Origins of the European Security System: The Helsinki Process Revisited, 1965-75 (Css Studies in Security and International Relations)

Origins of the European Security System

This edited volume explores the significance of the early “Helsinki process” as a means of redefining and broadening the concept of security during the latter half of the Cold War. The early Helsinki process introduced innovative confidence-building measures, and made human rights a requirement of a legitimate and well-functioning international system, thus providing the framework for disarmament in Europe in the mid-1980s, as well as the inspiration for the later demise of Communism in Europe. Using newly declassified archives, the book explores the positions of the two superpowers and the crucial impact of European Community member states, which introduced European values into the Cold War debate on security. It also shows how Eastern and Central European nations, such as Poland, did not restrict themselves to providing support to Moscow but, rather, pursued interests of their own. The volume sheds light on the complementary role of the Neutrals as mediators and special negotiators in the multilateral negotiations, on the interdependence of politics and economics, and on the link between military security and the CSCE process. This book will be of much interest to students of international history, Cold War studies, European history, and strategic studies. Andreas Wenger is professor of international security policy and director of the Center for Security Studies at ETH Zurich (Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich). Vojtech Mastny is project coordinator of the Parallel History Project on Cooperative Security, based in Zurich. Christian Nuenlist is a foreign desk editor at the Swiss daily Mittelland Zeitung and a lecturer in contemporary history at the University of Zurich.

CSS Studies in security and international relations Series Editors: Andreas Wenger and Victor Mauer Center for Security Studies, ETH Zurich

The CSS Studies in Security and International Relations examines historical and contemporary aspects of security and conflict. The series provides a forum for new research based upon an expanded conception of security and will include monographs by the Center’s research staff and associated academic partners. War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War Threat perceptions in the East and West Edited by Vojtech Mastny, Sven Holtsmark, and Andreas Wenger Transforming NATO in the Cold War Challenges beyond deterrence in the 1960s Edited by Andreas Wenger, Christian Nuenlist, and Anna Locher US Foreign Policy and the War on Drugs Displacing the cocaine and heroin industry Cornelius Friesendorf

Cyber-Security and Threat Politics US efforts to secure the information age Myriam Dunn Cavelty Securing ‘the Homeland’ Critical infrastructure, risk and (in)security Edited by Myriam Dunn Cavelty and Kristian Søby Kristensen Origins of the European Security System The Helsinki process revisited 1965–75 Edited by Andreas Wenger, Vojtech Mastny, and Christian Nuenlist

Origins of the European Security System The Helsinki process revisited, 1965–75

Edited by Andreas Wenger, Vojtech Mastny, and Christian Nuenlist

First published 2008 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, 2008. “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.” © 2008 Selection and editorial matter, Andreas Wenger, Vojtech Mastny, and Christian Nuenlist; individual chapters, the contributors All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized 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 Wenger, Andreas. Origins of the European security system : the Helsinki process revisited, 1965–75 / edited by Andreas Wenger, Vojtech Mastny, and Christian Nuenlist. p. cm. — (CSS studies in security and international relations) Includes index. 1. Cold war—Diplomatic history. 2. Detente. 3. Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (1972 : Helsinki, Finland) I. Mastny, Vojtech, 1936- II. Nünlist, Christian. III. Title. JZ5599.W47 2008 909.825—dc22 2007049879 ISBN 0-203-89530-4 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN10: 0-415-43387-8 (hbk) ISBN10: 0-203-89530-4 (ebk) ISBN13: 978-0-415-43387-7 (hbk) ISBN13: 978-0-203-89530-6 (ebk)

Contents

Notes on contributors Acknowledgments

vii xi

PART I

Introduction 1 New perspectives on the origins of the CSCE process

1 3

ANDREAS WENGER AND VOJTECH MASTNY

PART II

The superpowers and European détente 2 North America, Atlanticism, and the making of the Helsinki Final Act

23

25

MICHAEL COTEY MORGAN

3 Henry Kissinger and the reconceptualization of European security, 1969–75

46

JEREMI SURI

4 The USSR and the Helsinki process, 1969–75: optimism, doubt, or defiance?

65

MARIE-PIERRE REY

PART III

Eastern strategies in the CSCE 5 The Warsaw Pact and the European security conference, 1964–69: sovereignty, hegemony, and the German question DOUGLAS SELVAGE

83

85

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Contents

6 The GDR’s targets in the early CSCE process: another missed opportunity to freeze the division of Germany, 1969–73

107

FEDERICA CACIAGLI

7 “Europe must not become Greater Finland”: opponents of the CSCE – the German CDU/CSU and China

124

BERND SCHAEFER

PART IV

Western strategies in the CSCE 8 The EC Nine, the CSCE, and the changing pattern of European security

143

145

DANIEL MÖCKLI

9 From linkage to freer movement: the FRG and the nexus between Western CSCE preparations and Deutschlandpolitik, 1969–72

164

PETRI HAKKARAINEN

10 “It was Cold War and we wanted to win”: human rights, “détente,” and the CSCE

183

FLORIBERT BAUDET

PART V

The Neutrals – economics – military security

199

11 Expanding the East–West dialog beyond the bloc division: the Neutrals as negotiators and mediators, 1969–75

201

CHRISTIAN NUENLIST

12 Helsinki and Rambouillet: US attitudes towards trade and security during the early CSCE process, 1972–75

222

DUCCIO BASOSI

13 The link between CSCE and MBFR: two sprouts from one bulb

237

HELGA HAFTENDORN

Index

259

Contributors

Duccio Basosi is a senior researcher at the Machiavelli Center for Cold War Studies in Florence. He received his Ph.D. from the University of Florence in 2004. He is the author of Il governo del dollaro: Interdipendenza economica e potere statunitense negli anni di Richard Nixon, 1969–73 (Polistampa, 2006) on US foreign policy and the downfall of the Bretton Woods monetary system. His publications include articles in Storia delle relazioni internazionali and Italia contemporanea. Floribert Baudet is lecturer in contemporary history at the University of Utrecht, where he received his Ph.D. in 2001. His academic fields of interest include human rights, Central and Eastern Europe, Dutch foreign policy, and Yugoslavia. He has published numerous articles in Dutch and English, including in the Helsinki Monitor, and book chapters in edited volumes, including in Human Rights in the Foreign Policy of the Netherlands (Intersentia, 2002) and Human Rights in Europe after 1945 (Peter Lang, 2003). Federica Caciagli received her Ph.D. from the University of Florence in 2005 with her thesis “Ostpolitik beyond Bonn: The GDR Facing Soviet Security Designs for Europe in the Détente Years.” Her M.A. thesis from the University of Florence in 1999 was entitled “Perestroika, SDI, and the Soviet Crisis, 1985–90.” She received another M.A. degree for her work “Politics, Security, and Integration of Central and Eastern European Countries” at the School of Slavonic and Eastern European Studies at University College in London in 2000. Helga Haftendorn is professor emeritus of international relations at the Free University Berlin. She has taught at universities in Washington, Stanford, Harvard, Florence, and Hamburg, and she has published numerous books on US and German foreign policy. Her main publications (in English) include Security and Détente (Praeger, 1985), NATO and the Nuclear Revolution (Oxford University Press, 1996), Imperfect Unions (Oxford University Press, 1999), and Coming of Age: German Foreign Policy since 1945 (Rowman and Littlefield, 2006). She is a member of the Berlin-Brandenburg Academy of Sciences and was awarded the Max-Planck research prize in 1995.

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Petri Hakkarainen is a Ph.D. student at Wolfson College at the University of Oxford and is currently completing his doctoral thesis on the FRG and the CSCE process. He received his M.A. degree in 2001 from the University of Helsinki, where he participated in the research project “Détente, Finland, and European Security” in 2002. In 1999, he served as conference secretary of the international conference “The First Détente, 1953–58” at the University of Helsinki. He has published several articles and chapters in Finnish journals and edited books. Since 2006 he has been working for the Finnish Ministry for Foreign Affairs and was stationed at the Finnish Embassy in Berlin in 2007. Vojtech Mastny is project coordinator of the Parallel History Project on Cooperative Security (PHP). He has been professor of history and international relations at Columbia University, University of Illinois, Boston University, and the Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced Studies. He was also Professor of Strategy at US Naval War College in Newport and Fulbright professor at the University of Bonn. His books include The Helsinki Process and the Reintegration of Europe (New York University Press, 1992), Russia’s Road to the Cold War (Columbia University Press, 1980), and The Cold War and Soviet Insecurity (Oxford University Press, 1997: American Historical Association’s 1997 George L. Beer Prize). He is co-editor of War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War (Routledge, 2006) and of A Cardboard Castle? An Inside History of the Warsaw Pact, 1955–91 (Central European University Press, 2005). Daniel Möckli is a senior researcher at the Center for Security Studies at the ETH Zurich. After receiving his Ph.D. from the University of Zurich in 2005, he was working as a visiting fellow at the EU Institute for Security Studies in Paris. He has published on the evolution of a European foreign policy since 1945, the EU and the Middle East, Swiss foreign and security policy, and the role of the private sector in international security. His books include European Foreign Policy During the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity, 1969–74 (I.B. Tauris, 2008). He is currently coediting a volume on European–American Relations and the Middle East: From Suez to Iraq (Routledge, forthcoming). Michael Cotey Morgan is a Ph.D. candidate in international history at Yale University, where he is writing his dissertation on the origins of the Helsinki Final Act. A graduate of Cambridge and the University of Toronto, his articles and reviews have appeared in the Wall Street Journal, the Globe and Mail, and the International Journal. Christian Nuenlist is a foreign desk editor at the Mittelland Zeitung, a leading Swiss daily newspaper, and a lecturer in contemporary history at the University of Zurich, where he received his Ph.D. in 2005. He was a senior researcher at the Center for Security Studies at ETH Zurich from 1999 to 2007. He is the author of Kennedys rechte Hand, a political biography of McGeorge Bundy (CSS, 1999), and he is co-editor of Transforming NATO in

Contributors

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the Cold War (Routledge, 2007) and Transatlantic Relations at Stake: Aspects of NATO, 1956–72 (CSS, 2006). He is currently completing a monograph entitled Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Political Cooperation in NATO: The Western Alliance and Khrushchev’s Foreign Policy, 1955–63 and coediting a volume on International Perspectives on de Gaulle’s Foreign Policy (Rowman and Littlefield, 2008). Marie-Pierre Rey is professor in contemporary history and director of the Centre de Recherches sur l’Histoire des Slaves at the University of Paris I Panthéon Sorbonne. She graduated from the University of Paris with a Ph.D. thesis on French–Soviet relations from 1964–74 (1989). In 1997, she finished her habilitation The Soviet Union and Western Europe, 1953–75 (L’URSS et L’Europe Occidentale de 1953 à 1975: Université Paris 1, 1997). She was NATO fellow in 1995–96 and a fellow of the Norwegian Nobel Institute in 2001–02. Her publications include Le dilemme russe: la Russie et l’Europe occidentale d’Ivan le Terrible à Boris Eltsine (Flammarion, 2002), De la Russie à l’Union soviétique: la construction de l’empire, 1462–53 (Hachette, 1994), La tentation du rapprochement, France et U.R.S.S. à l’heure de la détente, 1964–74 (Publications de la Sorbonne, 1991), and Les Russes de Gorbatchev à Poutine (Armand Colin, 2005). Bernd Schaefer is a research fellow at the German Historical Institute (GHI) in Washington, D.C., where he is working on a book about East Asian Communism and American–Soviet rivalry in the 1960s and 1970s. He is a senior fellow at the Woodrow Wilson International Center’s Cold War International History Project (CWIHP). Previously he has worked extensively in the field of GDR history and its post-Communist appraisal. He holds a Ph.D. from the University of Halle in Germany (1998), a Master of Public Administration from the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University (1991), and a M.A. from the University of Tuebingen in Germany (1988). His publications include North Korean “Adventurism” and China’s Long Shadow, 1966–72 (CWIHP, 2004), American Détente and German Ostpolitik, 1969–72 (GHI, 2004), and Staat und katholische Kirche in der DDR, 1945–89 (Boehlau, 1998). Jeremi Suri is an associate professor of history at the University of Wisconsin and a senior fellow at the University of Wisconsin’s Center for World Affairs and the Global Economy. He received his Ph.D. from Yale University in 2001. His research and teaching focus on international security, social movements, and the connections between domestic change and foreign policy-making. He is the author of Henry Kissinger and the American Century (Harvard University Press, 2007), The Global Revolutions of 1968 (W.W. Norton, 2006), and Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Détente (Harvard University Press, 2003). He also published numerous articles in Diplomatic History, Cold War History, International Security, Journal of Cold War Studies, Contemporary European History, and other journals.

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Contributors

Douglas Selvage is an assistant professor of history at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, Florida. Formerly, as a historian at the U.S. Department of State, he compiled and annotated volumes on European Security, 1969–1976 and Eastern Europe, Eastern Mediterranean, 1969–72 (co-edited), in the Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS) series. He also co-organized a joint documentary project between the Department of State and the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs on Soviet–American relations in the era of détente, 1969–76. He has published articles in the Cold War International History Project Bulletin, International Affairs (Budapest), and Rocznik polsko-niemiecki. He is currently finishing a book on the Warsaw Pact and the German Question, 1955–70. Andreas Wenger is professor of Swiss and international security policy at the ETH Zurich (Swiss Federal Institute of Technology Zurich) and director of the Center for Security Studies at ETH Zurich. He is the author/co-editor of several books, including Transforming NATO during the Cold War (Routledge, 2007), War Plans and Alliances in the Cold War (Routledge, 2006), International Relations: From the Cold War to the Globalized World (Lynne Rienner, 2003) and Living With Peril: Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Nuclear Weapons (Rowman & Littlefield, 1997). He also has published articles in Cold War History, Journal of Cold War Studies, Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte, Presidential Studies Quarterly, and other journals.

Acknowledgments

This book evolved in the context of the Parallel History Project (PHP) on Cooperative Security (www.php.isn.ethz.ch). In an attempt to shed new light on the history of the Cold War, the PHP brings together a network of scholars and academic institutions to collect, analyze, and interpret formerly classified documents from Eastern European and NATO records. Soon after its foundation in early 1999, the PHP initiated an international history project that aimed at providing new scholarly perspectives on the transformation of European security in the early Helsinki process. The opening of archives due to the moving 30-year declassification rule promised a wealth of new material for such a project. The research for the chapters in this book was originally undertaken for a conference convened at ETH Zurich on 7–10 September 2005. The conference was organized by the Center of Security Studies, in cooperation with the National Security Archive at George Washington University in Washington, D.C., and the Machiavelli Center for Cold War Studies in Florence. On the occasion of the thirtieth anniversary of the Helsinki Final Act, some 55 leading scholars in the field and ten former diplomats and policy-makers discussed the significance of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) for the redefinition and expansion of the meaning of security. The three-day conference mixed “critical oral history” – the testimonies of contemporary witnesses – with the most recent archive-based historical research. The original texts were rewritten based on the discussion during the conference and the editor’s comments. Thus, this book represents the final product of what for us has been an exciting and stimulating collaboration among a group of friends and colleagues. We have been extraordinarily fortunate to have been assisted by many people and in a variety of ways, from the development of the conference concept through to the publication of the book. We thank Malcolme Byrne and Massimiliano Guderzo for assisting us in the editorial committee set up in early 2004 to review paper proposals and to review critically the first drafts of submitted papers. CSCE diplomats Yuri Kashlev (former Soviet Union), John Maresca (United States), Jacques Andréani (France), Luigi Ferarris (Italy), Siegfried Bock (former East Germany), Nicolae Ecobescu (Romania), Edouard Brunner and Hans-Jörg Renk (Switzerland), and the former British CSCE expert at the

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Acknowledgments

Foreign Office, Sir Crispin Tickell, all shared their insights at the conference. Adam D. Rotfeld, the then foreign minister of Poland, actively participated in the meeting for two days and delivered the introductory keynote speech. We would like to thank all the conference participants who presented their views and provided useful comments. In addition to the authors of this volume, they are Juhana Aunesluoma, Jordan Baev, Oliver Bange, Csaba Békés, Alan Dobson, Thomas Fischer, Kostadin Grozev, Jussi Hanhimäki, Seppo Hentilä, Wanda Jarzabek, Klaus Larres, Gottfried Niedhart, Leopoldo Nuti, Ilaria Poggiolini, Ambassador Rudolf V. Perina, Sandy Roupioz, Erwin Schmidl, and Svetlana Savranskaya. Our thanks go also to Jennifer Gassmann from the Center for Security Studies for her invaluable help with the organization of the conference and to Swiss pianist André Desponds, who entertained the conference participants with an East–West concert and an improvised “happy birthday” medley for Helga Haftendorn. We are delighted that our project ended up in the capable hands of Andrew Humphrys at Routledge, who has handled the review and production process with great skill. Finally, we thank Christopher Findlay from the Center for Security Studies for his excellent editorial assistance. While we are indebted to all those mentioned above, the final responsibility for any errors is ours alone. Andreas Wenger, Vojtech Mastny, Christian Nuenlist Zurich and Washington, 15 November 2007

Part I

Introduction

1

New perspectives on the origins of the CSCE process Andreas Wenger and Vojtech Mastny

The Helsinki process remains a controversial legacy of the Cold War. Did the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) play a crucial role in bringing the East–West conflict to an end? Or was it largely irrelevant with the implosion of the Soviet Union that decided the outcome? There is no doubt that Communism collapsed under the weight of its economic inefficiency and the rejection of its repressive political system by its subject peoples. A non-violent ending of the Cold War, however, was not preordained. Developments set in motion by the Helsinki Final Act helped make it possible. By 1989, the CSCE had supplied a normative framework conducive to the peaceful demise of Communism while providing for the radical, but orderly, disarmament that defused military confrontation in Europe. The Helsinki process created the external conditions for the internal legitimization of democratic reform movements in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe.1 It had not always looked that way. The CSCE is a textbook case of history read backwards. At the time when the heads of states gathered to sign the Helsinki Final Act in August 1975, the West widely viewed it as a one-sided Soviet victory that sanctioned Moscow’s sphere of influence and the partition of Europe – an assessment that was seemingly supported by the Kremlin’s obvious satisfaction. Even after this simplistic view was proven false, as the CSCE became a forum where Moscow was put on the defensive, it remained uncertain how much difference, if any, the verbal battles waged there could eventually make. Few contemporaries were prepared to see the Helsinki process in a larger historical perspective. Only the revolutionary events of 1989/91, which brought the dynamic side of the process to the fore, highlighted the role of human rights in the expansion and redefinition of security. With the benefit of hindsight, the Final Act could be seen as a pyrrhic victory of a short-sighted and overconfident Soviet leadership and a genuine victory for the West’s innovative multilateral diplomacy. Soon, however, the CSCE’s importance as a viable model for a new European security system began to be overrated.2 The Final Act’s potential as a catalyst of change was already becoming apparent in 1986 – after the tenth anniversary of the CSCE and before the revolutionary changes in Eastern Europe took place. One of the co-authors of this introductory chapter wrote at that time:

4

A. Wenger and V. Mastny In the Final Act, the West pledged its respect for the geopolitical realities Moscow deemed essential for its security. For its part, the Soviet Union subscribed to texts that made its domestic conduct a legitimate subject of international scrutiny. It received a better title to something it already had – control of its East European empire. But the West was given a means to facilitate transformation of that empire. The distinction was between the static and the dynamic components of the Final Act, between present and future deliveries, between security as a condition to be achieved and security as a process to be maintained, between an order built on power alone and an order with justice. An open-ended product of unconventional diplomacy, Helsinki was the beginning rather than an end.3

This book is about the origins of that beginning – the lengthy run-up to the Final Act that prefigured much of the substance as well as the direction of what would follow. In an attempt to take stock of the most innovative results of recent research, the individual chapters deal with Eastern and Western strategies, analyze the views of the two superpowers, discuss the critical role of the then nine members of the nascent European Community, and evaluate the contributions of the neutral and nonaligned countries. The authors used a wealth of new evidence from a multitude of archives and many valuable testimonies by the diplomatic eyewitnesses of the time. The CSCE was a largely open process – the reason why much of its record already became available and published at the time. But enough of the preparatory work and deliberations behind the scenes remained hidden, only to become available later on. The records from the Warsaw Pact archives have been particularly revealing, as the Communist countries’ common – or not so common – strategy on the security conference was being hammered out at the meetings of the alliance’s committees.4 Some of the early writings by participants in the Helsinki preparatory talks, particularly those by John J. Maresca and Luigi V. Ferraris, remain valuable accounts of the prehistory of the Final Act. They have more recently been supplemented by additional accounts from both Western and Eastern sides. In 2003, the Machiavelli Center for Cold War Studies – a consortium of Italian universities – organized an oral history conference in Florence on the period, the audio files of which are available on the website of the Parallel History Project on Cooperative Security (PHP), the organizer of the 2005 conference in Zurich, of which the present book is the main product. The Florence conference was followed in the following year by a workshop in Padua, the papers of which were subsequently published. In 2007, an oral history workshop in Vienna dealt with the role of the neutral and non-aligned states, particularly during the CSCE’s preparatory stages.5 The European security conference – originally a Soviet project first floated by Foreign Minister Viacheslav M. Molotov in 1954 – had long been a non-starter. Calculated to split the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) by excluding the US from the list of the prospective participants, the proposal elicited tentative interest from among some of NATO’s member countries that were disgrun-

