actions in Europe. Johnson praised Britain’s EEC advance in a letter to Wilson on 15 November 1966.58 The balance of the letter, however, put Britain’s announcement in its immediate context. The President commended it in one brief paragraph and then concentrated on the necessity of successful resolutions in the US–UK–West German trilateral talks which had begun in October. Unless agreement was reached on the talks’ principal agenda point, the question of foreign exchange costs for UK and US troops stationed in the Federal Republic, the Atlantic Alliance would potentially be in a greater state of instability than that caused by de Gaulle’s letter of 7 March. The talks at least benefited from the breakthrough in the problem of nuclear sharing due to Chancellor Erhard’s admission in September that ‘[n]obody was expecting a “hardware solution” any longer’.59 What did have to be handled carefully, however, was the trilateral stand-off that could develop from the positions taken by the three allies: the British threatened to withdraw forces unless the Germans agreed to new offset arrangements; the White House was under pressure to do the same from Congress; and the West Germans were reluctant to increase payments. Disagreement between these three allies would vindicate de Gaulle’s criticism that ‘the British and the Americans are unreliable and care more for their pocketbooks than for the safety of Europe’.60 It would also discredit the Johnson administration’s policies, a political blow at any stage but particularly so after 7 October, the day when Johnson gave the speech of his presidency on the Atlantic Alliance, Europe, and East–West relations.

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Johnson’s October speech, the Harmel Exercise and Britain’s second EEC application Johnson’s remarks to the National Conference of Editorial Writers in New York were, as Britain’s ambassador in Washington described them, ‘a blueprint for United States policy in the field of Europe and East–West relations for some time to come’.61 It was a speech of reassurance and hope intended for audiences on both sides of the iron curtain. Johnson responded to longstanding concerns in Western Europe by reaffirming that America’s involvement in the Vietnam War did not reduce its commitment to European security or the search for détente in Europe. Thus, in what was the keynote of the speech, Johnson said that ‘[o]ur task is to achieve a reconciliation with the East – a shift from the narrow concept of coexistence to the broader vision of peaceful engagement’.62 In an opening proclamation that made public views which had been held privately in Washington for some time, Johnson stated that German reunification could ‘only be accomplished through a growing reconciliation. There is no shortcut.’ This was difficult to hear for those West Germans who still saw reunification as the starting point of détente, and not its product, especially when matched with the President’s reference to the removal of ‘territorial and border disputes as a source of friction in Europe’, a hint at the Federal Republic’s position on the Oder-Neisse line. Such tolerance of the status quo was, however, the basis for the gradual and progressive détente which Johnson promoted in his speech. To achieve it, he called for movement ‘ahead on three fronts’: modernisation in NATO; further integration into Western Europe; and progression in East–West relations. In this triptych, a clear connection is discernible between Atlantic partnership, European unity and the pursuit of détente. A streamlined NATO with a permanent nuclear planning committee which was also a forum ‘for increasingly close consultations’ covering ‘the full range of joint concern – from East–West relations to crisis management’ would be complemented by ‘the vigorous pursuit of further unity in the West’. A united Western Europe could be the ‘equal partner’ of the United States ‘in helping to build a peaceful and just world order’; it could also ‘move more confidently in peaceful initiatives towards the East’ and accommodate ‘a unified Germany’ as ‘a full partner without arousing ancient fears’. Johnson believed that the ‘outlines of the new Europe are clearly discernible’ and, indicating his administration’s support for British involvement, added that ‘[i]t is a stronger, increasingly united but open Europe – with Great Britain a part of it – and with close ties to America’. This was an optimistic vision but one which would prepare the West, united across the Atlantic and in Europe, to work towards ‘[o]ne great goal . . . to heal the wound in Europe’. Moreover, it ‘must be healed peacefully. It must be healed with the consent of Eastern European countries and the Soviet Union’. As an indication of his administration’s support for this great endeavour, Johnson outlined economic steps to facilitate East–West connections, many of which had been floated previously. In comparison, he made relatively few comments about the more demanding issues of non-

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proliferation and force levels; those subjects would be little assisted by expressions of hope. Johnson’s speech may have become ‘an unheralded yet significant milestone in the pursuit of détente’ but its primary objectives were located in the short term.63 Expectations of the achievement of détente were not very high in Washington, and as The Economist put it, ‘What nobody can assess with any confidence is the chance of getting the Russians to engage in Europe while the Vietnam war not only continues, but continues to grow in scale’.64 Johnson’s principal aims on 7 October were to stabilise relations with Western European allies and to restore American leadership by reaffirming America’s commitment to Europe and presenting the United States as a country dedicated to European détente. Linking Atlantic partnership and European unity with détente represented a genuine evolution in the Johnson administration’s policy towards Europe. It also represented an acceptance of the formula for NATO’s contribution to détente urged upon Johnson by Wilson in his letter of 29 March. In this sense, Johnson’s speech was both substantive and tactical. In substance, it made détente a central part of US policy alongside the Atlantic Alliance and European integration. Tactically, it sought to upstage de Gaulle and reassure those, such as the British, who believed that the United States and NATO should recognise the merit in de Gaulle’s aims, even if they criticised his methods, and work towards the East. Wilson was reassured, telling Johnson ‘how impressed we all were by your great and imaginative speech about European reconciliation and the new efforts you are making in that cause’. He assured the President that ‘I share your belief in the need for balance between strength and conciliation, between firmness and flexibility’.65 To this Rostow added one line which reveals much about the way the White House saw the Prime Minister: ‘Our problem will be to hold him a little closer to strength and firmness; the conciliation and flexibility come easier.’66 Two concerns were wrapped up in Rostow’s advice. The first, a local difficulty, was the likelihood that Wilson and the British would jeopardise ‘strength and firmness’ in NATO if they persisted in threatening troop withdrawals from West Germany during the ongoing trilateral talks on foreign exchange costs.67 The second and more general issue was the Johnson administration’s, and particularly the President’s, misgivings about Wilson’s attempts to act as mediator between the United States and the Soviet Union, a product of his attempts to bring peace to Vietnam.68 While the two states continued to have a ‘fundamental common interest in the Alliance’s strength and vitality’, in late 1966 and 1967 they had ‘significant differences of emphasis . . . over the East–West situation as it relate[d] to NATO’.69 Much of this derived from the Americans’ failure to share British optimism towards the prospects of reducing tensions with the East. Thus, British initiatives, such as the idea of a code of behaviour for East–West diplomacy and other avenues for contact with the Soviets and East Europeans, such as proposing a treaty of friendship with the USSR, received little support in Washington. While the Americans favoured improvements in East–West European relations, they were far more hesitant

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towards what they described as ‘hasty initiatives in the political or security fields’, especially Britain’s continued interest in mutual force reductions.70 In principle, the Americans were ready to support attempts by NATO member states to foster East–West contact, but in practice they were only committed if those initiatives were clearly in line with their policy objectives and tactics. It was for this reason that the Johnson administration encouraged and influenced the Belgian Foreign Minister, Pierre Harmel, who at the December 1966 North Atlantic Council proposed a wide-ranging study of NATO which became a year-long review of the ‘Future Tasks of the Alliance’.71 As the same Council meeting had seen a working arrangement agreed between France and her allies over the specifics of her withdrawal, the Harmel Exercise became the centrepiece of the allied response to de Gaulle’s greater criticisms of NATO’s function and purpose; indeed, it was conceived in part to ensure that allied détente initiatives were not eclipsed by those of de Gaulle himself.72 From the beginning, the Americans believed there to be limits to NATO’s practical contribution to détente with the State Department suggesting that ‘NATO will probably not evolve into an institution for collective decision-making on East–West or any other political matters’; its future role in East–West relations . . . is likely to be limited to the kind of exchange of views that has been typical of NATO consultation in the past. . . . NATO, as an institution, is not well fitted for the role of an ‘architect’ of détente. The ‘habit of consultation’ was nevertheless important as it enabled information exchange and because ‘it affords a means for a country to develop acceptance and support for responsible East–West initiatives’.73 This view was unaltered by the experience of the Harmel Exercise. In November 1967, a Policy Planning Council analysis reflected upon the real significance of NATO for East–West relations and vice versa: ‘NATO can and should concern itself with the security aspects of détente. . . . But it should not be expected to concern itself with formulating the agreed political design of a European settlement.’ Furthermore, ‘For public relations purposes . . . that is, to improve the NATO “image,” in relation to détente, as well as to satisfy the lesser members of the Alliance in their need for information and consultation’ a new NATO forum on East–West relations ‘could perform a useful supporting role.’74 The product of the Harmel Exercise, the Harmel Report, was accepted by the North Atlantic Council (NAC) at its meeting on 13–14 December 1967.75 In a sense, it acknowledged de Gaulle’s criticism of NATO’s failure to foster East–West relations by committing NATO to both military security and détente. Yet what it really represented was the cohesion of France’s 14 allies in support of NATO’s purpose and future, and the affirmation of American leadership in the Alliance, or ‘the US conception of the political order’.76 This conception led the Johnson administration to question Britain’s détente initiatives in 1966 to 1967, believing that opportunities for steps forward were not quite as clear as the

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Wilson government imagined. British schemes amounted to little, although the Wilson government did influence the Harmel Exercise’s final report on East–West relations, not least through the Foreign Office official J.H. Adam Watson, who acted as its rapporteur. Otherwise, its efforts to establish a leading role in détente were overwhelmed by the more pressing problems facing the government in 1967. The British were nevertheless satisfied with achieving the Harmel report’s substantive declaration on NATO and détente, despite French reservations. Indeed, while the Americans and the British had differed over specifics, they remained united and worked together to ensure that France neither secured a watering-down of the Harmel report nor prevented its completion in December 1967.77 Above all, the Americans and the British concurred on the need for the Alliance and NATO to withstand de Gaulle’s challenge. In the same vein, and in parallel with the Harmel Exercise, the British played the role that the Americans hoped they would in the diplomacy surrounding their application for EEC membership. Although in US estimations Britain’s second bid always looked as if it would meet the same fate as the first, the application was of great significance. In January 1967 the CIA considered the outcome of the application to be ‘more crucial now than in 1963’ because In the present situation in which Europe is having increasing difficulty in advancing its further unification and in which its future ties with the US are in a state of considerable uncertainty, the renewed possibility of the UK’s taking its place in a European system is one of the few positive prospects. Representing a view widely held in Washington, the CIA believed that ‘British success would contribute an important new element to European stability and in turn significantly influence the subsequent course of Europe’s relations with the US’.78 The question was how to measure success when all concerned expected nothing other than a renewal of de Gaulle’s veto. For the Americans, and for the British, once any expectation that de Gaulle could be won over or that France’s Five EEC partners would stand fast on the application had passed, success was for the Wilson government to present itself and its bid in a manner which achieved the related goals of displaying Britain’s commitment to European unity, isolating de Gaulle in his obstruction of British entry, and laying the foundations for British accession in due course. The Prime Minister for one remained optimistic about entry even after de Gaulle’s intransigence was patent during five and a half hours of talks on 19–20 June. Wilson claimed to be ‘moderately encouraged’ because he doubted whether de Gaulle ‘any longer has the strength finally to keep us out’. He admitted that this was ‘a dangerous prophecy, as prophecy always is with the General’.79 It was not only dangerous but wrong. After initially indicating his opposition in May, de Gaulle made a final statement in November, and the EEC Council of Ministers acknowledged in December that it was not possible to proceed with Britain’s bid.80 Nevertheless, Wilson had drawn the right lesson from his meeting with de Gaulle – that

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Britain should ‘keep firmly beating at the door’ – because at a future date, almost certainly when de Gaulle was no longer president, the British would be welcomed as an EEC member state.81 In that sense, the most success the British could hope for was to be in a position at the point of veto when they could show that they had done all that was possible to present themselves ready and willing to join the Community and that if there was a barrier, it was put up by others. The Wilson government would have thus been gratified by the CIA’s description in August 1967 that ‘the British have prosecuted with vigour and ingenuity their second bid’ and that ‘given France’s opposition, the UK application has proceeded about as well as London had any reason to expect’.82 Although it would take until January 1972 for the British to sign the Treaty of Accession to the Community, the process of entry had begun. The Five had not pushed France to the point of crisis by supporting Britain’s second EEC application in defiance of French reservations, but there was widespread support among them for it and for Britain’s future membership. As such, the diplomacy of 1967 became part of the greater progress in the Community which saw de Gaulle’s challenge finally defeated at The Hague summit in 1969.83 Similarly, 1967 saw advances in the Atlantic Alliance which signified the rejection of de Gaulle’s challenge in that arena. The successful completion of the trilateral negotiations in April 1967 had, in Johnson’s view, produced ‘a constructive solution to a problem which threatened the very fabric of the Alliance’.84 Another longstanding and divisive matter was also solved in 1967. In April, NATO’s Nuclear Planning Group (NPG) held its first meeting as the forum for consultation on nuclear strategy within the Alliance. Not only did the NPG satisfy the British and the West Germans and retain for the United States a leading role in nuclear matters, it also contributed to the signature of the Non-Proliferation Treaty in July 1968, a significant advance in superpower relations and an opening for further détente.85 The stability that success in the trilaterals and the establishment of the NPG brought to the Alliance, especially in resolving issues which unsettled West Germany’s position within it, contributed to the success of the Harmel Exercise. By the close of 1967, the formula of Atlantic partnership and European unity had been reaffirmed and renewed by the Atlantic Alliance’s new commitment to détente.

Conclusion If there was a link between European integration and détente in the period 1965 to 1967 it was one created first by de Gaulle in his attempt to consolidate French leadership of the EEC, secure independence from NATO, and pursue détente bilaterally with the USSR and Eastern Europe. This bold challenge to the formula of Atlantic partnership and European integration failed but the French President’s criticisms brought some significant returns. In particular, as one authority has put it, ‘de Gaulle’s initiative loosened the strait-jacket of European diplomacy’.86 The Johnson administration’s aim in response was to ensure that the strait-jacket was not loosened so far as to unravel the bonds that tied the

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Western allies together. To achieve that goal, it was not enough to reaffirm the US commitment to the principles of Atlantic partnership, European integration and Europe’s security as war was waged in South East Asia. In addition, the active pursuit of détente, or at least the appearance of it as a starting point, had to be placed high on the agenda of US foreign policies towards Europe and added to the existing remit of NATO. As far as de Gaulle’s legacies go, this was certainly an important one. In their reply to de Gaulle’s challenge, the Americans and the British shared a common vision of the architecture of the West and a mutual resistance to de Gaulle’s contrary vision. Broad agreement on the need to defeat de Gaulle thus led to collaboration between the two states as leading powers in the Atlantic Alliance. Despite the increasing tendency of US leaders to equate British economic weakness with declining British power, the Johnson administration consistently called on the Wilson government in the formulation and deployment of the diplomatic response to de Gaulle. The result was cooperation to defend NATO and promote Britain’s relations with Western Europe as a way of diluting the problem of de Gaulle in the EEC. There was also general conformity on the necessity of strengthening and renewing the Atlantic Alliance symbolically and materially by adopting a multilateral approach towards détente, thus preventing de Gaulle from securing ‘a monopoly in East–West relations’.87 Fundamental accord on principal aims did not, however, always produce symmetry between American and British tactical approaches on all specific matters related to defeating de Gaulle. The nuclear-sharing question was one which caused particular Anglo-American strains and Rusk’s view in April 1966 that ‘[t]he British have been playing a game’ was not an isolated example of divergence.88 Wrapped up in the MLF/ANF debate was the question of rank to be awarded to the West Germans after France had removed itself from NATO integration. This was one area of variance which did not expose itself in open dissent but it is clear that both the White House and the State Department wished to see a new US–UK–FRG relationship supersede the Anglo-American relationship at the core of the Atlantic Alliance. Aware of this, and of their own declining power due to internal economic weakness and global adjustments, the British endeavoured to strengthen their position in the Alliance and Europe to ensure that any promotion for the Germans did not equate to demotion of themselves, working on the basis that in a special relationship three was a crowd. There was also what a presidential brief in May 1967 described as ‘significant differences of emphasis’ between the Americans and the British ‘over the East–West situation as it relates to NATO’.89 These differences rested on tactics and evaluations of the Cold War. On tactics, the Americans did not support Britain’s initiative for an East–West Code of Conduct or its proposal for a treaty of friendship with the Soviet Union. On evaluations, the Americans continued to question the optimism which lay behind Britain’s attempts to reduce East–West tensions in Europe. These were indeed ‘significant differences of emphasis’. What they suggest is that in their rejection of de Gaulle’s independent approach, the Americans displayed an attitude towards independent European diplomacy

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which applied not only to France. Moreover, despite their public support for the idea of détente initiatives emanating from member states within the Alliance the Americans held reservations about the chances of their success, certainly in the current atmosphere. When these considerations are matched with the fact that the Americans saw the need for NATO to reform and place détente on its new agenda for public relations purposes, it is difficult to see the Johnson administration’s support for détente in the struggle with de Gaulle as being motivated primarily by a desire to foster peace with the Soviets but instead by a desire to beat the General at his own game with an eye on a possible future reduction of East–West tensions. There was certainly an element of this in Britain’s attitude towards détente in the response to the Gaullist challenge, but there was something in Britain’s more optimistic approach towards East–West relations and its attempts to foster those relations as a leading European power which put distance between Britain and the United States. Such distance was indicative of a period of adjustment in Anglo-American relations which saw Britain after 1967 draw closer to Western Europe than it had done in its national history and attempt to adopt a position of leadership there. In defeating de Gaulle, the Americans had, with British assistance, added détente to Atlantic partnership and European integration, as both a means of maintaining the post-war formula and renewing it. There had always been contradictions in that formula, notably the possibility that an integrated Europe would seek to exhibit a sense of independence within the Atlantic Alliance.90 De Gaulle’s challenge exposed this contradiction clearly but the Americans had taken allied support for NATO, particularly from the British and the West Germans, as evidence that their preferred formula was sustainable. After 1967, however, the contradictions would become more distinct as the Europeans sought to promote détente more seriously and as Western Europe began to set itself free from a decade of de Gaulle. In the process, the dynamics of the Anglo-American relationship changed as the Anglo-European relationship developed. Consequently, the differences in emphasis between the Americans and the British which had existed during 1966 and 1967, despite consensus on the general shape of Atlantic–European relations, would become a part of the greater realignment in US–European relations in a new era of détente. France, it seems, was not the only European country in the Atlantic Alliance which sought a degree of independence from the United States.

Notes The author would like to express his gratitude to the Arts and Humanities Research Council and the British Academy for their generosity in supporting the research upon which this chapter is based. 1 2 3 4

Vaïsse (1997); Ludlow (2006); Bozo (2001). Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States. Lyndon B. Johnson. 1966 Book II (Washington: USGPO, 1967), document (hereafter doc.) 503, pp. 1125–30. See e.g., Dumbrell (2001), pp. 62–73; Colman (2004); Young (2004). Haftendorn (1996, pp. 369–70).

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20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33

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G-H. Soutou, ‘French Policy towards European Integration, 1950–66’ in Dockrill (1995, pp. 119–33). In general, Vaïsse (1997). K. Schwabe, ‘Atlantic Partnership and European Integration: American–European Policies and the German Problem, 1947–66’ in Lundestad (1998, pp. 37–80). Ludlow (1999, pp. 231–48). Bozo (2001, p. 155). In general, Goscha and Vaïsse (2003). Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, Austin, Texas (hereafter LBJL), Papers of Lyndon Baines Johnson, National Security Files, Country File, United Kingdom (hereafter Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK), Box 208, Memorandum of Conversation (hereafter MemCon), 3.6.1965. LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 207, CIA Special Report, 11.6.1965. Parr (2006, pp. 41–69). National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, Maryland, USA (hereafter NARA), RG59 DoS CF POL EUR W Box 2163, Bohlen to State 6801, 2.6.1965. LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 208, MemCon, 15.6.1965; Foreign Relations of the United States, 1964–1968, Volume XIII, Western Europe Region (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1995) (hereafter FRUS 1964–8 XIII), doc. 90. LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 208, MemCon, 3.6.1965. NARA, RG59 DoS Lot67D516 Entry 5301 NATO 1 Policy, Plans, 1963–4, Box 2, Ferguson to Rusk, 9.7.1965. NARA, RG59 DoS Lot72D139 Policy Planning Council Box 313, Rostow to Secretary, 28.7.1965. LBJL, Papers of Francis M. Bator, Subject File (hereafter Bator Papers, SF), Box 26, Leddy to Ball, 19.8.1965; FRUS 1964–8 XIII, doc. 103. The National Archives (Public Record Office), Kew, London (hereafter TNA), CAB129/120, C(65)48, 26.3.1966; J.W. Young, ‘Killing the MLF? The Wilson Government and Nuclear Sharing in Europe 1964–66’ in Goldstein and McKercher (2003, pp. 295–324). LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 209, MemCon, ‘France and NATO’, 11.10.1965 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 209, MemCon, ‘Collective Nuclear Arrangements . . .’, 11.10.1965. TNA, PREM13/306, Stewart to Wilson, PM/65/38, 3.3.1965; TNA, CAB129/121, C(65)51, 26.3.1965; TNA, FO371/184288/W6/12, Palliser to Nicholls, 9.2.1965. TNA, CAB129/122, C(65)119, 5.8.1965. Bozo (2001, p. 167). On NATO’s problems see Trachtenberg (1999, p. 200 passim). TNA, PREM13/1042, Dean to FO 806, 7.3.1966. On Zorin, TNA, PREM12/1043, Dean to FO 931, 17.3.1966; Ambassade de France (1967), p. iii. On Brezhnev, ibid., p. iv; Command Paper 6932 (London: HMSO, 1977), p. 5. For the Declaration, TNA, PREM13/1043, London Press Service ‘France–NATO’, 18.3.1966. Ellison (2006, pp. 85–111). Schwartz (2003, pp. 93–115). TNA, PREM13/1043, FO to Washington 3050 and 3051, both 21.3.1966; LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, Head of State Correspondence, Box 9, Wilson to Johnson, 29.3.1966. Hughes (2004, pp. 115–39). On Wilson and détente in general, see Hughes (2002). On Britain and détente, see White (1992). TNA, CAB148/27, OPD(66)44, 1.4.1966; TNA, CAB148/25, OPD(66)18th meeting, 6.4.1966.