Origins of the CSCE process

5

tled about American leadership, but no action ensued, despite the protracted crisis of the alliance in the 1960s. The idea appealed more to Soviet allies because of the opportunity it might provide for them to assert themselves in the international arena – which was why Moscow, facing disarray within its own alliance as well, vacillated in pressing the project. Only with the onset of détente at the end of the decade were the necessary preconditions in place for the conference to be given serious consideration. This introductory chapter begins by dealing with the background of the change. NATO had been consolidated after adopting the Harmel formula in 1967, which envisaged pursuing defense together with détente. The Soviet Union, having acted to “normalize” the situation in Czechoslovakia and consolidated the Warsaw Pact as a result, was getting ready for détente in Europe as well – all the more so since it was at the same time facing a possible military confrontation with China in the Far East. The new conference proposal by the Warsaw Pact summit of March 1969, which left the door open to American and Canadian participation, finally set the project in motion. Even so, more than three additional years would pass before the main conference would actually meet. The diplomatic maneuvering that ensued showed that the two superpowers saw détente as a static, stability-oriented project that would be shaped bilaterally rather than multilaterally. Both Washington and Moscow focused on military security. However, their vision of top-down détente clashed with the political interests of their allies. The small and medium-sized members of both NATO and the Warsaw Pact perceived détente as a more dynamic process, which could eventually favor change over the status quo, and emphasized the multilateral dimension of détente. Reacting to these bloc-internal challenges, Washington decided to cut its losses, moderate its hegemonic leadership style of the 1950s, and leave the initiative for political détente in the hands of its European allies.6 The main surprise resulting from recent research is how much these differences permeated relations not only within the voluntary Western alliance of democratic nations, but also within the involuntary alliance of Communist dictatorships regimented by Moscow that was NATO’s Eastern counterpart. The asymmetry did not prevent the regimes from trying to pursue their own priorities, preferably – though not necessarily – with, rather than against, the Soviet Union. Nor was the Soviet Union, regardless of its strengthened hold on the Warsaw Pact, interested in dictating its will without consultation, however limited. In trying to forge a common strategy on the security conference, it felt compelled to treat its dependents somewhat more as partners than it had been previously accustomed to. This was particularly the case with regard to the German question, which – as shown in the second part of this chapter, on the period of 1969–72 – determined the internal dynamics within both NATO and the Warsaw Pact. The launching of West Germany’s new Ostpolitik by the Brandt government in 1969 created problems for both alliances. Before responding to its initiatives, the Soviet Union convened its allies to reassure them about its intentions. At the same time,

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the West feared that Bonn’s opening toward the East could lead to German neutralism, and hence tried to ensure that the progress of Ostpolitik be firmly anchored within NATO and monitored by it. Not until Bonn’s “Eastern treaties” had been concluded in Moscow and Warsaw to both Soviet and Western satisfaction did the project for the security conference start moving toward preparatory talks. The chapter continues with the period from 1972–74, which shows why the EC Nine were able to assert themselves in a leading position during the preparatory talks. US–European differences on the relationship between the conventional force reduction talks (MBFR) and the CSCE negotiations, as well as on the potentially more important issue of free movement, which entailed the prospect of evolutionary change in Eastern Europe, could not be resolved within NATO. While Washington was distracted by its economic problems, the Vietnam War, and the Watergate scandal, the CSCE preparations became the catalyst of the European Community’s emerging foreign policy. It was during the preparatory talks that the EC Nine managed to win acceptance of their model for the conference. The chapter ends with the period from 1974–75, which helps explain why and how the West, in a changing international environment, was able to overcome its differences and maintain a common front throughout the Geneva stage of the preparatory negotiations. While the Western European strategy depended to some degree on support by the neutral and non-aligned countries, in the end active support by the US was indispensable. It was provided by Henry Kissinger who, notwithstanding his skepticism about the CSCE project, secured the key Soviet concession that made the Final Act possible.

Superpower détente and allies’ self-interest, 1963–68 After the Berlin crisis and the Cuban missile standoff, changes were under way in both Eastern Europe and Western Europe. Taking a step back from nuclear danger, by 1963 the two superpowers began to move towards a modus vivendi in their bilateral relations. Superpower bilateralism, however, did not do justice to the concerns of the Eastern and Western allies. The nuclear impasse between Moscow and Washington did not allow for a satisfactory settlement of the issues that were top priorities in Bonn, Paris, and London, as well as in Warsaw, Bucharest, and East Berlin. Washington’s and Moscow’s focus on the stability of their relationship nourished fears of a superpower sell-out of their allies’ interests. Not surprisingly, therefore, détente initiatives tended to emanate from other capitals than Washington and Moscow.7 Top-down détente, dominated by the global interests of the two hegemons, was unattractive to their respective allies. Those in the American camp began to pursue a more independent and assertive foreign policy. They were not necessarily consistent about it. While longing for the permanence of the US nuclear umbrella, they regarded the superpowers’ jockeying for hypothetical military advantage as both dangerous and pointless. They were disturbed by the diver-

Origins of the CSCE process

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sion of Washington’s attention from Europe to Southeast Asia, yet encouraged by the room the diversion gave them for voicing their preferences for détente more vigorously.8 The same was true about Soviet allies – with allowances made for the qualitative distinction between a voluntary and a coercive alliance as well as that between governments responsive to the will of the people and those imposing their will upon the people. Eastern Europe’s ruling elites had reason to be disturbed about the creeping re-militarization of the Cold War under Nikita S. Khrushchev’s successors in the Kremlin. In trying to contest it, they also had opportunities they had not had before. The simultaneous loosening of the bloc discipline under a less cohesive and overbearing Kremlin leadership provided them with opportunities to pursue their own interests if they wanted to. Warsaw Pact: towards reaffirmation of Soviet hegemony Ferment within the Warsaw Pact was more prevalent than its façade of totalitarian unity suggested. Douglas Selvage in his chapter explores the diverse national interests behind the intensified Eastern calls for a security conference during the 1960s. At the alliance’s January 1965 summit, the Romanian party leader Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej questioned Soviet secretary general Leonid I. Brezhnev’s call for an arms buildup by arguing that the Western challenge could be better met by détente. Romania, appalled by Khrushchev’s high-risk gamble during the Cuban missile crisis, proceeded to obstruct the Soviet-backed draft of a nonproliferation treaty, pressing for one that would make it more difficult for both superpowers to keep expanding their nuclear arsenals. For its part, Poland tried to revive, with rather than against the Soviet Union, Khrushchev’s 1955 call for a European security system, adapted to serve Polish purposes better. These included military disengagement and political rapprochement across ideological lines, as publicized in plans by Polish foreign minister Adam Rapacki. Implying a reduction of Moscow’s exclusive influence in Central Europe, the plans elicited no more than lukewarm Soviet endorsement.9 Discomfort about the military courses the alliances were taking gave rise among their respective members to yearnings for détente that triggered the parallel crises of NATO and the Warsaw Pact in the latter part of the 1960s. Moscow’s efforts since early 1966 to solidify the Warsaw Pact by bolstering its still rudimentary institutions, thus making it into something more closely approximating a functional equivalent of NATO, aggravated the crisis. Originally intended to be accomplished in a matter of weeks, the proposed reform would drag on for three years. It prompted some of the junior allies to seek more influence on the management of the alliance and encouraged Romania to seek restriction of Moscow’s predominance. In contrast to the Soviet Union, they all wished for a less military and more political organization. Gromyko described the strengthening of the Warsaw Pact as part of the “struggle for détente,” another part of which was to be the concurrent weakening and, preferably, demise of NATO.

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Campaigning for the non-renewal of the North Atlantic Treaty upon its expiration in 1969, the Soviet Union rallied its allies behind the call for a European conference that would lead to a “collective” security system, presumably superseding the two military groupings. The July 1966 Bucharest declaration that called for a new framework, however, was not so much a Soviet accomplishment as that of Poland, the main champion of the conference, and especially Romania. Having appropriated, to the dismay of the Soviets, Khrushchev’s original idea of simultaneous dissolution of both alliances, the Romanians exacted from Moscow a deferment of its Warsaw Pact reorganization plans as the price of their consent to the declaration issued by the conference. By early 1967, Polish Foreign Minister Rapacki had managed to win the support of his Warsaw Pact colleagues for the so-called “Warsaw package,” in effect linking the progress of détente to Western acceptance of the territorial status quo, including the Polish and East German borders. The 1968 Soviet crackdown in Czechoslovakia seemed to bury the package, but prospects for détente actually brightened in its aftermath. It was not the restoration of Soviet-style normalcy in the restive empire, however, but the persisting uncertainty about the way in which it had been attained that provided the necessary setting. The landmark meeting of Warsaw Pact representatives in Budapest in March 1969, which happened to coincide with the climax of armed confrontation along the Sino-Soviet border, reiterated the call for a European security conference – for the first time without preconditions. It also finally enacted most, but not all, of the institutional reforms Moscow had been striving for. The compromise consisted in adding military dimensions to the Warsaw Pact while giving its members a greater say in its councils, thus giving them more incentive to toe the Soviet line voluntarily. As military conflict with China continued to loom, Moscow decided to supplement the normalization in Eastern Europe with the normalization of its relations with the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). Securing the Soviet Union’s European flank while demonstrating the Warsaw Pact’s unity was essential in view of the escalating tensions with China, as noted by Bernd Schaefer in his chapter on China and the CSCE. Selvage views the Soviet push for the security conference as an opportunity to reaffirm its hegemony over Eastern Europe. Détente entailed a calculated risk for the Soviet Union, as Marie-Pierre Rey notes in her chapter on its CSCE strategies. Opening the closed Soviet system to the West was bound to undermine it unless détente could be managed on Soviet terms to avoid paying a price. In trying to limit the risk, Moscow acted to tighten controls both at home and over its empire. The crackdown on dissidents and the increased pressure on Romania to streamline the Warsaw Pact were some of the results. NATO: towards compromise on political leadership During much of the 1960s, the NATO allies found themselves on the defensive with regard to détente. Although Western public opinion increasingly demanded

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a more active détente policy, a majority of the US and European political elites rejected the idea of an early security conference. At the same time, like their Eastern counterparts, Western elites increasingly disagreed about political leadership within their alliance. In Paris and Bonn, Washington’s willingness to negotiate with Moscow was interpreted within the context of the growing vulnerability of the US homeland to Soviet nuclear attack. For both West German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and France’s President Charles de Gaulle, bilateral superpower negotiations linking the German and Berlin questions with nuclear arms control and a non-aggression treaty were incompatible with their countries’ sovereignty and political independence.10 Most Western Europeans wanted to increase their political clout in dealing with the US, but disagreed about the ways and means. They vacillated between their commitments to the evolving European integration and to the Atlantic alliance. Although London concluded that it needed to join the Common Market to be rid of its economic problems, its political vision remained decidedly transatlantic – the main reason why de Gaulle vetoed British entry to the European Community in January 1963. The French leader also opposed military integration within NATO as well as the alliance’s role as a forum for political consultation and coordination. Moreover, Washington’s new emphasis on conventional forces and tighter central nuclear control were obstacles to his quest for an independent French security strategy. Even less acceptable politically to him were US attempts to negotiate bilaterally a European settlement with the Soviet Union. In de Gaulle’s view, US forces would have to leave Europe before the historic process of détente could be accomplished.11 Likewise, national control over nuclear weapons – by France if not by any additional European nation – was a prerequisite of a French bid for détente. De Gaulle’s vision of an independent European polity under French leadership had few supporters in Western Europe. In the aftermath of the Cuban missile crisis, the president attempted to boost French influence in Europe by forming a close partnership with the FRG. Most West Germans, however, favored a strong transatlantic partnership and did not want to be forced to choose between Washington and Bonn. Once it became clear that the French–German Elysée Treaty of 1963 would not work the way de Gaulle had hoped, and once France’s force de frappe became operational in 1964, he decided to seek détente with Moscow bilaterally. Paris soon began to court the smaller East European countries and in June 1966 de Gaulle traveled to Moscow. Only a few weeks earlier, France had announced that it would withdraw from NATO’s integrated military command, bringing into the open NATO’s simmering crisis.12 De Gaulle’s challenge to NATO threatened to undermine the FRG’s position in the postwar world, which was built on the country’s integration into the multilateral framework of the alliance. The most likely, and most dangerous, reaction to the French withdrawal from NATO would be for the FRG to shift towards political and military neutralism, potentially spurring another Soviet–German deal à la Rapallo. Three parallel developments allowed the remaining allies to

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overcome the centrifugal forces set in motion by the Gaullist challenge and create the necessary preconditions for eventually discussing European security with the Soviet Union. First, the trilateral talks among Washington, Bonn, and London forged a new consensus on economic and security priorities, paving the way for a new consensus of the 14 remaining member states of NATO’s military structure on strategy, force levels, and nuclear planning. Second, the FRG’s first coalition government between the CDU/CSU (Christian Democratic Union/Christian Social Union) and the SPD (Social Democratic Party) fundamentally reoriented the FRG’s policies towards Eastern Europe. The government of Kurt Kiesinger, with Willy Brandt as foreign minister, prioritized environment improvement over reunification. The crucial question, however, was whether the FRG would attempt to implement such a policy within NATO or whether it would follow the French line of achieving German and European unity by dissolving NATO and the Warsaw Pact.13 Third, it was precisely the key function of the “Harmel exercise” to demonstrate that the East–West dialog on European security could be anchored in NATO’s multilateral structures. The report acknowledged the danger of selective détente and stressed that the US presence in Europe would remain vital to a peaceful order even after a European settlement. In return, the US government agreed to leave the lead of political détente to the Europeans and, as Michael Cotey Morgan explains in his chapter, decided to focus on military NATO and arms control. The allies accepted that the FRG had a special responsibility with regard to the pace of political détente and contacts between the two German states. In return, Bonn agreed that NATO institutions would play a key role in harmonizing and coordinating the détente policies of the West. France did not want to sacrifice its position as a member of the political aspect of NATO and decided to accept the strengthened political role of the alliance. In return, Washington agreed to drop the proposals for the establishment of new political machinery within NATO. This was important because it kept the option of an autonomous European foreign policy mechanism on the table, which would become another tool for the Europeans to exert some influence over the pace and direction of Brandt’s Ostpolitik.14 The “Harmel Exercise” thus created the necessary preconditions within NATO to link progress on a security conference with progress on Ostpolitik.

Ostpolitik and the CSCE, 1969–72 In its call for the European security conference, the East had been the demandeur. By 1969, however, the call could be expected to fall on receptive ears as the West became more amenable to détente. This, however, was not immediately the case with the US, since the new administration under Richard Nixon, which was aiming for progress toward a strategic arms control agreement as its top priority, continued to regard the conference project as a Soviet ploy. As outsiders with a vital interest in European security, the US and Canada aimed pri-

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marily at securing their participation while upholding allied solidarity, as Michael Cotey Morgan reminds us in his chapter. De Gaulle, too, was mistrustful of the Soviet proposal. In June, however, the succession to the French presidency of George Pompidou, who believed the project could be turned to the West’s advantage, changed the situation. That belief had been shared by the British government of Prime Minister Harold Wilson, provided NATO could maintain its unity in dealing with the Soviet initiative. But most important for the conference’s future was the coming into power of the West German government of Chancellor Willy Brandt in September 1969. The launching of its new Ostpolitik allowed to link the settlement of the German question with the Soviet demand for the conference, thus setting the stage for East–West bargaining. The Soviet Union was taken aback by the interest its allies began to show in the CSCE once it had entrusted them with sounding out individual Western European governments bilaterally. Poland went the farthest in developing innovative concepts of security. It annoyed the Soviets by drafting a security treaty that would unite European states in a new organization and by preparing its charter as well. The proposals drawn up in Warsaw envisaged a continent in which the military confrontation would be blunted and the influence of both superpowers limited. They are referred to in the final part of Selvage’s chapter.15 For different reasons, both Romania and East Germany initially obstructed the campaign for the security conference. Bucharest looked forward to a conference that, by treating all participating states as sovereign equals, would help them minimize Soviet interference in their affairs. They therefore opposed efforts to use the alliance to forge a common policy as a group, as promoted by the East Germans, who wanted to bolster their drive for international recognition – the theme analyzed in Federica Caciagli’s contribution. They went so far as to demand that recognition of East German sovereignty be made a precondition for convening the conference. In the fall of 1969, Moscow found it necessary to solicit Hungarian support to fend off “extreme Polish, Romanian, and East German demands” that could “effectively strangle the [CSCE] baby in the cradle.”16 The Hungarians were supportive, but advanced their own ideas, some of which, if implemented, could have resulted in making the Warsaw Pact obsolete more quickly than they would NATO. Such would have been the likely consequence of creating the security institutions and procedures Budapest suggested. These were to include a permanent European security council as a political body (an idea also favored by the Romanians), which would be created after a general agreement had been reached on the continent’s new security order, and a system of follow-up conferences that would implement it. Opinions differed about whether the conference should be a one-time affair or a continuous process. Suspicious of an open-ended process it would not be able to control, Moscow delayed discussion about the Hungarian proposals, prevailed upon the Poles not to publicize their unorthodox ideas, and restrained East Germany’s clamor for

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international recognition.17 However, since all of the Communist regimes were anxious to draw a line to prevent discussion on anything that might endanger their security of their arbitrary power at home, they were willing to submit to Moscow’s lead, with the single exception of Romania. On the Western side, too, there was less discomfort among the small states than among the big powers about where the process might lead once it had been started. The idea of an all-European security forum appeared most attractive to those countries that had already developed extensive contacts with Warsaw Pact members, particularly with Poland, such as was the case with Belgium and the Nordic countries. Like their Eastern counterparts, they welcomed an opportunity to make themselves heard. With its stated goal of overcoming the rigidity of Germany’s division through rapprochement with the East, Bonn’s policy introduced an element of uncertainty as some of its proponents dropped hints that its attainment presupposed the dissolution of the military alliances. Petri Hakkarainen shows how Bonn’s bilateral opening toward the East was accompanied by allied fears of another Rapallo. Policy-makers in allied capitals were nervous that Ostpolitik might lead to German neutralism. Brandt, however, was able to reassure both Washington and the NATO allies, who in turn decided to support his attempt to make progress toward the security conference conditional on progress of the Ostpolitik.18 Between 1968 and mid-1972, Western preparations for a security conference evolved primarily within the institutional structures of the alliance. Concern about NATO’s integrity permeated US and British attitudes toward the conference proposal. Under pressure from Washington, the allies fell in line by agreeing to deal jointly with the challenge. They decided not to oppose the conference but delay it, insisting on preparatory talks to clarify its particulars. In May 1970, NATO formally declared its willingness to negotiate about the conference Moscow wanted, but on condition that parallel talks would be started on what the West wanted, namely, “mutual and balanced” reductions of conventional forces (MBFR). In addition to US and Canadian participation, the Soviet Union would have to accept the MBFR in exchange for Western consent to the conference and the participation of GDR, which amounted to de facto international recognition of the German Communist state. Subsequently, the prospects for either talks remained in abeyance while the superpowers turned their attention to the Strategic Arms Limitations Talks (SALT) and while the “Eastern treaties” that were to normalize relations between West Germany and the Soviet bloc were being negotiated. Washington, in particular, linked progress on the security conference to the progress of the four-power talks on Berlin. In effect, this provided the US with a monitoring device and veto over the progress of Brandt’s Ostpolitik. The German question was central to the bloc-internal dynamics both within NATO and within the Warsaw Pact. Increasingly, as Petri Hakkarainen shows in his chapter, the FRG became the epicenter of multilateral preparations for the conference, now referred to as the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE). Progress on the Ostpolitik was anchored in a multitude of mul-

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tilateral structures, including NATO, the four-power Bonn group, and the emerging European Political Cooperation (EPC). It was the initial uncertainty about the course of the Ostpolitik that prompted Belgian diplomat Étienne Davignon to design the EPC to ensure the policy’s conformity with larger European interests.19 With the help of its allies, the FRG was able to delay the CSCE long enough to conclude its key Eastern treaties. The breakthrough came in August, with the Treaty of Moscow, in which West Germany recognized the Soviet sphere of influence in Eastern Europe. Four months later, Poland secured recognition of its borders by Bonn in the Treaty of Warsaw. The GDR, however, had to settle for the continuation of four-power rights for the time being. It would only win de facto acknowledgment from Bonn in the Basic Treaty of 1972, a few days before the beginning of the Multilateral Preparatory Talks (MPT) in Helsinki. From a Western perspective, the linkage strategy had served its main purpose with the achievement of the “Eastern treaties.” Soon France began to push for a quick convocation of the conference. Bonn, by contrast, became progressively more interested in the substantive side of a security conference, arguing that the issue of freer movement provided an opportunity for grass-root improvements of intra-German affairs, as Petri Hakkarainen shows in his chapter. This shift in emphasis brought the FRG into conflict with Washington, which was still busy trying to restrain the growing European enthusiasm for a security conference.20 Disagreement on matters of substance multiplied among NATO members. As the MPT moved closer, the leading role in the West’s preparation for a security conference had begun to shift from NATO to the EC Nine. As détente began to show results, the CSCE assumed key strategic, rather than merely tactical, importance for the Soviet Union. It became Leonid Brezhnev’s blueprint for a new European order, to which he personally committed his prestige.21 In his keynote speech to the January 1972 summit of the Warsaw Pact, he outlined the future of the Eastern alliance in political rather than military terms. While ruling out its dissolution together with that of NATO any time soon, he expressed belief in their gradual rapprochement once an agreement had been reached on the general principles of European security, which he expected to be approved by the CSCE before the end of that year. The seven principles, published in the summit’s communiqué in response to NATO’s demand for clarification half a year earlier, were general enough to be unexceptionable: inviolability of frontiers; renunciation of force; peaceful coexistence; good neighborly relations based on independence, national sovereignty, equality, and noninterference in internal affairs; mutually advantageous interstate relations; disarmament; and support of the UN. The principles conveyed the recognition that security depended on more than merely troops and armaments. In view of what the Kremlin came to regard as an irreversible decline of US power and influence, however, they could be interpreted and manipulated by the Soviet Union.22 Rather than “equal security,” what was at issue was security dominance. This was why the Chinese Communists, as shown in Bernd Schaefer’s contribution in

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this volume, denounced the CSCE as a European insecurity conference, designed to “Finlandize” Western Europe, and tried to convince the West not to buy it. But it was the West Europeans who would turn the tables on Moscow during the preparatory talks they insisted must be held before the main conference could take place.