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34 TNA, PREM13/1043, Trend to Wilson, 4.4.1966. 35 TNA, CAB148/27, OPD(66)44, 1.4.1966; TNA, PREM13/1044, Palliser to Wilson, 31.5.1966. 36 TNA, PREM13/905, Roll Minute, 6.5.1966. Roll was the Permanent Under-Secretary of State at the Department of Economic Affairs. 37 TNA, CAB148/25, OPD(66)22nd meeting, 27.4.1966; TNA, PREM13/1044, Palliser Minute, 5.5.1966; TNA, PREM13/1044, Maclehose to Palliser, 29.4.1966; TNA, PREM13/1044, Palliser to Bridges, 2.5.1966. 38 See, for example, the difficulties in drafting Johnson’s reply to Wilson’s letter of 21 March, LBJL, Bator Papers, Subject File, Box 26, Bator, Memorandum for the President (hereafter MemPres), 22.3.1966; LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, Head of State Correspondence, Box 9, Johnson to Wilson, 23.3.1966. 39 LBJL, Bator Papers, SF, Box 25, Bator, MemPres, 29.3.1966. 40 FRUS 1964–8 XIII doc.157. 41 FRUS 1964–8 XIII doc.159. 42 FRUS 1964–8 XIII doc.171. McNamara’s Special Committee, proposed in May 1965, was a forum for information and consultation on nuclear matters in the Alliance. During 1966, the success of the Committee contributed to the rise of a software solution to the nuclear-sharing question. See Haftendorn (1996, pp. 161–73). 43 FRUS 1964–8 XIII doc.173; LBJL, Bator Papers, SF, Box 25, NSAM 352, 8.7.1966. 44 For the 23 March speech, see Stebbins (1964, pp. 115–19); for the 4 April speech, see ibid., pp. 123–4. 45 Ibid., pp. 53–7. 46 Ibid., pp. 65–9. 47 FRUS 1964–8 XIII doc.169; TNA, FO371/190529/W3/8, FO to Washington 5404, 26.5.1966. 48 LBJL, Bator Papers, SF, Box 28, Rostow to Johnson, 10.6.1966. 49 For the West German Note, Command Paper 6201 (London: HMSO, 1975), doc.64, pp. 131–6. For the Bucharest Declaration, Command Paper 6932, doc.2, pp. 38–43. On Britain’s Draft Declaration, TNA, CAB148/28, OPD(66)76, 1.7.1966; TNA, CAB148/25, OPD(66)31st meeting, 5.7.1966; TNA, FO371/190531/W3/70, Barnes to Hood, 10.10.1966; also Hughes (2004, p. 121). 50 FRUS 1964–8 XIII doc.168. 51 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, Head of State Correspondence, Box 9, Wilson to Johnson, 26.5.1966. 52 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, Head of State Correspondence, Box 9, Johnson to Wilson, 28.5.1966. 53 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 209, Ball, MemPres, 22.7.1966. LBJL, Bator Papers, SF, Box 24, Rusk, MemPres, 24.7.1966. For State Department thinking, FRUS 1964–8 XIII, doc.188; see also NARA, RG59 DoS CF EEC 3 Meetings, Sessions, Box 3292, Solomon and Stoessel through S/S to The Under-Secretary, 19.7.1966. 54 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 209, Bator, MemPres, 28.7.1966; LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 209, Rostow, MemPres, 29.7.1966. 55 NARA, RG59 DoS CF EEC 8 Structure and Functions Box 3292, MemCon, 29.7.1966. 56 TNA, PREM13/1262, Palliser Note, 30.7.1966. 57 For the decision on the probe at the Chequers meeting, TNA, CAB134/2705, E(66)3rd meeting, 22.10.1966. 58 FRUS 1964–8 Vol. XIII doc.216. 59 FRUS 1964–8 Vol. XIII doc.216. 60 LBJL, Bator Papers, Chronological File, Box 3, Bator, MemPres, 11.8.1966. 61 TNA, FO371/190534/W6/5, Dean to FO 189S, 10.10.1966. 62 Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States. Lyndon B. Johnson. 1966 Book II (Washington: USGPO, 1967), doc.503, pp. 1125–30.

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63 Schwartz (2003, p. 226). 64 The Economist, 15.10.1966, p. 258. 65 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, Head of State Correspondence, Box 10, Wilson to Johnson, 10.10.1966. 66 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, Head of State Correspondence, Box 10, Rostow to Johnson, 10.10.1966. 67 For example, FRUS 1964–8 Vol. XIII doc.200. 68 S. Ellis, ‘Lyndon Johnson, Harold Wilson and the Vietnam War: a Not So Special Relationship?’ in Hollowell (2001, pp. 180–204). 69 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 216, ‘Visit of United Kingdom Prime Minister Harold Wilson’, 29.5.1967. 70 Ibid. See also LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 216, ‘Visit of U.K. Foreign Minister George Brown’, 14.10.1966. 71 Haftendorn (1996, pp. 320–385); Wenger (2004, pp. 22–74). 72 On the state of the NATO crisis in December 1966, NARA, RG59 DoS Lot File 68D55 Entry 5302 NATO-General Box 12, ‘The France-NATO Confrontation of 1966 – A History’, undated. 73 NARA, RG59 DoS Lot72D139 Policy Planning Council Box 313, REU-74, 2.12.1966. 74 NARA, RG59 DoS Lot72D139 Policy Planning Council Box 316, ‘The Future of NATO’, 1.11.1967 75 For the Harmel report see http://www.isn.ethz.ch/php/collections/coll_Harmel.htm. 76 Haftendorn (1996, pp. 369–70). 77 Haftendorn (1996, pp. 359, 364–6); see also, Bozo (1996, pp. 343–60). 78 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 210, CIA Memorandum, 16.1.1967. 79 LBJL, Johnson Papers, Head of State Correspondence, Box 10, Wilson to Johnson, 22.6.1967. 80 For the application, de Gaulle’s May statement and November veto and the Council communiqué, see Kitzinger (1968, pp. 177–9, 179–89, 311–17, 317–21). 81 LBJL, Johnson Papers, Head of State Correspondence, Box 10, Wilson to Johnson, 22.6.1967. 82 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 211, CIA Memorandum, 1.8.1967. 83 In general, see Ludlow (2006). 84 LBJL, Bator Papers, Chronological File, Box 5, Johnson to McCloy, 24.5.1967. 85 On the NPG, see Haftendorn (1996, pp. 161–75). 86 Bell (2001, p. 307). 87 TNA, FO371/190529/W3/8, FO to Washington 5404, 26.5.1966. 88 LBJL, Bator Papers, SF, Box 28, Rusk, MemPres, 12.4.1966. 89 LBJL, Johnson Papers, NSF, CF, UK, Box 216, ‘Visit of United Kingdom Prime Minister Harold Wilson’, 29.5.1967. 90 Schwabe, ‘Atlantic Partnership and European Integration’ in Lundestad (1998, pp. 37–80).

7

The Netherlands, the Gaullist challenge and the evolving Cold War, 1966 to 1973 Jan van der Harst

The central theme of this volume touches upon the two most dominant characteristics of post-war foreign policy in the Netherlands: the search for security in a transatlantic setting and the pursuit of economic growth and development in an integrated European context. The Hague preferred to keep the two policy aims strictly separate, advocating a clear-cut division of responsibilities. Ideally, the United States and NATO should deal with power politics, defence and East–West relations, while – simultaneously – the European Community (EC) should focus on the opening of markets and facilitating a level playing field for firms operating in the Community. In the Dutch view, the EC had to be left out of the Cold War struggle. This was a policy line firmly held by successive cabinets throughout the 1960s. It was only from 1971 that European integration came to be cautiously linked to the process of détente, but even then NATO continued to be the dominating factor in the debate about high politics in the Netherlands.

Luns, NATO and the Gaullist challenge The preference for a separate approach to EC and NATO issues reflected itself in The Hague’s response to French President de Gaulle’s initiatives to create a political Europe – with the Fouchet plan as the most telling example. France’s quest for an intergovernmental union of states – having special authority in areas of foreign policy and defence – met with undivided opposition in the Netherlands. The government felt that de Gaulle was looking for ways to loosen the ties between Europe and the United States, to weaken NATO and to undo the desired coupling of American and European security. France’s departure from NATO’s military command in 1966 confirmed this suspicion,1 as did de Gaulle’s attempts to forge a special relationship with Moscow.2 The Dutch government had no high regard for the political and military value of France’s newly acquired nuclear forces. The force de frappe was deemed inadequate for the defence of Western Europe, inimical to NATO cohesion and potentially harmful for the development of European integration, due to its inherent capability to stir feelings of national independence and self-sufficiency, at the expense of support for international cooperation. Voorhoeve has written

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that ‘the Gaullist type of integration, with a dominant position for a nuclear France, was altogether unacceptable to the Netherlands’.3 The government rejected not only national (including British) nuclear forces, but also the formation of an autonomous European nuclear force (ENF). In 1963, Foreign Minister Joseph Luns, a member of a centre-right coalition cabinet, worded it as follows: ‘The establishment of a European third power is not only an illusion, but a lethal danger to the free world.’4 Twelve years later, the centre-left Den Uyl government expressed an almost identical view when it indicated that ‘speculating on the possibility of creating a European nuclear force is a dangerous act’.5 Hence, left and right in Dutch politics were united on this issue, even seen over a longer period. The main arguments put forward against ENF were that it would harm the alliance with the US, discourage overtures between East and West and accelerate the armaments race.6 In The Hague’s view, Western Europe should rely entirely and exclusively on the nuclear guarantee provided by the United States. Even after the introduction of the US-instigated military strategies of ‘graduated and flexible response’ – implying a decrease of American commitment to the defence of allied territory – the Dutch stuck to their belief that Washington would come to the help of Western Europe if the latter was attacked from the East.7 Possible alternatives for US primacy in this matter – a military independent Europe on a federal basis, an independent Europe on Gaullist lines or a neutral ‘Third Way’ Europe – were categorically rejected.8 This is not to say that Dutch–American relations were free from ambiguity and tension. In the early 1960s the search for continuation of Dutch colonial rule in Papua New Guinea (West Irian) had led to acrimonious disputes between Washington and The Hague, with Foreign Minister Luns doggedly defending the Dutch position in the area. Luns clashed sharply with the Kennedy administration over this issue, and the bilateral relationship was put to the test. Moreover, at the end of the 1960s, irritations grew in reaction to the Vietnam policy of the American government. As was the case elsewhere, the Dutch public at large started to become involved in domestic foreign policy debates which had thus far been the prerogative of a small group of insiders. Left-wing parties, although not represented in government until 1973,9 gained increased support, and they were outspoken in their condemnation of American policies in SouthEast Asia. And, more importantly, even parties within the governing coalition showed increasing dissatisfaction with the performance of the major NATO ally. Compared to other European countries and contrary to the preferences of national parliament, the Dutch government was late in airing criticism of US handling of the Vietnam conflict. This was caused by the above-mentioned traditional notions (primarily the deep roots of national Atlanticism), but also by long-standing Foreign Minister Luns’ strong personal impact on domestic foreign policy-making. Following the bilateral clashes with Washington over New Guinea, Luns had converted himself into a mulish defender of NATO and American policies all over the world. Hereby, he felt himself backed by Prime Minister Piet de Jong (1967–1971), probably the most Atlanticist-minded

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government leader in post-war Dutch history.10 For de Jong and Luns US leadership was vital in balancing the military threat from Eastern Europe and in neutralising power aspirations by bigger Western European states. The latter motive seems to have been especially important, because during the period under discussion, there was no real fear of an imminent Red Army attack on Western Europe. In this respect, the continuous Dutch emphasis on the need for a strong NATO and a united stance vis-à-vis the Soviet Union should be seen as a pretext for something else: the desire to avert the relegation of the Netherlands to second-rank or third-rank status within the Western world.11 Following the recent loss of Indonesia and New Guinea, the country was eager to uphold or reestablish its standing in the international arena. The Hague reasoned that NATO – more than the EC – treated the European member states on an equal basis (under the manifest leadership of Washington) and, as such, offered the preferred framework for safeguarding the country’s diplomatic interests. This also explains Dutch opposition to the formation of a US–British–French three-power directorate in NATO or a further proliferation of nuclear weapons.12 Every proposal which threatened the existing hierarchy within NATO was rejected. Likewise, de Jong and Luns emphasised the importance of unity in the Atlantic Alliance. Much to the dismay of the left-wing opposition, they were even reluctant openly to criticise the lack of democracy in allied countries such as Portugal, Turkey and Greece.13 Ever since the start of the integration process in Western Europe, The Hague had looked askance at French and/or Franco-German attempts to gain a position of leadership within the small EC of the Six. The desire to protect the interests of the smaller member states induced the Dutch government to promote supranational institutions and decision-making procedures, and to reject a leading position for the intergovernmental Council of Ministers and the (embryonic) European Council. The Netherlands’ aim was to depoliticise Europe as much as possible, by taking the issue of power out of communitarian politics. The European Commission and the Court of Justice were seen as appropriate instruments to further this aim, due to their non-political character and their almost exclusive focus on economics and trade. Traditionally, promotion of smooth and peaceful international trade relations – without the harmful influence of interstate conflicts and political competition – has been the corner-stone of Dutch foreign and economic policies ever since the country’s creation in the sixteenth century. Scheffer has labelled this phenomenon ‘economic pacifism’.14 The fear and suspicion of Franco-German domination made the Netherlands opt for enlargement beyond the small group of the Six. During the 1960s the Dutch government developed into the most ardent advocate of British EC membership. Apart from its value as a counterweight to France and Germany, Britain was important for its like-minded liberal-economic policies and its tight links with the US. Holland wanted to have the British in for exactly the same reason why de Gaulle was opposed to EC enlargement: the expected impact of the Anglo-American relationship on future European developments.15 The government was convinced that the British would help to reinforce the Atlantic bond

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and prevent Europe from building up its own defence system. With the UK inside the Community, de Gaulle’s plans for a ‘European Europe’ could be countered more credibly and effectively. The Dutch government was blamed for being inconsistent in its support of British membership, because The Hague’s desire for a more supranational EC (with increased roles for the Commission, Court and Parliament) was said to conflict with Britain’s outspoken preference for intergovernmental cooperation. Such criticism could be refuted by pointing to the so-called instrumental character of Dutch supranationalism. Pragmatic rather than federalist by nature, instrumental supranationalism was first and foremost a means to a political and economic end, namely the realisation of a sizeable internal European market and the holding in check of the stronger members, if and where the latter pursued hegemonic policies. British membership, although – as such – difficult to reconcile with supranationalism, held out prospects of realising the same two policy goals.16 As argued above, the government was rather late in ventilating criticism towards the American handling of the Vietnam War. Likewise, Dutch diplomacy was slow in developing contacts with the communist-ruled countries of Central and Eastern Europe. It was not before 1967 – later than the Netherlands’ EC partners – that Foreign Minister Luns started to visit Romania, Poland, Czechoslovakia and Hungary. In the same year, Holland entered the Group of Nine17 – which sought to improve mutual relations between East and West – but this was more the result of pressure from national Parliament than a convinced and selfwilled government decision.18 In 1970, in another attempt to pacify parliamentary opposition, the government appointed a special ambassador charged with the development of contacts with Eastern European states. Although steps ahead after years of inaction, these advances failed to remove the general impression that the Eastern European region was of peripheral importance to the Netherlands and not a priority of national foreign policy. Even the economic contacts with the region were scarce, with the exception of Yugoslavia, a dissident in the Soviet sphere of influence.19 Generally speaking, the Foreign Ministry was not known for its expertise on and knowledge of the region. In this respect, the Netherlands differed from other small countries such as Denmark, Norway and Belgium, which had traditionally shown more diplomatic interest in the area.20 Moreover, the détente policy of those years encountered a lukewarm reception in The Hague, because such a policy was deemed to upset the existing balance of power between East and West. Instead, the West needed to focus on the preservation of a strong and united front vis-à-vis the Soviet Union and its allies, and refrain from making untimely concessions. Proposals for unilateral disarmament were strongly condemned, because the enemy could interpret those as signs of Western weakness.21 Likewise, The Hague reacted sceptically to the 1967 Harmel report, which sought to link détente to collective defence, and rejected ‘communist’ proposals for a European security conference. The former was seen primarily as an attempt to restore NATO’s internal cohesion and selfconfidence following France’s departure, rather than as a serious tool for

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détente.22 The European security conference was considered a Soviet device to preserve the territorial status quo in Europe and protect the basic principles of the Brezhnev doctrine against growing Western (and Eastern) discontent.23 In this respect, the brutal putting down of the 1968 Prague ‘spring rising’ confirmed Dutch suspicions of Soviet policies in Eastern Europe and the baleful influence of the Brezhnev doctrine.24 More than in other European countries, anti-communism was still strongly present in government circles in The Hague. Despite a visit by Luns to Moscow in 1964, bilateral relations with the Soviet Union were strained throughout the 1960s. The same was true for the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and other communist strongholds in the world. The tight reins were somewhat loosened towards the end of Luns’ ministry, with the visits to Eastern Europe mentioned above, but – overall – relations remained stiff. In August 1970, Prime Minister de Jong complained that the Federal Republic of Germany had signed a bilateral treaty with the Soviet Union without consulting the allies. He feared that this was grist to the mills of isolationist circles in the US.25 Despite de Jong’s personal admiration for Federal Chancellor Willy Brandt and a strong belief in the latter’s sincere intentions,26 the Prime Minister feared that Brandt’s striving for Ostpolitik might tempt the United States to reduce the military presence in Europe and – as a consequence – weaken the Western security front. Likewise, in the late 1960s, the government ignored continuous requests in the national Parliament for the diplomatic recognition of the German Democratic Republic (GDR). Foreign Minister Luns argued that a decision on recognition should be preceded by confidence-building measures between East and West Germany. Without such measures, a unilateral Dutch step would be ill-advised, because it could weaken the FRG’s diplomatic position vis-à-vis its Eastern neighbour and irritate other NATO allies. In general, European initiatives to moderate tensions between East and West were met with downright scepticism. The government stuck to its position that the handling of East–West relations should be left exclusively to the United States and the Soviet Union, without the involvement of Europe and the Netherlands.

Schmelzer and the changing international context In 1971, Luns resigned and was succeeded by his political associate Norbert Schmelzer. Schmelzer was considered a political heavyweight, having been the leader of the prominent Catholic Party (KVP) all through the 1960s. Soon after his inauguration as Foreign Minister, he took some eye-catching diplomatic initiatives, which disclosed distinctive features vis-à-vis his predecessor’s policies: he invited Soviet Foreign Minister Gromyko to The Hague, supported the PRC’s entry into the Security Council of the United Nations, endorsed the diplomatic recognition of the GDR (only Belgium preceded the Dutch step) and openly criticised the American ‘Christmas bombings’ of Hanoi and North Vietnam in 1972 (the government’s decision to make an official démarche with the US government was followed only by Denmark).27

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The transition from Luns to Schmelzer in 1971 certainly altered the style and content of Dutch foreign policy. Indeed there was widespread relief that Luns had finally left the domestic political stage – after 19 years at the Foreign Office. By the early 1970s Luns was increasingly considered an anachronism, a relic of the Cold War, just at a time when large groups in society had become interested in breaking the stalemate that had characterised the East–West struggle for so long. Schmelzer grasped the moment and instigated the changes deemed necessary, including the adoption of a sympathetic stance towards détente. Schmelzer supported Brandt’s Ostpolitik with considerably more fervour than his predecessor had done. Government declarations of the time showed very little apprehension of a German Alleingang or a ‘new Rapallo’, terms which had been used frequently in the pre-Schmelzer period.28 Confidence had grown in the FRG’s development as a normal democratic state and a reliable partner in international politics. In 1972, the government welcomed the signing of the Basic Treaty between the two Germanies as a culmination of the confidence-building measures pleaded for since the de Jong/Luns era. The diplomatic recognition of the GDR in January 1973 was the logical outcome of the new Dutch embrace of détente and Ostpolitik.29 Naturally, support of Brandt’s policies was not unconditional: emphasis was repeatedly laid on the need for Germany to demonstrate its ongoing links to the EC and NATO. Much to the satisfaction of the Dutch, however, the Federal Chancellor gave few grounds to doubt his loyalty towards Western institutions. Brandt’s constructive performance at The Hague European summit in December 1969 made a particularly deep impression in Dutch government circles.30 Schmelzer thus presided over a significant change in Dutch foreign policy, although his personal contribution is only part of the explanation for this shift. Still more crucial were intra-European developments in the late 1960s and early 1970s, primarily de Gaulle’s departure in 1969 and the forthcoming entry of Britain into the EC. The literature even suggests the existence of a direct link between British membership and The Hague’s growing support for Ostpolitik.31 Likewise, European political cooperation (EPC) was no longer seen as a potentially divisive force within NATO now that the spectre of a Gaullist-dominated Europe had disappeared. The Netherlands thus cautiously welcomed the adoption of the Davignon report and cooperated in the ensuing start of the EPC process (although deploring its non-communitarian status). The government hoped that EPC would offer an appropriate forum for addressing human rights issues in the Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) – the preparatory talks for which had started in November 1971. This is not to say that EPC was immediately and wholeheartedly embraced by Dutch foreign policymakers. Awkward memories of the Fouchet negotiations still lingered in the backs of their minds and the priority of Atlantic concerns continued to be underlined. Moreover, at the time of the oil crisis in 1973, the EPC forum offered no solace when the Netherlands became isolated due to its pro-Israeli stance in the Middle East conflict.32 Despite Schmelzer’s support for détente and Gromyko’s visit to the Netherlands, the relationship with the Soviet Union also remained ponderous. The

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government seriously doubted Soviet intentions when the CSCE process started in Helsinki in November 1972. Although welcoming the possibility of discussing human rights issues in a pan-European setting, Schmelzer suspected Moscow of trying to block integration in Western Europe and promoting the disintegration of Western defence. To avoid this, he proposed including troop reduction and arms control in the Helsinki negotiations (by coupling CSCE with the two-bloc MBFR discussions on conventional forces), but he failed to receive adequate support for his proposal.33 This was mainly due to opposition from the US government which initially distrusted the CSCE process, calling it an instrument used by Moscow to defend the territorial status quo in Europe. It was not until June 1973 that the links between MBFR and CSCE were intensified, but by that time Schmelzer had left the Foreign Ministry.

Conclusion Dutch Atlanticism was at its height during the period under discussion, at least until 1971. The Netherlands fiercely resisted the creation of a European security structure which might compete with NATO. Successive governments preferred the hegemony of a remote superpower, the US, over what was thought to be a less credible leadership and more immediate domination by France, Germany, or whatever combination of countries, in a militarily independent Europe. The Netherlands wished to keep the policy aims of Atlantic security and European economic integration strictly separate. This policy was successful to a large extent: the EC existed to further the country’s economic interests and NATO its military interests. Hence, the relevant literature and sources on the topic provide very little evidence on the existence of direct links between Cold War and European integration. The Cabinet Minutes34 show that European and East–West affairs were discussed separately, without any mutual connections being drawn. With some small exceptions, Cold War-related terms such as ‘Warsaw Pact’, ‘Russia’,35 ‘détente’ and ‘NATO’ do not feature under the heading of ‘European policy’, but must be traced under separate categories. In the Minutes, the only EC-related references to Eastern Europe concern the establishment of trade relations between the two blocs, but even those references are scarce.36 The EC was not considered a suitable tool for improving political relations with the Eastern Bloc. The government feared that EC involvement in Cold War policies would lead to a further politicisation of the Community. By contrast, The Hague strove for a depoliticised EC, a Community strictly dealing with trade, agriculture and fair competition. The image of the Netherlands as a faithful ally of NATO and the US remained unscathed until about 1971. Under the influence of the Vietnam War, the overthrow of the Allende regime in Chile and the break-up of the Bretton Woods monetary system, combined with growing domestic support for left-wing political parties, criticism of US foreign policy did increase in the early 1970s, but it never led to widespread interest in a more autonomous European defence structure. Even the centre-left Den Uyl government (installed in 1973), although

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certainly more critical of NATO’s policies than previous cabinets had been, showed extreme reluctance to envisage EC involvement in the field of ‘high politics’. Despite such continuities, however, the policies of the two foreign ministers of the time differed substantially. Norbert Schmelzer, who took office in 1971, was deemed more of a ‘European’ than the Atlanticist Luns37 and he was certainly more enthusiastic about détente than his predecessor had been. He became a dedicated supporter of Ostpolitik, the recognition of the GDR and the PRC’s entry in the UN Security Council. This change of policy could be attributed only partly to personality differences, however. More important were intra-European developments around 1970, which shed new light on how the Dutch government should approach its external environment. The resignation of de Gaulle and the imminent prospect of British EC membership in particular made the Netherlands slightly less apprehensive of a proper European role in the process of rapprochement between East and West. Although relations with the USSR remained tense, EPC and CSCE offered welcome opportunities to start discussing human rights issues with the countries of Central and Eastern Europe. Schmelzer’s successor Max van der Stoel (1973–7) would continue this policy line and develop into a renowned human rights ambassador, having close contacts with dissident movements in Prague and other Warsaw Pact capitals. Hence, in the course of the 1970s one could discern a growing link between the EC and the Cold War, but for the time being the Netherlands’ Atlantic loyalties remained sacrosanct.

Notes 1 Ironically, as a direct consequence of France’s departure from NATO, the strategic position of the Netherlands in allied defence improved substantially, due to the shift of NATO logistics (for the reinforcement and provisioning of forces in Central Europe) from French to Belgian and Dutch harbours. Moreover, it was decided that the lines of communication in a conflict situation would run through Dutch territory (de Geus (1996, p. 96)). 2 National Archive (NA), The Hague, Cabinet Minutes, EEG, 23 June 1967. 3 Voorhoeve (1979, p. 117). 4 Ibid. 5 White Paper, ‘Ontwapening en veiligheid’ (The Hague 1975). 6 Leurdijk (1972b, p. 223). 7 Leurdijk (1972a, p. 35). 8 van Staden (1974, pp. 62–70). 9 With the exception of the short-lived Cals government, a coalition of Christian democrats and social democrats in 1965 to 1966. 10 Brouwer and van Merriënboer (2001, pp. 189–201). The authors portray de Jong ‘in certain moments as even more Atlanticist than Luns’ (p. 201). 11 Pijpers (1991, pp. 65–6). 12 Hellema (1995, p. 208). 13 NA, Cabinet Minutes, Griekenland, 7 July, 14 July and 15 December 1967. Brouwer en Van Merriënboer (2001, pp. 195–6). 14 Scheffer (1988, pp. 38–42). 15 A.E. Kersten, ‘De Langste. Joseph Antoine Marie Hubert Luns (1952–1971)’, in Hellema et al. (1999, p. 225).

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16 A.G. Harryvan and J. van der Harst, ‘Learning Interdependence the Hard Way. The Netherlands, European Co-operation and the Oil Crisis, 1967–1977’ in Knipping (2004, p. 151). 17 The Group of Nine, founded in 1965, was an informal small-power forum for East–West consultation, consisting of Austria, Belgium, Bulgaria, Denmark, Finland, Hungary, Romania, Sweden and Yugoslavia. The group imploded after the Warsaw Pact invasion of Prague in 1968. 18 Van Staden (1974, p. 159). 19 NA, Cabinet Minutes, Bezoek Zuidslavische minister van Buitenlandse Zaken, 26 June 1970; Rapport van de commissie inzake investeringsmogelijkheden in Zuidslavië, 11 December 1970. 20 Bomert (1990, p. 45). 21 Van Staden (1974, p. 233). 22 Van Eekelen (2000, p. 88). 23 NA, Cabinet Minutes, Europese veiligheidsconferentie, 21 November 1969. 24 The Warsaw Pact military action against Czechoslovakia in August 1968 had not been anticipated by the Dutch government. In May of that year Luns had declared it ‘very unlikely’ that Russian and Polish troops would invade Czechoslovakia. NA, Cabinet minutes, Tsjechoslowakije, 10 May 1968. 25 Brouwer and Van Merriënboer (2001, p. 200). 26 In the government’s view, Brandt contrasted favourably with his predecessor Kiesinger, who had been heavily criticised for his bilateral dealings with General de Gaulle concerning German reunification policies. NA, Cabinet Minutes, De toetreding van Groot-Brittannië tot de EEG, 13 September 1968. 27 J. Bosmans, ‘Een gedreven politicus. Wilhelmus Klaus Norbert Schmelzer (1971–1973)’, in Hellema et al. (1999, pp. 236–8). 28 Wielenga (1999, pp. 125–57). 29 Pekelder (1998, pp. 334–42). 30 Harryvan and van der Harst (2003, pp. 40). 31 Brouwer and Van Merriënboer (2001, p. 200). 32 Harryvan and Van der Harst, ‘Learning Interdependence the Hard Way’ in Knipping (2004, pp. 156–60). 33 Bosmans, ‘Een gedreven politicus’ in Hellema et al. (1999, p. 239). 34 NA, Cabinet Minutes 19 May 1967 to 8 December 1972. 35 Typically, the Cabinet Minutes consistently refer to ‘Rusland’ (Russia) instead of ‘Sovjetunie’ (Soviet Union). 36 For example, NA, Cabinet Minutes, Vergadering EEG-ministerraad op 17 oktober, 24 October 1969. 37 Hellema (1995, p. 250).

8

An insulated Community? The Community institutions and the Cold War, 1965 to 1970 Piers Ludlow

Community Brussels of the 1960s concerned itself remarkably little with the ongoing Cold War. From 1966 onwards, those who worked for the European Commission and other EEC institutions may well have lived cheek by jowl with those employed in the newly installed NATO headquarters on the outskirts of the Belgian capital. And as well-educated and well-informed Westerners, most Eurocrats no doubt followed with some interest the ebb and flow of East–West tension. But professionally very few of them had much to do with the Cold War. With a few minor exceptions, to be discussed below, the issues which most preoccupied the early EEC were economic or institutional in nature and were largely detached from the rivalry and tension between the Eastern and Western blocs. The documentary trail left by the Community institutions of the 1960s thus at first sight offers little of interest to the historian of the Cold War and seems rather to confirm the judgement of those analysts who have followed Alan Milward in identifying European integration as a primarily economic process the causes and dynamics of which are to be located among socio-economic factors and not the political or geo-strategic considerations favoured by some of the early accounts of the EEC’s formation.1 Despite the fact that all of its member states were inevitably involved in the conflict, the EEC of the 1960s does appear, prima facie, to have been effectively insulated from the Cold War. This chapter will seek to qualify this judgement, however. For while it will explain that there were a number of very good reasons for maintaining a degree of separation between European integration and the East–West conflict, it will suggest that the disconnect between the two spheres was less complete than may at first have appeared. In particular, once the source base for historical research is widened from the EEC archives themselves to those of the principal member states and the United States, much more evidence does come to light that demonstrates a degree of linkage between cooperation within Western Europe and the Cold War.2 Furthermore, it will be argued that the whole international system within which the Community operated was profoundly shaped by the East–West divide. Thus not only the warmth of the EEC’s relations with Washington but also its initial ability to concentrate on an essentially low-policy agenda was a product of the Cold War environment. The alteration of this, partially in the 1970s, more completely in the post-1990 world, would subsequently

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underline how important these factors had been to the fledgling EEC. Contrary to first appearances therefore, it is impossible to understand the patterns and successes of the early integration process without reference to the overarching Cold War.

A handful of direct concerns Inevitably there were some in Brussels who did have to involve themselves directly with East–West relations. Within the European Commission, for instance, there was a small section of Directorate General I (DGI), the portion of the Commission concerned with external relations, which was responsible for overseeing Western Europe’s trade with the Eastern Bloc. From 1961 onwards, moreover, Commission officials chaired a regular committee which brought together multiple national civil servants with an expertise in trade with the Soviet Union and its satellites.3 Such meetings helped ensure that not only were each of the member states better informed about how their partners were faring commercially within Eastern Europe, but that the Commission had a more detailed overall picture of East–West trade. And the Commission President Walter Hallstein made at least one public speech in which he urged Western Europeans to exploit the commercial opportunities that he believed were opening up on the other side of the Iron Curtain.4 Similarly in the mid-1960s, the Commission responded to the controversy caused by sizeable French sales of grain to Communist China by suggesting that no export of agricultural produce to state-controlled economies would benefit from EEC subsidies unless it had been approved by the Community.5 Needless to say the French were not pleased by this suggestion and their anger fed through into the general deterioration of relations among the member states and the Commission that was to contribute to the outbreak of the empty chair crisis in July 1965.6 In addition, much the same period saw the start of a long-running, but totally inconclusive, discussion among the Six about coordinating their stance on the state credits available to companies wishing to sell to the Eastern Bloc.7 At a theoretical level all of the member states could see the utility of a common European stance on this, but actually agreeing one in practice proved highly problematic, particularly at a time when non-EEC countries such as Britain were offering their exporters ever more generous assistance to do business across the Iron Curtain. Away from the purely commercial sphere, there was also some overlap between Cold War developments and hopes for integration in the area of nuclear cooperation. By the late 1960s, for instance, there was quite significant concern in Brussels that the Non-proliferation Treaty (NPT) then being energetically championed by the superpowers would undermine the Six’s ability to conduct joint nuclear research under the auspices of the Euratom Treaty. Likewise, Cold War realities added an extra layer of complexity to the already fraught negotiations between Austria and the EEC. Vienna’s long-running but ultimately fruitless attempt to negotiate some type of privileged association with the

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Community was made even more problematical than it would otherwise have been by the Alpine country’s status as a Cold War neutral and by the fact that the Soviet Union made clear its disapproval of too close a relationship between Austria and the Six.8 Even these occasions when the links between the integration process and the Cold War were more apparent than usual ultimately emphasise the distance between the two, however. For on closer inspection, each of these examples underlines the relative unimportance of the Cold War in the early EEC rather than its importance. Thus not only were DGI’s discussions of trade with the Eastern Bloc overwhelmingly characterised by commercial and technical considerations in place of any real investigation of the political merits and demerits of selling to and buying from Cold War foes, but the Commission also decided against the development of any specific EEC commercial policy towards its neighbours in the Soviet sphere. In 1958, the most senior DGI official handling trade with the East wrote a paper on the subject in which he identified a number of pressing political reasons for which a common European stance towards commerce with Comecon would be desirable. These included the need to differentiate the European belief that trade links would help reduce the Cold War divide from the American hostility to any such commerce, and the necessity of a coordinated European response should the Soviet Union seek to destabilise the economies of Western Europe by means of large-scale commercial dumping.9 The response from Jean Rey, the Commissioner responsible for external relations, however, was to argue that any effort to devise a joint European stance on this aspect of foreign trade should be subordinated to the wider effort to establish an EEC common commercial policy.10 Cold War concerns in other words were less important than more general advance of the integration process. And similarly the Commission’s effort to regulate member state agricultural sales to the Communist world took the form not of a major self-standing initiative, but instead a hastily devised clause, tacked on at the last minute to a set of provisions primarily directed at the financing of the Common Agricultural Policy.11 Had there been any question of this specific measure preventing the passage of the overall package proposal, there is little doubt that the Commission would have allowed it to be dropped as rapidly and as casually as it had been added in the first place. The NPT and Austrian cases convey much the same message. For while both do act as a reminder that Cold War factors were occasionally debated within the EEC, neither would have constituted a major obstacle to progress had not both Euratom and Austria’s hopes of association already been in some trouble. Thus Euratom’s difficulties in the late 1960s had much more to do with member state disagreement about the institution’s budget and with the challenge of maintaining a visible European role in the nuclear field after the Euratom Commission was merged with the EEC Commission in 1967, than it did with any problems posed by non-proliferation policy.12 Similarly, much more damage was done to Austria’s hopes of negotiating a privileged arrangement with the EEC by the dispute between Rome and Vienna over the South Tyrol and by the generalised

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Community controversy surrounding enlargement during the 1960s than was caused by Moscow’s opposition to Austrian association.13 Cold War considerations thus mattered much less than internal Community factors and political developments among the EEC’s six member states even in those policy areas most closely linked to the Cold War. For the vast majority of the EEC’s business the link was even more tenuous. This point is further underlined by the paucity of diplomatic links between the Community institutions and the Communist world. In the course of its formative decade, the EEC was approached by a huge number of countries interested in opening up some form of mission or representative office in Brussels. These ranged far beyond major Western partners like the British and Americans, to include many of the newly independent countries of Africa and Asia, almost all of Latin America and assorted European microstates like the Vatican.14 For its part, the Commission established representative offices in the capitals of several of its major interlocutors.15 But the single most notable exception to this general trend was the lack of diplomatic representation, in either direction, with the Soviet Union or any of its satellites. This reflected the Soviet Union’s refusal to acknowledge the Community’s legitimacy and its view of the EEC as an instrument of Western aggression and potential German revanchism.16 On those rare occasions when the Soviets did need to make their views known to the Community institutions, the message was either relayed via one or more of the member states, or sent using Moscow’s embassy to Belgium. The pattern of the Community’s diplomatic ties thus seemed to emphasise that insulation from the Cold War suggested by the lack of Cold War concerns on the EEC’s initial agenda.

Why this detachment? At least part of this surprising lack of overlap between the ongoing Cold War and the subject matter of discussions in Brussels may be explained by entirely rational bureaucratic specialisation. Both East–West diplomacy and European integration were highly complex affairs. Each required different but highly specialised bodies of knowledge, whether they be the intricacies of arms control or the arcane workings of the Common Agricultural Policy (CAP). In each there were advantages to be gained from a knowledge of different groups of foreign languages – English and Russian for the Cold War specialists, French and German for the Community experts. And in each, practitioners needed to know their way around the complexities and eccentricities of different and highly complicated sets of institutions. Like all international institutions both NATO and the various EEC bodies quickly developed modes of operation, traditions and jargons all of their own. It therefore made a great deal of sense for foreign ministries in each of the six countries involved with the EEC to devise different bureaucratic structures to deal with the two separate issues. Most EEC matters were hence handled primarily by integration experts, who had concentrated exclusively upon Community affairs since 1958 (and sometimes before), while

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most NATO matters were dealt with by diplomats who had specialised in security and other Cold War-related issues for much of their careers. Typical on the EEC side would be the career path of a figure such as Attilio Cattani who progressed from being a member of Italy’s negotiating team during the Treaty of Rome talks, to being one of the first Italian permanent representatives to the early Community, and then returned to Rome where he became the head of the section of the Farnesina devoted to European policy.17 In the Community’s case, this specialisation was accentuated by the highly distinctive role of the supranational institutions themselves. For while the EEC was not the Commission-led institution that some of its founders may have wished it to become, it was nevertheless a political system within which the officials of the European Commission made a valuable and highly original contribution to virtually every decision taken.18 This only further reduced the prospects of any Cold War factors affecting EEC decision-making, since Eurocrats were more often from legal and economic rather than diplomatic backgrounds, and were as such much less likely to be swayed by the type of geo-political reasoning customarily employed within foreign ministries than they were by legal or economic arguments. Given the Commission’s role in chairing many of the initial discussions between national representatives and then in contributing to and supplying much of the background information for subsequent debates within the Council of Ministers and its subordinate bodies, this built-in preference for non-geo-political reasoning made it even less likely that Cold War calculations would feature prominently in discussions among the Six. Similarly within each of the national structures for taking decisions about EEC affairs, the voice of those foreign ministry representatives who might have been most expected to take into account East–West considerations was counterbalanced by the contributions of other ministries much less interested in foreign affairs. In NATO affairs the dominance of the Auswärtiges Amt or the Quai d’Orsay within German or French policy-making was fairly secure, subject only to intervention from the Kanzleramt or the Elysée and sometimes from the ministries of defence. For Community matters, by contrast, the foreign ministries had to jostle for influence with the ministries of finance or economics, as well as with more specialist ministries like that of agriculture. Germany’s Staatssekretärausschuss für Europafragen – the main organ for determining the FRG’s stance in Brussels from 1963 onwards – was typical in this respect, in that the Foreign Ministry State Secretary’s role was counterbalanced by his counterparts from the Ministry of Economics and that of Food, Agriculture and Forestry.19 The ability of foreign ministries to shape European policy in the light of East–West concerns was correspondingly reduced; their inclination to couch those arguments which they did put forward in the type of legal or economic language most likely to win over their colleagues from other ministries only further increased. At the most senior level of European decision-making, namely the full Council of Ministers, some of these arguments, admittedly, ceased to apply. At the most important Council sessions, the Six were often represented by their

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foreign ministers – in other words by figures such as Maurice Couve de Murville, Gerhard Schröder, Amintore Fanfani, Joseph Luns or Pierre Harmel who were also deeply involved in NATO matters and general East–West affairs. This surely represented an opportunity for Cold War matters to steal their way back on to the Community agenda? But here too there were multiple factors reducing the likelihood of non-Community matters featuring prominently in EEC discussions. For a start, the foreign ministers, when present, were rarely alone but were instead accompanied not merely by a phalanx of civil service advisers and aides drawn primarily from among the ranks of the Community specialists described above, but also more often than not by other ministerial colleagues from the ministries of finance or agriculture who were professionally much less involved with East–West affairs.20 Loose talk about non-Community affairs or efforts to link NATO considerations to EEC matters would go down badly with domestic colleagues as much as with foreign counterparts. Furthermore, foreign ministers only tended to become directly involved in Community discussions at their climatic phase. Most of the groundwork had therefore been done, and most of the papers for each meeting drafted by, lower level ministerial or diplomatic colleagues who did not have an overview of both EEC and NATO matters. The agenda and likely course of the discussion had in other words been largely set by out-and-out Community specialists long before the generalist foreign ministers arrived on the scene.21 Finally, the intrinsic complexity and importance of each of the EEC issues under discussion, as well as the presence of multiple pressing deadlines that often had to be met, acted as a powerful disincentive to anyone thinking of clogging up the already overfull agenda with too many references to largely extraneous affairs. Veiled allusions to NATO matters were no doubt made in Council sessions and not necessarily recorded by the minute-takers. And multiple exchanges about non-Community subjects were almost certain to have been conducted between foreign ministers in the corridors of the Council building. But once formal discussions began there was every reason to minimise the cross-contamination between EEC and non-EEC affairs. Decision-making within the early Community was quite demanding enough already without making it still more difficult by using the Council of Ministers as a forum for airing numerous other controversies and potential areas of disagreement.22 Alongside such bureaucratic incentives for keeping EEC and Cold Warrelated issues separate, there were at least two rather more basic political reasons for doing so. The first was quite simply the differing degrees of Western European independence in the economic and security spheres. In the former, European dependence on the US had largely disappeared. Cooperation with Washington remained important of course, especially over issues such as the Kennedy Round of GATT negotiations. And contacts between Washington and both the individual member state governments and the European Commission were frequent and normally very friendly.23 But ultimately Western Europe was able to choose its own course, if necessary in defiance of US desires, as over the CAP.24 On security matters by contrast Europe’s emancipation from US hege-

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mony was much less complete. Many European leaders desired a degree of foreign policy autonomy vis-à-vis the United States. This wish explains the recurrent discussions about some form of foreign policy cooperation among the Six.25 But there remained strong doubts as to both the feasibility and desirability of any Western European independence from a superpower that continued to retain large numbers of troops within Western Europe, that provided the supreme military commander for all allied troops in Europe, and upon whose nuclear umbrella most of Western Europe continued to rely. For many Western Europeans it therefore appeared much more sensible to discuss security issues either bilaterally with Washington or in a multilateral setting such as NATO where the key security provider (i.e. the US) was actually represented rather than raising them in a setting such as the EEC where neither the US nor Britain was present.26 Some Europeans, and the French government in particular, would of course have rejected this degree of dependence on the United States as neither necessary nor desirable.27 But the mere fact that this dispute existed highlights the second political reason why a degree of distance between EEC and security affairs was maintained; namely the deep divisions among West Europeans about the direction their countries should take in the Cold War. The fierce disagreements between Gaullists and Atlanticists – a dispute that was never simply a row between France and its partners, but instead a controversy that caused division within multiple European countries – undermined any chance in the 1960s of Western Europe developing a structure for foreign policy cooperation to flank its emerging economic unity. For while in the economic sphere, the rows among the Six were hard-fought but ultimately about the details of policies that all agreed were necessary, in the security sphere the gap between Gaullists and their opponents was so deep as to allow little scope for compromise.28 Largely as a result, the multiple proposals to create a mechanism for the coordination of foreign policies all came to naught. At the start of the decade, the main obstacle to such schemes proved to be Dutch, and to a lesser extent, Belgian suspicion of what de Gaulle was up to – suspicion that was closely linked to the French President’s general approach to the Cold War.29 By the middle of the 1960s, the main bar on progress then became the French themselves, since de Gaulle appears to have concluded that the chance of overcoming the fundamental division between his own foreign policy conceptions and those of his potential European partners were too slight to be worth the effort involved.30 However, regardless of which country was mainly responsible for the obstruction of each individual attempt, the repeated failures of the Six to translate the widespread enthusiasm for a greater European role in the foreign policy sphere into an effective reality was closely linked to both the deep foreign policy divide between Gaullists and Atlanticists and to a reluctance on the part of the latter to discuss key foreign policy issues in a forum within which neither the Americans nor the British participated. The minimal nature of the European Community’s direct involvement in the Cold War was not therefore a fluke or accident. Instead it reflected both a degree

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of bureaucratic logic and the two underlying political realities of Western Europe’s ongoing security dependence on the United States and its deep internal divisions about its foreign policy choices. Fighting the Cold War and integrating Western Europe remained two distinct processes throughout the 1960s.