Western Europe takes the lead: multilateral preparatory talks, 1972–73 In both Washington and Moscow, the focus of key policy-makers was on the development of bilateral superpower détente rather than on the multilateral preparations for the CSCE. The May 1972 Nixon–Brezhnev summit culminated in the SALT I treaty and the Agreement on Basic Principles, whereby each side conceded the other’s right to “equal security” and vowed to respect the other’s vital interests. As Jeremi Suri highlights in his chapter, the summit signaled superpower preference for détente based on status quo, which promised security through great-power cooperation.23 Both Soviet and American political elites were ambivalent about the merits of the CSCE. Some Soviet party leaders and KGB officials were suspicious of its multilateralism, fearing risks to domestic and bloc stability. But, as Marie-Pierre Rey explains in her chapter, these skeptical views were offset by interest in a symbolic conclusion of World War II that would perpetuate a multilaterally sanctioned status quo. Brezhnev wanted to appear to the world as a man of peace. In Washington, the lack of White House interest in the CSCE was accentuated by Henry Kissinger’s aversion to multilateral diplomacy, matched by his penchant for bilateral deal-making, as explained by Michael Morgan and Jeremi Suri in their contributions. Washington was not interested in leading the Western allies toward the conference, but merely in upholding their solidarity.24 In NATO’s internal debate in 1971, US–European differences on the substance of the CSCE escalated over the question of whether priority should be given to it or to the MBFR. Most Europeans cared more about the CSCE than about the MBFR, which Washington had made a precondition for its consent to the conference desired by Moscow. They feared that tampering with the military balance could be destabilizing; France, in particular, preferred détente without disarmament. Besides, since Europeans had a limited say in arms control, they favored the CSCE, with its principle of sovereign equality. As a consequence, NATO member states never agreed on a common MBFR negotiating position, as Helga Haftendorn explains in her chapter. West Germany – as well as Romania – wanted to link the MBFR with the CSCE by including disarmament issues in the security conference. Washington used the MBFR to fend off Senator Mike Mansfield’s calls for the withdrawal of US troops from Europe. Paris opposed the MBFR talks in principle because they would cement bloc-to-bloc relations. NATO’s appointment in December 1971 of its secretary general, Manlio Brosio, as its MBFR negotiator came to nothing. Not only was it opposed by both Paris and Washington, but Moscow also

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declined to receive him. In a secret deal with the Soviets in April 1972, Kissinger agreed to the establishment of the CSCE and MBFR as separate forums – a fait accompli that infuriated Europeans. The Soviets agreed to start exploratory talks on MBFR in return for US willingness to do the same with the CSCE. No sooner had the MBFR started in 1973, however, than it bogged down amid disagreements about how the asymmetrical forces should be counted. In the meantime, West Europeans had taken the lead in preparations for the CSCE. The shift from NATO to the European Community as the preparatory framework reflected the centrality of the issue of free movement, first pressed by the French, in Western strategy for the conference. Different perspectives conveyed different perceptions of détente. Both the US and Dutch governments, for example, saw the issue of freer movement as a central element in political warfare, aimed at exposing the closed Communist societies to the West. But while policy-makers in Washington did not expect substantive change in Eastern Europe any time soon, their counterparts in The Hague deliberately and purposefully sought to undermine the Communist regimes’ hold on power. Floribert Baudet reveals this offensive strategy in his chapter. In contrast, the FRG, loath to wage a propaganda battle, favored an evolutionary approach, a continuation of Ostpolitik by multilateral means, aimed particularly at “change through rapprochement” in the GDR. Since NATO was unable to reach a consensus on freer movement during its consultations in the summer of 1971, the FRG, with French support, took the issue to the nascent European Political Cooperation. At the time, the EC was a more authentic community of values than NATO, which counted the repressive regimes in Greece, Turkey, and Portugal among its members. Daniel Möckli explains how human rights became a catalyst in the rise of Europe’s common foreign policy. The EC caucus at the preparatory talks was the key driving force behind the expanding notion of security that included recognition of human rights.25 The ability of the EC Nine to assert themselves in a leading position with regard to Western CSCE preparations met with tacit approval by Washington. The US chose to keep a low profile and act as their loyal partner. According to Duccio Basosi, US economic weakness at the time was a key factor. Nixon’s decision of August 1971 to end the convertibility of the dollar into gold undermined the Bretton Woods monetary system that had existed since World War II, threatening to disrupt the European Common Market and its projected Monetary Union. The president feared that a US–European trade dispute and the fragility of the European economies might drive the allies into the arms of the Soviets. In any case, the US delegation had no more specific instructions than to promote allied solidarity when the preparatory talks started in November 1972. The distraction of the US by the Vietnam War and the Watergate scandal, as well as the harmonious relationship between the EC and NATO, help explain why the EC Nine in 1973 were able to dominate the talks at the time of a severe transatlantic crisis. Kissinger’s ill-conceived “Year of Europe” initiative prompted the EC, which as of January 1973 included Britain, Ireland, and Denmark as new members, to speak with one voice.26 In March 1973, the

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economic crisis peaked with the dismissal of the Bretton Woods system. Later that year, transatlantic relations reached their nadir. The outbreak of the Arab–Israeli war in October, which led to a split between the US and Europe, and the asymmetric impact of the energy crisis, brought the accumulated tension to boil. At the preparatory talks, the Western European caucus introduced its characteristic procedural innovations into the CSCE, as Daniel Möckli shows in his chapter. These included the three-stage system proceeding from general discussion to work in committees, the results of which would then be approved at the highest level. The requirement that consensus be achieved on a set of issues before proceeding to the next set meant that the negotiators were almost “condemned to succeed.”27 Arranging the agenda into “baskets,” an idea credited to the Swiss, allowed the most important items to be gathered together and submitted to exhaustive discussion despite the Soviet penchant for generalities. Thus came about the “Basket Three” of the Western desiderata bearing on the practices that Communist regimes saw necessary to engage in to maintain themselves in power – from keeping inconvenient ideas out to keeping recalcitrant citizens in. Having thus introduced domestic security into a conference originally designed to deal exclusively with interstate relations, the ensuing discussion then branched off in different directions while moving from the general to the specific. The EC Nine conceded the key Soviet demand for the inviolability of frontiers in return for Soviet agreement to place human rights on the agenda. While Basket II on economic cooperation, pursued by the East, remained uncontroversial, the EC Nine, together with Canada, won support for a substantive CSCE mandate on human contacts, information, culture, and education. The US helped by refusing to strike bilateral bargains with Moscow while leaving the initiative to the Europeans and Canadians. To the surprise of both NATO and the Warsaw Pact, the four neutral states of Europe – in particular, Finland as impartial host and Switzerland as a very active participant – played a constructive role as mediators between East and West and as a catalyst for compromise proposals throughout the multilateral preparatory talks, as Christian Nuenlist explains in his chapter. The Finnish invitation of May 1969 to host the security conference in Helsinki had included both German states, as well as the US and Canada, thus expediting Soviet acceptance of their participation in return for the West’s acceptance of GDR participation. Yet it was only after the breakthrough of Ostpolitik with the successful conclusion of the “Eastern treaties” that the neutral states began to perceive the conference as an opportunity to expand their foreign policy profile and to strengthen their sovereignty while reaffirming their international status as neutral countries. Acting in loose coordination, the Neutrals made good use of their space for maneuver. Some of their diplomats became core members of the conference.

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Reaffirmation of US leadership and the Helsinki Act, 1974–75 The escalating transatlantic tension did not bode well for Western cohesion as the CSCE negotiations moved from Dipoli to Geneva in September 1973. Three parallel developments helped the West to overcome the diverging transatlantic interests and maintain a common front through the protracted Geneva negotiations. First, the visible limits of détente between the superpowers in the aftermath of their showdown during the October 1973 Middle Eastern war eased European fears of their condominium. Kissinger’s adroit diplomacy started pushing Moscow out of the Middle East. In the US, domestic support for détente with the Soviet Union was falling apart. Criticism of the failure of SALT II to stop the qualitative growth of the Soviet nuclear arsenal intensified. In the spring of 1974, the US Congress dampened Moscow’s hopes for an expansion of East–West trade by refusing to give it the Most Favored Nation (MFN) status. Second, the EPC’s limitations as an engine of common European policy alleviated US concern about it. Two of the key architects of the EPC, Pompidou and Prime Minister Edward Heath of Great Britain, had left office in mid-1974. As not only the EPC, but also the Monetary Union project ground to a halt, the dynamic period of European integration ended. The energy crisis exposed Europe’s economic vulnerability and dependence on US leadership in the Middle East, driving Europeans back to the US fold. In June 1974, NATO’s “Declaration of Atlantic Relations” reaffirmed the alliance’s common values and its indispensability, thus putting a happy end on the unhappy “Year of Europe.” Third, the resurgence of US economic power fostered Washington’s willingness to lead, as Duccio Basosi explains in his analysis. As a remedy to the energy crisis, Kissinger triumphantly inaugurated the International Energy Agency under US sponsorship. The simultaneous launching by Secretary of the Treasury George Shultz of what eventually became the G-6 group of leading Western industrial nations would provide Washington with an alternative forum to NATO, which could be used to hammer out economic disputes and maintain US economic preeminence. For the Soviet Union, this ended any hopes that it could have the bounties of Western technology while dictating the terms of East–West trade. The exchange of US grain for Soviet oil not only diversified the supply of oil for thirsty Western markets, but also confirmed the supremacy of the West’s economic structures. By mid-1974, the US was back in business while the negotiations were dragging on in Geneva. Trying to speed them up, Kissinger pressed Europeans to pursue “realistic demands.” Supported by Canada, however, the Europeans were strong enough to fend off his push to define minimum goals and end the negotiations as soon as possible. Since Moscow obviously did not want to get bogged down in endless talks, playing it slow increased the chances of extracting Soviet concessions. By swamping the conference with proposals for practical improvements in Basket III, the EC Nine put the East on the defensive. They secured the

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important acceptance of the CSCE’s system of follow-up conferences to monitor the implementation of its decisions. Daniel Möckli also rightly credits the European caucus with imprinting upon the CSCE its dynamic dimension of expanding security. The strategy depended on crucial support from the neutral and non-aligned countries. During the Geneva negotiations, their loose coordination began to transform into much closer cooperation. As such, they became a diplomatic forum that contributed compromise proposals at critical junctions of the multilateral negotiations process. Nuenlist discusses their initiatives, which were critical for overcoming the impasse in Basket III, and some of their proposals on the diffusion of information and the enhancement of working conditions of journalists that made it into the Final Act. In the provisions of Basket I on the military aspects of security, particularly the confidence-building measures, the specifics of notification of military maneuvers closely followed the compromise language introduced by the Neutrals. Their strong commitment to the principles of followup conferences to monitor the CSCE’s results proved supportive of the position of the EC Nine. The tabling of the final compromise solution by Switzerland and Finland made it easier for the Soviet Union to drop its demand for a permanent political institution. More importantly, the success of the European strategy depended on Washington’s refusal to strike a bilateral deal with Moscow. Kissinger gradually realized the tangible advantages of the multilateral European approach. Turning the screws on the Soviets by highlighting the authoritarian nature of their state system also promised to attract popular support at home, thus helping to silence those who had been accusing him of being soft on Communism. His belated decision to back the allies was instrumental in harvesting major concessions from the East. He was responsible for the crucial tradeoff that made possible the adoption of an essentially Western Final Act. As Jeremi Suri puts it, Kissinger made a virtue out of necessity. The Final Act came about both despite and because of him.

Conclusion The early CSCE process emphasized stability over change, as preferred particularly by the two superpowers. Amid nuclear parity, diffusion of political power, and domestic unrest, they both perceived détente as a stability-oriented project to uphold the status quo. Neither superpower expected the CSCE to trigger domestic forces in a way that would be conducive to a fundamental change of the European order. In the grand scheme of things, they regarded the CSCE as a diplomatic footnote, as human rights rhetoric did not seem to make a difference to the realities of power. The perspective of the small and medium-sized powers was different. Superpower détente threatened their national interests and political independence. Political détente and the CSCE’s principle of sovereign equality offered them an opportunity to increase their international clout as “soft” powers. The multilater-

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alization of détente, along with greater political and military transparency, promised to overcome Europe’s division peacefully and perhaps bear the seeds of a better political order on the continent and beyond. To be sure, the situation was not the same on both sides of the European divide. For all their disagreements, the Communist regimes in Eastern Europe shared with their Soviet patron a vested interest in the preservation of the repressive domestic systems that kept them in power. The element of change, however, was highly relevant for the development of intra-alliance politics in a time of détente, and here the differences between the two blocs are telling. In the context of escalating tension with China, Moscow chose to use the security conference as a means of increasing its control over all Warsaw Pact members. Reaffirming the Soviet hegemony over Eastern Europe, Moscow had already achieved most of its key aims with the Eastern treaties. The CSCE would multilateralize the territorial status quo and, on a symbolic level, bring World War II to a close. Other than this, Eastern elites were unable to develop a forwardlooking CSCE strategy that would support the aspirations of both the Soviet and the Eastern European populations. Washington, by contrast, was prepared to turn over the lead in the political détente to its allies. CSCE preparations in the West went along with a fundamental transformation of Western multilateral cooperation. While NATO was critical for monitoring the development of the FRG’s Ostpolitik, its political functions would always remain closely linked to its military strength. The establishment of the complementary political structure of the EPC, which was closely linked to the CSCE process, and the institution of a new economic structure in the form of the G-6 were critical elements in the restoration of the unity of the West. No longer would NATO have to achieve the impossible compromise between military security and economic prosperity alone. The establishment of the G-6 structure restored US structural power while disrupting the EC’s Monetary Union project, thereby facilitating the renewal of US commitment to Europe’s security while at the same time confirming the hierarchical structure of the West. The CSCE process provided the EC countries with an opportunity to reconceptualize security according to their own vision of how the division of the continent could eventually be overcome. As a non-military actor, the EC Nine found it easier than NATO to act as a community of values. As such, they were the key driving force behind a widening of the concept of security to include human rights, a notion that added the security of individuals as a complementary factor to the security of states. This dynamic dimension of the Final Act, providing a normative framework for peaceful change, constituted the lasting key contribution of the CSCE process. While the Final Act legitimized the status quo, it left open the possibility of domestic and international change. Unlike the depressing security provided by a frozen geopolitical status quo, the norm-based security conception of the Europeans not only made the Cold War more bearable, but also included a vision of how it might eventually be overcome peacefully.

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Notes 1 See Matthew A. Evangelista, “Norms, Heresthetics, and the End of the Cold War,” Journal of Cold War Studies 3, no. 1 (2001), pp. 5–35. 2 The two most important accounts are Daniel C. Thomas, The Helsinki Effect: International Norms, Human Rights, and the Demise of Communism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001) and William Korey, The Promises We Keep: Human Rights, the Helsinki Process, and American Foreign Policy (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1993). See also Victor-Yves Ghebali, La diplomatie de la détente: la CSCE, 1973–89 (Brussels: Bruylant, 1989), and Wilfried von Bredow, Der KSZE-Prozeß: Von der Zähmung zur Auflösung des Ost–West Konflikts (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1992). On the CSCE as a model security system, Michael R. Lucas (ed.), The CSCE in the 1990s: Constructing European Security and Cooperation (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1993) or Peter Steglich and Günter Leuschner, KSZE – Fossil oder Hoffnung? (Berlin: edition ost, 1996). 3 Vojtech Mastny, Helsinki, Human Rights, and European Security, 1975–1985: Analysis and Documentation (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1986), p. 9. 4 Hermann Volle and Wolfgang Wagner (eds.), Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa: Beiträge und Dokumente aus dem Europa-Archiv (Bonn: Verlag für Internationale Politik, 1976). Igor I. Kavass, Jacqueline P. Granier, and Mary F. Dominick (eds.), Human Rights, European Politics and the Helsinki Accord: The Documentary Evolution of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe, 1973–75, 6 vols. (Buffalo: Hein, 1981). Gill Bennett and Keith A. Hamilton (eds.), Documents on British Policy Overseas, series 3, vol. 2: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1972–75 (London: Stationery Office, 1997). Institut für Zeitgeschichte im Auftrag des Auswärtigen Amtes (ed.), Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, 1969–75 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2000–06). Vojtech Mastny and Malcolm Byrne (eds.), A Cardboard Castle? An Inside History of the Warsaw Pact, 1955–91 (Budapest and New York: Central European University Press, 2005). 5 John J. Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–75 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1985). Luigi V. Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation: Helsinki-Geneva-Helsinki, 1972–75 (Alphen aan den Rijn: Sijthoff & Noordhoff, 1979). Jacques Andréani, Le Piège: Helsinki et la chute du communisme (Paris: Jacob, 2005). Iurii B. Kashlev, [Diplomacy of Many Faces: An Envoy’s Testimony] (Moscow: Izvestiia, 2004). Hans-Jörg Renk, Der Weg der Schweiz nach Helsinki: Der Beitrag der schweizerischen Diplomatie zum Zustandekommen der Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa (KSZE), 1972–75 (Berne: Paul Haupt, 1996). “The Road to Helsinki: The Early Steps of the CSCE,” Florence, 29–30 September 2003, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/conferences/previous/2003_florence.cfm (accessed 18 January 2008). Carla Meneguzzi Rostagni (ed.), The Helsinki Process: A Historical Reappraisal (Padua: CEDAM, 2005). “The Historical Experience of the Neutral and Non-aligned States in the CSCE,” Vienna, 22–23 February 2007, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/conferences/previous/documents/TheHistoricalExperienceoftheNeutralandNon_PHP_report_001.pdf (accessed 18 January 2008). On the Rüschlikon conference, see: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/conferences/previous/Zurich_ 2005.cfm (accessed 18 January 2008). 6 Andreas Wenger, “Crisis and Opportunity: NATO’s Transformation and the Multilateralization of Détente, 1966–68,” Journal of Cold War Studies 6, no. 1 (2004), pp. 22–74. 7 For the constructed peace of the early 1960s, see Marc Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–63 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), pp. 352–402; Andreas Wenger, “Kennedy, Chruschtschow und

Origins of the CSCE process

8 9

10

11

12

13 14

15 16 17 18 19

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das gemeinsame Interesse der Supermächte am Status quo in Europa,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 46, no. 1 (1998), pp. 69–99; Christof Münger, Die Berliner Mauer, Kennedy und die Kubakrise: Die westliche Allianz in der Zerreissprobe, 1961–63 (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2003). Andreas Wenger, Christian Nuenlist, and Anna Locher (eds.), Transforming NATO in the Cold War: Challenges beyond Deterrence in the 1960s (London: Routledge, 2006). On Khrushchev’s 1955 project, see Vojtech Mastny, “The Soviet Union and the Origins of the Warsaw Pact in 1955,” in Mechanisms of Power in the Soviet Union, Niels Erik Rosenfeldt, Bent Jensen, and Erik Kulavig (eds.) (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000), pp. 241–66. Also online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/ collections/coll_pcc/into_VM.cfm (accessed 18 January 2008). On the contentious 1965 summit, see Mastny and Byrne, A Cardboard Castle?, document no. 30, and additional documents online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/collections/colltopic. cfm?lng=en&id=17127 (accessed 18 January 2008). On the limits of the little détente of 1963, see Andreas Wenger and Jeremi Suri, “At the Crossroads of Diplomatic and Social History: The Nuclear Revolution, Dissent and Détente,” Cold War History 1, no. 3 (2001), pp. 1–42; Erin Mahan, Kennedy, de Gaulle and Western Europe (Houndmills: Macmillan, 2002), pp. 143–62; Andreas Wenger and Marcel Gerber, “John F. Kennedy and the Limited Test Ban Treaty: A Case Study of Presidential Leadership,” Presidential Studies Quarterly 29, no. 2, (1999), pp. 460–87; Anna Locher and Christian Nuenlist, “What Role for NATO? Conflicting Western Perceptions of Détente, 1963–65,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies 2, no. 2 (2004), pp. 185–208. Frédéric Bozo, Deux strategies pour l’Europe: de Gaulle, les Etats-Unis et l’alliance atlantique, 1958–1969 (Paris: Plon et Fondation Charles de Gaulle, 1996); Frédéric Bozo, “Détente versus Alliance: France, the United States and the Politics of the Harmel Report (1964–68),” Contemporary European History 7, no. 3 (1998), pp. 343–60; Maurice Vaïsse, La Grandeur: Politique Etrangère du Général de Gaulle, 1958–69 (Paris: Fayard, 1998). Helga Haftendorn, NATO and the Nuclear Revolution: A Crisis of Credibility (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996); Georges-Henri Soutou, “La décision française de quitter le commandement intègre de l’OTAN,” in Von Truman bis Harmel: Die Bundesrepublik Deutschland im Spannungsfeld von NATO und europäischer Integration, Hans-Joachim Harder (ed.) (München: Oldenbourg, 2000), pp. 185–208; Frédéric Bozo, “De Gaulle, l’amérique et l’alliance atlantique: une relecture de la crise de 1966,” Vingtième Siècle 43 (July–September 1994), pp. 55–68. Andreas Wenger, “Crisis and Opportunity,” pp. 44–59. Ibid., 59–70; Helga Haftendorn, “Entstehung und Bedeutung des Harmel-Berichts der NATO von 1967,” Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 40, no. 2 (1992), pp. 169–220; Helga Haftendorn, “The Adaptation of the NATO Alliance to a Period of Détente: The 1967 Harmel Report,” in Crises and Compromises: The European Project, 1963–69, Wilfried Loth (ed.) (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2001), pp. 285–322. See also Je˛drychowski to Gomulka, 16 October 1969, KC PZPR 2664, Modern Records Archives, Warsaw, and Mastny and Byrne, A Cardboard Castle?, document no. 68. Ibid., documents nos. 67, 68 a–b, and 69. Hungarian foreign ministry memorandum on Soviet–Hungarian consultations on the European security conference, 18 October 1969, in Mastny and Byrne, A Cardboard Castle?, pp. 347ff. Petri Hakkarainen, “Amplifying Ostpolitik: The FRG and the CSCE, 1969–75,” (Ph.D. thesis, University of Oxford, forthcoming). Ralph Dietl, Emanzipation und Kontrolle: Europa in der westlichen Sicherheitspolitik 1948–63, vol. 1: Der Ordnungsfaktor Europa 1948–58 (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner,

22

20 21 22 23 24

25 26

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A. Wenger and V. Mastny 2006). Daniel Möckli, European Foreign Policy During the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity, 1969–74 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2008). Hakkarainen, “Amplifying Ostpolitik.” Speech by Brezhnev, 25 January 1972, DY/30/526, SAPMO, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/collections/colltopic.cfm?lng=en&id=18126 (accessed 18 January 2008). Prague report DepFM, 30 October 1969: online, available at: www.php.isn. ethz.ch/collections/colltopic.cfm?lng=en&id=17255. Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Détente (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003). Jussi M. Hanhimäki, “ ‘They Can Write It in Swahili’: Kissinger, the Soviets, and the Helsinki Accords, 1973–75,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies 1, no. 1 (2003), pp. 37–58; Jussi Hanhimäki, The Flawed Architect: Henry Kissinger and American Foreign Policy (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004); Jeremi Suri, Henry Kissinger and the American Century (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007). Möckli, European Foreign Policy during the Cold War. Daniel Möckli, “Asserting Europe’s Distinct Identity: The EC-Nine and Kissinger’s ‘Year of Europe,’ ” in The Strained Alliance: Conflicts and Cooperation in Transatlantic Relations from Nixon to Carter, Matthias Schultz, Thomas A. Schwartz, and Bernd Schaefer (eds.) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation, p. 79.