Separate but linked The lack of a direct EEC role within the Cold War does not however either absolve the integration historian from any need to pay heed to parallel developments in the Cold War or provide a justification for a Cold War historian not to cover European integration. For while the links between the two processes are less immediately apparent than might at first have been expected, there are sufficient interconnections not simply to justify a chapter of this sort but also to make it hazardous to explain developments in either field without at least some awareness of what was going on in the other. The ways in which the two processes were in fact intertwined does therefore merit a closer examination. The first connection sprang from the fact that the Cold War was never a purely military or ideological confrontation but also a struggle that had a clear economic dimension. This was perhaps particularly true in the later 1950s and 1960s as the Soviet Bloc seemingly recovered from wartime destruction without as yet manifesting too many signs of that incipient economic failure which would ultimately contribute to the end of the Cold War. At virtually no other time in the 45-year span of the Cold War did the economic challenge posed by the Eastern Bloc seem as real as it did between 1955 and 1970. As a result, any process that contributed to Western economic success during this same period – as European integration was widely believed to do – was an integral and important part of the West’s response to this economic threat. And conversely anything that threatened to disrupt Europe’s economic cooperation and hence success was seen as a development that might have Cold War repercussions as well as economic consequences. Thus Macmillan’s 1960 and 1961 musings that marked so important a milestone in Britain’s hesitant road to Community membership were quite explicit in the connection they drew between the newly dynamic Soviet challenge and the need for a coordinated Western response.31 In such circumstances the Western European economic split between the EC and the smaller, British-led European Free Trade Association (EFTA) had to be overcome as quickly as was possible – if necessary by a unilateral British move towards the Six. Similarly, the German Economics Ministry’s gloomy assessment of the probable consequences of de Gaulle’s 1963 veto of the first British application pulled no punches in its assessment of the East–West impact of the French President’s actions: ‘If the old rift between the EEC and EFTA reappears and on top of this a new fracture between the Six and America is allowed to develop, the situation can produce only one winner: Khrushchev.’32 The anxiety about the impact of de Gaulle’s actions that underlay this somewhat apocalyptic reading of January 1963 also introduces the second main link

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between integration and the Cold War, namely the way in which Western discord over the best tactics to adopt towards the East often spilled over into other areas of West-West cooperation including the EEC. This is not of course to argue that the multiple disagreements between the French and their European partners over the direction and development of the EEC were solely or even mainly the result of Cold War tensions. There were plenty of other factors pushing de Gaulle and the Five apart ranging from basic attitudes towards supranationality and federalism to the pace and methods by which a Common Agricultural Policy was introduced.33 But in seeking fully to explain some of the acrimony that was to scar the Community during the 1960s it is highly unwise to overlook the impact of de Gaulle’s radical revisionism towards East–West relations. This linkage was particularly clear in the run-up to the empty chair crisis of 1965 – the Community’s most serious dispute of the decade. For underlying the mounting disquiet about de Gaulle and French policy that was so apparent in Bonn, Rome and The Hague was a tendency to view EEC tensions as part of a wider confrontation pitting France against its Western partners. Thus, for instance, the increasingly hard-line anti-de Gaulle stance of the German Foreign Office – which was to be so important in determining the German tactics in the negotiations of May to June 1965 – is impossible fully to explain without reference to the increasingly clear signs that de Gaulle was seeking a rapprochement with the Soviet Union. Alarmist Auswärtiges Amt analyses of de Gaulle’s friendly toasts to the outgoing and incoming Soviet Ambassadors in Paris or of the French deal to sell SECAM colour television technology to the USSR, dovetailed, in other words, with equally fraught interpretations of what the French were up to in Brussels, and helped convince the German government that it had no alternative but to be tougher than ever before in the forthcoming CAP negotiations.34 A similar blending of Cold War and Community concerns was underway in Rome. Early in 1965, for instance, as Italian officials contemplated the forthcoming round of negotiations over CAP finance, their Permanent Representative in Brussels used the wider discord between de Gaulle and his Western partners as a clear argument for adopting a firm line towards the French desire for a rapid and advantageous CAP deal: This is an additional motive to defend with intransigence our national interests within the Common Market. It would be absurd, to finance, albeit indirectly, the force de frappe by means of an agricultural policy which was unduly favourable to France.35 The Dutch too interpreted de Gaulle’s actions as part of an overarching strategy designed to weaken the whole Western alliance rather than as totally distinct EEC and Cold War policies. As Joseph Luns, their long-serving Foreign Minister, was later to express it to German diplomats, for France, ‘policy towards NATO and European policy are nothing but communicating vessels’.36 All three European countries were encouraged in this tendency to link their European

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policy anxieties with their wider fear of the French approach to the Cold War and to international cooperation more generally by the United States, since Washington also tended towards a holistic view of the Gaullist challenge.37 In return, the French allowed their assessments of their European partners’ actions to be coloured by the ongoing rift with the United States. A typical illustration of this was the way in which de Gaulle perceived the hand of Washington to be behind German obduracy over the setting of a common EEC cereal price or Bonn’s obsession with the Kennedy Round – despite the fact that there were much simpler economic and electoral explanations for the Federal Republic’s preoccupations with both issues.38 Speaking to his spokesmen, Alain Peyrefitte, in the summer of 1965, the General noted: Erhard and Schröder are the Americans’ men, they don’t like France. They hence feel obliged to strike a balance between the US alliance, in other words the obligation to comply with all that the Americans want, and the public’s insistence on maintaining friendship with France. They would not be forgiven for breaking this last. . . . But on the major issues, as soon as there is a concrete problem, they always choose the American solution.39 In similar fashion, the French charge sheet against Walter Hallstein, the Commission President who was to be made scapegoat for the empty chair crisis, included the closeness of his ties with the US administration. To de Gaulle it was bad enough that the Commission was led by a man who seemed intent on demanding all the trappings of state sovereignty, but it was made all the more galling by the fashion in which the Americans appeared to pander to Hallstein’s delusions of grandeur by allowing him frequent access to the President and putting him up in Blair House when he visited the US capital.40 The interconnections between the Cold War and European integration did not always work against the EEC, however. There were also occasions when both the French and the Five may have adopted more moderate stances on Community affairs in order to compensate for increasing tension in the NATO sphere. The first possible, although at present unprovable, case of this happening is the way in which de Gaulle’s readiness to wind up the empty chair crisis despite having obtained much less than he had appeared to desire may well have been connected to his decision to focus French energies on a challenge to NATO instead. A situation in which France would have to fight a war on two separate institutional fronts was avoided in other words by increased flexibility on the Community level so as to bring the empty chair crisis to an end before the assault on NATO was launched.41 In addition, 1966 also saw a rather better documented example of the same phenomenon when the Five seem to have decided not to allow their contemporaneous struggle with the French within NATO to spill over into an EEC context. This reflected not just a desire to ‘insulate’ the Community from the wider row between de Gaulle and the Atlanticist majority – although one Commissioner spoke openly about this aim.42 It also sprang from the belief that a working European Community would serve to bind the unreli-

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able French to the West in much the same fashion that early European integration had been perceived as a means of Westbindung for the Federal Republic of Germany. Reporting back from Brussels, John Tuthill, the US Head of Mission to the EEC, spoke of ‘heavy support within the Five for not invoking the NATO crisis in the EEC, and for moving ahead with Community business in order to enmesh de Gaulle more and more in European integration and preserve the Community structure for the post-de Gaulle period’.43 Still more important than such periodic linkages was the way in which the whole international environment within which the EEC was born and took its first steps was rendered much more benign for cooperation among the Six by the overarching structures of the Cold War. Crucial in this respect was the attitude of the United States, which, until the late 1960s at least, systematically disregarded the potentially negative economic effects of closer economic cooperation among the Six in favour of an emphasis on the political gains within a Cold War context that a more united and prosperous Western Europe would bring.44 This contributed vitally to the success of the Six. For a start, US diplomatic clout was deployed in favour of all those seeking to push forward the integration process – a significant asset in the 1950s when the European treaties were first being negotiated. Furthermore, America’s known enthusiasm for the Six’s project significantly reduced both Britain’s ability and inclination to hinder a process which it initially viewed with great discomfort.45 And throughout the 1960s, partisans of the Community, particularly within the EEC institutions themselves, drew solace in their struggles with de Gaulle from the reassuring, if sotto voce, support they received from Washington.46 Confrontation with the European Community’s most powerful member state was bound to be alarming, but it was rendered less so by the consistently supportive attitude of American representatives. The way in which US GATT negotiators arrived in Brussels in January 1966, before the empty chair crisis had been resolved, in order to discuss how progress might be made at Geneva, was a useful contribution to the Five’s efforts to conduct ‘business as usual’ despite the French boycott.47 Second, the Cold War framework helped absolve the Six from having to deal at once with some of the more challenging areas of interstate cooperation and allowed them to concentrate instead on an essentially ‘low-policy’ agenda, secure in the knowledge that the big international questions of the day could be confronted by the US-led institutions of the Atlantic world. This meant that the structures of the EEC could prove themselves and habits of cooperation could develop among the Six before the fledgling Community needed to develop an ability to coordinate much more than just tariff policy and agriculture. This was particularly important in the area of foreign policy. As the European Defence Community fiasco of the 1950s had shown, and as the halting steps of the EU’s Common Foreign and Security Policy of more recent times has reminded us, the process of coordinating the foreign policies of member states, many of which have historically attached great importance to their ability to play an independent world role, is a challenging and often disheartening process. It was one, however, that the EEC of the 1960s did not have to confront, since a strong

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degree of foreign policy coordination was already secured by US leadership and by the mechanisms of cooperation within the Atlantic Alliance. It is true of course that the Six did devote a significant portion of the 1960s to a discussion of how this state of affairs might be changed and a veritable political union created. And so persistent were the attempts to raise this topic, despite all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that had destroyed earlier attempts, that the longing among many European leaders for a foreign policy capability independent from the United States cannot be doubted. But underpinning all the discussions among the Six, and no doubt contributing to the slight air of unreality that characterised much of the debate about political union, was the knowledge that any structure for European foreign policy cooperation that could be agreed would be a useful luxury rather than an absolute necessity. It was not therefore an aim in pursuit of which it was worth taking undue risks with the existing structures of foreign policy cooperation, except for leaders like de Gaulle who sought to alter NATO and the mechanisms of US hegemony. Quite how valuable both of these factors had been became partially apparent in the 1970s, as some of the structures of the Cold War seemed to shift and US hegemony looked particularly fragile, and would become still more obvious after 1990 when the Cold War ended altogether. Even before the 1960s had drawn to a close, both the US’s willingness to continue its unconditional backing of the integration process and Western Europe’s readiness to accept the American foreign policy lead appeared to be faltering. In the spring of 1969, Richard Nixon caused much dismay in Brussels by becoming the first US President not to make time to receive the Commission President who was visiting Washington.48 Rather more significantly, the new Republican administration seemed intent on mending fences with de Gaulle – by now firmly established as the bête noire of most traditional pro-Europeans.49 The first stirrings of Germany’s new Ostpolitik meanwhile signalled an end to Germany’s passivity in East–West affairs and highlighted the fact that the Federal Republic had grown tired and disillusioned with the role of America’s most loyal ally.50 Pompidou and Heath would soon follow suit in adopting Cold War postures that were less than perfectly coordinated with that of Nixon and Kissinger and virtually the whole of Western Europe would throw itself into the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) process with an enthusiasm entirely out of line with American caution towards the European security conference. Within a few years of de Gaulle’s resignation, in other words, that French exceptionalism which he had pioneered no longer looked nearly so exceptional, partly because his successor had jettisoned some of his more extreme policies, but also because the whole of Western Europe seemed intent on adopting a more Gaullist line towards the United States. While briefly exhilarating, however, and moderately effective over the CSCE at least, this growing European emancipation from the US did not make the coordination of their national policies any easier at a European level. Foreign policy cooperation did begin, but it was very patchy in execution, and never lived up to the high hopes with which it had been launched. The general integration context further-

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more grew ever more gloomy during the 1970s, with the Community of Nine struggling to achieve anything like the degree of coordination that the Six had managed a decade earlier. Not all of their problems were Cold War connected of course. The end of the long post-war economic boom was naturally just as important if not more so. It may also be argued that the Community’s travails during the 1970s represented a much needed transitional period in the course of which the dim outline appeared of the much wider and more active EU of more recent times. But in the short term at least, life outside the US-led cocoon that had so assisted its early years proved highly uncomfortable for the EEC and its component member states. In similar fashion the post-Cold War years have produced more than their fair share of discomforts for the integration process. This chapter is clearly not the place to rehearse the details of either the EU’s halting performance over the collapse of Yugoslavia or its more recent trials and tribulations over Iraq. But both episodes do underline the perils of the greater policy latitude that was brought by the end of the Cold War and the way in which continuous and unquestioning US support can be sorely missed. In the long run of course it may well be that past 15 years will retrospectively appear as a crucial formative period like the 1970s which the EU had to go through in order to mature into a more complete political system. But like most transitional phases, it has not necessarily been a comfortable time to live through, and it has imposed strains and stresses on the system that the much less solidly established Community of the 1950s and 1960s would have been very hard pressed to survive. It therefore serves again to underline how useful the Cold War framework proved to the early integration process. (The comparison with recent events also of course highlights a further advantage that the Cold War arguably brought, namely the way in which the division of Europe imposed an artificial but almost certainly crucial ceiling on the number of states that could initially participate in the EEC. For while the EU may now be able to accommodate most of East and Central Europe, it is almost inconceivable that so large an entity would have got off the drawing board four or five decades earlier.) Any historian wishing to chart the Community’s development over the 1960s and early 1970s cannot therefore afford to factor the Cold War out of their analysis. It was rarely a central topic of conversation or debate in its own right in Brussels. But it was a crucial element in shaping not simply the relationship between the EEC’s founding members but also the wider international environment within which the Community developed. As such it both helped and hindered the integration process, but on balance it is almost certainly the case that the benign international framework proved more decisive than the divisions that were caused by divergent Cold War tactics among the Six. The Community of the 1960s was indeed an ‘insulated’ one – but the insulation which mattered was arguably not that protecting Brussels from the full blast of the East–West conflict, but instead the Cold War-derived cocoon that shielded the early EEC from the full range of challenges and issues that a group of integrating countries might otherwise have been obliged to confront.

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Notes 1 Milward (1992, p. ix). 2 This chapter is a product of research conducted in the archives of the European Community in Brussels and Florence, and the national archives of France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands and Britain, plus the published records of the US government. 3 European Commission Historical Archives (ECHA), BAC 1/1971, No. 53, Seeliger to Rey, 27.2.1961. 4 Débats du Parlément Européen, Hallstein speech, 18.2.1962. 5 ECHA, COM(65)150, 31.3.1965. 6 For a detailed account of the outbreak of the empty chair crisis see Ludlow (2006, ch. 2). 7 For a flavour of these discussions, and a sense of Germany’s impatience for progress on this issue, see ECHA, BDT 144/92, 1036, SEC(66)783, Sigrist note on COREPER meeting of 9–10.3.1966. 8 M. Gehler, ‘Facing a Range of Obstacles: Austria’s Integration Policy 1963–69’ in Loth (2001, esp. p. 466). 9 ECHA, BAC 1/1971, No. 53, Seelilger to Rey, 30.9.1958. 10 ECHA, BAC 1/1971, No. 53, Rey to Seeliger, 14.10.1958. 11 ECHA, COM(65) PV311, 2e partie, 22.3.1965. 12 For a brief description of the Euratom crisis, see European Commission (1969, pp. 15–16). 13 Gehler, ‘Facing a Range of Obstacles’ in Loth (2001, pp. 475–81). 14 For an illustration of this trend (and of the problems it could cause), see the 1964 squabble between France and its partners over the possible opening of a Taiwanese representative office in Brussels. Documents Diplomatiques Français 1964 (Brussels: Peter Lang, 2002, vol. 1, doc. 110). 15 See e.g. Council of Ministers Archives, Brussels (CMA), Proces-verbal de la 69e session du Conseil de Communauté Européenne de l’Energie Atomique tenue à Bruxelles, 14 to 15 October 1963. 16 A. Grachev, ‘The Soviet Leadership’s View of Western European Integration in the 1950s and 1960s’ in Deighton and Milward (1999, pp. 31–40). 17 See Ministero degli Affari Esteri (1987). 18 The best early study of the Commission’s role is Coombes (1970). 19 Germond and Türk (2004, pp. 56–81). 20 For one foreign minister’s obvious irritation at the scale of most European meetings, see Brandt (1978, p. 158). 21 If they arrived at all: some, such as Gerhard Schröder, the German Foreign Minister between 1962 and 1967, became notorious for the infrequency of their visits to Brussels. 22 Some of the complexity is apparent from Gerbet and Pepy (1969). 23 Foreign Relations of the United States, 1964–68 (Washington, DC: United States Government Printing Office, various years, vols VII, XII and XIII) give a flavour of the dialogue. 24 The ineffectiveness of US pressure over the CAP is discussed in Ludlow (2005). 25 See e.g. C. Germond, ‘Les projets d’Union politique de l’année 1964’ in Loth (2001, pp. 109–30). 26 For an analysis of the most persistent adherent to such views, see Vanke (2001). 27 See Bozo (1996). 28 The extent to which this question caused deep divides within individual European countries is well brought out in Granieri (2003). 29 Bloes (1970). 30 The clash between German and French views on this is clear in DDF 1965, vol. 1, doc. 144.

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31 The National Archives, London. PREM 11 3311, Summary of Grand Design, 3.4.1961. 32 Archives of the Auswärtigens Amt. Bestand B-150, Bestellnummer 2, Ref. 200 (IA2), Bd.1236, Sprechzettel für Herrn Minister zur Kabinettsitzung am 25.1.1963, EA3 – 905 883, 22.1.1963. 33 For details see Ludlow (2006). 34 For an example of German Cold War analysis, see Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1965 (AAPD), doc. 107; for a parallel, and equally alarmist, EEC-centred document, Bundesarchiv, Koblenz, Bundeskanzleramt, B136/2590, ‘Lage der Gemeinschaft’, 4.5.1965. 35 Archivio Centrale dello Stato, Ministero del Bilancio e della Programazzione Economica, vol. 93, Venturini to Rome, 12.1.1965. 36 AAPD 1966, doc. 61. 37 See e.g. FRUS 1964–8, vol. XIII, pp. 182–4. 38 For a much more convincing, and primarily economic explanation, of Germany’s stance, see A-C.L. Knudsen, ‘Creating the Common Agricultural Policy. Story of Cereals Prices’ in Loth (2001, pp. 136–7). 39 Peyrefitte (1997, p. 264). 40 De Gaulle’s most celebrated denunciation of the Commission President’s delusion of grandeur is in de Gaulle (1970a, pp. 195–6). 41 This possibility is discussed at greater length in Ludlow (2006, pp. 112–14). 42 FRUS 1964–8, vol. XIII, p. 400. 43 Ibid., p. 356. 44 Lundestad (1997). 45 See e.g. the importance of US pressure in Britain’s 1956 decision to suspend its abortive efforts to prevent the Six from pressing ahead in Ellison (2000, pp. 28–9). 46 See e.g. FRUS 1964–8, vol. XIII, p. 112. 47 FRUS 1964–8, vol. VIII, doc. 304. 48 ECHA, COM(69) PV 83, 2e partie, 24–5.6.1969. 49 Vaïsse (1998, pp. 407–12). 50 Niedhart (2004, pp. 118–36).

9

Searching for a balance The American perspective Jussi M. Hanhimäki

During the Cold War American policy towards Europe reflected two, often contradictory, goals. On the one hand, successive American administrations encouraged European economic integration through such policies as the Marshall Plan and subsequent support to the EEC (and British membership in the Community). On the other hand, Washington was concerned over the effects of European political integration and independent European policy initiatives that jeopardized – or had the potential of undermining – America’s unquestioned leadership of the transatlantic alliance. As Henry Kissinger put it, Americans constantly asked themselves: ‘How much unity should we want? How much diversity can we stand?’ From this premise it followed that: ‘Adjusting the balance between integration and autonomy will be the key challenge (for American policy vis-à-vis Europe).’1 The challenge of finding the ‘right balance’ between integration and autonomy was exacerbated in the 1960s and early 1970s within the context of an emerging East–West (Soviet–American) détente and the first enlargement of the EEC (1973). While détente signalled the reduction of Cold War tensions, it also – at least in theory – meant that the West Europeans’ reliance on America’s military power as a counterweight to the ‘Soviet threat’ became less of a determining factor in the policy calculations of the leaders in Bonn, Paris and elsewhere. Meanwhile, the 1973 membership of Great Britain, Ireland and Denmark in the EEC raised the spectre of serious economic competition with potentially difficult political consequences. In Kissinger’s terms, Western ‘unity’ seemed under threat as a decreasing threat from the East and the forward momentum of European integration translated into increased European ‘autonomy’. The challenge to the Johnson and Nixon administrations was, therefore, to try and adjust their policies into the changing environment in a way that would prevent a fundamental challenge to Western unity. The main point of this chapter is that the administrations were, in essence, successful in meeting this challenge. In 1975, as in 1965, the United States remained the leader of a unified West; if anything that unity, finding its basic backbone in diversity, was even strengthened. While Americans could hardly take Europeans entirely for granted, they were able to adjust their policies so as to prevent the major European challenge to US policy – de Gaulle’s initiatives

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and West German Ostpolitik – from leading either to a breakdown of Western unity or an emergence of an autonomous European policy towards the Soviet bloc. An additional point developed in this chapter is that while Europe was an important arena of American foreign policy, it was not the central one. In the 1960s and 1970s many other issues – bilateral Soviet–American relations, the opening to China, the Vietnam War and other regional conflicts – preoccupied policy-makers in Washington far more than transatlantic relations or questions over the impact of European integration. In the end, within the global context in which Americans operated in the 1960s and 1970s, Europe occupied a somewhat peripheral role. And yet the coinciding developments of détente and further European integration, particularly during the Nixon administration, essentially meant that US policy towards Europe had to be continuously fine-tuned in order to avoid a serious breach in transatlantic relations.

The global context of American policy As a starting point it is worth emphasizing that in the late 1960s and early 1970s Europe was hardly at the top of the United States’ agenda. To be sure, both the Johnson and Nixon administrations emphasized the central role that Europe held in the overall context of their foreign policy. In particular, the NATO alliance remained the linchpin of US foreign policy; a ‘blue chip investment’ as Nixon put it to British Prime Minister Harold Wilson.2 Yet, there were many other, more urgent, more controversial and ultimately more important issues that concerned policy-makers in the United States. There was the Vietnam War that consumed much of Johnson and Nixon’s energies. While Kennedy may have left Johnson an uncomfortable legacy, the new President was ultimately responsible for choosing to continue a war in South-East Asia that eventually cost over 50,000 American lives and billions in defence spending (not to mention Johnson’s own decision not to seek the presidency in 1968). In 1969, instead of immediate withdrawal Nixon chose Vietnamization, secret peace talks, extended bombing campaigns, and even escalation (through the invasions of Cambodia and Laos in 1970 to 1971). It was only in January 1973 that the agreement ending US overt commitment to South Vietnam was signed, providing a brief interval before the North Vietnamese final offensive in the spring of 1975. Along the way Vietnam contributed to domestic political upheaval and became, without a doubt, the defining issue of the 1960s generation.3 Even with all the tragedy and turmoil involved, Vietnam was not an all-consuming event. There were other regional conflicts. In particular, there was the Middle East. Both presidents had to contend with the pressures of an Arab–Israeli war, as well as the oil question. In 1967, the Six Days War confronted the Johnson administration with a choice that it had, to a large extent, already made: it would side with the Israelis against the Arabs. In 1973, Nixon, after deciding to aid Israel, faced not only an Arab oil embargo but also

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exacerbated transatlantic tensions as almost all European countries – in order to avoid further price hikes – refused to go along with American policy.4 Indeed, within the context of transatlantic relations, American involvement in regional conflicts – be it Vietnam, the Middle East or elsewhere – led, almost without exception, to increased tension. A caricature of the situation would be the following: Europeans criticized the United States for its role, while Americans admonished their European allies for not offering unqualified support. Conversely, American disengagement from direct military involvement in places such as Vietnam – which coincided with détente – removed one of the sources of transatlantic tension. Beyond the various regional conflicts, the overriding US strategic issues in the 1960s and 1970s had to do with the Soviet Union and China. Both administrations wished to move towards détente with the USSR, but it fell upon the Nixon administration to engineer the major breakthroughs in the form of the SALT agreements of the early 1970s. In this, Nixon and Kissinger were assisted by the Sino-Soviet conflict that even threatened a full-scale war between the two communist giants in 1969. Indeed, instead of engaging in bilateral negotiations with the USSR as the previous US administrations had done, the Nixon administration launched an era of triangular diplomacy.5 Underneath the high politics and often in the shadow of regional conflicts, the international economic structure – and America’s place within it – was undergoing a major transformation in the 1960s and 1970s. The Bretton Woods system that had guarded the international monetary system was floundering and was finally abandoned in 1971 – the dollar, the world’s reserve currency, headed downwards. Protectionism, not helped by the Nixon administrations’ policies, appeared to be on the rise. Inflation suddenly surged. At the same time, the United States – the world’s largest trading nation – was clearly more dependent on global markets and trade than at any time in its previous history. American exports, for example, rose from $27.5 billion in 1970 to $121.2 billion in 1977. Despite this surge in the overall value of exports, in 1971, for the first time in almost four decades, the United States found itself importing more than it was exporting. In the 1970s, the trade deficit gradually grew, mainly as a result of rising energy prices.6 In terms of transatlantic economic relations, however, the United States retained a sizeable positive balance. In 1960, the United States exported US$7.2 billion worth of goods and services to the EEC countries, while the EEC exported $4.2 billion to the US. By 1970 these figures had grown to $15.7 and $11.5 billion; in 1980 they stood at $70.3 and $48 billion. The record of foreign direct investment (FDI) shows that European direct investment in the United States amounted to only about 50 per cent of American direct investments in Europe between 1960 and 1980. Yet, of all European FDI, the United States received more than a half (the proportion actually grew from 47 per cent in 1960 to 58 per cent in 1980; the European share of all US FDI also grew, from 18 per cent to 37 per cent in the same period).7 These statistics are naturally open to various interpretations, yet it seems clear that transatlantic economic interdependence was actually growing in a

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period that saw the most dramatic series of upheavals in the overall international economy. While Europeans depended increasingly on American investment and trade, the fact that transatlantic trade represented about one-third of all US foreign trade in an increasingly global economy meant that the United States could ill-afford any major crisis with its allies. Most fundamentally, the statistics confirm that the world was very different when viewed from Washington than if surveyed from Bonn, Brussels, London or Paris. Europe was but one region that the Johnson and Nixon administrations had to contend with. Yet, while Europe may no longer have preoccupied policymakers in Washington in the same way as it had in the 1940s and 1950s, it had not fallen completely off the map. This became evident within the context of the Johnson administration’s efforts to refashion the East–West relationship.

De Gaulle and the spectre of neutralism France’s President Charles de Gaulle, at times described as ‘a neutralist for nationalistic reasons’, hardly requires an introduction.8 De Gaulle ruled France for over a decade after 1958, during which time he attempted to raise France into a new position of prominence in Europe. The flip side of this was, of course, that de Gaulle wished to limit the American role on the continent through various initiatives that included, among others, the withdrawal of France from NATO’s military structure, development of an independent French nuclear capability, strengthening the Franco-German special relationship (e.g. the 1963 Franco-German Treaty) at the expense of Great Britain (whose membership of the EEC he twice vetoed; the first veto virtually coincided with the Franco-German Treaty), and independent initiatives vis-à-vis Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union.9 All in all, the direction of de Gaulle’s policies translated into undermining the post-war European ‘dependence’ on the United States and working towards European solutions for European problems or, more accurately, towards French (or even de Gaulle’s) solutions to European problems. The Johnson administration’s European policy has, in fact, been traditionally seen as a series of responses to the challenges initiated by Charles de Gaulle. The French President was the proverbial enfant terrible. In the 1960s he vetoed British entry to the EEC charging that the Macmillan and Wilson governments were – to use more modern terms – America’s poodles. He tried to create some form of Franco-German partnership with Paris as the senior partner. As a show of independence he developed the force de frappe, took France out of NATO’s unified military command, and initiated a policy – ultimately unsuccessful – of independent détente vis-à-vis the USSR. De Gaulle even stirred up trouble in America’s backyard: in 1967 he went to the Canadian province of Quebec and declared that the Francophone bastion should move towards independence. And there were many other tense moments over Vietnam, over foreign investment, over de Gaulle’s decision to recognize the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Indeed, Johnson agreed with his confidant Senator Richard Russell that ‘we’ve really got no control over their [France’s] foreign policy’.10 Be that as it may,

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there is hardly any question that of all the centrifugal tendencies in the history of NATO during the Cold War, it was the prominent role for France as a leader of a more independent Europe envisioned by de Gaulle that caused the severest headaches in Washington. While he represented, in other words, the pre-eminent neutralist for nationalistic reasons, his potential impact on American–European relations was nothing short of devastating.11 The question was, then, how the US should react to de Gaulle’s increasingly irritating initiatives. Should Lyndon Johnson – destined to face de Gaulle’s severest eruptions – cut the French President (who thought of Johnson as a cowboy with the looks of Popeye) down to size? Or should he try and render de Gaulle irrelevant by ignoring him? Johnson, uncharacteristically some might argue, came to favour the latter option. He based his decision on the advice of men like Ambassador Charles Bohlen, who argued that ‘a very large portion of the objectionable features of French policy would disappear with [de Gaulle’s] departure from power’. Assistant Secretary of State for Europe Bill Tyler echoed Bohlen by arguing that de Gaulle, while flamboyant, had and was likely to do little serious damage to US foreign policy goals if left to his own devices. Should Johnson openly criticize him, which might result in some short-term domestic gains, the US would be playing into de Gaulle’s hands and giving further ammunition to those who, implicitly or explicitly, agreed with some of the French President’s criticism of the US role in Europe. As Tyler put it, de Gaulle: gave expression to a certain sentiment not only in France but in Free Europe as a whole in varying degree: a confused sense that it is possible, indeed natural and necessary, for Europe to have interests within the framework of an alliance with the United States which do not in all cases spring from a conception of the world identical with that held by the United States; that as Europe moves irresistibly toward technical integration, and ultimately some kind of political unity, an area of collective consciousness is simultaneously fostered which results in a differentiation between the European and the United States vision of the world and definition of interests.12 In the end, Johnson prudently avoided outright confrontation with de Gaulle. He was encouraged by the fact that, as a 1965 State Department memo put it, the French President had not, in seven years, been able ‘to wean the West Europeans from the political “dominance” of the United States’. Instead, the memo maintained, de Gaulle’s antics had had the effect of consolidating ‘America’s standing with most of its Atlantic allies, who find the present system more responsive to their security and other needs than the Gaullist alternative’.13 On 7 March 1966, however, came the real shock. De Gaulle announced the removal of France from NATO’s military structure. Soon thereafter the General was packing his bags for a trip to Moscow. In the US de Gaulle’s move caused considerable agony as it seemed to offer an opportunity, the type envisioned by Khrushchev already in the mid-1950s, for the Soviets to ‘crack’ the Western

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Alliance with the help of the French. As a National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) put it in May 1966 Moscow was likely to encourage de Gaulle’s ‘disruptive actions within the Western Alliance’. Yet, the same NIE argued, the Soviet factor was to some extent ‘self-contained’, because Moscow was likely to ‘continue to believe that no European settlement can be consummated without the participation of the US, which remains the preferred partner for a dialogue’.14 Indeed, American diplomats did not ‘panic’ as a result of France’s withdrawal or de Gaulle’s visit to Moscow in the summer of 1966. Johnson and others appear to have been convinced, as was Ambassador Bohlen, ‘that de Gaulle has little to offer [to the Soviets] aside from encouraging a more general movement away from NATO and toward dealing with the USSR’.15 While de Gaulle tried to put a lot of spin on the 1966 events there seemed to be little substance to the notion of a ‘Europe from the Atlantic to the Urals’. In fact, the American reaction to the French exit from NATO was, if anything, consciously and conspicuously low key despite some pressure from the State Department’s Europeanists – such as George Ball and Robert Schaetzel – on the President. In Johnson’s own words: ‘To have attacked de Gaulle would only have further enflamed French nationalism . . . when a man asks you to leave his house, you don’t argue; you get your hat and go.’16 There was, moreover, another way in which the Americans could minimize the disruption within NATO. This was to somehow convince, if not the renegade leader of a NATO country, then other West European leaders (particularly the Germans) that American and French policies were running along basically the same path, and that NATO hardly forced the French into doing anything. If they could achieve this and structure a common NATO policy towards the Soviet Bloc that West Europeans would find acceptable, then de Gaulle’s ‘antics’ would certainly appear even more nationalistic – rather than ‘Europeanist’ – and prevent others from following his example. The type of ‘inclusiveness’ – or appearance thereof – was a particularly important goal as a tool for keeping the West Germans from following a ‘Gaullist’ path.

Johnson and early Ostpolitik If de Gaulle’s efforts to define for France a more independent role and ‘spread’ Gaullism to the rest of Western Europe represented one key aspect of the centrifugal tendencies of the 1960s, changes in West German foreign policy represented another example of an allied country’s potential move away from a united front. Again, one could easily argue that, much like de Gaulle, the leaders in Bonn were ultimately concerned over a nationalist goal. If de Gaulle removed France from NATO’s integrated military structure and practised his version of Ostpolitik in order to enhance France’s significance as a player in its own right, Erhard, Kiesinger, Brandt and others – to varying (and increasing) degrees – gradually established independent ties to the East largely because the policies of Adenauer had failed substantially to advance the unification of Germany.17 While Kennedy had scored important propaganda victories by, for example,

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proudly pronouncing himself to be a doughnut (‘Ich bin ein Berliner’), the background to that fiery speech – the building of the Berlin Wall and the tacit Western acceptance of it as a solution to the volatile problem of that city – had caused some serious soul-searching in West Germany about the need to rethink the uncompromising stand vis-à-vis East Germany, the Soviet Union, and the Soviet Bloc in general. One could argue, as a CIA memorandum did in November 1964, that the first steps towards Ostpolitik, the so-called ‘policy of movement’, was in large part a reaction to the Wall, the apparent lack of Western commitment to German unification, and the failure of Adenauer and the Hallstein Doctrine to bring about unification. From the West German point of view it must have seemed as though the rest of the world, their American allies included, were in fact quite happy to see Germany divided. An increasingly Eastward-looking attitude was likely to follow, encouraged further by the apparent ‘fluidity in Eastern Europe’ and the example of de Gaulle’s initiatives.18 Indeed, some worst-case scenarios had predicted already during Kennedy’s (and Adenauer’s) last year in office – in the aftermath of de Gaulle’s first veto of British membership in the EEC and the Franco-German friendship Treaty of January 1963 that committed the two countries to cooperate in their foreign policies – that a strengthening of the Bonn–Paris axis might result in the rupture of, if not a death blow to, NATO and might eventually be accompanied by the unification and neutralization of Germany.19 Whereas de Gaulle practised a high-profile policy, the West Germans’ ‘Eastward-looking’ policy was, at least in its beginning stages, implemented cautiously. The FRG’s dilemma was that it needed close ties to both NATO and France. And yet, as a result of the apparent stabilization of the Cold War, what seemed to be a de facto Western acceptance of the permanent division of Germany following the erection of the Berlin Wall, and the emergence of de Gaulle’s independent policies, West German foreign policy was at a crossroads at about the same time as Lyndon Johnson made his fateful decision to send American troops to Vietnam. A 1965 NIE summarized the worst-case scenario as follows: It is possible that external events could cause neutralist feeling in West Germany to grow. In time, and especially if the sense of direct Soviet threat to Western Europe continues to diminish, the West Germans’ conviction that NATO is essential for their security could weaken. Conceivably even the necessity for the continued presence of American forces might be put in question.20 During the following year there were, of course, a number of such ‘external events’: de Gaulle announced France’s withdrawal from NATO and made his visit to Moscow, America’s involvement in Vietnam deepened, and the Soviets – facing an increasingly threatening situation in Asia (i.e. the Sino-Soviet split) – appeared more amenable to developing better relations with the West. There was thus adequate rationale behind a growing concern about ‘losing’ West

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Germany through some combination of Soviet-encouraged hopes for unification through neutralization and the temptations of Gaullism.

Bridge-building The strategy employed by the Johnson administration to undercut the impact of the centrifugal tendencies so obvious in de Gaulle’s policies and implied by the FRG’s emerging Ostpolitik was one of ‘increased inclusion’ through a variety of NATO-related schemes. An important ingredient of such a strategy was the Multilateral Force (MLF), first conceived in the last year of the Eisenhower and the first year of the Kennedy administrations and revived and pursued, albeit increasingly in a rather lacklustre manner, during the Johnson administration.21 The basic idea was to create a NATO fleet that was armed with nuclear missiles aimed at the Soviet Union and which could fire these missiles by unanimous consent from the participating countries. Not all NATO countries were necessarily expected to participate, but the key country to be involved in the scheme was West Germany. Through the MLF, it was hoped, any West German aspiration to build its own nuclear force could be met by giving, as George Ball put it to Lyndon Johnson in April 1964, ‘[the] Germans a legitimate role in the defense of the alliance, but on a leash’.22 When the MLF failed to materialize, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara pushed through the establishment of a two-tier system consisting of the Nuclear Defence Affairs Committee (open to all) and the Nuclear Planning Group (that included US, West Germany, Great Britain, Italy and three other member countries serving on a rotational basis).23 While these schemes hardly resulted in true ‘sharing’ or ‘consultation’, they were certainly important in keeping up appearances, both of a United States not bound to act unilaterally and a United States willing to develop common policies in an area where it was, undoubtedly, much more equal than any of its NATO partners.24 The MLF and its watered-down successors did little to address the desire for German unification. That task fell to bridge-building, the idea that by gradually increasing economic, cultural and human contacts with Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, the West could undermine the communist parties’ hold on power. In short, bridge-building was a long-term strategy of gradually rolling back communist power and, ultimately, ending the Cold War. The policy had been foreshadowed by the idea, floated around during the late Eisenhower and early Kennedy administrations, of promoting ‘Finnish-style’ neutrality as a solution for the USSR’s Western neighbours.25 It received increasing attention during Kennedy’s last year in office and was backed up by his own public remarks at American University on 10 June 1963, which called Americans to ‘reexamine our own attitude toward the possibilities of peace, toward the Soviet Union, toward the course of the Cold War’.26 In a long (69-page) report that was completed the following month, the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff concluded that loosening restrictions on East–West trade would yield political advantages to the United States. The assumption was that American (and West

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European) trade restrictions had forced East Europeans to become more economically and politically dependent on the Soviet Union, and that a relaxation of such sanctions would ‘prove a significant factor in preserving the national identity of the satellite countries and the Western orientation of the satellite peoples’.27 The Johnson administration developed these ideas further. On 25 February 1964 Secretary of State Dean Rusk pointed out in a speech that ‘[t]he Communist world is no longer a single flock of sheep following blindly one leader’, and that, in particular, ‘[t]he smaller countries of Eastern Europe have increasingly asserted their own policies’. A few months later – at the dedication of the Marshall Institute in Lexington, Virginia, on 24 May 1964 – Lyndon Johnson called for extending bridges of ‘trade, travel and humanitarian assistance’ to Eastern Europe. By the time of his 1965 inaugural address Johnson was able to report that a number of government committees were exploring the possibilities of increasing trade with Eastern Europe.28 Among these was the special presidential committee on East–West trade, led by the chairman of the Cummins Engine Company, J. Irwin Miller.29 The Miller Committee reported to the President in late April 1965 maintaining that expanded trade with the Soviet Bloc would give the US greater political leverage and recommended, among other things, that the President’s power to grant or withdraw most-favoured-nation status be expanded. The report also called for a relaxation of the export licenses imposed on the Soviet Bloc.30 All seemed to be set for a broad American initiative in peaceful engagement, as Brzezinski and Griffith had called the policy of bridge-building four years earlier in Foreign Affairs. It was to be, as Secretary of State Dean Rusk had told the French Foreign Minister Couve de Murville in February 1965, a major issue in the Johnson administration’s foreign policy agenda. That is, Rusk had added, ‘unless Vietnam interferes’.31 Vietnam did interfere. The anti-communism prevalent in American society – which the Johnson administration encouraged to gain support for its war effort – did not allow the passage of the most extensive piece of bridge-building legislation, the East–West Trade Bill. Submitted to Congress on 11 May 1966, the Bill was effectively killed upon arrival by the Chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee, Wilbur Mills. The idea of increased trade with communist countries also prompted grass-roots protests, boycotts of various East European goods, and was enough to get one and a half million Americans to sign the John Birch Society’s petition opposing increased trade with communist countries.32 In fact, it could hardly have been otherwise. Having convinced Congress and much of the American public that the United States needed to send hundreds of thousands of troops to fight communism in Asia, it was an impossible task for any administration, however skilful it might have been in its public relations efforts, to convince the same Congress and the same general public that they would need to wage peace with European communists. The Johnson administration’s efforts to use trade as an effective diplomatic and political tool vis-à-vis Eastern Europe were thus frustrated by their own policies in Vietnam. Or, as