Part II

The superpowers and European détente

2

North America, Atlanticism, and the making of the Helsinki Final Act Michael Cotey Morgan

Introduction On 21 July 1975, only days before the Helsinki Final Act was to be signed, a New York Times editorial insisted that the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), the meeting that had produced the landmark document, “should not have happened.”1 The newspaper urged the US government to withhold its signature because the negotiations had given the Soviets everything they had demanded in exchange for precious little. Too often, the solidarity within NATO that was essential for success had proved elusive, putting the Western alliance under strain and allowing the Soviets to advance their agenda with ease.2 In the editorial’s view, the US government had failed to defend Western interests and preserve the integrity of the alliance. On the surface, it was strange that Washington was involved in the negotiations at all. Both the US and Canada, which also participated in the CSCE, seemed to be outsiders, North Americans at a European conference. The chief reason for their inclusion lay in the idea of Atlanticism, which held that the North Americans had a vital stake in the security of Western Europe, as amply illustrated by their participation in both world wars. Could they not then be regarded as Europeans in some sense of the word? And in that case, did they not have a right to participate in any conference on European security? Despite initial Soviet resistance to their participation, the US and Canada lived up to the idea of Atlanticism and made crucial contributions to the CSCE. They both believed in Atlanticism, but disagreed about Western goals, NATO’s role in the negotiations, and the prospects for détente. Each country’s attitude toward the CSCE was determined by its power and role in the international system, by the way in which its leaders and diplomats saw the world, and by its policymaking process. This chapter examines first the US and then the Canadian role in the CSCE, from its origins until the signing of the Final Act. This comparison highlights the importance of Atlanticism and NATO solidarity in shaping both countries’ policies, despite their otherwise diverging views of the conference. US President Richard Nixon and his administration were markedly skeptical of the whole affair. They believed they could serve US interests better by avoiding the inevitably messy and protracted negotiations and working one-on-one

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with the Soviets instead. Moreover, the deck was already stacked against US goals, given that the Soviets seemed to be in complete control of the conference. The White House saw the CSCE as a gift to the Soviets, as a quid for which a quo, on disarmament and other questions, could be expected. Given the superpower status of the US, it was taken for granted that military questions were more important to US interests than the vague diplomatic ones on the CSCE’s agenda. Senior US officials – particularly Henry Kissinger – eventually began to consider the possibility of using the CSCE against the Soviet Union, but this change of heart only came as the conference was winding down. Kissinger and his White House colleagues dominated policy-making, limiting the ability of State Department diplomats to take an active role in either Helsinki or Geneva. The result was US indifference to the bulk of the negotiations. By contrast, the Canadian government was wary, but interested in the CSCE right from the beginning. The diplomats at the Canadian Department of External Affairs were aware that Moscow had originally proposed the conference to advance its own interests, but they did not dismiss the conference outright. As a secondary military power, Canada could not take a major role in arms control negotiations, but it certainly could play an important part at a CSCE. Optimistic about the prospects for détente, Ottawa viewed the conference as a prime opportunity to advance Canadian and Western interests. By negotiating with care, the West might win valuable concessions from the Warsaw Pact. The Canadians were determined to see this happen. Because the diplomats at the Department of External Affairs could set foreign policy with relatively little interference from the cabinet, they enjoyed the full support of their government throughout the negotiations in a way that their US colleagues did not. As a result of all of these factors, the Canadian attitude to the CSCE evolved quickly from skepticism to enthusiasm.

The view from Washington The US attitude to Atlanticism and the CSCE in the 1960s and 1970s was complicated. As was often the case during the Nixon years, the views of the State Department and of the White House on the CSCE diverged, making it hard to formulate a coherent and forceful position on the conference. The White House showed little interest in the negotiations until their final months, allowing the professional diplomats to determine the details of US policy. This latitude was bittersweet for the State Department, since it lacked the support of those who held real power. By default, it had to keep a low profile at the negotiations in Geneva. Kissinger eventually showed interest in the conference, but neither Nixon nor his successor, Gerald Ford, ever gave the matter much thought. Throughout, the US was uninterested in leading the Western allies at the CSCE. Just as the Western Europeans were moving to wrap up the negotiations in early to mid-1975, the US took a harder line, demanding Eastern concessions that the Western Europeans had given up on obtaining. This change from indifference to enthusiasm is the central story of the US in the Helsinki process.

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Early US attitudes, 1966–70 In the years before the CSCE, the US had left the development of the political side of European détente to its West European allies. In 1966, facing a proposal for what would become the Harmel Report, the State Department allowed the Western Europeans to take the lead, provided that the overriding goals of alliance solidarity and military strength were maintained. A degree of European leadership would help ensure European public support for NATO and the strategy of nuclear deterrence. Washington would concentrate on the military side of the alliance, allowing the Europeans to take charge of everything else.3 Improving East–West relations was important to the US – indeed, it was “plain common sense” – but NATO’s top priority had to remain the defense of Western Europe.4 In mid-1969, NATO debated which issues to raise with the East as part of its strategy of détente. The US wanted to focus on conventional disarmament, known in the West as Mutual Balanced Force Reduction (MBFR). The Warsaw Pact’s numerical military superiority had been a longstanding concern, and Washington was keen to redress the imbalance. Other potential directions for détente – such as economic cooperation or scientific, technical, and cultural exchanges – were less important. Indeed, the State Department wanted these options deleted entirely from the alliance’s list of priorities.5 In the late 1960s, as the first glimmers of the CSCE were coming into view, the US was happy to leave soft issues – such as those on the CSCE’s agenda – to the Europeans. While NATO contemplated the future of détente, the National Security Council staff began a full-scale review of US policy toward Europe. Kissinger had ordered this review shortly after coming into office, and received the final draft in January 1970. As ever, the critical interests of the US on the continent were peace and Western European security. These goals required a balance of conventional military power on the continent, nuclear deterrence, and the containment of the two Germanies. To make the US commitment sustainable, it was essential that the Europeans begin to carry their share of the burden. The report had little to say about the proposed European security conference. The US had to maintain a “position of reserve” on the matter, going along with whatever the Western Europeans thought best, but not making any proposals of its own. Because of the momentum already accumulated, the US could not kill the process.6 Washington could “affect the choices which the Europeans will make, but not determine them.”7 If the Europeans insisted on the security conference, the US had no choice but to follow, however grudgingly, in order to preserve the principle of allied solidarity. If it had not been for this principle, there is some question as to whether the US would have shown any interest in the conference at all. The State Department’s view of the conference was clear by late 1970. In preparation for NATO’s December ministerial, it summarized its views of the issues likely to arise. On the European Security Conference (ESC), the priority was to restrain West European enthusiasm. If the allies insisted, it might be

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possible to expand bilateral contacts with the East with a view to developing the conference idea, but the US would only “inch forward.” It could not afford rash decisions to jump into ill-prepared talks with the Warsaw Pact. In any event, concrete gains on critical issues, especially Berlin, had to precede any movement toward the conference.8 The State Department would grant the East an insubstantial and useless ESC in exchange for hard-nosed concessions on questions central to US interests in Europe, particularly the military balance of power. After the ministerial, Secretary of State William P. Rogers summarized the proceedings for Nixon. A renewed insistence on allied unity suffused the discussions of defense and the prospects for détente. In Rogers’s opinion, the US had met its broad objectives, especially in securing the allies’ willingness to bear a bigger share of the defense of Western Europe. By comparison, the ESC was a side issue, though the final communiqué did insist – in line with the US position – that progress on Berlin had to precede any conference. Pressure to agree to a conference would mount if the Berlin question were settled, but this was no cause for concern. The allies would stay unified on every important issue, preventing any threat to vital US interests.9 In this light, the details of the conference hardly mattered. Negotiating within NATO and preparing for the conference, 1971–73 Despite these assurances, a rift opened the following year between the US and its European allies as the conference proposal gathered steam. US visions of détente focused on disarmament, but the Europeans were more interested in an ESC than in MBFR. They were optimistic that a conference could improve relations with the East, and feared that force reductions would weaken their security.10 From the European perspective, it was easier to predict the results of a security conference than those of disarmament talks, not least because the US might ignore West European interests in any military negotiations with the Warsaw Pact. European worries about the US commitment to Europe grew over the course of the year. Washington’s indifference to the ESC and continued focus on MBFR did nothing to soothe these concerns. US isolationism seemed to be on the horizon. The State Department responded by trying to shore up allied support for MBFR, making reassuring noises about the US commitment to defend Western Europe and accepting the ESC idea on the condition that a quadripartite agreement precede any formal preparations.11 This was a delicate balancing act, requiring the US to restrain the Europeans’ desire for a conference while keeping them on board for disarmament talks. Despite these problems, the US agreed with some of its allies on some aspects of the ESC. In insisting that the key to success was the thorough preparation of a NATO position on every issue, it echoed British, West German, and Canadian ideas. The longer and more detailed the preparatory stages – both within the alliance and between the East and the West – the better the chance

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NATO would have of making gains and minimizing losses. Yet the pessimistic US officials and their optimistic Canadian counterparts disagreed on a crucial point. Washington had little hope for the conference’s success, regardless of the amount of preparatory work. Ottawa believed that something of real value might emerge as long as the alliance held together. The French, and to some extent the Belgians, were uninterested in preparatory work. In their view, the allies should accept the Finnish offer to convene the conference in Helsinki as soon as agreement was reached on Berlin. The allies should not waste time hammering out detailed proposals for every item on the agenda. The Quai d’Orsay hoped to assert greater independence from NATO and take a leading role in Helsinki, perhaps even marginalizing the US. Nevertheless, the US took comfort in the allies’ continued commitment to the defense of Western Europe via NATO. Though the Europeans feared the specter of US isolationism, the alliance’s fundamentals remained strong.12 Rogers took the allies’ disagreements in stride. In the grand scheme of things, these were but minor irritants. With enough time and discussion, NATO could reach a solid consensus on the ESC. Shortly before Nixon’s Moscow summit meeting with Brezhnev, Rogers reassured the president that none of the disagreements between the US and other allies would prevent a common front against the Soviets at an ESC. The Moscow summit could speed the creation of this consensus if Nixon pressed the Soviets on the ESC and gained a better sense of their objectives, the details of which still remained unclear.13 Rogers thus foresaw a reciprocal relationship between the US and NATO vis-à-vis the ESC. The US would commit to maintaining allied solidarity, but it would also coax members toward the US point of view, favoring tangible military negotiation over ambiguous talk about cooperation.14 The US had to soothe allied fears that it was abandoning NATO in favor of bilateral negotiations with the Soviets. After the summit, Rogers reassured the allies that the US had kept its promises. Indeed, NATO’s solidarity on military questions had helped Nixon in Moscow, particularly on SALT.15 Kissinger shared Rogers’s concerns about alliance cohesion, but not his interest in the ESC. Shortly after Nixon’s reelection in November 1972, he ordered a second comprehensive review of US policy toward Europe, an update of the one produced nearly three years before.16 The new study emphasized the Western Europeans’ fears that improving US–Soviet relations would marginalize them on major decisions. Unless the US allayed these concerns, the Europeans might try to form common policies outside of NATO. If this happened, the problems following the 1966 French military withdrawal from the alliance would be minor by comparison. The recently expanded European Economic Union (EEC) was the perfect vehicle for coordinating a separate foreign policy – and indeed, the CSCE would be the first occasion on which the Nine acted as a cohesive group in international negotiations. In order to eliminate this threat, the US had to balance increased US–Soviet cooperation with its commitment to allied solidarity and US–European political, economic, and military relations. However, the ESC occupied only a small part of this big picture, meriting only a passing

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mention in an NSC report on the subject.17 Just as the conference was taking shape, the US government was divided between cautious curiosity at the State Department and a near-total lack of interest on the National Security Council (NSC) staff. Yet both camps were willing to let the European allies chart the collective Western approach to the conference. In order to preserve allied solidarity and calm European concerns, the US was happy to follow. The US did not take a leading role at the negotiations setting the CSCE’s agenda and rules, the Multilateral Preparatory Talks (MPT), which opened just outside Helsinki in November 1972. The State Department avoided any appearance of negotiating agreements bilaterally with the Soviets, but did review the talks with Soviet diplomats in Washington. At one meeting in April 1973, some six months into the MPT, the US side emphasized that it was interested in the negotiations, but would not demand any particular provisions. Other NATO members were free to press the East on various matters, particularly in what had become known as Basket III – human contacts – but though the US would not dissent from the views of its allies, it would not take a firm line on them either. The Soviets were disappointed with the US refusal to strike bargains bilaterally – no doubt the US would have been more accommodating than the Europeans – but appreciated the State Department’s pledge to be flexible and undogmatic at Helsinki.18 The results of the MPT exceeded US expectations. Betraying a quiet optimism, the State Department argued that the allies had achieved all of their objectives, including some in Basket III that they had thought beyond their grasp. In particular, the production of a detailed agenda for each basket meant that “substantive discussions on concrete issues of interest to the West” would take place at the CSCE. The most important of these was the freer movement of people, ideas, and information, which had made it onto the agenda in an especially comprehensive form. Moreover, the Soviets had not insisted that an agreement be subject to the principle of non-interference in internal affairs. The State Department described each of these CSCE objectives as “allied” rather than “American” in origin, and said nothing about explicitly US goals. It focused entirely on the interests of other NATO members, as if its only policy were to support the allies against the Soviets where possible.19 Allied unity was not simply a means, but, in the context of the CSCE, was the end of US policy itself. From indifference to interest, 1973–75 As the CSCE approached, the US still took little interest in the substance of the conference. Whereas the Canadians and Western Europeans had been carefully planning their policies for months by the time Stage II opened in Geneva, the US delegation arrived with neither written instructions nor a list of general objectives.20 From the White House’s perspective, the sole US goal was to balance the allies’ demands for concrete Soviet concessions with Moscow’s desire to wrap up the conference as soon as possible. Nixon met Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko in the Oval Office shortly after Stage II got under

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31

way. Nuclear weapons and trade topped the agenda, but they dwelled at length on the CSCE. Gromyko emphasized that the Soviets did not want to get bogged down in the negotiations. They wanted a vaguely worded agreement that avoided detailed promises. Of course, getting bogged down was exactly what the US’s allies wanted to do, since they knew that this would increase the chances of Soviet concessions. But Nixon told Gromyko – as he had told Brezhnev before him – that he wanted the CSCE to conclude as soon as possible. He suggested that the US and the USSR had to work together to hustle it along: “We must agree where we want to come out.” This proposal seemed to contradict the allied ideals of solidarity, toughness, and patience. Nixon did not want the superpowers to form a “condominium” to control the CSCE’s direction, but he certainly refused to let the US be dragged along in the Western Europeans’ wake.21 Regardless, US inaction in Geneva continued as before. There was no effort to push the allies toward an early conclusion. Three months later, with the CSCE still at an impasse, Kissinger assured Gromyko that he would order the US delegation to increase the pace of negotiations. He bemoaned the Europeans’ attitude. They were “crazy on the subject of human contacts” and wasting everyone’s time by making unreasonable demands of the Communists. Kissinger was now impatient – no longer merely indifferent – and frustrated with the NATO members who failed to see that no gains at the CSCE could change Soviet behavior or the strategic situation in Europe.22 He repeated this point in talks with Brezhnev at the Kremlin in March 1974. The two men discussed in detail a number of issues on the conference agenda, particularly confidence-building measures and the inviolability of frontiers. Kissinger preferred to work directly with the Soviets to achieve agreement than to negotiate via NATO in Geneva.23 The CSCE was a slow-moving, multilateral negotiation, conducted by career diplomats. Its entire ethos was at odds with Kissinger’s style of direct bilateral deal-making, which often ran through backchannels and bypassed the diplomatic bureaucracy entirely. The CSCE ground slowly forward, but the fundamental US position did not change. Preparing for the June 1974 NATO summit, the State Department examined the European allies’ consistently high interest in the conference. It argued that the conference offered them the opportunity “to play their own role” in détente. This was one area of East–West diplomacy – unlike nuclear disarmament, for example – that the superpowers did not dominate by necessity. Moreover, the allies knew that the conference was only of “marginal interest” to the US. They were determined to take the lead, especially because they suspected that the US might sell them out by striking a weak deal with Moscow in order to obtain concessions in other areas of détente. The US and the Western Europeans thus disagreed about how long the CSCE should run and what it should produce. At the root of this conflict were different assessments of the immutability of Communist governments, which in turn produced different conclusions about what détente could achieve.24 For the US side, which prided itself on its realism, there simply was no chance that the CSCE – or any facet of détente, for that matter – could actually change the Soviet

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system. No possible concession could affect the way Eastern European governments treated their people. At best, the Eastern Europeans might become “normal” members of the international system. Fighting for anything more ambitious was a waste of time. This intellectual disagreement had practical consequences in Geneva. Anxious to wrap up the conference as soon as possible, the US pressed the allies to draft a list of what minimum results they could accept. The goal, of course, was to force the Western Europeans to agree to conclude the CSCE as soon as these results were achieved. Once the conference was over, the US could concentrate on more important issues in East–West relations. The majority of the allies, including the Canadians, objected to the US plan. In their view, it would unnecessarily limit the scope of the gains that the West might make at the CSCE. There was no way to know how much the Soviets were willing to concede, so the best thing to do was to push the Communists as far as possible without defining in advance how far was far enough. The allies would agree only to a list of the CSCE’s major issues. The more the US negotiators emphasized the need for quick progress, the more the Western Europeans suspected that they were collaborating with the Soviets to produce a premature – and anodyne – conclusion.25 Washington thus faced the difficult task of putting enough pressure on the Europeans to produce results, but not so much as to provoke a renewed confrontation. It had little success. Much to Washington’s frustration, the conference moved forward at its usual glacial pace. A few months later, Kissinger acknowledged that the US was torn between pressing the Soviets to make concessions and urging the allies to reduce their demands. It was succeeding at neither. It could not even claim to be one of the major players in Geneva.26 Despite this gloomy assessment, the US outlook gained a hint of optimism in the new year. The State Department noted that the negotiations were “achieving their purpose effectively” and were even “beneficial for all concerned.” Even if the US government was not coming around to the European point of view, at least it recognized that the CSCE might be of more use than simply as a bargaining counter to sell to the Soviets in exchange for concessions elsewhere. However, winding up Stage II as soon as possible remained the priority. Any assistance the US could give the Soviets in this context might bring valuable gains in the MBFR talks, then underway in Vienna, which had always been more important to the US than the CSCE.27 Within a few months, Kissinger’s attitude had changed because of a combination of allied pressure, domestic US opinion, and the recognition that the CSCE might advance US interests against the Soviets. He no longer insisted on hurrying the conference to an early conclusion. The unfailingly slow pace of negotiations had convinced everyone that more haste meant less speed. The Western Europeans certainly thought so, rejecting any move that would hinder their ability to put pressure on the Eastern Europeans. Domestic politics also played a crucial role here. In 1974, the Democrats’ Jackson–Vanik amendment and the Soviet expulsion of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn focused the US public’s