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Frank Costigliola puts it, the Johnson administration ‘could not manage the trick of fighting the communists in Southeast Asia and making peace with those in Europe’.33 In fact they did manage to pull off that trick. While the collapse of the East–West Trade Bill limited the growth of American–East European trade in the 1960s, it did not kill it.34 As Andrzej Mania puts it, Johnson deserves credit for what ‘he managed to achieve, and particularly what he endeavored to accomplish to promote trade with Eastern Europe . . . in the face of tremendous odds’.35 Moreover, bridge-building served an important purpose in American policies towards Western Europe, particularly towards West Germany. In the aftermath of France’s defection from NATO, the failure of the East–West Trade Bill and de Gaulle’s trip to Moscow, LBJ issued NSAM 352, a National Security Action Memorandum on Bridge Building, which called ‘in consultation with our allies’ for the US to ‘develop areas of peaceful cooperation with Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union’. More revealing was the statement that ‘[t]hese actions will be designed to help create an environment in which peaceful settlement of the division of Germany and of Europe will become possible’.36 In the mid-1960s such aims were, at best, long-term goals. What seems to be clear, however, is that there was general agreement between Americans and West Germans – as well as other West Europeans – that bridge-building was a desired policy towards Eastern Europe. To this effect, the United States also encouraged the development of a common West European trade policy vis-à-vis the East. In his memorandum prepared prior to Chancellor Erhard’s visit to Washington in December 1965, for example, Undersecretary of State George Ball anticipated that Erhard would ‘stress the importance of a common Western policy in trade and long term credits toward the Soviet bloc’. As Ball maintained: ‘We agree on the need to support the FRG policy of improving relations with Eastern Europe.’37 In a number of speeches in 1966, moreover, Johnson continued his public advocacy of bridge-building, drawing an explicit link between the unification of Germany and progress in East–West relations.38 Chancellor Kurt Kiesinger, head of the Grand Coalition government formed in the autumn of 1966, stressed these same themes even more forcefully at a summit with Johnson in August 1967. Kiesinger called bridge-building ‘essential [in order] to create the kind of political atmosphere in which [it would be] eventually possible to heal [the] split of Europe and Germany’. Lyndon Johnson replied in kind, and ‘emphasized his own continuing efforts, despite Vietnam, to find areas of possible cooperation with Moscow and the Eastern Europeans’.39 In short, bridge-building was ‘sold’ to the West Germans as a long-term policy eventually aimed at achieving what the confrontational line of Adenauer had been unable to do: German unification. At about the same time as the Americans and Germans found common cause in bridge-building, Washington tried to convince the French that their policies ran along the same lines. When French Foreign Minister Couve de Murville came to the US in October 1966, the Americans stressed to their visitor that ‘there is no serious conflict between our interests and those pursued by France in

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Eastern Europe’. Both were conducting, in principle, similar policies, and the fact that ‘France chooses to pursue a similar set of goals under her own national colors’ was hardly serious ground for any conflict between Washington and Paris.40 Similarly, the gradually increasing momentum of Ostpolitik did not – given the Johnson administration’s own desire to practise bridge-building – change the fact that the FRG’s policy ‘is consistent with the United States policy on these matters’.41 If the two countries’ independent policies towards Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union represented potential neutralist challenges to NATO’s unity – and in France’s case obviously a very real one – the American advocacy of bridge-building was unifying the approaches vis-à-vis the Soviet Bloc into a common Western policy of détente. One of the logical culminations of this – apparent or real – convergence of interests was the adoption of the Harmel report by NATO in late 1967.42 This codification of a loosely coordinated dual-track policy – maintaining military strength and pursuing détente – may therefore be seen both as a road-map to a different kind of East–West relationship in Europe and as a way of meeting the challenges posed by NATO’s unity in the 1960s. In a sense, the Harmel report was a reflection of the flexible nature of NATO and America’s leadership role in it, as well as an opportunity to link French and/or West German initiatives to a unified approach adopted by the Alliance. At the same time, the Harmel report was an expression of the increasingly ambiguous nature of any unified policy under NATO’s auspices; allies should indeed coordinate their policies, but they could simultaneously and individually move towards détente as long as these moves did not mean that they would be ‘bidding each other for Soviet favors’, as David Calleo puts it.43 The following June, at a NATO foreign ministers’ meeting in Reykjavik, the Alliance’s détente goal was further affirmed with a declaration in favour of Mutual Force Reductions talks with the Warsaw Pact. Significantly, the notes on the meeting indicated that the French appeared to have been rather ‘domesticated’, and all that was left of de Gaulle’s grand rhetoric was keeping up appearances. As the report concluded: ‘France seeks continued participation in the political and many military discussions, consultations, and studies of the Alliance, and it will often join in statements of general position.’ In fact, on the eve of the conclusion of NATO’s first (and original) 20-year term, the inevitable conclusion drawn in Washington was that ‘as the Alliance focuses ever more attentively on détente its continuance into the third decade of work appears to be taken increasingly for granted by almost all, including France’.44 Far from encouraging neutralism, détente and bridge-building had given NATO a new lease on life by providing a new, more explicitly political rationale for continued coordination of allied policies. Indeed, at a time when the Johnson administration was under siege both at home and abroad due to its involvement in Vietnam, its policy in Europe was remarkably successful. Neither de Gaulle nor the admittedly still embryonic West German Ostpolitik had caused serious damage to western unity. Instead, the Johnson administration had embarked on a road towards tentative East–West détente, thus aligning itself with the general

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thrust of European policy. The policy, however, could be successful in part because there were no major improvements in East–West – or Soviet–American – relations during the Johnson presidency. In fact, in the last months of the Johnson presidency, the August 1968 Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia seemed to raise new barriers to any such improvements. And yet Johnson’s successor would embark on a series of initiatives that dramatically transformed the relationship between Moscow and Washington.

Nixon’s détente and Brandt’s Ostpolitik To Richard Nixon and his major foreign policy adviser Henry Kissinger, détente was one of the major goals of the administration. Indeed, aside from the Vietnam War, there was no other issue that preoccupied their time more than Soviet–American relations; whatever the methods – which were often secretive – Nixon had evidently meant business when he offered to open up an era of negotiations in his inaugural address. By 1972, the United States and the Soviet Union had negotiated a series of agreements, ranging from the SALT I to new trade treaties. In contrast, European integration remained at the back of the administration’s agenda, notwithstanding the accession of Great Britain, Denmark and Ireland into the EEC in January 1973. It was, indeed, only in the second Nixon administration – with American troops withdrawn from Vietnam and the ‘opening’ to China achieved – that Kissinger suddenly seemed to turn his attention to Europe, proclaiming 1973 ‘the year of Europe’. Yet, while Western Europe was clearly not at the top of the administration’s agenda, Nixon and Kissinger had focused on certain aspects of European policy. In particular, they worried, as had the Johnson administration, about independent European initiatives towards détente. Of these, the most serious one came from the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG), where Willy Brandt’s Social Democrats won the September 1969 elections to the Bundestag. By this time Brandt’s Ostpolitik was already well publicized as the ‘party line’ of the SDP. Its basic outline was straightforward. Indeed, already in 1963 Egon Bahr, Brandt’s long-time associate and foreign policy adviser, had coined the notion of ‘change through rapprochement’ (Wandel durch Annäherung); the idea that a policy of engagement would bring about a gradual change in the East German regime. After September 1969, Brandt and Bahr set out to practice Ostpolitik. In the early 1970s a number of treaties were signed: a Non-aggression Pact with the USSR in August 1970, a West-German–Polish Treaty recognizing the OderNeisse line in December 1970, a Four-power agreement on the status of Berlin in 1971, and finally, the Basic Treaty between East and West Germany in 1972. In a span of a few years the German question was transformed, laying the basis for further East–West détente in Europe. In 1971 Brandt received the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts.45 Kissinger and Nixon worried about Brandt’s diplomacy. Although pursuing détente with the Soviet Union himself, Kissinger thought that Ostpolitik might,

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if it proved successful as an independent West German policy, become a new form of ‘Gaullism.’46 But they faced the same problem as the Johnson administration vis-à-vis de Gaulle. The United States could not, without risking an adverse reaction from the FRG, move to block the progress of Ostpolitik. Moreover, should they object to the overwhelming desire for détente in Europe, the Nixon administration would have played into Soviet hands by promoting further disunity within NATO. As Kissinger put it in February 1970: [while] there is no necessary incompatibility between alliance and integration with the West on the one hand, and some degree of normalization with East, on the other . . . assuming Brandt achieves a degree of normalization, he or his successor may discover before long that the hoped-for benefits fail to develop. Instead of ameliorating the division of Germany, recognition of the G[erman] D[emocratic] R[epublic] may boost its status and strengthen the Communist regime. . . . More fundamentally, the Soviets having achieved their first set of objectives may then confront the FRG with the proposition that a real and lasting improvement in the FRG’s relations with the GDR and other Eastern countries can only be achieved if Bonn loosens its Western ties.47 In other words, Kissinger worried mainly about the leverage that Ostpolitik might give to the Soviet Union. The answer was, as Kissinger wrote in his memoirs, ‘to channel [West German foreign policy] in a constructive direction by working closely with Brandt and his colleagues’. Indeed, Kissinger saw as his main task the need to coordinate the onset of US–Soviet détente with the unfolding of Ostpolitik. In Kissinger’s words: ‘If Ostpolitik were to succeed, it had to be related to other issues involving the Alliance as a whole; only in this manner would the Soviet Union have incentives for compromise.’48 The way to get the West Germans on board was by threatening the consequences to NATO and American presence in Europe should Ostpolitik be practised too independently. Thus, already during his February 1969 trip through Europe, Nixon warned the then Foreign Minister Brandt that the Soviets’ interest in Ostpolitik was part of ‘a major Soviet objective to weaken the [NATO] alliance and especially the FRG’.49 Happily, Brandt had much the same concern. He had no intention of breaking away from NATO but sought instead a way of aligning Ostpolitik with NATO policy, most specifically with the 1967 Harmel report. Brandt was after a new kind of equilibrium between East and West in Europe, an equilibrium in which the United States played a key role by maintaining its presence on the old continent. Brandt also well understood the need to coordinate his policies with the United States. Nor did he have any illusions as to who, aside from Nixon, was the prime foreign policy-maker in Washington. In October 1969 Brandt sent Bahr to the US to meet Kissinger, not Secretary of State William Rogers, thus creating one of the Kissinger Back Channels.50 In the October discussions Bahr

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outlined to Kissinger his vision of Ostpolitik, detailing the planned West German overtures towards the USSR, Poland and East Germany. In his report to Nixon, Kissinger warned that the planned German initiatives: could become troublesome if they engender euphoria, affect Germany’s contribution to NATO and give ammunition to our own détente-minded people here at home. The Germans may also become so engaged in their Eastern policy that their commitment to West European unity may decline. The Soviets, and with some apparent prodding by Moscow, [East German leader Walter] Ulbricht, seem willing enough to receive Bonn’s overtures. Yet, Kissinger’s talks with Bahr also implied that the United States held significant leverage that could be used to co-opt Ostpolitik: Bahr had expressed concern about unilateral US troop cuts in Germany. Kissinger had promised that this would only be done after consultations, but that there were likely to be some cuts over the next two years. At the end of their meeting Bahr had said that there was likely to be ‘less of a guilt complex in Bonn under Brandt and hence more self-reliant and not always compliant attitude toward us’. Kissinger agreed and promised Bahr that the United States would ‘deal with Germany as a partner, not a client’. According to Bahr, Kissinger added: ‘your success will be ours.’51 By the spring of 1970, however, it was clear that the Brandt-Bahr Ostpolitik had claimed the forerunner’s role in East–West détente. While Kissinger himself had been unable to make significant progress in his other Back Channel negotiations with the Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin, the NSC adviser became increasingly concerned that the Soviets were playing an intricate balancing act of selective détente: deliberately stalling in their talks with the Americans while moving ahead with the Germans. Thus, when Brandt visited the United States in April 1970 hoping to get the Nixon administration’s formal endorsement of Ostpolitik, Kissinger was distinctly recalcitrant and counselled Nixon against endorsing any specific element of Ostpolitik in public.52 Nixon, while siding with his national security adviser, decided that confronting Brandt was ultimately futile and potentially counter-productive. During his meeting with Brandt on 11 April, Nixon simply warned that Ostpolitik might create some uncertainty in France and Britain, as well as among the old-style cold warriors in the United States. Still, Nixon told Brandt that ‘[t]he main point was the understanding between us that we would keep in close touch over all East–West questions’. According to Kissinger Brandt was ‘greatly relieved’ to receive such American reassurances.53 The American insistence on coordination and unity became even clearer after the signing of the Soviet–West German Treaty in Moscow on 12 August 1970. Walter Scheel, Brandt’s Foreign Minister and head of the Free Democrats, had negotiated some important caveats in his July talks with Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko. In particular, Gromyko agreed to an accompanying statement expressing support for German unification (through peaceful means). Moreover, the conclusion of a new agreement on Berlin – negotiated between the four

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occupying powers and the two German states – was understood to be a condition for the eventual FRG ratification of the treaty.54 The Berlin negotiations allowed Kissinger to become directly involved in the shaping of Ostpolitik via two sets of Back Channels that smoothed the way to the Berlin Agreement of 3 September 1971. On the one hand Kissinger negotiated throughout the spring of 1971 on a weekly basis and without the knowledge of the State Department with Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin. On the other hand, Kissinger engaged Kenneth Rush, the American Ambassador to Bonn, as his special link to Egon Bahr. Rush, to Kissinger’s great satisfaction, managed to keep the rest of the State Department uninformed. By early June an agreement was basically ready. But, in an ironic twist of fate, its finalization was postponed by two months until after Kissinger’s secret foray to Beijing in July (creating the false impression that the opening to China resulted in Soviet accommodation on Berlin).55 While Kissinger would later over-emphasize his own role in the Berlin negotiations, they had accomplished one significant fact: the Americans and the West Germans cooperated closely throughout the negotiation process. As a result, by September of 1971, the concerns of an independent German–Soviet détente that would undermine Western unity no longer coloured American evaluations of the transatlantic relationship. The spectre of West German ‘Gaullism’ was gone. Indeed, in 1972 Kissinger and Nixon played scant attention to Europe, let alone Germany, focusing their energies on the historic summits in Moscow (May 1972) and Beijing (February 1972), and the tortuous negotiations leading to the January 1973 Paris Agreements that ended US troop involvement in the Vietnam War. After the commencement of Nixon’s second term, however, Europe was back on the agenda.

Enlargement and the Year of Europe The ‘Year of Europe’ was an unfortunate title for a commendable initiative. For there was no question that the Atlantic relationship required, in 1973, a reassessment. The international situation had, after all, changed dramatically. In addition to Ostpolitik and changes in US policy vis-à-vis the Soviet Union and China, the last American troops were withdrawing from Vietnam. In Europe, the year had begun with the much-awaited expansion of the EEC as Great Britain, Ireland and Denmark joined the original Six. This expansion naturally strengthened the economic power of the EEC and hence its relative standing vis-à-vis the United States. In contrast, the May 1972 SALT agreement had already raised European concerns over the bilateral nature of superpower détente (even a possible Soviet–American ‘condominium’); these would be further heightened in the summer of 1973 when the United States and the Soviet Union signed the Prevention of Nuclear War (PNW) agreement. Questions of autonomy and unity – European, American and transatlantic – were thus firmly on the agenda in 1973. It is important to underline that, as with Kissinger’s approach to Ostpolitik, US concerns over the Soviet Union influenced the Year of Europe initiative.

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While Europeans may have worried that the Americans would reduce their presence on the old continent, Americans remained doubtful about their NATO partners’ commitment to the transatlantic alliance in a time of decreased East–West tensions. In October 1972 a National Intelligence Estimate had summed up the administration’s concern as follows: ‘the Soviet leaders hope that while maintaining their position in the East they can wean West Europeans away from their close relations with the US . . . and ultimately clear the way for the USSR’s emergence as the dominant power on the continent as a whole.’56 Viewed from this perspective, European autonomy remained a threat to transatlantic unity and to US standing vis-à-vis the USSR. In the spring of 1973 Kissinger set out to address this issue, stressing to Nixon the need to open up a substantive dialogue with European leaders. In addition, he argued, it was important that the Americans take the initiative because ‘[w]e cannot expect the Europeans to enter this dialogue with much unity or clarity of purpose’. Thus it was important to explain to European leaders ‘as precisely as possible what we expect of the Europeans and what we are willing to do in return’. In other words, the US was willing to work together with the Europeans on various East–West security issues and to keep its strong commitment to European defence but only if ‘the Europeans are willing to make reasonable economic concessions and sacrifices’.57 After months of consultation, Kissinger attempted to open this new dialogue with his Year of Europe speech. Delivered on 23 April 1973 in New York, the speech included little that was not known to any observer of transatlantic relations; Kissinger touched upon the revival and economic unification of Western Europe, the approximate strategic parity between the United States and the Soviet Union, and the onset of détente. He then stressed that ‘[p]roblems have arisen, unforeseen a generation ago, which require new types of cooperative action’. Kissinger then called for the leaders of Europe to join the United States in setting down ‘the basis for a new era of creativity in the West [and in] reinvigorating shared ideals and common purpose with our friends’. Few would have objected to such a high-minded call that was reminiscent of Kissinger’s writings in the 1960s. But then Kissinger effectively asked for trouble by stressing, in an unnecessarily crude way, the difference between America’s ‘wider international’ responsibilities and the EEC’s ‘regional personality’. The ultimate, and of-quoted, faux pas, however, was the following: ‘The United States has global interests and responsibilities. Our European allies have regional interests.’ In other words, not only did the United States appear to have the monopoly on ‘responsibilities’, it was the only country in the West with legitimate interests outside of its own continent.58 The speech and the diplomacy surrounding it may have been meant as an opening to a new era in transatlantic relations. Kissinger may not have said anything that was not true: Europeans were hardly capable of playing a significant role outside of their own continent. There surely was a need to rethink common policies, to find ways of keeping potential trade wars from erupting. But in the United States, where Watergate commanded headlines, the speech passed

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virtually unnoticed. Those Americans who did pay attention, moreover, tended to respond positively. In a fit of hyperbole, New York Times columnist James Reston even compared the Year of Europe speech to George C. Marshall’s June 1947 commencement address at Harvard University (that had launched the deliberations leading to the Marshall Plan).59 European leaders, however, took offence. French President Georges Pompidou, for one, cryptically remarked that for France, every year was the ‘Year of Europe’.60 Willy Brandt thought that the assumption that Europeans would simply accept the Kissinger definition of their international role ‘was not the way to win the future’.61 British Prime Minister Edward Heath later wrote that ‘for Kissinger to announce a Year of Europe was like for me to stand on Trafalgar Square and announce that we were embarking on a year to save America!’62 Nor did Kissinger’s subsequent effort to explain the consigning of Europeans to a ‘regional’ role as a mere ‘tactical mistake’ convince French Foreign Minister Michel Jobert. When the two met in early June, Jobert accused the Americans of trying to ‘strengthen your mastery’ in Europe and an effort ‘to reinforce the US position vis-à-vis the Soviets’. Kissinger conceded the point but added that a strengthening of transatlantic ties ‘reinforces everyone’s position vis-à-vis the Soviets’.63 The Year of Europe controversy lingered on for several months, rendering Kissinger and Nixon’s meetings with Brandt, Pompidou and Heath in 1973 ineffectual. To be sure, there was much discussion and debate over two prospective Atlantic Declarations over the summer; one between the US and the EEC; the other among NATO countries. But progress was understandably slow. Still, by mid-September – a week before he was sworn in as Secretary of State – Kissinger told Nixon that things were finally proceeding ‘very well on the “European front”.’64 A few weeks later, however, the October War in the Middle East erupted, causing another crisis in transatlantic relations over the OPEC oil embargo. In the end, it would take until June 1974 – and changes in the leadership of Britain, France and West Germany – before the Year of Europe controversy would give way to a new NATO Declaration. New mechanisms were also put in place to guarantee a more formalized dialogue between Washington and Brussels. When Nixon resigned on 9 August 1974 and Gerald Ford was sworn in as the 38th President of the United States, Kissinger could feel confident that the acrimony of the previous months was giving way to transatlantic cooperation.

Helsinki and beyond In late July 1975 Kissinger and Ford arrived in Helsinki, Finland to participate in the ceremonial final stage of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE). It was an unprecedented occasion: 35 countries were represented (including all European nations save Albania). And while Kissinger had, less than a year earlier, told his staff that the Helsinki Accords might as well be written in Swahili, the CSCE, particularly its provisions on human rights and

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freedom of expression, later became a kind of manifesto of the dissident movements throughout the Soviet Bloc. As one of the highlights of European détente, the Helsinki Accords stand, in retrospect, as a milestone in the transformation and ultimate demise of the Cold War order in Europe. Moreover, the Ford administration had, by 1975, come to view the CSCE as an important aspect in its efforts at mending the troubled state of transatlantic relations. In effect, European and American negotiation efforts had been coordinated to the degree of Kissinger using talking points prepared by the British during the last stage of the negotiations in Geneva. There was, at least in the context of the CSCE, a united Western front.65 Ultimately, though, the basic point remains that there had not been – neither during the Johnson nor the Nixon presidency – a fundamental crisis in transatlantic relations. To be sure, both détente and European integration represented challenges to American foreign policy. Both – when set against the background of the Vietnam War and other divisive factors – provided a potential setting for a rupture. But even with challenges in the form of de Gaulle’s policies, Brandt’s Ostpolitik and EEC enlargement, Western unity prevailed. Two basic factors help explain why, despite the fears of many, détente and European integration never seriously endangered the United States’ policy towards Europe. First, there remained the basic convergence between American and West European economic interests. To be sure, as Geir Lundestad among others has noted, the Johnson and Nixon administrations were increasingly ambivalent about European integration and worried that Europe was becoming an economic competitor to the United States. Despite such obvious American ambivalence about European integration, however, there remained a basic transatlantic interdependence that was clearly evident in the high levels of trade and investment that were yet to be replicated within the context of any other transoceanic relationship.66 Second, there was the Cold War. As long as the Soviet Union existed, as long as the Soviet nuclear threat was present, as long as the Warsaw Pact held a numerical advantage vis-à-vis NATO, West Europeans were not going to throw NATO into the waste-paper bin. In fact, one of the persistent concerns of Europeans was the possibility that the Americans might decide to withdraw their forces. This straightforward fact meant that the Americans had an ace in the hole whenever they were engaged in a dialogue with their European counterparts. Congressional pressure (such as the Mansfield amendment) to reduce US troops in Europe was, paradoxically, a useful tool for Kissinger when he negotiated with, say, the West Germans. While burden-sharing remained a thorny issue, the main point was that the Europeans clearly wanted the Americans to stay. Even French President Pompidou stated so publicly. Indeed, when it came down to security policy, it was clear that in the 1960s and 1970s the Europeans wished to maintain a high degree of unity – or integration of policy – with the United States. This, perhaps ironically, allowed the United States to act more autonomously from its European allies when it came down to negotiations with the USSR; a fact evident during the early 1970s.67

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Ultimately, to Americans Europe represented but one – and never the central – piece in an increasingly global puzzle. SALT, Vietnam, triangular diplomacy, war and peace in the Middle East took up much more of his time and energy than dealing with transatlantic matters. The Johnson and, in particular, the Nixon administrations engaged Europeans primarily because without doing so their grander goals – such as building détente with the Soviet Union on American terms – would have been more difficult, if not outright impossible. Thus, responding to de Gaulle’s challenge in a non-aggressive manner, cooperating with (or co-opting) West Germans on Ostpolitik, proclaiming – ill-advised though it was – the ‘Year of Europe’, and even participating more actively in the CSCE negotiations, were ways of assuring that the United States remained the primary spokesman of a ‘united West’ vis-à-vis the USSR. In that basic sense, American policies towards Europe were successful. In short, American policy-makers managed to balance the demands for autonomy with an appeal to the basic need for unity.