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attention on Moscow’s dreadful human rights record.28 Kissinger could not afford to seem soft on such an important issue. By early 1975, he was standing alongside the Europeans in demanding Soviet concessions. He praised Western tenacity in “sticking to the ideas” they had long championed and in resisting Communist pressure to back down. Kissinger had thrown his weight behind the unified NATO position and, in some regards, was now even tougher than some of the toughest Western Europeans.29 He had realized that the Soviets were increasingly eager to end the negotiations, and concluded that NATO should try to secure some concessions – either at the CSCE or, invoking the logic of linkage, in other negotiations – while there was still time. The burden of action now lay entirely on the Soviets. The West would not cave in simply to wrap the conference up. The State Department was satisfied with this new direction. It acknowledged, with a hint of defiance, that “it [was] no secret that we were never among the most enthusiastic supporters of this conference.” From the beginning, the CSCE’s agenda had held little interest for the US and had no bearing on US strategy. The only objective was to maintain allied unity – blocking Soviet efforts to fracture NATO – and ensure that the allies’ goals were “balanced and realistic.” In short, the US wanted to preserve the status quo and placate the Soviets and Europeans. Now, the State Department could not conceal its satisfaction at US success, modest though it was. In its analysis, the US had helped to maintain a common Western front by reconciling divergent EEC and NATO goals. Better yet, by working together, the members of the alliance had achieved their top objectives. In Basket I, the allies had balanced Soviet insistence on the inviolability of frontiers with the principle of peaceful change. This bargain held out the possibility of German reunification, an idea anathema to the Communists given its implications for their security and legitimacy. In Basket III, pledges to allow the freer flow of people, ideas, and information promised to relax the grip of Communist governments on their own societies.30 The elemental principle of allied unity, which had underpinned US policy toward the CSCE from the beginning, had been central to this success. This solidarity had worn the Soviets down to the point that they were unable to resist “the sheer unity of the message” once Kissinger entered the debate. His decision to stop mediating between the Western Europeans and the Soviets hastened Moscow’s realization that concessions were necessary to bring the conference to a successful conclusion.31 Further concessions soon arrived. By the first week in June, in an effort to conclude the negotiations in time for a summit in late July, the Soviets had granted most of the West’s longstanding desiderata.32 By mid-July, the State Department began planning the president’s trip to the concluding summit of the CSCE in Helsinki. Ford’s mere presence at the summit would confirm the US’s consistent goal for the CSCE: to “demonstrate that the United States retains a vital interest in Europe, and that the security of the United States is tied through our participation in the Atlantic alliance to the stability of the European continent.” Despite a relative lack of US interest in the conference, the goal – and

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tactic – of transatlantic solidarity helped force Soviet concessions and achieve NATO’s goals.33

The view from Ottawa Like the US, Canada was an apparent outsider at the CSCE. But where the US was indifferent, Canada invested significant energy. From Ottawa’s perspective, involvement in the conference would serve two purposes. First, it would prove Canada’s value as a member of NATO and reaffirm the country’s stake in European security. Second, it would advance national and Western interests against the Soviets, especially with regard to human rights. These twin goals guided Canadian policy toward the CSCE from the conference’s origins until the Helsinki summit. Early enthusiasm, 1968–70 Before 1968, the Canadian government paid little attention to the Warsaw Pact’s calls for a European security conference. Like the rest of its NATO allies, Canada was suspicious of Communist motives. This attitude changed over the next few years as many members of the alliance began to see how a conference might serve their Cold War goals. In Canada, domestic political changes reinforced this interest. A new prime minister took office in April 1968, bringing with him a desire to make his own mark on foreign policy. Like his predecessor Lester Pearson, Pierre Trudeau was a Liberal. But where Pearson, a lifelong diplomat, believed strongly in the fundamentals of Canadian foreign policy – including the importance of shared North American and Western European values – Trudeau, despite his inexperience in the field, was eager to rebuild it from the ground up on a firmly rational basis. He questioned every principle that Canadian diplomats had taken for granted since the end of World War II, especially membership in NATO. The result was a top-to-bottom review of foreign and defense policy. The review quickly concluded that Canadian membership in NATO was a vital national interest. However, the country’s strong military commitment to the alliance did not fare as well. In early April 1969, Trudeau announced sharp cuts in the number of Canadian troops stationed in Europe. Canadians themselves were indifferent, but the backlash abroad was sharp. At the Washington summit celebrating the alliance’s twentieth anniversary, Mitchell Sharp, the secretary of state for external affairs, received a frosty welcome. Irate allies read the troop cuts as evidence of fading Canadian commitments to European security and NATO itself.34 Sharp left Washington bruised, but did not change the policy. The number of Canadian forces in Europe was reduced from 10,000 to 5,000, leaving furious officials at the Department of External Affairs to clean up the diplomatic mess. They feared that Canada’s influence in the alliance would decline and that its national interests would suffer.35 Many of these diplomats had spent their careers building up Canada’s modest, but proud place in the

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international system. They were determined to prove that the country’s commitment to the Western cause was as strong as ever. Showing some kind of leadership in the proposed European security conference was an ideal way to do so. It was an opportunity to regain lost prestige.36 The first priority was to secure Canadian participation in the conference. Given that the Warsaw Pact had referred to it as a “European” or “all-European” conference, there was a danger that the Communists would seek to exclude the North Americans. Certainly, the Communists seemed to want to use the conference to drive a wedge into the Atlantic alliance. In April 1969, officials at the Department of External Affairs asked the Soviet ambassador in Ottawa whether his government aimed to keep the North Americans out of the conference. He refused to answer the question directly, but noted that Moscow did not claim to decide which states could take part. In any event, it was “unlikely” that his government would resist Canadian participation.37 Either the Soviets were halfhearted in their desire to split NATO, or they hoped to exchange their acquiescence to North American participation for concessions from the West. It was unclear what such concessions might be, but at least the Canadians would not be shut out. Ottawa soon firmed up its attitude toward the proposal. Canada and its allies would speak openly to the Communists about the idea, but only so long as two preconditions were met. First, both Canada and the US had to be guaranteed status as full participants. NATO could not take part in a process designed to undermine it. As with the US attitude to the CSCE, allied unity underpinned Canadian policy from the very earliest stages. Second, East and West had to reach a settlement on the division of Germany. It would be futile to discuss lasting security in Europe if the status of Berlin remained in dispute. This encapsulated the Canadian strategy toward the conference. After granting the Warsaw Pact’s request for the conference, NATO should use the opportunity to extract the highest possible price in return. Progress on the longstanding German question would be a good place to start. These tough prerequisites made it doubtful that the conference would convene soon. In Ottawa’s view, patience was fundamental. NATO should take all the time necessary to develop a solid, detailed, and unified CSCE policy. By outlasting and outthinking the Communists, the West could change the conference from a holding action into a victory.38 Here was an important difference between Canadian and US attitudes toward the alliance in the context of the CSCE. The US was content to write off the conference as an unequivocal Eastern victory on the understanding that concessions to the West would be forthcoming elsewhere, particularly on MBFR. By contrast, the Canadians refused to let the alliance be manipulated in this way. Besides, Ottawa now had a chance to show leadership and make a real contribution to the Western cause. It could not squander this opportunity. If the alliance sacrificed the conference in exchange for gains on disarmament, Canada, with its small army, would have little say in any military negotiations. The CSCE was its best – and maybe only – opportunity to take center stage. By contrast, the US, comfortable in its superpower status, was happy to let slide fuzzy discussions of

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principles in exchange for tangible gains in force reductions. Their relative strengths and capabilities had a large impact on the North Americans’ views of the conference. By mid-1969, the Canadian government expected to participate in a conference “as a matter of right.”39 There also remained the lingering question of whether the Communists would demand concessions in exchange for North American participation. They did. The Soviets would only accept the Canadians and Americans at the conference if NATO did the same for the East Germans. However, the alliance had recognized neither the East German government nor the partition of Germany itself, making it difficult to respond to the Soviet demand. Canada was willing to pay this price, not least because de facto acceptance of East Germany could have only a symbolic impact, and a small one at that, given how long Germany had been divided. The other allies agreed.40 West Germany’s signing of the Eastern Treaties the following year made the Department of External Affairs recognize that the crunch time for the ESC was drawing near. In November 1970, the department’s officials sought and obtained cabinet approval for Canadian participation in the conference so long as NATO’s prerequisites were met. They debated what demands the alliance should make at the conference. The extent of disagreements over goals and tactics raised doubts in the Canadian delegation about whether a unified NATO position was within reach. In Ottawa’s view, the ideal allied strategy would combine offensive and defensive elements. Aggressive action was necessary to add an item on the freer movement of people, ideas, and information to the agenda. Simultaneously, the alliance had to block Communist progress on security questions, specifically any efforts to legitimize the Brezhnev Doctrine. Moreover, the ESC had to be linked to MBFR. Without troop cuts in Europe, declarations about the meaning of security would just be empty words.41 Ottawa hoped that NATO-wide force reductions would help to erase the memory of the unilateral Canadian troop cuts the previous year. Above all, given the increasing influence of public opinion on policy-makers, it was essential that NATO speak consistently and positively about the ESC and the prospects for peace, and that it be seen to be doing so. The alliance could not afford to give the perception that it was standing in the way of détente.42 High ambitions, 1971–73 The intra-alliance debate about the ESC began in January 1971. The Canadians worried that the allies were not setting their sights high enough. Early discussions in Brussels suggested that many members saw the ESC as an opportunity just to make speeches, believing that anything more ambitious was just proof of naïveté. The French in particular cleaved to this approach on the assumption that any meeting of European states would be enough to promote the cause of peace.43 Officials at the Department of External Affairs fumed that this was “trying to play our game by Soviet rules.” All the Soviets wanted was a quick and glib conference to legitimize the territorial status quo. This alone would be a

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major Communist victory, so it would be disastrous to follow the Soviet script on this point. Instead, the allies had to challenge it and insist on concrete results, not just a stream of fine rhetoric.44 The Canadians persevered. By May, with the help of other like-minded delegations, the Senior Political Advisory Committee fell into line. Its draft ESC agenda included the Soviet item on principles governing relations between states; economic, scientific, and environmental cooperation; the freer movement of people, ideas, and information; and conference follow-up procedures. NATO’s watchwords were solidarity, toughness, and patience.45 Despite US indifference, the alliance established its basic position along these lines. It now had the opportunity to study each agenda item in detail, since the conference could not open before the Berlin precondition was fulfilled. The principles governing relations between states were at the top of the agenda. Canada insisted only that the principles reject the Brezhnev Doctrine. It preferred to focus on freer movement, an item in which Sharp took a personal interest. Working with the Dutch and the Danes, the Canadians tried to convince their NATO colleagues that the West had an opportunity to make significant gains here.46 Greater openness in the Warsaw Pact would weaken the Communist governments’ control over their own populations, and would reduce East–West tensions. Domestic concerns also drove the Canadian initiative. The country was home to a large number of Eastern European immigrants, many of whom had family members trapped in the Old World because of travel restrictions. For this reason, Ottawa took a strong interest in pushing the Communists toward greater openness, especially on family reunification. The Canadian government risked a fight within the alliance on this question. The US and other allies were “unenthusiastic” about the chances of progress on human contacts. They believed it impossible that the Communists would change fundamental policies just because of the CSCE. In their view, the Canadians were naïve do-gooders in the world of power politics.47 The lack of US interest in this question is striking, given the size of the US’s Eastern European immigrant population. However, as already discussed, US policy-makers rejected family reunification as a serious objective. In their assessment, military questions had to take priority. The French were even more difficult to deal with, not least because they refused to believe that allied solidarity had any value. The Quai d’Orsay insisted that EEC members formulate a collective position and let the other allies act independently. Since France had far more influence within the EEC than it could hope to have within NATO, this approach was easy to understand. Because of French objections, NATO never held official meetings during the negotiations in Geneva. The EEC did. Nevertheless, NATO did succeed in coordinating a common position on most major issues via informal caucuses in Geneva. On the question of freer movement, the French vehemently opposed Canada’s tough line. Indeed, the EEC bloc within NATO objected to the phrase “freer movement of people, ideas, and information,” preferring the less dramatic “contact between peoples,” which they believed would be more palatable to the

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Communists. It would also dash any hopes of weakening the Communists’ hold over their own populations and kill Canadian plans for family reunification. During NATO’s internal debate over the CSCE, Canada’s Department of External Affairs resisted the EEC proposal, arguing that it was foolish to make concessions to the Warsaw Pact before the conference even opened. Nevertheless, by December 1972, Canada stood alone in its objections. The alliance officially adopted the EEC’s wording. True to the principle of alliance solidarity, the Canadians toed the common line, but remained determined to change the allies’ minds in Helsinki.48 Taking a leading role on this question at the MPT, Canada won the fight. Participants agreed to discuss “cooperation in humanitarian and other fields,” including freer movement. The Canadians had failed in Brussels, but they succeeded in Helsinki.49 Alongside the Western Europeans, particularly the Danes and the Dutch, they championed an expansive vision of human rights at the CSCE. NATO scored a great victory at the MPT. Despite intra-alliance disagreements, Western unity had endured and the agreed-upon agenda for the CSCE would force the Communists to discuss questions of human rights in explicit detail. In July 1973, the cabinet approved Canadian participation in the CSCE.50 The Department of External Affairs had demonstrated that the negotiations could strengthen the Canadian commitment to Europe and the alliance. A few days before the Stage II negotiations opened in Geneva, CSCE experts from each NATO country met in Brussels to discuss how to proceed. Given the complexities of the MPT and the likelihood that the Geneva negotiations would be more complicated still, the Canadians pressed for regular alliance consultations. Solidarity would be key in confronting the Warsaw Pact, especially considering the high quality of the Communist delegations.51 During these discussions, Canadian officials contrasted their enthusiasm for the CSCE with the indifference of the US. They noted hopefully that the Western delegations were formulating “common policy in the NATO rather than the EEC context.”52 If this solidarity could be maintained, the CSCE might bring real benefits to the West. The prognosis for Stage II was good. Patience and success, 1973–75 Despite the flurry of meetings and discussions during the first month in Geneva, the conference moved excruciatingly slowly. NATO thus had the time to develop its tactics and flesh out its desiderata. The West had not yet formulated precise objectives for each agenda item, so the allies set to work.53 They divided up the agenda, with each delegation preparing a background paper and proposing goals to pursue. The Canadians drafted the Western position on family reunification.54 The Canadians believed in the necessity of hammering out a common NATO position, but refused to circumscribe the goals the alliance set for itself. They argued that NATO should agree only on minimum, not maximum, aims. Likewise, they resisted Kissinger’s 1974 push to define Western goals. In Ottawa’s

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estimation, it was unclear exactly how much the Communists might concede, so there was no point in defining at which point the West should stop pushing. Until the Soviets’ bottom line became clear, it was counterproductive to speculate about what the conference could achieve.55 Insisting on patience and determination in both strategy and tactics, Canada stood firmly with its European allies against the US.56 Allied unity was vital, albeit elusive.57 After nearly a year of patient bargaining with the Warsaw Pact in Geneva, some NATO members began to wonder whether the West, with its open-ended goals, was being too ambitious. By June 1974, the Communists had made few significant concessions in Basket III or anywhere else. There was no point in wasting time on the off-chance that they might eventually cave in. These were longstanding concerns for many allies, but the question was more acute than ever because of new worries that the Communists might shut down the entire conference if the West kept up this pressure. If this happened, Western public opinion might blame NATO for the conference’s collapse. Given the allies’ concern about public perceptions of the CSCE, some believed that the strategy of toughness and patience was a recipe for failure. NATO thus faced a choice: it could either stick to the original plan, or it could soften its demands in order to avoid alienating the Communists. To the Canadians, the choice was clear. They dismissed the possibility that the Warsaw Pact would pull out, since the conference had been a Communist idea in the first place. Even if the Eastern Europeans did leave, no one would blame the West for the CSCE’s failure. Since a softening of the Western line was precisely what the Soviets themselves were hoping for, NATO had to be as tough as ever.58 In this light, the negotiations were a test of diplomatic stamina: the side that was less desperate for a result and more willing to wait for concessions would eventually win. Thanks in large part to NATO’s continued tough line, progress accelerated in the second half of 1974. By the beginning of 1975, the Canadians were satisfied enough with what had been accomplished to begin thinking about follow-up measures. The goal was a mechanism that would allow the allies to capitalize on the gains they had made in Geneva, both in the interests of improving East–West relations and of pressuring the Communists to live up to their promises, especially in Basket III. Besides, the Canadians welcomed the chance to participate in European affairs at the highest level and make a meaningful non-military contribution to the alliance. Follow-up was thus essential to the Canadians, but it divided the alliance. The French and West Germans took a restricted view of follow-up because they feared that the North Americans, particularly the US, would use it as an excuse to interfere in European affairs. If the Americans were kept out, Paris and Bonn could dominate the debate about the future of European security.59 This transatlantic rift only healed after an extended fight. It was agreed not to create a permanent international organization, but rather to hold a follow-up conference in Belgrade in 1977. This compromise satisfied everyone at the CSCE. The Canadians had achieved their objective, but only just. Though the slow pace continued, things were moving in the right direction.60

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In the spring of 1975, Canada’s Department of External Affairs considered the CSCE’s balance sheet. The West had reason to be both proud of and surprised at the gains it had made at the expense of the East. Though the process had been painful, the EEC and NATO had been forced to collaborate, coordinate their positions, and reach compromises. Given the potential for conflicting interests to set the one against the other, and given that this was the first major international negotiation in which the EEC had participated as a coordinated group, this was a signal achievement. The Canadians had been accepted as legitimate participants in a European conference. Better still, Canadian diplomats in Geneva had made important contributions to the Final Act, and in important areas had been more active than their US counterparts. The gains in Basket III were especially impressive, including those on family reunification, an area of special interest to Canada.61 The Department of External Affairs hoped that the West would find a way to conclude the conference sooner rather than later and without making unnecessary concessions. As the CSCE reached its “final marchandage,” allies disagreed about what concessions would be an acceptable price to pay to wrap things up. In the Canadian view, the trick was to avoid the appearance of being anxious to conclude the conference. Any hint that Western patience was flagging might spark a sudden toughening of the Eastern position in order to avoid concessions that might otherwise be forthcoming. It was especially important that NATO’s foreign ministers hold firm at their 1975 summer meeting.62 Well aware of the need for continued unity, they did. The alliance stretched its collective patience to secure last-minute Soviet concessions. With the Final Act largely in place, the alliance had two tasks left. First, it had to challenge the Communist interpretation of the document. Though the West had clearly got the better bargain, the Eastern Europeans would inevitably proclaim that they had won a great victory. Given the amount of energy they had invested in the Helsinki process, they had no choice. If this was the only opinion of the Final Act that Western audiences heard, the allies would face strong domestic opposition to the deal they had fought so hard to reach. NATO therefore had to blow its own horn, but not so loudly as to frighten the Communists into pulling out at the last minute or refusing to follow through on their promises.63 This was a delicate balance to strike, and, given the strongly negative reception that the Final Act received in the US and other Western countries, it proved elusive. But despite this bad press, the Canadian government was delighted with what it had accomplished, both in shaping the Final Act and in helping to keep the fragile Atlantic alliance together.

Conclusion US and Canadian attitudes to the CSCE diverged, but the two countries shared a common view of NATO and the role it had to play in the negotiations. They started from the premise that solidarity was the alliance’s top priority, and that everything else should flow from it. But solidarity was hard to achieve. Intra-

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alliance tensions over the North American role in Europe and disagreements over common positions tested alliance unity. The North Americans themselves reached different conclusions about the value of the CSCE, echoing their diverging attitudes to the conference. Each country’s policy reflected its international status and power, its ideas about the CSCE’s potential, and its policy-making process. In this light, differences in Canadian and US attitudes were understandable and unsurprising. The US, particularly the White House, initially treated the CSCE as a loss for the West. It was a bargaining chip to be traded to the Warsaw Pact in exchange for gains elsewhere. Everything would work out on the grand balance sheet of détente. This meant that the US, until the final stages of the negotiations, wanted NATO to limit Communist gains in Geneva, but without putting up too much of a fight. By contrast, Ottawa saw the CSCE as a rare opportunity to prove its commitment to Europe. It could not compete with the US in terms of dollars spent or troops committed, but it could make up for these deficits by hard work and tough bargaining. After the ill-considered and embarrassing troop cuts of 1969, the Canadians were determined to rehabilitate their Cold Warrior credentials. Besides, lacking the US’s global reach and responsibilities, Canada could not treat the conference as part of a larger geostrategic calculus in the way that the US could. Different attitudes toward NATO solidarity at the CSCE grew out of these different views of the world. For the US, solidarity defined strategy. Within the context of the CSCE, it was the end itself. For the Canadians, solidarity was simply part of their tactics. It was a means to a larger end. Differences in how policy was formulated also contributed to the differences in North American attitudes to the CSCE. On the US side, high-level officials – particularly Kissinger – set the policy. His prolonged disinterest in the process meant that officials with less influence, whether Secretary of State Rogers or the diplomats doing the actual negotiating in Geneva, lacked high-level support. State Department officials were more interested in the conference than anyone at the White House, but it was difficult for them to put any muscle behind their policies. Consequently, US policy toward the conference floundered for a long time, epitomized by the US delegation’s lack of instructions when it arrived in Geneva. These frustrations were alien to the Canadians in Geneva. Enjoying greater freedom than their US counterparts, they could set policy themselves. Only rarely did they have to submit their decisions to their superiors – either to the secretary of state for external affairs, or to the whole cabinet – for approval. And even when approval was necessary, it was perfunctory. This freedom meant that, despite the annoyances and delays of conference life, Canadian negotiators were confident that their actions would receive the necessary support at home. Both in intra-alliance debates and at the CSCE itself, they could take a leading role that was sometimes beyond the grasp of their US colleagues. A lack of military power accentuated Canadian interest in non-military issues and increased enthusiasm for the CSCE in the Department of External Affairs. The conference offered an opportunity to work on issues, such as human rights, that the skeptical and preoccupied superpowers disdained.