Notes 1 Kissinger (1969, p. 78). 2 Memorandum of conversation (memcon), Nixon–Wilson, 24 February 1969, ‘President Nixon’s Trip to Europe 2/23/69–3/2/69, Vol. I of VIII’, box 489, Executive Secretariat Conference Files, 1966–1972, Record Group (RG) 59, Department of State Records (DSR), National Archives and Record Administration (NARA). 3 There is no point in giving an exhaustive list of the most recent Vietnam War literature here. A good selection of historiographical essays may be found in Gilbert (2002). 4 A good starting point for US Middle East policy in this period is Little (2002). 5 The Johnson administration’s policy vis-à-vis China and the Soviet Union has not been covered in any great detail but a brief outline may be gained from Garthoff (1994); Hanhimäki (2004). 6 The best recent account of America’s historical role in the international economy is Eckes and Zeiler (2003). 7 These figures are from Eckes and Zeiler (2003, pp. 261–7). 8 A term used by the former French Foreign Minister Christian Pineau. Memorandum of conversation 9 April 1963, RG 59, Central Foreign Policy File, 1963, box 3907, NARA. 9 For a fuller account of French policies during the de Gaulle era see Harrison (1981, pp. 72-158). For a series of essays on de Gaulle’s role in France see Gough and Horne (1994). 10 Cited in Schwartz (2003, p. 31). 11 Charles Bohlen explained de Gaulle’s brand of ‘nationalistic neutralism’ in a long memo on French foreign policy in March 1964. Bohlen described de Gaulle as so completely consumed with the ‘almost mystical quality’ of nation that everything he had done could be explained by an attempt to lift France to a new grandeur. This was, Bohlen maintained, in large part a result of the type of ‘old-fashioned’ views de Gaulle had about ‘nation’ and ‘alliances’. That is, while he had been rather supportive of the US during such crises as Cuba and Berlin, de Gaulle could only see the value of an alliance in times of tension and crisis. When there was no acute crisis his alliance solidarity quickly evaporated, Bohlen pointed out, correctly predicting further moves to this direction in the years to come. Charles Bohlen, ‘Reflections on

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15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

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Current French Foreign Policy’, 11 March 1964, NSF, Country File, box 169, France, vol. I, Lyndon B. Johnson Library, Austin, TX (LBJL). Bohlen’s memo, Harriman’s and Tyler’s commentary, all in NSF, Country File, box 169, France, vol. I, LBJL. Thomas Hughes (INR) to Rusk, 4 May 1965, NSF, Country File, box 171, France, Memos, vol. vi, LBJL. NIE 11-7-66: ‘Trends in Soviet General Policies’, 28 April 1966, NSF, NIEs, box 3: 11-66, USSR, LBJL. The following month an Intelligence Memorandum argued in a similarly roundabout manner that (1) ‘Moscow . . . may anticipate that other NATO states will follow the French lead. An alliance beset by dissension and thus less able to serve the individual interests of its members is likely to lose much of its appeal . . . Scandinavian tendencies toward a more neutral position could be accelerated’; (2) ‘[It is] unlikely that Moscow overestimates de Gaulle’s value. [It] recognizes that America is the real power, and would prefer to deal directly with Washington.’ CIA Intelligence Memo No. 1354/66, 20 May 1966, NSC, Country File, box 172, France, Memos, vol. IX, LBJL. See also Brands (1995, pp. 105–8). Bohlen to Secretary of State, 20 July 1966, NSC, Country File, box 172: France, Memos, vol. IX, LBJL. Harrison (1981, p. 146); Johnson (1971, p. 305). For a discussion of Adenauer’s foreign policies see, among others, Hanrieder (1989, pp. 131-169); Gatzke (1980, pp. 179–206). CIA Memo 14-64 (Office of National Estimates): ‘Bonn Looks Eastward’, 10 November 1964, NSF, Country File, box 185, German memos, vol. ix, LBJL. On the policy of movement see Hanrieder (1989, pp. 177–82). T.A. Schwartz ‘Victories and Defeats in the Long Twilight Struggle: The United States and Western Europe in the 1960s’, in Kunz (1994, p. 131). National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) 23–65: ‘Prospects for West German Foreign Policy’, NSF, NIEs, box 5: ‘23 West Germany’, LBJL. Aside from the EDC there are few failed NATO-related issues that have aroused as much interest as the MLF. For a brief account see L. Kaplan, ‘Johnson and NATO’, in Divine (1994, esp. pp. 121–6); or Hammond (1992, pp. 108–43). Ball cited in Schwartz (2003, p. 134). Calleo (1987, pp. 48, and 232 n. 12). On the MLF see Schwartz (2003, pp. 112–41). See Hanhimäki (1996, pp. 378–403). ‘Toward a Strategy of Peace’, Commencement Address by President Kennedy at American University, Washington, DC, 10 June 1963, quoted in Stebbins (1964, p. 117). Quoted in Harrington (1984, p. 225); see also Kovrig (1991, pp. 247–8). In his memoirs the President argued that this was simply a return to the original Marshall Plan concept. See Johnson (1971, p. 471); Kovrig (1991, p. 248). The Miller Committee was formally established by NSAM 324 on 9 March 1965. NSF, NSAMs, box 6, LBJL. Kovrig (1991, p. 249). Memcon: Rusk, W. Tyler, Harriman, Bohlen, Couve de Murville (French FM), Amb Alphand et al., 19 February 1965, NSF, Country File, box 171, France, Memos, vol. vi, LBJL. Harrington and Courtney (1988, p. 225). In his memoirs Lyndon Johnson said, poignantly, that ‘The East–West trade bill became a victim of the war in Vietnam’, while Dean Rusk called it a ‘casualty of Viet Nam’ (Johnson (1971, p. 473)). Rusk in Costigliola, ‘LBJ, Germany, and the “End of the Cold War” ’, in Tucker and Cohen (1994, p. 207 fn.132). Costigliola, ‘LBJ, Germany, and the “End of the Cold War” ’ in Tucker and Cohen (1994, p. 207).

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34 US exports to Eastern Europe (excluding the USSR and Yugoslavia) grew from about $87.5 million in 1961 to $135 million in 1967. Kovrig (1991, p. 251). For a fuller analysis of East–West trade politics during this period see Mastanduno (1992, pp. 107-142). 35 Mania (1996, p. 156) 36 NSAM 352: Bridge Building, 8 July 1966, FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. XVII, pp. 54–5. 37 Ball’s memo in NSF, Country File, box 192, Germany, Erhard Visit [12/65], LBJL. 38 ‘European Reactions to LBJ’s speech’, 7 October 1966, NSF, Speech File, box 5: ‘New York European Speech’, LBJL. The speech is printed in Stebbins (1964, pp. 73–80). 39 Memorandum on Johnson–Kiesinger discussions by Francis M. Bator, 16 August 1967, NSF, box 193, Germany: ‘Visit of Chancellor Kiesinger’, LBJL. 40 Background memorandum for French Foreign Minister Couve de Murville’s visit, 29 September 1966, NSF, Country File, box 174: France, ‘Visit of FM Couve de Murville’, LBJL. 41 ‘FRG and the Soviet Bloc’, undated, NSF, box 189, Germany: ‘Visit of Vice Chancellor Brandt’, LBJL. 42 The Harmel report was the end result of a study group, set up in December 1966, on the future role of NATO following the French withdrawal. It was named after Belgian Foreign Minister Pierre Harmel, the Chairman of the study group. For a good outline see Bozo (1996, 343–60). 43 Calleo (1987, p. 54). 44 Intelligence Note No. 512: ‘NATO Ministers Outline New Detente Goal’, 28 June 1968, FRUS, 1964-68, vol. XIII: Western Europe Region, pp. 724-5. 45 For an outline of Ostpolitik see Sodaro (1990). 46 Andrianopoulos (1991, p. 232). 47 Kissinger to Nixon, 16 February 1970, NSC Country Files, box 683: Germany, vol. IV, Nixon Presidential Materials Project (NPMP), NARA. 48 Kissinger (1979, p. 410). 49 Memoranda of conversation: Nixon, Rogers, Kissinger, Brandt, Kiesinger, 26 February 1969, Conference Files, 1966–1972, CF 340-CF342, box 484, RG 59, NARA. 50 Kissinger’s Back Channel with Soviet ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin had been launched in February 1969 and represented a means of centralizing foreign policymaking in the White House and the National Security Council (as opposed to the State Department); see Hanhimäki (2004, pp. 34–40). 51 Kissinger to Nixon (drafted by Sonnenfeldt), 14 October 1969, NSC, VIP Visits, box 917; and Kissinger to Nixon, 20 October 1969, NSC Country Files, box 682: Germany, vol. III, NPMP. Bahr’s memcon in Akten zur Auswartigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1969, Band II, 1114–18. Kissinger and Bahr’s versions are also in their memoirs: Kissinger (1979, pp. 410–12); Bahr (1996, pp. 271–3). 52 Brandt, 176; Kissinger (1979), p. 416. Rush to Rogers, April 2, 1970; Kissinger to Nixon (drafted by Sonnenfeldt), April 3, 1970, NSC, VIP Visits, box 917, NPMP. 53 Kissinger (1979), p. 424. Memcon: Brandt, Schmidt, Nixon, Rogers, Laird, Kissinger, NSC, VIP Visits, box 917, NPMP. 54 Sodrano (1990, pp. 174–9, 183–5); Bundy (1998, pp. 173–9); Hanhimäki (2004, pp. 85–90). 55 Memcon: Dobrynin and Kissinger, 26 April 1971, ‘Dobrynin/Kissinger 1971, vol. 5 part 1’, box 490, NSC Files, NPMP. Kissinger (1979, pp. 823–33); Bahr (1996, pp. 358–71); Garthoff (1994, pp. 136–9); Hanhimäki (2004, pp. 171–92). 56 ‘The USSR and the Changing Scene in Europe’, NIE 12–72, NIEs, 1951–1983, box 5, CIA, RG 263, NA. 57 Kissinger to Nixon, 31 January 1973, NSC, VIP Visits, box 492, NPMP. 58 The speech may be found in Mayall and Navari (1980, pp. 360–7). Much of this part is based on Hanhimäki (2004, pp. 275–7).

Searching for a balance 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67

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New York Times, 25 April 1973. Costigliola (1992, p. 174). Brandt (1989, p. 175). Heath (1998, p. 493). Memoranda of conversation: Kissinger and Jobert, 22 May 1973, ‘French Memcons Jan.–May 1973’, box 56, Henry Kissinger Office File, NPMP. Telephone conversation: Kissinger and Nixon, 16 September 1973. Available online at www.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB123/chile.htm. For a detailed account of these issues see Hanhimäki (2003, pp. 37–58). Lundestad (2003, pp. 190–3). American troop levels in Europe actually increased in the early 1970s: from about 246,000 to 264,000 between 1970 and 1973. On Pompidou see Soutou (2000, pp. 111–46).

Conclusions Piers Ludlow

European integration and the development of the Cold War in Europe did not take place in hermetically sealed containers entirely prevented from contact with one another. That much at least is clear from the chapters that have made up this volume. There is therefore some merit in the premise which inspired this book, namely that the existing historiographies of the Cold War and European integration have been slow to identify the potential points of intersection between the two processes and have consequently tended to underestimate the extent to which each influenced the other. The interaction between the two, however, has taken multiple different forms. The main task of this concluding chapter must therefore be to identify some of the forms which interplay between the Cold War and European integration has taken and the sub-periods within which such interplay was particularly intense. It will also suggest at least one vital area upon which future research should focus. For while the contributors to this book have already made a valuable addition to our knowledge, they have inevitably been unable to do much more than begin the process of exploring the interplay between the effort to forge a greater degree of European unity and the overarching East–West conflict. Much more remains to be investigated. In particular it will be suggested that research in this area may require historians to engage in the sort of enquiry about the nature of the international system more often left to specialists in international relations. The clearest examples of linkage between European integration and the Cold War occurred in the strategic visions of individual national leaders. For figures such as Brandt, de Gaulle, Pompidou or Wilson there was little scope to separate their European integration strategies and their approaches to the Cold War. On the contrary, there were multiple reasons to consider both together and to use developments in one as a spur to change in the other. Thus Soutou shows clearly in Chapter 1 how both de Gaulle and Pompidou used Western European strategies in response to the difficulties they encountered in their approach to détente. The former put forward ideas of European foreign policy cooperation in the early 1960s when there seemed little prospect of a breakthrough with the Soviet Bloc; the latter, by contrast, turned to Western Europe as a potential means of checking the excessive momentum which seemed to have built up behind East–West contacts from 1972 onwards. Similarly, Wilkens demon-

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strates how Brandt deliberately used his loyalty to the structures and patterns of Western integration as a means to reassure both international partners and domestic observers about his reliability as he embarked upon his ambitious new policies towards the East. Conventional Westpolitik in other words was used as a complement to radical Ostpolitik. The British case, meanwhile, suggests an even clearer case of interlinkage between Cold War considerations and European policy. The United Kingdom, it could be argued, had a long track-record of allowing Cold War strategy to shape its approach to European integration. Anthony Eden, for instance, had engaged most energetically in the collective effort to persuade France to ratify the European Defence Community (EDC) Treaty when he had become convinced that the Americans might implement their threatened ‘reappraisal’ should the treaty fall.1 The offer of British association with the EDC should thus be seen more as a piece of UK Cold War diplomacy, designed to keep the US firmly committed to Western Europe’s defence, than an accurate illustration of Britain’s view of the integration process. Similarly, Harold Macmillan had not been adverse to using Cold War rhetoric to justify his 1961 decision to apply for EEC membership. In his speech opening the first House of Commons debate about the application, the Prime Minister spoke of the nations of Western Europe needing to draw together under the ‘cloak of unity’ in order to ward off the threatening East wind.2 In the mid-1960s this long-standing trend was given a new twist by the need to respond to the challenge of de Gaulle. For as Ellison demonstrates, one key factor behind Britain’s 1967 application to join the EEC was the belief that the UK had to demonstrate its European credentials by seeking to join the European Community if it was to succeed in its efforts to counter the French President’s unorthodox approach to East–West relations. The preservation of Britain’s approach to the Cold War thus required a major alteration in the country’s relationship with the European integration process. Chapters 5 and 6 by Parr and Ellison respectively also underline, more broadly, how the question of Community enlargement became the EEC subject matter on which the linkages with the Cold War were most obviously apparent. To a large extent this may have reflected the fact that the question of who should belong to the European Community and in particular the vexed issue of whether the United Kingdom should be permitted to join was more clearly a strategic choice than the multiple, smaller decisions through which both the EEC’s policies and the EEC’s institutions evolved.3 The point made above about the way in which the Cold War and the integration process were most likely to intersect at a strategic level was hence much more likely to apply within the EEC to discussions about the UK membership requests than to debates about the nature of the Common Agricultural Policy or the exact level of tariff to be imposed upon transistor radios imported from Japan. It may also, however, have been influenced by the rhetoric employed both by the British as they sought to convince the EEC member states to open the doors to the Community and by the French as they voiced their opposition. Macmillan, for instance, frequently emphasised the way in which the ongoing economic division of Western Europe into two

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rival groupings – the EEC and the British-led European Free Trade Association (EFTA) – threatened to weaken Western unity in the face of the Cold War threat from the Soviet Bloc.4 De Gaulle meanwhile responded by suggesting that UK membership would lessen the prospects of Europe acquiring any significantly independent role in the Cold War and thereby undermine the continent’s prospects of overcoming the East–West divide.5 At an operational level, by contrast, European integration and the Cold War do not appear to have intersected too often during the 1960s and early 1970s. Detailed policy discussions in the European Commission or the EEC Council of Ministers seldom included references to the East–West confrontation; day-today NATO debates seem to have been equally free from allusions to European integration. And this despite the fact that many of the countries involved were represented by the same foreign ministers in both the Community and the NATO contexts. In part this may be attributable to the degree of bureaucratic separation explored in Ludlow’s chapter – a development which had much to do with organisational logic and little to do with any intrinsic incompatibility between Cold War concerns and the furthering of European unity. The chapters by Soutou and van der Harst (Chapter 7) in particular would suggest, however, that there was also a conscious decision in several European capitals to avoid undue cross-contamination between European cooperation and the Cold War. In the Dutch case, at least, this reflected a degree of satisfaction with the Atlanticist status quo and an anxiety that greater European autonomy in the fields of foreign policy or defence would decrease rather than increase Western security vis-à-vis the Soviet threat. This operational separation did not always apply. Chapter 2 by Martin and Chapter 8 by Ludlow point to a number of occasions when tensions and divisions from one field of Western cooperation spilled over into another. France, for instance, found it hard to rally its fellow Community member states behind a joint European stance in international monetary discussions with the United States while at the same time defying the will of its five EEC partners over the question of British accession. Likewise some of the mutual mistrust with which France and the Five viewed each other as the Community headed into the traumatic empty chair crisis of 1965 almost certainly sprang from tensions between Paris and other Western European capitals about the position Europe should adopt towards each of the superpowers. On a more positive note, it is also suggested that several Western countries came to appreciate the way in which the EEC provided an ongoing mechanism binding France to the West after de Gaulle had taken his country out of NATO’s integrated military command and had appeared to set a solitary course towards bilateral rapprochement with the countries of Eastern Europe. But such exceptions, while striking, do not fundamentally alter the rule: in most of their routine operations the institutions of NATO and those of the European Community were effectively insulated from one another, despite their geographic proximity from 1966 onward. The degree of separation between European integration and the Cold War also seems to have varied over time. It would appear to have been at its most

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acute during the early to mid-1960s. During these years, the détente process was still in its infancy and had yet to move from being a bilateral option – championed by France and briefly contemplated by other Western countries – to the functioning multilateral reality it would become during the 1970s.6 The rapid if uneven development of the EEC during the same period also accentuated the tendency of those involved with the integration experiment to bury themselves in their own affairs and pay little attention to the wider context.7 This was all the more so given the contrast between the advances of European cooperation in the economic field and the total lack of progress encountered by the Six whenever they contemplated so-called ‘political union’ – in other words the quest for a more coordinated approach to foreign policy.8 The deep divergence between France and its partners over both integration and East–West relations also militated against any real effort to connect the two. Matters began to change, however, towards the end of the decade. De Gaulle’s resignation was clearly one factor: with Pompidou at the Elysée European-level discussions of the Cold War appeared much less hazardous than they might have been prior to April 1969. Brandt’s policy activism was another. In a situation where Western Europe’s most dynamic leader deliberately sought support from his European partners for his new approach to the East, it became that much harder to maintain an artificial divide between integration matters and Cold War policy. And the successful resolution of the British membership issue also facilitated a greater degree of European coordination on Cold War matters. Not only was the presence of the Atlanticist British a further reassurance to countries like the Netherlands which had hitherto opposed any involvement of European structures with the Cold War, but the enlarged Community also constituted a potentially more powerful actor on the Cold War stage. It was therefore no coincidence that the early 1970s were to see the start of European Political Cooperation, the Community’s first, tentative steps towards foreign policy coordination, as well as the seemingly effective debut of such European cooperation in the course of the Helsinki negotiations of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE).9 The subsequent move to regularise and institutionalise the meetings of the European Council – the forum which brought together the heads of state and government of each EC member state – is also likely to have made it easier for broad matters of European concern, including therefore the development of the Cold War, to be debated in a European Community setting. At a more profound level, however, the new approaches of Pompidou, Brandt and Heath may well have reflected an alteration of the Cold War system. For the late 1960s and early 1970s were not just a period of change in the leadership of Western Europe’s three leading powers. They were also a time when the bipolarity of the Cold War order seemed to be decisively challenged, most famously by China, but also by Western Europe. The collapse of the US-centred Bretton Woods monetary system between 1971 and 1972 seemed indicative of this shift. The foreign policy frailty revealed by the United States’ difficulties in SouthEast Asia pointed in much the same direction. This seeming decline in American hegemony constituted both an opportunity and a challenge for Western Europe.

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It certainly increased the margin of manoeuvre for those countries wishing to operate in a more autonomous fashion towards the Eastern Bloc – an option utilised both by Brandt’s West Germany and by all of the European powers in the context of the CSCE. But it also forced Western Europe to discuss and determine collectively issues which it had earlier been able to leave either to the US alone or to the US-led institutions of the Atlantic Community. Learning to do this would not prove a comfortable experience, whether in the field of foreign policy cooperation – witness Europe’s disarray over the approach to adopt towards the 1973 war in the Middle East10 – or on the issue of global or monetary arrangements. The Werner Plan, the EEC’s first foray into the field of monetary cooperation, was to collapse in disarray by the mid-1970s.11 This would suggest that those historians seeking to advance further in an exploration of how the Cold War and the integration process interacted will need to direct some of their attention towards the operation of the international system. Detailed studies of individual leaders and individual countries will of course continue to be useful. As the chapters of this book have shown, there is scope to discover some interplay between the East–West conflict and European integration in the words and writings of de Gaulle, Brandt, Pompidou or Wilson. And the same exercise could doubtless be profitably repeated both for European leaders of an earlier era and for those who were to emerge in the course of the later 1970s and the 1980s. Harold Macmillan, Georges Bidault, Helmut Kohl or even Jacques Delors would probably all be worth subjecting to the type of detailed scrutiny employed by the chapters above. Narrow single-country-based studies are unlikely, however, to be able to reveal much about the nature of the international system within which each of these countries was obliged to operate, any more than a film made up entirely of ‘close-ups’ can convey an accurate impression of the landscape or backdrop against which it was shot. Some historians will need therefore to ‘pan-out’, broadening their focus to include the contours and characteristics of the whole Western system within which Britain, France, West Germany, the Netherlands or the Community institutions all operated. In so doing they will doubtless be able to learn much from those specialists in international relations who have written extensively about such matters. They will also, however, be able to bring to bear their own, more historical insights, not least of which is their ability to establish how this system evolved and developed over time. For it is in the parallel evolution of what might be termed the architecture of the Cold War system and that of European integration that the mutual influence of each upon the other is most likely to be discerned.