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These contrasting approaches may point to a more fundamental and significant intellectual difference. It is common for scholars to speak about détente as if it were a single, easily identifiable strategy. But détente did not mean the same thing to every state at the CSCE. Certainly, the contrast between Washington’s and Ottawa’s views of the Helsinki process suggests that they had different visions of détente. One might call the US idea of détente static, both because it sought to preserve the status quo64 – to normalize relations with the Communists without fundamentally changing their domestic systems – and because it was based on a clear set of objectives defined in advance. By contrast, the Canadian idea of détente was dynamic, both because it aimed to change the status quo within the Communist states and because it was open-ended. Policy-makers in Ottawa had no clear idea of what they might achieve but they believed that, by sticking to their principles, they might make significant gains. Where static détente was conservative and stabilizing, dynamic détente was liberal and risk-taking.65 Ultimately, the Helsinki Final Act combined elements of both static and dynamic détente. The document weaves together the themes of stability and change. From NATO’s point of view, it would have been impossible to make the gains that it did without the principle of allied solidarity. Despite their different ideas of détente, the US and Canada built their policies toward the CSCE on the principle of solidarity. Both countries played important roles in the CSCE process, but neither could have achieved anything in Geneva without the support of their allies. In this sense, NATO as a whole deserves as much credit as its individual members for the successes that the West enjoyed in Geneva and for the ultimate shape of the Final Act.

Notes 1 “European Security . . . and Real Détente,” New York Times, 21 July 1975, p. 14. 2 See, for example, “NATO Strains Grow at Security Parley,” New York Times, 7 July 1975, p. 8. 3 “Position Paper: Belgian Proposal for Study on Future of NATO,” 6 December 1966, National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, MD (NARA), RG 59, Executive Secretariat Conference Files (CF), 1966–72, Box 432. 4 “NATO Faces East,” 1 June 1968, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 472. 5 Department of State (DoS) to the US Mission to NATO, “List of Issues for Possible Negotiation with the East,” 9 August 1969, NARA, RG 59, Central Foreign Policy Files, 1967–69, Box 2,081, POL 1 Eur E – Eur W 7/1/69. 6 “A Review of United States Policy Toward Europe,” 14 January 1970, Nixon Presidential Materials Project, College Park, MD (NPMP), NSC Files, Box 667, Europe – Europe General. Emphasis in the original. 7 “Background Paper on Europe for NSC Meeting, January 28,” 26 January 1970, NPMP, NSC Institutional Files, Box H-026, NSC Meeting 1/28/70 – Europe. 8 Memorandum for Secretary of State Rogers, “Preview of December NATO Ministerial Meeting,” 4 November 1970, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 522. 9 Rogers to Nixon, “NATO Ministerial Meeting,” 5 December 1970, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 522. 10 State Department Intelligence Note, “NATO: Détente in Autumn,” 15 October 1971, NPMP, NSC Institutional Files, Box H-187, NSSM 138. 11 Memorandum for Rogers, “Objectives – Issues – Talking Points,” n.d. [December

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13 14 15 16 17 18

19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27

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1971], NARA, RG 59, Executive Secretariat Briefing Books, 1958–76, Box 56, NATO Ministerial Mtg Brussels, December 1971 Briefing Book for the Secretary. DoS Research Study, “NATO: Allied Attitudes Toward a Conference on European Security and Cooperation (CESC),” 3 December 1971, NPMP, NSC Institutional Files, Box H-187, NSSM 138, and DoS to all NATO capitals, “NATO Ministerial Meeting: An Overview,” 11 December 1971, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 531. Rogers to Nixon, “Western Europe before the Summit,” 11 May 1972, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 524. US Delegation to NATO to DoS, “Secretary Rogers’ Statement to NAC on President’s Visit to Moscow,” 5 May 1972, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 524. US Embassy in Bonn to DoS, untitled, 30 May 1972, NARA, RG 59, CF, 1966–72, Box 524. Kissinger, “NSSM 164: Relations with Europe,” 18 November 1972, NPMP, NSC Institutional Files, Box H-194, NSSM 164. National Security Study Memorandum 164, “United States Relations with Europe,” 18 December 1972, NPMP, NSC Institutional Files, Box H-194, NSSM 164. Memorandum for the Record, “US–Soviet Views on CSCE Preparatory Negotiations,” 19 April 1973, NPMP, Kissinger Office Files, Box 77, Moscow Trip – CSCE. For background on the MPT, see John J. Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–1975 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1985), pp. 13–22; Luigi Vittorio Ferraris (ed.), Report on a Negotiation: Helsinki–Geneva–Helsinki 1972–1975 (Alphen aan den Rijn: Sijthoff and Noordhoff International, 1979), pp. 9–88; and Jussi M. Hanhimäki, “ ‘They Can Write It in Swahili’: Kissinger, the Soviets, and the Helsinki Accords, 1973–75,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies 1, no. 1 (2003), pp. 38–46. Memorandum, “Results of the Multilateral Preparatory Talks,” n.d. [June 1973], NPMP, NSC Files, Box 940, General Secretary Brezhnev Visit to USA June 1973 – Background Papers vol. I. Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 44. Memorandum of Conversation (MemCon) between Nixon, Kissinger, Gromyko, and Dobrynin, 28 September 1973, NPMP, Kissinger Office Files, Box 71, Gromyko 1973. MemCon between Kissinger and Gromyko, 22 December 1973, NPMP, Kissinger Office Files, Box 71, Gromyko 1973. MemCon between Kissinger and Brezhnev, 25 March 1974, NPMP, Kissinger Office Files, Box 76, Secretary Kissinger’s Pre-Summit Trip to Moscow 24–28 March 1974 – MemCons and Reports. DoS Briefing Paper, “CSCE,” n.d. [June 1974], NPMP, Kissinger Office Files, Box 53, NAC Summit – Brussels June 1974. Arthur Hartman to Helmut Sonnenfeldt, “CSCE: Allied Study of Minimum Desired Results,” 19 July 1974, NARA, RG 59, Records of the Office of the Counselor, 1955–77, Box 11, POL 3–1 CSCE – General. Kissinger to Ford, “Your Meeting in Vladivostok,” 14 November 1974, NARA, RG 59, Records of the Office of the Counselor, 1955–77, Box 5, Soviet Union 1974. Hanhimäki, “They Can Write It in Swahili,” pp. 47f., and DoS Briefing Paper, “Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE),” n.d. [December 1974], NARA, RG 59, Executive Secretariat, Briefing Books 1958–76, Box 212, Secretary Kissinger’s Visit to NATO – Brussels 10–13 December 1974. See, e.g., James T. Patterson, Restless Giant: The United States from Watergate to Bush v. Gore (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), pp. 102f. Kissinger to Ford, “Status Report on CSCE,” 2 April 1975, Gerald R. Ford Library, Ann Arbor, MI (hereafter GRFL), National Security Adviser – NSC Europe, Canada, and Ocean Affairs Staff: Files, Box 44, CSCE, 1975 (4) WH. Briefing Paper for President Ford, “Conference on Security and Cooperation in

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36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

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M.C. Morgan Europe (CSCE),” n.d. [May 1975], NARA, RG 59, Executive Secretariat, Briefing Books 1958–76, Box 222, President Ford’s Visit to Helsinki for CSCE, August 1975. Hanhimäki, “They Can Write It in Swahili,” p. 53. Memorandum for Kissinger, “CSCE: Soviets Moving to Wrap Up the Conference,” 5 June 1975, NARA, RG 59, Records of the Office of the Counselor, 1955–77, Box 7, Soviet Union June–July 1975. DoS to Ford, “The CSCE Summit,” n.d. [July 1975], GRFL, National Security Adviser – Trip Briefing Books and Cables for President Ford, 1974–76, Box 10, 26 July–4 August 1975 – Europe – Briefing Book – CSCE. Mitchell Sharp, Which Reminds Me: A Memoir (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1994), p. 175. Jack Lawrence Granatstein and Robert Bothwell, Pirouette: Pierre Trudeau and Canadian Foreign Policy (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), pp. 21–6, and Sean M. Maloney, The Roots of Soft Power: The Trudeau Government, DeNATOization, and Denuclearization, 1967–1970 (Kingston, ON: Center for International Relations, Queen’s University, 2005) pp. 19–37. Interview with W. Thomas Delworth, Canadian ambassador to the CSCE, 1974–75, Ottawa, 2 April 2005. External Affairs (EA) to Canadian Delegation to NATO, 3 April 1969, National Archives of Canada, Ottawa (NAC), RG-25 vol. 9,054 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 1. Memorandum for the Secretary of State for External Affairs (SSEA), 22 April 1969, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,054 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 1. EA to Moscow Embassy, 1 November 1969, and Moscow to EA, 3 November 1969, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,054 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 4. EA to Moscow Embassy, 1 November 1969, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,054 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 4. Memorandum for the SSEA, 25 November 1970, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,055 File 20-4CSCE vol. 10. Canadian Delegation to NATO to EA, 4 December 1970, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,055 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 11. Canadian Delegation to NATO to EA, 25 March 1971, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,055 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 13. EA to Canadian Delegation to NATO, 24 February 1971, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,055 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 12. Canadian Delegation to NATO Brief, 29 May 1971, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,054 File 204-CSCE vol. 14. “Principles Governing Relations between States,” EA memorandum, 22 October 1971, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,055 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 15. EA to Canadian Delegation to NATO, 10 October 1972, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,088 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 24. EA to Canadian Delegation to NATO, 13 December 1972, and Canadian Delegation to NATO to EA, 14 December 1972, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,089 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 27, and Canadian Delegation to NATO to EA, 11 January 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,089 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 28. EA memorandum, 12 June 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,090 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 35. Memorandum to Cabinet, 26 July 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,090 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 37. Canadian Delegation to NATO to EA, 17 September 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,091 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 39. EA memorandum, 19 September 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,091 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 39. Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, 16 October 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,091 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 40. Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, 2 November 1973, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,091 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 41.

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55 Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, 21 February 1974, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,091 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 43. 56 EA to Canadian Delegation to NATO, 9 July 1974, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,092 File 204-CSCE vol. 46. 57 Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, 6 April 1974, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,091 File 204-CSCE vol. 44. 58 Briefing for the SSEA, “CSCE: Western Tactics,” 11 June 1974, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,092 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 46. 59 EA to the Canadian Delegation to the CSCE, 20 January 1975, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,093 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 50. 60 Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, 26 March 1975, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,093 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 51. 61 Memorandum for the SSEA, “CSCE – Status Report,” 3 April 1975, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,093 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 52. 62 Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, 12 May 1975, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,093 File 204-CSCE vol. 53. 63 Canadian Delegation to CSCE to EA, “CSCE: Common Evaluation in NATO,” 25 June 1975, NAC, RG-25 vol. 9,093 File 20-4-CSCE vol. 55. 64 Mary Sarotte describes the US view of détente as a means of preserving the status quo in Dealing with the Devil: East Germany, Détente, and Ostpolitik, 1969–1973 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001). 65 This interpretation of détente does not contradict that of Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Détente (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), but rather suggests that his idea of détente as a counterrevolutionary, conservative phenomenon only tells half of the story.

3

Henry Kissinger and the reconceptualization of European security, 1969–75 Jeremi Suri1

Introduction Without the Cold War in Europe, Henry Kissinger never would have become a prominent foreign policy figure. His European connections and expertise brought him to the attention of US policy-makers as early as 1952, when he was only 29 years of age.2 His sharpness of mind and iconoclasm led older distinguished analysts of European security, searching for “new ideas,” to include him in their deliberations, even if they often disagreed with his conclusions.3 During the late 1950s and 1960s, Henry Kissinger became a minor public celebrity on both sides of the Atlantic through his prolific writings and speeches, which warned of Western European demoralization in the context of a Cold War stalemate. With the construction of the Berlin Wall in August 1961 and the entrenched separation of the continent that ensued, Western European leaders had few remaining avenues for policy initiatives that would mollify restive and dissatisfied citizens. Contrary to many of the trends towards Soviet–US détente in the early 1960s, Kissinger called for the US to give leaders like German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and French President Charles de Gaulle more of a stake in the Western alliance through limited access to nuclear weapons, expanded conventional military capabilities, a larger consultative role in NATO, and, most importantly, concrete assurances of US commitments to the long-term defense of European security against Soviet encroachment.4 Without more active cooperation on security beyond the divided European status quo, Kissinger warned that the transatlantic community faced growing acrimony and instability. Writing in 1962, he was especially prescient in his prediction of the core challenge the alliance would face in the next decade-and-ahalf: Nothing less is required than a fundamental reassessment of attitudes on both sides of the Atlantic . . . [W]e have tended to confuse our periodic expressions of reassurance with the creation of a true partnership, and the muffling of European expressions of concern with meeting the cause of concern. Our Continental allies in turn have shown their disquiet more frequently in the hesitancy with which they have carried out agreed measures

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than in frankly asserting their disagreement. In the decade ahead, we must face the fact that our mere enunciation of policy no longer guarantees that it will be accepted. Henceforth, the Europeans are bound to examine not only the fact of our commitment, but also its nature. At the same time, our allies must accept the responsibility that goes with their new equality.5 Kissinger clearly foresaw the need to place the relationship between the US and its transatlantic allies on a more multilateral footing, emphasizing common concerns shared across the European continent. No initiative during the 1970s more clearly captured what Kissinger called “a fundamental reassessment of attitudes” than the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE). The idea of a Europewide meeting on common security concerns dated back to a largely ignored Soviet proposal in 1954. The proposal gained new traction in the late 1960s as citizens throughout Europe and the US challenged, and in some cases condemned, Cold War deployments of military force, especially in Central Europe.6 Both NATO and the Warsaw Pact placed strong emphasis at this time on alternatives to military deterrence alone, as evidenced in NATO’s Harmel Report of 1967 and the Warsaw Pact’s Bucharest and Budapest Communiqués of 1966 and 1969.7 Serious negotiations on a pan-European security conference, including the US and Canada, began in 1972.8 Three years of discussions under the CSCE umbrella allowed the European states, including the smaller nations, to participate on a relatively equal footing in a broad exploration of topics related to security, economics, and even human rights. The CSCE replaced the largely bipolar framework of Cold War relations in Europe with a more multilateral set of institutions and procedures. In the words of Daniel Thomas, the CSCE transformed the “international normative environment.”9 This multilateralism and broad discussion of security directly addressed the challenges that Kissinger had outlined in 1962, and it offered a prescription that followed very closely from his initial counsel as well. The CSCE was an unprecedented opportunity for the Western European states to emerge with renewed self-confidence from the political and moral limitations that had stunted their activities during the early Cold War decades, particularly the 1950s. By including the US and Canada, the CSCE also strongly affirmed the strategic and cultural bonds on both sides of the Atlantic – another core concern for Kissinger. Looking back on the CSCE, he admits that it was a “significant Western diplomatic achievement.”10 Why, then, did Kissinger only make what Jussi Hanhimäki identifies as a “reluctant contribution” to the CSCE? In contrast to his consistent calls for a more active and assertive Europe, why did Kissinger prove “passive, disparaging, and restrained” in his behavior toward the very Europe-wide security initiative that his own analysis endorsed?11 What was Kissinger’s role in the CSCE process, and how did his thinking change over time? This chapter will address these questions. Historians have generally neglected or dismissed Kissinger’s support for European multilateralism. Instead, they emphasize Kissinger’s commitments to

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personalized “backchannel” relations with the Soviet Union in Europe, his overwhelming emphasis on continental stability, and his preoccupation with issues like Vietnam in other parts of the world. All of these assessments are, of course, correct. Kissinger sought to manage European policy in collaboration with his Soviet interlocutors, he hoped to build a “structure of peace” that would limit opportunities for revolutionary change on the European continent, and he subsumed European concerns, through “linkage,” within more pressing schemes to extract the US from the Vietnam War.12 These accounts, however, neglect a crucial variable – namely the changing normative definitions of security in Europe and the US during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Many scholars have argued that the CSCE contributed to the establishment of new international norms, especially in support of human rights.13 Henry Kissinger himself makes this case in his memoirs and interviews.14 Nonetheless, value changes, particularly in connection with definitions of security, had already begun before the CSCE. These value changes occurred in both Western Europe and the US. Western European leaders began to focus more attention on shared human rights principles that transcended nation-states; US leaders, particularly Kissinger, emphasized state-to-state cooperation and agreements for peace and stability. These divergent, though not entirely contradictory, paths of normative reconceptualization on both sides of the Atlantic made the CSCE possible. They also contributed to transatlantic tensions. This chapter will argue that Kissinger and other US officials accommodated Western European efforts to promote human rights, merging them with schemes for state-to-state cooperation. Kissinger was not opposed to European multilateralism, nor was he opposed to human rights per se.15 He was, however, profoundly uncomfortable with the redefinition of security implied by the Western European participants in the CSCE. He believed that claims of principle created complacency and weakness when they overrode concerns about stability and traditional military security. For Kissinger, human rights were secondary to cooperative state-to-state agreements.16 The rest of this chapter will explore the divergent ways in which Kissinger and his Western European counterparts reconceptualized security during the years before the conclusion of the Helsinki Final Act on 1 August 1975. The chapter will close with an assessment of how the Final Act synthesized the US and Western European approaches.

The US reconceptualization of European security after 1962 The lesson of the 1961–63 Berlin Crisis was that it was too dangerous to change the geopolitical division of Europe. This perception led the US foreign policy community, including Kissinger, to reconceptualize European security. Instead of emphasizing the mobilization of resources and public opinion for conflict with the Soviet bloc, the US government began to place a new premium on proposals for diplomatic cooperation in dealing with potential flash points. Soviet–US discussions of a “non-aggression” pact, in conjunction with the nego-

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tiations for a limited test ban treaty, were a primary example of this urge to create a diplomatic process for the management of dangers. The result, which Marc Trachtenberg has described as a “constructed peace” in Europe, was a new commitment to cooperative management of disputes by the dominant states.17 Soviet–US security discussions after 1962 involved an unprecedented degree of mutual interest, but they remained fundamentally focused on military issues. They also involved a redefinition of security in limited national terms. This is a point that scholars have largely neglected. To escape broader East–West Cold War antagonisms, policy-makers in Washington and Moscow emphasized the importance of addressing specific security problems on a case-by-case basis – for example, the division of Berlin, above-ground nuclear testing, and nuclear arms control. Policy-makers avoided broader ideological and geopolitical differences by focusing on topics with a national and regional focus. This was also true for the initiatives of Western European governments, most significantly where the policies of Ostpolitik pursued by the Federal Republic of Germany are concerned. Willy Brandt and Egon Bahr argued that new overtures to the Soviet Union and East European states should be linked to the German question, while also affirming their strong anti-Communist credentials.18 As a scholar and consultant to the administrations of John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson, Henry Kissinger shared this newfound US emphasis upon building cooperation, within the West and across the East–West divide, on specific points of shared interest. Discussions of broad alliance architectures and “grand designs” for peace in Europe only exacerbated philosophical and historical differences, according to Kissinger. Instead, he embraced a narrow framework for security deliberations, focused on nurturing consensus around discrete issues: I feel that a way to promote Atlantic unity under present circumstances is to declare a moratorium for a while on strategic questions, such as who presses the button in the inconceivable circumstance of general nuclear war, and instead to try to develop mechanisms by which common foreign policies can be conducted in the more frequent circumstances of day-to-day diplomacy, East–West relations, and disarmament negotiations.19 Like the Johnson administration, Kissinger emphasized the role of the largest states – the US, West Germany, France, and Great Britain – in guiding discussions of common Western European problems. He supported the strong trend toward European integration, but not through a super-structure of new institutions and bureaucracies. Kissinger believed that the nations of a more integrated Europe should reexamine their security through state-to-state consultations, led by the dominant powers. This was a redefinition of security along great power lines, with little room for the influence of small states. Kissinger sounded very much like de Gaulle on this point: In 1958 it was proposed [by de Gaulle] that a three-nation executive committee be established to coordinate the work of the Atlantic Alliance. That

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J. Suri membership would be too limited, but it does seem to me that some kind of steering group for the Atlantic Alliance, one that is trying to look ahead over five or ten years to discern the kind of future to be built politically, and particularly that tries to develop common policies in East–West relations and on the issue of disarmament, would go a long way toward taking some of the sting out of the purely military debates which, in my judgment, are insoluble.20

Kissinger repeated his counsel for a modest, great power-dominated redefinition of European security throughout the second half of the 1960s. When he took office as President Richard Nixon’s special assistant for national security affairs, this logic underpinned his emphasis on two primary European security issues: nuclear arms control (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks – SALT) and Mutual and Balanced Force Reductions (MBFR). Both issues promised security benefits for the largest European states by diminishing military threats and creating new confidence-building measures through transparency and consultation. SALT and MBFR also helped to reduce the tensions between the US and the largest European states over questions of burden-sharing for military costs. Limiting armaments would allow states to save costs, especially at a time when the US found itself militarily overstretched in Southeast Asia.21 From their earliest meetings with the Soviet ambassador to the US, Anatoly Dobrynin, Nixon and Kissinger had emphasized SALT and MBFR as areas of mutual benefit where agreement would serve the interests of both NATO and the Warsaw Pact. Although the White House attempted to use arms control discussions for leverage over Moscow’s policies in Vietnam and the Middle East, Nixon clearly indicated that: “It was not his view that the initiation of such [arms control] talks must be conditioned on the settlement of larger political issues.” Broader strategic deliberations would occur in parallel with arms control negotiations, but the one would not be dependent on the other. Basic issues of European military security would receive independent and consistent attention.22 Nixon’s words closely followed Kissinger’s advice to the president that, especially regarding European security, “progress depends on specific settlements, not personal diplomacy.”23 Nowhere did the national security adviser contemplate a transfer of initiative in Europe from traditional elites and basic military affairs to advocates of human rights or other principles. A new European order would still be built on old sources of authority. In this context, the Nixon administration pursued a simple European security policy that emphasized close cooperation between the great powers, bolstering the stabilizing weight and influence of the dominant states. Kissinger’s approach to European security was therefore a continuation of the essential framework implemented by the Kennedy and Johnson administrations. He embraced European integration, but not in the cause of any transnational European institutional structure or identity. Instead, Kissinger saw integration as a means of managing change on the European continent and improving commu-

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nications with the US. He used closer internal European relations to advance specific areas of common security interest among the Western allies and across the East–West divide. For all his talk about a grand strategic vision, Kissinger avoided articulating any broad architecture for a future Europe. When one surveys all of the newly available documents from the files of the National Security Council, the State Department, Kissinger’s telephone transcripts, and President Nixon’s White House tapes, the absence of a strategic vision for Europe is, in fact, striking. Meeting with his British counterpart, Michael Palliser, Kissinger anticipated this finding. He “predicted that there would be no ‘Grand Designs’ or attempts to foist ready made solutions on the Europeans.” Kissinger called for close alliance coordination, including possibly “reviving the ‘directorate’ ” proposals of de Gaulle. He also invited more initiative from the major European states on specific security issues, especially coordinating non-US nuclear weapons deployments.24 Most significantly, Kissinger accepted the fundamental realignment of the post-1962 geopolitical landscape: the recognition that European security hinged upon consultation and cooperation by leaders across the East–West divide. It was not East–West treaties per se that mattered to Kissinger, but what they represented for a commitment to stability and the management of differences on the European continent. This is a point Kissinger emphasized in his conversations with Soviet Ambassador Dobrynin. On 28 July 1970, more than a yearand-a-half into Nixon’s first term, the national security adviser explained: “We have never really had any discussions on European matters, you and I, and it would be useful to clarify some of that. The President has asked me to let you know of our constructive spirit.”25 This “constructive spirit,” applied to the specific problems of nuclear and conventional arms control, was the central tenet of Kissinger’s approach to European security. It reflected the collective thinking of US policy-makers since 1962. It also reflected growing domestic and allied pressures, especially after the Cuban Missile Crisis, for evidence of improvement in East–West relations. The US sought to make the world safer for citizens and leaders through increased superpower consultation. European leaders, working in close tandem with Washington, would also play a large role in this cooperative scheme.26

The agreement on basic principles Kissinger’s determination to build a “constructive spirit” for European security by managing hotspots of military tensions was embodied in the Agreement on Basic Principles – officially “The Basic Principles of Relations Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.” President Nixon and Soviet Communist Party Secretary General Leonid Brezhnev signed this document on 29 May 1972, at the conclusion of the first Soviet–US summit meeting in Moscow. The text began with a clear renunciation of prior hostilities and a commitment to “peaceful coexistence” between the superpowers. The

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completion of SALT I, in conjunction with the Agreement on Basic Principles, indicated that Moscow and Washington would work on a case-by-case basis to regulate potential conflicts and avoid any “dangerous exacerbation of their relations.”27 The US emphasis on assuring European security through great power cooperation was at the center of this document and its purpose. The Agreement on Basic Principles would, Kissinger hoped, legitimize specific “rules of conduct” between and within alliances that would strengthen the managerial role of the dominant states – especially the US and the Soviet Union.28 In this context, the document announced that Washington and Moscow would “widen the juridical basis of their mutual relations.” International conflicts had become more complex and multidimensional, the two sides acknowledged, but the superpowers asserted their dominant regional influence, particularly in Europe. They pledged to encourage bilateral and multilateral agreements among states that would assure stability rather than conflict between NATO and the Warsaw Pact.29 The Agreement on Basic Principles affirmed Kissinger’s vision of détente as an international framework for stability that promised security through great power cooperation on specific issues, especially in the military sphere. The Agreement on Basic Principles also connected Kissinger’s efforts at securing stability in Europe with a higher moral purpose. This was, after all, a document about principles of peace – reducing the threat of war, in particular. In the document, Kissinger made the case that the work of dominant leaders to manage conflict protected the core values of Western civilization. Through a mix of restraint and collaboration, Nixon and Brezhnev would assure the survival of society during an “age in which a cataclysm depends on the decisions of men.”30 The Agreement on Basic Principles assured that the right men, with the right perspective, would make the decisions. As it concentrated the handling of European security in a small number of hands, the Agreement on Basic Principles excluded many potential influences on policy. The document was remarkably silent on the role of international organizations, like the UN and the European Community, in contributing to continental security. The text presumed that questions of security and the locus of decision-making fit within traditional demarcations of state sovereignty. It also presumed a steep hierarchy among the sovereign states, with the US and the Soviet Union at the top, Great Britain and France a step down, and small states like Belgium near the bottom. Power and authority, according to the Basic Principles of 1972, was concentrated at the top of the sovereign state hierarchy. This framework largely excluded small states, cross-cultural ideas, and transnational actors from deliberations on European security. Endeavoring to make the progress in US–Soviet relations “irreversible,” Kissinger used the Agreement on Basic Principles to build what he called a more “constructive personal relationship” with leaders in Moscow. On the eve of the final negotiations on the CSCE, Kissinger renounced the interference of small states and domestic actors in the security deliberations of the great powers.31

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The transformation of security doctrine in Western Europe, 1969–75 Kissinger’s frustration with resistance to his policies in Europe was due to much more than allied intransigence. A large number of Western European governments had, by the late 1960s, reconceptualized security in terms that departed significantly from the new way of thinking in the US at the time. A disappointed Kissinger recognized this phenomenon as well as anyone else. In an off-therecord telephone conversation with journalist Jerrold Schecter, he explained that the Western European states are now all facing really the legacy of World War II in the sense [that] they are just getting back to conducting their own foreign policy . . . The problem of the western countries right now is that the nature of authority in all of them is in the process of redefinition. The nature of their national purposes is in redefinition because all of them are going through domestic crises, including we [sic]. That on top of that to relate to other countries becomes a much more complex task.32 With the notable exception of France, the Western European countries had generally followed the US lead on security policy during the first two decades of the Cold War. Western European integration, initially supported by Washington, had furthered this trend. By the late 1960s – in the context of the stalemate around Berlin, superpower détente, transatlantic differences over military strategy, and growing domestic restiveness – Western European assent to US security leadership was no longer axiomatic. Kissinger’s criticism of earlier US administrations had anticipated this outcome, but not in the form that it took. For all of the difficulties posed by the French, and Foreign Minister Michel Jobert in particular, Belgium proved most effective at transforming the European security agenda and undercutting US leadership. Just as Belgian influence contributed to the formulation of the Harmel Report and the new NATO focus on East–West cooperation, Belgian influences in European Community meetings moved the body of Western European security doctrine in a new direction. In 1969, at the suggestion of Etienne Davignon, the political director of the Belgian foreign ministry, representatives from France, West Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, and Belgium (the European “Six”) formed a highranking committee to author an agenda for a coordinated foreign policy. The creation of the committee was a direct reaction to Soviet pressures for a European security conference, disenchantment with the stagnant policies pursued by the US in Europe since the early 1960s, and internal desires for new initiatives within each of the participating states. The nature of this committee, and the exclusion of both the US and Great Britain (as well as Canada), indicated that Western European governments were prepared to contemplate a joint and independent foreign policy.33 The “Davignon Report,” issued on 23 October 1970, made the formulation of

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a “European” foreign policy the cornerstone of a nascent European polity: “Europe must prepare itself to carry out the responsibilities which, because of its greater cohesion and its growing role, it has the duty and necessity to assume in the world.” The leaders of the Six pledged to work together in building a foreign policy for Europe that “corresponds to its tradition and its mission.” This mission included a furthering of détente across the continent and a redoubled emphasis on civilized values: “United Europe must be founded on a common patrimony of respect for liberty and human rights.”34 Kissinger dismissed this sort of language as empty rhetoric, but here he misjudged the extent to which the Europe of the 1970s differed from the Europe of the 1950s and 1960s.35 The European Six immediately accepted the Davignon Report, initiating consultative meetings among their foreign ministers four times each year. Lower-level foreign ministry officials from each country met monthly to follow developments and formulate common policies. New informal coordinating mechanisms also took shape at the ambassadorial level, particularly for Western European representatives working with non-European interlocutors. The implementation of the Davignon Report reinforced a growing sense that a common European foreign policy was emerging, and it provided the rudimentary institutional structure to make it become a reality.36 Human rights concerns, defined as an integral part of Europe’s “tradition and its mission,” became the linchpin for assembling a European foreign policy. Freer movement of peoples, protections for basic human dignities, and social justice – these were priority issues for citizens throughout Europe. This was, of course, particularly true in West Germany, where citizens suffered permanent separation from relatives unable to leave East Germany and other Eastern bloc states. The Davignon Report provided a basis for making German Ostpolitik – particularly, the proposed initiatives for reuniting divided families – a Europeanwide policy, with a priority that the US would never give to the issue. The existence of a European-wide policy on Ostpolitik legitimized its aims in terms of higher values, rather than nation-centered concerns. It also helped to insulate the policy from attacks by opponents, including some in the US, who saw it as an inopportune break from anti-Communist containment.37 The issue of human rights, in this context, also assured influence for the smaller states – particularly Belgium, the Netherlands, and Luxembourg – that felt excluded from the great-power deliberations at the center of Kissinger’s conception of détente.38 A Western European policy mechanism, Etienne Davignon and others recognized, would give these smaller states more opportunities to shape policy. In this context, Davignon seized Western Europe’s formative political moment to play an agenda-setting role in defining values, not power alone, as guidelines for a continental policy. This emphasis on values became fundamental to Western European conceptions of security, to the extent that three decades later, some observers would criticize the continent’s leaders for renouncing the use of military force due to excess, and naïve, idealism.39 The Western European institutionalization of a common commitment to human rights was not, however, entirely caused by principles or by a reaction to

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the great powers’ exclusion of smaller states. It reflected a fundamental judgment, encouraged by discontented citizens, that European security required more than just stable borders and a military standoff. This is where the momentum toward European integration came into play. Following the initiatives toward economic integration that had begun in the 1950s, the leaders of the Six made a commitment in the early 1970s to craft a separate and more humane identity for their continent, amidst the Cold War polarization of East and West. Men like Willy Brandt, Georges Pompidou, and Etienne Davignon considered themselves firm US allies – even “Cold Warriors” – but they also pursued a long-term vision of security that returned to an inherited ideal of peaceful integration across the continent. Human rights made integration possible and they promised, at least in theory, to eliminate many sources of conflict over ideologies and disputed territories. The transformation of Western European security doctrine in the wake of the Davignon Report emphasized building a common society over managing what Henry Kissinger envisioned as competing alliances.40

The transformation of Atlanticism and the CSCE The consultations among foreign ministers initiated by the Davignon Report formed the foundation for Western Europe’s participation in the deliberations on the CSCE. Responding to Soviet pressures for a continent-wide initiative, the Western European states now had the institutional basis for adopting a unified position. They effectively insisted on US participation, despite initial objections by the Soviet bloc, and they used their clout to push for NATO endorsement of the security discussions. In May 1970, NATO’s Rome Communiqué went so far as to declare that: Allied Governments would continue and intensify their contacts, discussions or negotiations through all appropriate channels, bilateral or multilateral, and that they remained receptive to signs of willingness on the part of the Soviet Union and other Eastern European countries to engage in such discussions. Progress, they said, in these discussions and negotiations would help to ensure the success of any eventual conference, in which of course, the North American members of the Alliance would participate, to discuss and negotiate substantial problems of cooperation and security in Europe.41 The Rome Communiqué included Ostpolitik, nuclear arms control, mutual balanced force reductions, and, most significantly, subsumed common principles into its definition of continental security discussions. Following the lead of the six states engaged in the Davignon process, especially Belgium, NATO embraced the development of international relations with a view to contributing to the freer movement of people, ideas, and information, and to developing cooperation in the cultural, economic, technical, and scientific fields as well as in the field of human environment.

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A successful European-wide security conference would require progress on all of these issues, but the fundamental agreement on principles served as a cornerstone for true “multilateral negotiations.42 The Canadian government played an influential role in pushing for multilateral negotiations that included the US. Ottawa clearly recognized that a European position on principles, without Washington’s participation, would prove self-defeating. Canada counteracted French inclinations to exclude US influences in continentwide deliberations. Paris was also less committed to provisions for the freer movement of peoples than its continental and Canadian counterparts. The divide between US and Western European conceptions of security in the early 1970s was significant, but not categorical. Specific differences among nations remained important, as did the role of “bridge” states like Canada.43 Despite their disagreements, the European Six used their collective clout to set the agenda for the CSCE. They established a firm and clear position that responded effectively to initial Soviet overtures. They used their combined leverage to push for NATO endorsement of their approach, extending the alliance’s call for East–West détente beyond the outlines of the 1967 Harmel Report. Most significant, they included the US in their collective deliberations, but as a junior partner following the Western European lead. Kissinger admits as much in his memoirs when he recounts that “the US strategy was to create no obstacles to progress but to do little to accelerate it either.”44 In August 1972 he was even more explicit in a telephone conversation with Soviet Ambassador Dobrynin, when he explained that the CSCE was primarily an initiative that the US addressed through “imagery” rather than the detailed substance involved with the MBFR negotiations. “We are in no insane hurry” about the CSCE, Kissinger facetiously told Dobrynin.45 The Western Europeans were not in a hurry either, but they wanted real progress, not just imagery. They were not content to leave the scope and timing of the CSCE to superpower deliberations. The coordinated position of the Six and the common commitment to human rights principles allowed the Western Europeans to adopt a leadership role within transatlantic deliberations. Washington not only ceded momentum to the Western Europeans, as Kissinger claimed. The Western Europeans seized the initiative, making the CSCE and agreement on Europe-wide principles the central issue in transatlantic consultations. This was, in Kissinger’s terminology, reverse linkage, with the Western Europeans making US initiatives for improved US–European and East–West relations dependent on progress on a continent-wide security architecture that included provisions for human rights. Kissinger’s profound frustration with his Western European counterparts reflected their success in forcing the US to modify its security agenda on their terms. In March 1974, Kissinger pledged to “kill the Davignon Committee,” but it only increased in influence and effectiveness during the following months.46 A year later, he lamented that, despite his own support for a more active allied role in foreign affairs, “the single worst mistake of the postwar period was to encourage European unity.”47

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By the middle of the 1970s, the Western Europeans had effectively formulated and pushed a reconceptualization of security that elevated multilateralism and principle above the management of conflict alone. This doctrine challenged the continued predominance of the superpowers in security deliberations. Most significantly, it reflected a popular desire for peaceful domestic change that extended beyond the control of governing elites. The Western European view of security embodied quite clearly the anti-authoritarian tendencies that had come to dominate public thinking about politics in all of the major states.48 Somewhat shocked, Kissinger warned of the chaos that would follow from what he perceived as the public debating of foreign policy in Europe and the US: “I think we are heading into a third republic state. We are going to become ungovernable.”49 Kissinger had been at the center of transatlantic discussions about security since the middle of the 1950s. He was a mainstay of the Bilderberg group, the Pugwash movement, and other forums created for a frank exchange of views among leading foreign policy figures in Europe and North America.50 He had also used his position as the executive director of the famous International Seminar at Harvard University and his standing as a fellow at Harvard’s newly created Center for International Affairs to forge strong personal connections with many of the major foreign-policy thinkers in Europe.51 This cosmopolitan transatlantic milieu was the source of Kissinger’s criticism of US policy and his commitment to a new security vision in the late 1960s. It also, however, encouraged a rigid isolation from the emerging pressures and ideas about security that did not conform to the elite and US-led models of Bilderberg and the International Seminar. When challenges to Kissinger’s transatlantic milieu emerged through the Davignon Report and other venues, he was unprepared to deal with them.52 Kissinger’s intimacy with what had long been standard modes of allied interaction led him to lash out at “these fucking Europeans” who acted with a newfound spirit of independence.53 For all his anger, Kissinger slowly came to recognize that the multilateral and principled Western European approach to security had some merits. In addition to the arguments made by Davignon and others, it placed pressure on the Soviets to change their international and domestic behavior. Human rights issues shined a spotlight on the authoritarian nature of the Soviet state, and they increased the public relations costs of any future aggression by the Kremlin in Europe. Placed on the defensive in public, the Kremlin would become more conciliatory toward the US on other issues, Kissinger believed. He also hoped that Washington’s support for human rights pressures on the Soviet Union would silence some of the domestic criticism he had suffered for not including such demands in the Agreement on Basic Principles and other elements of détente. As early as July 1974, Kissinger began to push Soviet Ambassador Dobrynin to “cooperate a little bit on Basket III” proposals for human rights.54 He followed this up in later months by pressing the Kremlin to accept language about peaceful border changes in the CSCE negotiations.55 In 1975, he demanded that the Soviets accept a final agreement by the end of the summer, or jeopardize the entire CSCE process.56

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Due to Western European pressure, between 1974 and 1975 Kissinger took a direct interest in the negotiations and he lent his authority to the basic elements of the Western European position. His reasons differed from Davignon and others, but Kissinger pushed for Soviet accession to the human rights provisions in Basket III. Kissinger’s thinking had evolved. He had learned to put principle to use in supporting a more effective security framework that assured greater European stability and Soviet acquiescence.57 Kissinger anticipated that the CSCE would attract the kind of popular support that his own vision of great-power détente lacked. It addressed mounting criticism from both the political left and the political right: “the very people who were accusing us of being warmongers, insensitive, immoral, and five thousand other things, now think we are not tough enough on the Russians.”58 The provisions for peaceful border changes and human rights protections in the CSCE negotiations provided Kissinger with grounds for arguing that he was forging more cooperative East–West relations, while also pushing for positive change within the Communist countries. He made this point explicit in a private conversation with one of the leading US political conservatives, William F. Buckley: A lot of conservatives are screaming that the Security Conference is sanctifying the Soviet presence in Europe. The Conference wasn’t our idea. It isn’t something I am proud of. Our instructions to our men were to stay  a step behind the Europeans. Insofar as anything of substance in the conference is concerned, it should be looked at as a provision for peaceful change. The territorial integrity issue is something they have gone over for years. The French, British and Germans had already made their bilateral agreements. It is more in the direction of change than sanctification.59 Speaking with Senator Frank Church, on the opposite side of the political spectrum, Kissinger made the same case. He accused “liberal intellectuals” of adopting rigid positions on East–West conflict. From the perspective of citizens living under Soviet domination in Eastern Europe, Kissinger contended, “there is no doubt that the feelings there are in the direction of liberalization and easing of their trying to shake off Russian domination to some extent.”60 Kissinger certainly did not foresee the role that the CSCE would play in empowering dissent within the Soviet bloc and transforming norms about international relations.61 He did, however, recognize that the post-1962 US reconceptualization of European security, which he had partially authored, would not hold. He spoke explicitly of the need to “adjust our foreign policy to the new facts of life” – including Western European security concerns and the resistance to a superpower-dominated world.62 The CSCE, and its culmination in the Helsinki Final Act, became a “fact of life” both despite and because of Kissinger’s efforts.63