Notes 1 Ruane (2000). 2 The Times, 3.8.1961. 3 The literature on Community enlargement is extensive. Kaiser and Elvert (2004) is one obvious starting point; Deighton and Milward (1999) another. 4 See, for instance, the arguments the British PM set out to convince Kennedy of the

Conclusions

5 6 7

8 9 10 11

179

need to support British membership. TNA. PREM 11 3311, Memorandum annexed to Macmillan to Kennedy, 28.4.1961. Vaïsse (1998, pp. 191–224). The contrast between bilateral and multilateral détente is underlined in the opening chapter of Takeshi Yamamoto’s soon-to-be-completed Ph.D. thesis. Yamamoto (2007, ch. 1). The annoyance of US policy-makers at what they perceived as the tendency of European allies to bury themselves in their own affairs and not take responsibility for global issues is a recurrent theme in Foreign Relations of the United States 1964–8, vols 12 and 13. For a sense of how fruitless the 1960s discussions of political union were to prove to be, see C. Germond, ‘Les projets d’Union politique de l’année 1964’ in Loth (2001, pp. 109–30). European Political Cooperation still awaits its first serious historical treatment; for European cooperation within the context of the CSCE, see Romano (2006). A.G. Harryvan and J. van der Harst, ‘Learning Interdependence the Hard Way. The Netherlands, European Co-operation and the Oil Crisis, 1967–1977’ in Knipping (2004). Tsoukalis (1977).

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Index

Acheson, Dean 108, 114–15 Adenauer, Konrad 1, 6, 16–17, 19, 30, 68, 157–8, 161 agriculture 83–4, 90, 94, 96–9, 134, 138–42, 145–7, 175 Ailleret, General 39 Ailleret–Lemnitzer Agreement 43, 61 Albania 168 Algeria 16, 36, 46 Allende, Salvador 134 Alphand, Hervé 18, 40, 42, 46, 48 Andréani, Jacques 40 arms control 16, 53, 56–60, 69, 131, 134, 140, 154, 162–3, 166, 170; see also MBFR Austria 138–9 Azores summit 26 Bahr, Egon 7, 29, 54, 56, 60, 62, 67–74, 163–6 Ball, George 116–17, 157, 159, 161 Barzel, Rainer 26, 29 Basic Treaty 59, 133, 163 Bator, Francis 114 Baudet, Philippe 18 Beaumarchais, Jacques de 37 Belgium 4, 54, 120, 131–2, 140, 143 Berlin Crisis 16, 17 Berlin Wall, the 17, 67–9, 158 Bevin, Ernest 1 Bidault, Georges 178 Boegner, Jean-Marc 44 Bohlen, Charles 156–7 Bozo, Frédéric 41–2, 45, 49, 111 Brandt, Willy 6–7, 9, 13, 22, 24, 26–32, 41–2, 46, 48, 53–64, 67–78, 99, 132–3, 157, 163–5, 168, 174–5, 177–8 Bretton Woods 154, 177 Brezhnev, Leonid 20–2, 25, 27–8, 32, 57–9, 62, 111

Brezhnev doctrine 24, 132 Brosio, Manlio 42, 45 Brown, George 83–4, 89, 91, 93, 95–6, 100 Brzezinski, Zbigniew 160 Budapest Appeal 54 Calleo, David 162 Cambodia 153 Canada 57 Carstens, Karl 71 Cattani, Attilio 141 CDU (Christlich Demokratische Union) 26, 72, 77 Chile 134 China, People’s Republic of 5, 9, 14, 17, 19–20, 24–5, 46, 131, 135, 138, 153–5, 158, 163, 166, 170, 177 Church, Frank 19–20 CIA (Central Intelligence Agency) 107, 121–2, 158 Cleveland, Harland 41, 47 Cold War: end of 1, 53, 87, 94, 144, 149, 169; Europe’s centrality to 4–5, 153, 155, 166, 170; historiography of 1, 3, 9, 174; origins of 1; ‘second’ 1 Commission, European 4, 8, 83, 90, 130–1, 137–9, 141–2, 146, 176 Commonwealth, the 84–5, 94, 96 Communism 1, 14, 17–18, 20, 23, 54–5, 68, 73, 87, 93, 100, 131, 159–60, 164 Copenhagen Summit 31 Costigliola, Frank 161 Council of Ministers 8, 47, 97–9, 121, 130, 141, 176 Couve de Murville, Maurice 13, 17–18, 37, 41, 44–7, 97, 142, 160–1 Crossman, Richard 81 CSCE (Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe) 9, 20, 24–5, 40,

Index 191 54, 56, 58–60, 63–4, 72, 111, 116, 131–5, 148, 168–70, 177–8 Cuban Missile Crisis 69, 107 Czechoslovakia 5, 21–2, 39–43, 54–5, 60, 70, 72–3, 100, 131–2, 135, 163 Davignon report 133 Dean, Patrick 107 Debré, Michel 15–16, 44, 48–9, 57, 90 decolonisation 4, 16, 129–30 Delors, Jacques 178 Den Uyl, Johannes 129, 134–5 Denmark 90, 131–2, 152, 163, 166 disarmament see Arms control Dobrynin, Anatoly 165–6 Dubcek, Alexandr 40, 72 Dulles, John Foster 1–3 Durandin, Catherine 38 ECSC (European Coal and Steel Community) 2 EDC (European Defence Community) 2–3, 15, 147, 175 Eden, Anthony 175 EEC (European Economic Community) 2, 49, 70, 74, 128, 130, 133–4; evolution of 2, 5, 16, 18, 21, 26–7, 30–2, 47, 75, 82–5, 88, 90, 98–100, 106, 121–2, 130–1, 135, 138–9, 145–7, 175, 177; involvement with Cold War 8, 19, 21–2, 26, 59–64, 70, 75, 78, 82, 88, 94, 101, 118, 134, 137–49, 174–6, 178; membership of 1, 6–9, 13, 26–7, 36, 43–8, 75, 78, 81–101, 106–7, 110, 113, 116–18, 121, 124, 130–1, 133, 135, 144, 149, 152, 155, 158, 163, 166, 169, 175–7; US support for 2–3, 8–9, 31–2, 105, 107–8, 114–16, 118–19, 121–3, 137, 142, 146–9, 152, 161, 163, 168–9 EFTA (European Free Trade Association) 82, 93, 107, 144, 176 Eisenhower, Dwight 1, 159 Elysée Treaty 13–14, 16–17, 155, 158 Empty Chair Crisis 21, 82–3, 85, 88, 99, 107, 138, 145, 146–7 enlargement see EEC: membership of EPC (European Political Cooperation) see European political union Erhard, Ludwig 6, 13–14, 19, 116–17, 146, 157, 161 EURATOM (European Atomic Energy Community) 138–9 European Council, the 31–2, 130, 177 European integration: economics of 3, 4,

137, 144; historiography of 1–3, 9, 137, 174; origins of 1, 137 European political union 6–8, 11–13, 15–20, 22–3, 26–7, 30–1, 56, 59–64, 74–5, 84–6, 92–3, 95–6, 98–9, 106, 118, 124, 128–9, 132–5, 143–4, 147–8, 152, 156, 174, 176–7 European Recovery Programme (ERP) see Marshall Plan European security conference see CSCE Evian Agreements 16 Fanfani, Amintore 142 Fock, Jeno 39 Ford, Gerald 168–9 Fouchet Plan 8, 13, 16, 128, 133 Fowler, Henry 44 France 3–4, 11–32, 130, 134, 175, 178; attitude towards EEC 5–6, 11, 15–16, 18–19, 21, 26–7, 30–2, 44–5, 61–2, 70, 74, 83–4, 88, 99–101, 106–7, 128, 138, 145–7, 176; eastern policy of 6, 12–32, 36–43, 50, 59–60, 63, 70, 86–7, 105, 107, 110–11, 115, 122–4, 138, 147, 157, 162, 175–7; relations with Britain 6–7, 13, 22, 26–7, 36, 43–8, 81–2, 89–99, 109, 117, 121–2, 130, 144, 155, 158, 175–6; relations with United States 9, 11–12, 14–15, 18–27, 30–1, 36, 43, 46–7, 49, 56–7, 62, 85, 87, 92–3, 96, 98, 109, 111, 119, 121, 143, 145–6, 148, 152–3, 155–7, 159, 161–2, 168–9, 176; relations with West Germany 6, 12–32, 37, 39–40, 42–4, 46–8, 53–64, 70, 86–7, 90–1, 99, 106–9, 145–6, 155, 158–9, 165; view of Cold War 5–6, 14–15, 17–32, 36–9, 43, 55–61, 87, 92, 96, 109, 119, 121, 129, 143, 155, 162, 169, 174–5; withdrawal from NATO 7–8, 18–19, 21–3, 41, 45–6, 81–3, 87, 89, 97, 105, 107–14, 117, 122–3, 128, 131, 146–7, 155–8, 161–2, 176 Franco-German Treaty see Elysée Treaty Gaitskell, Hugh 84 GATT (General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade) 85, 142, 146–7 Gaulle, Charles de 1, 5–6, 8–9, 11–25, 30, 36–50, 53, 74, 85–8, 92–3, 100, 117, 119–21, 128, 130, 133, 135, 143, 145–6, 148, 156–7, 159, 164, 170, 174–5, 177–8; and détente 11–15, 17–22, 32, 36–42, 50, 105–6, 110–11, 122–4, 145, 152, 155, 157–8, 162, 169, 174, 176;

192

Index

Gaulle, Charles de continued Phnom Penh speech 38–9; Quebec speech 38–9, 97, 155; veto of UK membership 7, 36, 44–8, 81–2, 89–91, 94, 96–101, 107, 121–2, 144, 155, 158, 175–6; visit to Poland 21, 36–9, 97; visit to Soviet Union 20, 36, 111, 115, 156–8, 161; withdrawal from NATO 7, 18–19, 21, 45–6, 81–3, 87, 89, 97, 105, 107–14, 117, 128, 146–7, 155–8, 161, 176 German Democratic Republic 7, 18, 21, 25, 28–9, 38, 42, 59–60, 67–70, 72, 74–7, 82, 86–7, 115, 132–3, 135, 158, 163–5 Germany, Federal Republic of 2, 4, 14, 40, 82–4, 86, 88, 90, 93, 95, 107, 111, 130, 134, 140, 147, 178; attitude towards EEC 7, 59–62, 69–71, 73–4, 78, 99, 107, 133, 144; borders 14, 17, 19–20, 24, 28, 37, 39, 42, 53, 63, 69, 71, 75–6, 118, 163, 175; eastern policies of 6–7, 9, 18, 21–2, 25–6, 28–30, 37, 42, 47, 59–60, 63, 67–78, 86, 93, 106, 108, 113, 115, 118, 132–3, 135, 148, 153, 157–9, 161–6, 169–70, 175, 177–8; possession of nuclear weapons 8, 15, 19–20, 24, 29–30, 54, 60–1, 86, 95, 100, 109, 112, 114, 116–17, 122–3, 159; relations with France 6–7, 13–19, 23, 26, 32, 37, 39–40, 42–4, 46–8, 53–64, 70, 77, 86–7, 90–1, 99, 106–8, 144–6, 155, 157–9, 177; relations with UK 76, 99, 108–10, 113, 116–17, 119, 123, 144, 177; relations with US 7–8, 17–19, 21, 30, 61, 63, 73, 77, 108, 110–11, 113, 116, 146, 148, 153, 157–9, 161–6, 168–9, 177; reunification 14–15, 19–20, 24–5, 28–9, 37–8, 53, 55, 67, 69, 76, 87, 106, 108, 112, 118, 157–9, 161, 165 Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry 6, 25–6, 28 Gomulka, Vladislav 21, 37, 39 gold 36, 44–6, 48–9, 85, 100 Greece 87, 130 Gretchko, Marshall 40 Gromyko, Andrei 14, 18–19, 27, 32, 132–3, 165 Gronchi, Giovanni 15 Hague Summit, The 75, 99–100, 122, 133 Hallstein, Walter 138, 146 Hallstein Doctrine 71, 158 Harmel, Pierre 41, 97, 120, 142 Harmel Report, the 13, 21, 41–7, 49, 71, 97, 100, 120–2, 131, 162, 164

Heath, Edward 56, 75, 81, 148, 168, 177 Hetherington, Alastair 89 human rights 59, 69, 134–5, 168 Hungary 131 IMF (International Monetary Fund) 36, 44, 47–50, 85 Indonesia 130 Iraq 149 Ireland 152, 163, 166 Israel 133, 153 Italy 70, 84, 107–8, 139–40, 145, 159 Japan 25, 175 Jobert, Michel 28, 30–1, 60–1, 168 Johnson, Lyndon Baines 11, 105–6, 111–12, 114–22, 152–3, 155–64, 169–70 Jong, Piet de 129–30, 132–3 Kennedy, John 1, 11, 17, 69, 107, 109, 129, 153, 157–9 Kennedy Round see GATT Khrushchev, Nikita 15, 17, 68, 144, 156 Kiesinger, Kurt-Georg 47–8, 93–4, 157, 161 Kissinger, Henry 9, 28, 31, 59, 77, 148, 152, 154, 163–9 Kohl, Helmut 6, 26, 32, 178 Korean War 2 Kosygin, Alexei 18, 48, 94 Kuisel, Richard 43 Lacouture, Jean 38 Lahr, Rolf 13 Laos 153 Lenart, Josef 39 Löwenthal, Richard 76 Lundestad, Geir 169 Luns, Joseph 8, 129–33, 135, 142, 145 Luxembourg 54 Macmillan, Harold 7, 81, 84, 88, 144, 155, 175, 178 McNamara, Robert 114, 159 Maillard, Pierre 95 Mania, Andrzej 161 Mansfield, Michael 23, 169 Marshall, George 168 Marshall Plan 2, 152, 168 MBFR (Mutual and Balanced Force Reductions) 25, 27–8, 30, 59, 62–3, 71, 134, 162 Messina Conference 1, 84, 88

Index 193 Messmer, Pierre 39–40 Middle East 9, 23, 95, 133, 153–4, 168, 170, 178 Miller, Irwin 160 Mills, Wilbur 160 Milward, Alan 3, 137 Mitterrand, François 6 MLF (Multilateral Force) 18, 36, 95, 109, 111–12, 123, 159 monetary policy 36, 43–50, 75, 78, 85, 99, 134, 154, 176–8 Moscow Treaty 75, 77, 163, 165–6 NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organisation) 1, 5, 14, 16–17, 21, 30–1, 36, 40–4, 49, 54, 58, 60–1, 63, 71, 73, 84, 91, 93, 95, 99–100, 109, 128–30, 133–5, 137, 140–3, 145, 148, 153, 156–9, 168–9, 176; and détente 8, 45–7, 59, 82, 87–8, 97, 105–6, 111–16, 118–20, 122–3, 128, 131, 157, 162–4, 167; French withdrawal 7–8, 18–19, 21–3, 25, 41, 45–6, 81–3, 87, 89, 97, 105, 107–15, 117, 128, 131, 146–7, 155–8, 161–2, 176 Netherlands, the 4, 54, 95, 178; attitude to the EEC 3, 8, 99, 107, 128–31, 134, 145, 176, 177; attitude towards NATO 8, 128–31, 134, 176; opposition to France 8, 107, 128–31, 143, 145; relationship with US 8, 128–30 neutrality 1, 25, 27, 29, 54–5, 57, 60, 115, 139, 156, 158–9, 162 New Zealand 94, 96 Nield, William 91 Nigeria 85 Nixon, Richard 9, 11, 22–3, 25–6, 28, 56, 148, 152–5, 163–70 Norway 90, 131 NPT (Non-Proliferation Treaty) 61, 72, 122, 138–9 Nuclear Planning Group (NPG) 21, 122, 159 Nuclear Test Ban Treaty 16 nuclear weapons 8, 15–16, 19–22, 24–5, 27–31, 54, 60–1, 63, 84–6, 95, 100, 107, 109, 111–12, 114, 116–18, 122–3, 128–30, 143, 145, 154–5, 159, 163, 169–70 Oder–Neisse Line see Germany, Federal Republic of: borders offset negotiations 8, 117, 119, 122 oil 75, 133, 153–4, 168

Organisation of European Economic Cooperation (OEEC) 2 Ostpolitik see Germany, Federal Republic of: eastern policies of Ottawa Declaration 31 Palliser, Michael 89–90, 94, 97, 117 Papua New Guinea 129 Peyrefitte, Alain 15, 146 Poland 6, 21, 24, 36–9, 42, 54, 57, 70, 77, 97, 131, 163, 165 Pompidou, Georges 5–6, 13, 44, 53–64, 75, 78, 90, 99, 101, 148, 168–9, 174, 177–8; at Azores summit 26; and détente 11–12, 14, 22–32, 55, 62, 174; visit to US 25 Portugal 87, 130 Potsdam agreements 13–14 Prague Spring, the see Czechoslovakia Prate, Alain 49 Quadripartite Agreement 29, 59, 77–8, 163, 165–6 Quebec 38–9, 97, 155 Raimond, Jean-Bernard 30, 59–60, 62 Reilly, Patrick 96–8 Reston, James 168 Rey, Jean 139 Rey, Marie-Pierre 38 Rogers, William 164 Roll, Eric 113 Romania 24, 42, 70, 72, 131 Rostow, Walt 108, 114–15, 119 Roussel, Eric 38 Rush, Kenneth 166 Rusk, Dean 70, 107–9, 115, 117, 160 Russel, Richard 155 SALT (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks) 25, 27–8, 31, 154, 163, 166, 170 Schaetzel, Robert 157 Scheel, Walter 30–1, 53, 57, 61, 165 Schmelzer, Norbert 8, 132–5 Schmid, Carlo 54–5 Schmidt, Helmut 6, 57 Schröder, Gerhard 108, 115, 142, 146 Schuman, Robert 1 Schumann, Maurice 58–9 Seydoux, Roger 42 Soviet Union, the 5, 8, 9, 11–14, 17–25, 27–9, 32, 36–41, 50, 54–60, 63, 68–9, 72–4, 76–7, 83, 86–8, 92–3, 105–7, 111, 113–14, 118–19, 123–4, 130–5, 138–40, 144–5, 153–70, 174, 176

194

Index

Spaak, Paul-Henri 1, 45 SPD (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands) 7, 62, 68, 71–2, 163 Special Drawing Rights (SDR) 43–4, 46–9 steel 3 sterling 44–5, 48, 85, 89; 1967 devaluation of 45–6, 97–8 Steward, Michael 83, 86, 88, 109–10 Stoel, Max van der 135 Thomson, George 113, 116 Trachtenberg, Marc 4 trade 3, 8–9, 13–14, 69–70, 85, 90, 128, 130–1, 134, 138–9, 147, 154–5, 159–61, 163, 167, 169, 175 Trend, Burke 113 Turkey 87, 130 Tuthill, John 147 Tyler, William 156 Ulbricht, Walter 165 UN (United Nations) 70, 93, 132, 135 United Kingdom 4, 31, 61, 138, 140, 143, 178; membership of EEC 4, 6–8, 13, 22, 26, 36, 43–8, 75, 78, 81–101, 106–7, 110, 113, 116–18, 121–2, 124, 130–1, 133, 135, 144, 152, 155, 158, 163, 166, 169, 175–7; relations with France 6–7, 13, 22, 26–7, 36, 43–8, 81–2, 89–99, 109, 155, 158, 175–6; relations with Germany 8, 53, 57, 76, 99, 108–10, 113, 116–17, 119, 123, 144, 165; relations with US 7–8, 17, 82, 84, 87–8, 92, 94–5, 97, 100, 105–24, 130, 168–9; role in NATO 54, 82, 87, 89, 91, 93, 97, 105–8, 110–13, 116, 121, 123, 130, 159 United States, the 2–4, 9, 137, 140; Cold War strategy 9, 11, 17, 24–5, 27–8, 41–2, 68–70, 87, 105–9, 111, 113–24, 134, 139, 145–6, 153–7, 159–63, 165–70; leadership role 1–2, 5, 9, 11, 23–4, 27–8, 31, 42, 44, 46–9, 54, 56, 59,

70, 77, 84, 87–90, 98, 100, 105–8, 111, 113–24, 129–30, 132, 134, 142–4, 148–9, 152, 154–6, 159, 162, 164–70, 177–8; military presence in Europe 8, 14–15, 17–18, 20, 23, 25, 27, 29–30, 53, 56–8, 60, 62, 84, 86–7, 100, 117, 119, 123, 129, 132, 143, 158, 164, 167, 169, 175; relations with Britain 7–9, 84, 92, 105–24, 152, 168–9; support for integration 2–3, 8–9, 31–2, 105, 107–8, 114–16, 118–19, 121–3, 137, 142, 146–9, 152, 161, 163, 169 US dollar 43–4, 48–9, 85, 100, 154 Vaïsse, Maurice 38, 42 Venturini, Antonio 145 Vietnam War 5, 9, 19, 41, 87, 107–8, 118–19, 123, 129, 131–2, 153–5, 158, 160–1, 163, 166, 169–70, 177 Vinogradov, Sergei 18 Voorhoeve, J.C. 128–9 Warsaw Pact, the 1, 21, 37, 54, 73, 111, 134, 162–3, 169 Warsaw Treaty 75, 77, 163 Watergate scandal 9, 167 Watson, Adam 121 Werner Plan 178 WEU (Western European Union) 30–1, 61–2, 96 Wilson, Harold 44, 81–6, 88–101, 106–7, 110, 112–13, 116–17, 119, 121–3, 153, 155, 174, 178 Wolton, Thierry 38 Wormser, Olivier 13 Wright, Oliver 90 Yaoundé Agreement 85 Year of Europe, the 9, 28, 163, 166–8, 170 Yugoslavia 24, 42, 70, 131, 149 Zorine, Valerian 40, 111