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Conclusion: Henry Kissinger, the Helsinki Final Act, and the Cold War Henry Kissinger entered office with an approach to foreign policy that almost completely neglected the transformations in Western European thinking about security. Instead, Kissinger adopted the new conventional wisdom about greatpower détente that prevailed within US strategic circles. He also discounted the momentum toward Western European integration and the growing influence of particular states, especially Belgium, within the nascent cooperative institutions on the continent. Between 1969 and early 1974, Kissinger made minimal contributions to the CSCE process. He displayed a general indifference to Western European proposals. The CSCE was an incomplete process of education for Henry Kissinger. He slowly came to recognize that Western European thinking about security had congealed in ways that modified US assumptions about great-power oversight of the international system. First of all, prominent Western European policy-makers were committed to an explicit connection between human rights principles and security. More than just public gestures, this linkage required firm institutionalization within the framework of an acceptable continent-wide security agreement. Second, the Western European governments had coordinated their positions on this issue, they had a clear agenda for the CSCE, and they were prepared to dominate many of the negotiations with the Soviet Union. For the first time since 1945, the Western Europeans were poised to lead. The US had the choice of following the Europeans or adopting an obstructionist role. The latter was not a viable posture, as it would only have further undermined US leadership on the continent. Kissinger, therefore, made a virtue of necessity. In 1974, he adopted the core positions of the Western European delegations to the CSCE, including “Basket III,” as US policy. He sought to mollify the allies across the Atlantic (and in Canada), give détente a more explicit foundation in principle, and pressure the Soviet Union for constructive change. On the last point, Kissinger realized that leaders in Moscow wanted to conclude the CSCE as a measure for enhancing the apparent political legitimacy of their regime and its empire in Eastern Europe. Kissinger exploited the Soviet commitment to the CSCE to the extent that he was able to extract “linked” concessions on arms control, political freedoms within Eastern Europe, and regional disputes outside the continent – especially in the Middle East. In his memoirs, Kissinger describes the usefulness of the CSCE as a bargaining chip on the eve of the final Helsinki summit: In my experience, the closing days of a negotiation with the Soviets usually produced more concessions than did the preceding months and sometimes years . . . And the pattern recurred as the deadline for a summit to conclude the European Security Conference approached. By mid-June 1975 the outstanding issues were being resolved. The Soviet Union had moved very close to the position of the democracies on all disputed issues regarding peaceful change, human rights, and confidence-building measures.64

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The Helsinki Final Act was a victory for the multilateral, principled vision of security championed by Western European states, despite US skepticism and Soviet hostility. The contrast between the Final Act and the US–Soviet Agreement on Basic Principles is instructive.65 The latter was negotiated bilaterally by the superpowers, emphasized management of the geopolitical status quo, and avoided any mention of human rights. The Final Act, in contrast, was multilateral in its formulation, it emphasized diverse elements of East–West cooperation, and it enshrined limited provisions for human rights in the discourse of international security. The Agreement on Basic Principles reflected the Cold War conventional wisdom of the decade after the last Berlin Crisis and the Cuban Missile Crisis. The Final Act was also a creature of its times, but it looked to values and aspirations beyond the post-1945 division of Europe. It reconceptualized security in terms of a common European civilization, or what the last Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, would later call a “common European home.”66 The Helsinki Final Act added some clarity to this vision of a “common European home,” but it still remained obscure. The document was, in fact, filled with contradictions that reflected the uncertainty of various compromises between East and West, as well as within the Western alliance itself. It argued for frontier revisions “by peaceful means” and affirmed the “inviolability of frontiers.” It declared the “universal significance of human rights” and protected the right of each state to “to choose and develop its political, social, economic and cultural systems as well as its right to determine its laws and regulations.” Most significantly, the Helsinki Final Act claimed to speak for the diverse “peoples” of Europe, but was really an agreement hammered out in arcane negotiations by elite diplomats.67 These observations are a warning against teleological analyses that draw a straight line of causality from Helsinki to the revolutions of 1989 in Europe and the end of the Cold War.68 They are also a warning against the misperception that Henry Kissinger, and US foreign policy during the Nixon administration, can be dismissed as an ineffective and destructive force in Europe.69 Quite to the contrary, the evolution of Kissinger’s policies reflected an extended series of debates on both sides of the Atlantic about the meaning of security in a world of nuclear stalemate, domestic upheaval, détente, and increasing Western European integration. Kissinger was only one of many influential figures that determined the emerging shape of European security. His positions changed in the light of international and domestic pressures. The Helsinki Final Act offered little resolution to transatlantic debates about European security. If anything, it reinforced these debates in its contradictory clauses. Like many other policy-makers in Washington, Henry Kissinger may have been too entrenched in Cold War thinking in the 1970s. He was not, however, wrong in recognizing the very real limits of human rights rhetoric when confronting a formidable Communist adversary. The decade after the signing of the Helsinki Final Act would prove that human rights activism offered little immediate protection from intervention in Afghanistan, Poland, and other areas of conflict.70

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Notes 1 I would like to thank my research assistant, Justin King, for his help in sorting through the overwhelming body of material I collected for this chapter and my larger book project. 2 See Kissinger’s report on West German society to the Psychological Strategy Board, July 1952, Box 6, Folder 91, Records of the Psychological Strategy Board, White House Central Files, Harry S. Truman Presidential Library, Independence, Missouri. I want to thank Thomas Alan Schwartz for initially bringing this document to my attention. 3 See Bernard Brodie to Kissinger, 11 July 1955 and 28 September 1959, Bernard Brodie Papers, UCLA Special Collections, Los Angeles, California. 4 See Henry Kissinger, “The Strains on the Alliance,” Foreign Affairs 41 (1963), pp. 261–85; Henry Kissinger, “NATO’s Nuclear Dilemma,” Reporter (28 March 1963), pp. 22–37; Henry Kissinger, “The Illusionist: Why We Misread de Gaulle,” Harper’s Magazine 230 (March 1965), pp. 69–77; Henry Kissinger, The Troubled Partnership: A Re-appraisal of the Atlantic Alliance (New York: McGraw Hill, 1965). 5 Henry A. Kissinger, “The Unsolved Problems of European Defense,” Foreign Affairs 40 (July 1962), p. 541. 6 See Henry Kissinger, Years of Renewal (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1999), pp. 637f.; Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Détente (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), pp. 164–212. 7 For the text of the Harmel Report, see online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/basictxt/b671213a.htm (accessed 18 January 2008). On the Bucharest and Budapest Communiqués, see Daniel C. Thomas, The Helsinki Effect: International Norms, Human Rights, and the Demise of Communism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001), pp. 32–6. 8 The Soviet Union had long sought to exclude the US and Canada from pan-European security discussions. The Soviet agreement to include the US and Canada in the early 1970s allowed serious CSCE negotiations to begin. For an excellent discussion of this point, see Michael Cotey Morgan’s chapter in this volume, “North America, Atlanticism, and the making of the Helsinki Final Act.” 9 Thomas, The Helsinki Effect, p. 284. 10 Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1994), p. 757. 11 See Jussi Hanhimäki’s excellent article, “ ‘They can Write it in Swahili’: Kissinger, the Soviets, and the Helsinki Accords, 1973–75,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies 1, no. 1 (2003), pp. 37–58, quotations on p. 55. 12 See Jussi Hanhimäki, The Flawed Architect: Henry Kissinger and American Foreign Policy (New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), especially pp. 275–7; Raymond L. Garthoff, Détente and Confrontation: American–Soviet Relations from Nixon to Reagan, revised edition (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1994), pp. 123–45, 526–55; William Bundy, A Tangled Web: The Making of Foreign Policy in the Nixon Presidency (New York: Hill and Wang, 1998), especially pp. 480–4; Geir Lundestad, “Empire” by Integration: The United States and European Integration, 1945–1997 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 99–107. 13 This is the central argument of Daniel Thomas’ excellent book. See Thomas, The Helsinki Effect, especially pp. 27–88. 14 Kissinger, Years of Renewal, p. 663. Interview with Henry Kissinger, 11 June 2005. 15 This is a point on which scholars have fundamentally misunderstood Kissinger. Throughout his career, he has written and spoken of the importance of foreign policy serving moral, humanitarian ends. He has consistently, and self-servingly, argued that one can only protect human rights by eliminating overriding threats (Fascist and Communist), and creating an international environment of peace and security (détente). For the clearest statement of Kissinger’s position on this point, see his frequent reflections on the necessary distinction between the “prophet” and the

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18

19 20 21

22

23 24

25 26 27 28 29 30 31

J. Suri “statesman.” See especially, Henry A. Kissinger, “The White Revolutionary: Reflections on Bismarck,” Daedalus 97 (Summer 1968), pp. 888–924; Kissinger, Years of Renewal, pp. 1,068–78. See Jeremi Suri, Henry Kissinger and the American Century (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), ch. 4. Marc Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999), pp. 379–402; Andreas Wenger and Jeremi Suri, “At the Crossroads of Diplomatic and Social History: The Nuclear Revolution, Dissent, and Détente,” Cold War History 1, no. 3 (2001), pp. 1–42. For a clear description of Ostpolitik in these terms, see Egon Bahr, draft article for Christ und Welt, February 1965, Box 9B, Egon Bahrs Nachlaß, Archiv der sozialen Demokratie, Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Bonn. See also Suri, Power and Protest, pp. 216–26. Henry A. Kissinger, “NATO: Evolution or Decline,” Texas Quarterly 9 (Autumn 1966), p. 118. Ibid. Kissinger raises many of these issues, in particular the controversy over alliance burden-sharing, in his memoirs. See Henry Kissinger, White House Years (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979), pp. 81–6, 147–50. Nixon and Kissinger also faced strong US domestic pressure to reduce US military deployments on the European continent. The Mansfield Amendment, proposed by Senate Majority Leader Mike Mansfield to enforce a 50 percent cut of US deployments through congressional legislation, brought these domestic pressures to a head in May 1971. See Don Oberdorfer, Senator Mansfield: The Extraordinary Life of a Great Statesman and Diplomat (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Books, 2003), pp. 387–91. Memorandum of Conversation (MemCon) between Anatoly Dobrynin, Richard Nixon, Henry Kissinger, and Malcolm Toon (acting deputy assistant secretary of state for European affairs), White House, 17 February 1969, Folder: USSR, Memcons Dobrynin/President, 17 February 1969, Richard Nixon Presidential Materials Project, National Archives, College Park, Maryland (Nixon Papers), NSC File, Box 340. Henry Kissinger to Richard Nixon, 15 February 1969, Nixon Papers, NSC File, Box 340, Folder: USSR, Memcons Dobrynin/President, 17 February 1969. Notes from Conversation between Michael Palliser and Henry Kissinger, 19 December 1968, British National Archives, Kew, London (UKNA), PREM 13/2097. Kissinger returned to his longstanding belief that the major European states should develop a larger and more effective independent nuclear force. Most of the US documents on this topic remain classified. See the extensive British documentation on this subject, UKNA, PREM 15/1357. See also Suri, Henry Kissinger, ch. 4. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Dobrynin, 28 July 1970, Nixon Papers, Henry A. Kissinger Telephone Conversation Transcripts (HAK telcons). See Suri, Power and Protest, pp. 7–43; Thomas Alan Schwartz, Lyndon Johnson and Europe: In the Shadow of Vietnam (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003). “Basic Principles of Relations Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,” 29 May 1972, reprinted in the U.S. Department of State of Bulletin 66 (26 June 1972), pp. 898f. Henry Kissinger, News Conference, Kiev, 29 May 1972, reprinted in the U.S. Department of State of Bulletin 66 (26 June 1972), pp. 890–7, quotations on pp. 892, 894. “Basic Principles of Relations Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,” 29 May 1972. Henry Kissinger, News Conference, Kiev, 29 May 1972, reprinted in the U.S. Department of State of Bulletin 66 (26 June 1972), pp. 890–7. MemCon between Brezhnev, Dobrynin, Kissinger, et al., Moscow, 24 October 1974; MemCon between Brezhnev, Dobrynin, Kissinger, et al., Moscow, 26 October 1974,

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32 33 34

35 36 37 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45 46

47 48 49 50

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in: William Burr (ed.), The Kissinger Transcripts (New York: New Press, 1998), pp. 327–55. On this general point, see also John J. Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–1975 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1985), pp. 8–12. Transcript of Henry Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Jerrold Schecter, 22 March 1974, Nixon Papers, HAK telcons. See Thomas, The Helsinki Effect, pp. 39–42; Desmond Dinan (ed.), Encyclopedia of the European Union, updated edition (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000), p. 117. La rapport de Luxembourg (rapport Davignon), online, available at: www.ellopos.net/politics/davignon.htm (accessed 18 January 2008). With one exception, I have used the English translation of the Davignon Report found in David de Giustino, A Reader in European Integration (London: Longman, 1996), pp. 196–9. The text of the Davignon Report in de Guistino’s volume translates “les droits de l’homme” literally as “the rights of man.” I have translated this phrase as the more recognized and accurate English term, “human rights.” See, for one of many examples, the transcript of Henry Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Walter Stoessel, 19 November 1973, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. See Derek W. Urwin, The Community of Europe: A History of European Integration since 1945, second edition (Essex: Longman, 1995), pp. 147ff. See Desmond Dinan, Ever Closer Union: An Introduction to European Integration, second edition (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 1999), p. 63f. See John Van Oudenaren, Détente in Europe: The Soviet Union and the West since 1953 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1991). For one of the strongest and most discussed statements of this argument, see Robert Kagan, Of Paradise and Power: America and Europe in the New World Order (New York: Alfred Knopf, 2003). For the seminal European work on the nature of international society, see Hedley Bull, The Anarchical Society: A Study of Order in World Politics, second edition (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995); Hedley Bull and Adam Watson (eds.), The Expansion of International Society (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984). Final Communiqué from the North Atlantic Council Meeting in Rome, 26–27 May 1970, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c700526a.htm (accessed 18 January 2008). Ibid. See Morgan, Chapter 2. Kissinger, Years of Renewal, p. 640. See also Kissinger, Diplomacy, pp. 757–61; Morgan, Chapter 2, this volume. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Dobrynin, 22 August 1972, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Stephen Graubard, 18 March 1974, Nixon Papers, HAK telcons. This is a very revealing discussion where Kissinger expands upon his difficulties with the West European allies. At one point he comments: “There is a paradox that we know how to regulate relations with our enemies but we have not managed yet to create a cooperative structure with our friends.” Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Joseph Sisco, 29 March 1975, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. See Suri, Power and Protest, pp. 164–212. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Stephen Graubard, 18 March 1974, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. On the Bilderberg group, see Valerie Aubourg, “Organizing Atlanticism: The Bilderberg Group and the Atlantic Institute, 1952–1963,” in The Cultural Cold War in Western Europe, 1945–1960, Giles Scott-Smith and Hans Krabbendam (eds.), (London: Frank Cass, 2003), pp. 92–105; John Pomian (ed.), Joseph Retinger:

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54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

63 64 65 66

67 68 69 70

J. Suri Memoirs of an Eminence Grise (Sussex: Sussex University Press, 1972), pp. 250–60; Thomas W. Gijswijt: “Beyond NATO: Transnational Elite Networks and the Atlantic Alliance,” in Transforming NATO in the Cold War: Challenges beyond Deterrence in the 1960s, Andreas Wenger, Christian Nuenlist, and Anna Locher (eds.) (London: Routledge, 2007), pp. 50–63. On the Pugwash movement, see Matthew Evangelista, Unarmed Forces: The Transnational Movement to End the Cold War (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1999). See Walter Isaacson, Kissinger: A Biography (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1992), pp. 69–72. See Suri, Henry Kissinger, chapters 2–3. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Alexander Haig, 16 March 1974, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. One should note that in this and other conversations, Kissinger’s criticism of the Europeans referred to a number of issues, including European security, the aftermath of the 1973 war in the Middle East, and personal relations. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Dobrynin, 12 July 1974, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Yuli Vorontsov, 28 February 1975, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Arthur Hartman, 8 July 1975, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. See Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 158; Thomas, The Helsinki Effect, p. 85; Kissinger, Years of Renewal, pp. 635–48. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Stephen Graubard, 18 March 1974, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with William F. Buckley, 21 July 1975, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. Transcript of Kissinger’s telephone conversation with Senator Frank Church, 7 August 1975, Nixon papers, HAK telcons. Kissinger admits as much in his memoirs. See Kissinger, Years of Renewal, pp. 635f. See also Maresca, To Helsinki, pp. 64–9. MemCon between Kissinger and a group of Fellows from the Harvard Center for International Affairs, 7 December 1971, Digital National Security Archive Document Database (DNSA). Online, available at: nsarchive.chadwyck.com (accessed 18 January 2008). For the full text of the Helsinki Final Act, see online, available at: www.hri.org/docs/Helsinki75.html#H4.5 (accessed 18 January 2008). Kissinger, Years of Renewal, p. 647. For a similar examination of the contrast between these two documents, see Maresca, To Helsinki, pp. 154–60. See Marie-Pierre Rey, “‘Europe is our Common Home’: A Study of Gorbachev’s Diplomatic Concept,” Cold War History 4 (January 2004), pp. 33–65; Archie Brown, The Gorbachev Factor (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), especially pp. 220–5; Allen Lynch, Gorbachev’s International Outlook: Intellectual Origins and Political Consequences (New York: Institute for East–West Security Studies, 1989); David Holloway, “Gorbachev’s New Thinking,” Foreign Affairs 68, no. 1 (1988/89), p. 66. All of these quotations are from the text of the Helsinki Final Act. Daniel Thomas offers the most thoughtful and careful argument of this kind. See Thomas, The Helsinki Effect, especially pp. 220–56. This is the position adopted most critically by Bundy, A Tangled Web, especially pp. 526ff. For an excellent analysis of heightened Cold War conflict in the “Third World” after the signing of the Helsinki Final Act, see Odd Arne Westad, The Global Cold War: Third World Interventions and the Making of Our Times (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005).

4

The USSR and the Helsinki process, 1969–75 Optimism, doubt, or defiance? Marie-Pierre Rey

Introduction When the Helsinki Act was signed in August 1975, the Soviet Union was perceived by most international observers as the main beneficiary of the process. The phrase “if we achieve Helsinki, we can die in peace”1 – attributed to Leonid Brezhnev – seemed to express the Soviet leader’s optimism in assessing the CSCE process. Later historiographers have rightly questioned this triumphalist representation by showing that signing the Helsinki Act constituted only a “phyrric victory” for the USSR, because the struggle against the regime by dissidents was aided by the provisions of the Act’s third basket, which played an important role in the ultimate dissolution of the Soviet system.2 And so the perception of a triumphant Soviet leadership was gradually replaced by the image of a naïve or at least careless leadership that had not taken into account all the potential consequences of the CSCE process. However, does the latter image accurately reflect reality? Or is it, in part, the result of a teleological view of history that projects back onto the 1970s the ultimate failure of 1991? Was Soviet leadership really caught unawares by the Helsinki process? Did it err through naïveté or due to excessive confidence in its system? Or on the contrary, was it conscious of the risks incurred, and did it choose to accept these risks for the sake of the anticipated benefits? Finally, was this effort unanimously accepted, or can one detect some differences in approach, goals, and perceptions among the bodies that pursued it? It is difficult to answer these crucial questions. Indeed, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MID) and Party archives for the period 1965–75 largely remain closed, and we have to rely mainly on the testimonies of diplomats – a type of source that, being more retrospective than contemporary in nature, can be dubious. Despite this handicap, and cognizant of it, I chose to take the challenge and resort to several sources – Western archives, Soviet oral archives, and testimonies from Soviet diplomats – to make interpretations that will have to remain tentative for the moment. This chapter is composed of three parts. The first addresses the objectives pursued by the Soviet leadership through the CSCE project in the period 1965–75. As a venture that was potentially advantageous, but risky in some

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respects, the CSCE seems to have been the subject of discussions and even of contrasting positions within the Soviet apparatus, which are studied in the second part of the chapter. In the third part of the chapter, we will focus on the strategy to overcome the concomitant risks that was the outcome of these discussions and positions. Finally, the chapter concludes by assessing the Soviet approach to the Helsinki process.

The Soviet state and the CSCE: patiently pursued goals Having initiated a plan for a conference on security in Europe in 1954, the Soviet state did not, despite changes in leadership at the top, cease to promote a project that promised political and economic advantages, but presented serious risks. Launched in 1954 by Soviet Foreign Minister Vyacheslav Molotov in the dual form of a general non-aggression pact and a system of regional security relying on political and military consultative committees,3 and maintained by Khrushchev in the second half of the 1950s, the plan for a European conference was a victim of the vagaries of the uneven diplomacy of the first secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU), and was thus dropped in the early 1960s. When the Berlin crisis culminated in the construction of the Wall and the Cuban crisis brought the world to the brink of the abyss, there was no time for either Western decision-makers entrenched in their distrust or for Soviet decision-makers to dream of a hypothetical European conference that might just pit irreducibly opposed positions against each other yet again. However, after Khrushchev’s dismissal, the climate of détente that gradually took hold pushed the new leaders to relaunch the idea by various means. From his rise to power in 1964, Leonid Brezhnev stubbornly asserted his desire to promote the CSCE project. From 1965 to 1972, the Soviet leadership tried systematically to promote this project in the course of discussions with their Western colleagues. Thus, in February 1966, after consultations between Aleksei Kosygin and Harold Wilson in Moscow, the joint communiqué argued for efforts “leading to the establishment of comprehensive cooperation between all the countries of Eastern and Western Europe,”4 including the GDR. Some months later, a communiqué published after a meeting between de Gaulle and Kosygin in December 1966 stated that discussion had taken place between the two parties “on the question of convening in the future a general European conference to examine problems of security in Europe and the establishment of general European cooperation.”5 In parallel with this intense diplomatic activity, Soviet decision-makers had recourse to the good offices of satellite countries. In the wake of the Rapacki plan, which was presented to the United Nations in December 1964 and proposed combining measures on disarmament in Europe and the organization of an international conference on European security, all the satellite countries found themselves rapidly mobilized to promote the project. In January 1965, the Political Consultative Committee of the Warsaw Pact renewed the offer via the Polish minister of foreign affairs, with a resolution calling for the holding of a conference devoted to questions of security and of economic

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and commercial exchanges. In the following years, new trial balloons were launched: among the more memorable ones were the official declarations published after the meetings of the Warsaw Pact Political Consultative Committee, held successively in Bucharest in July 19666 and then in Budapest in March 1969,7 where the Hungarians played an important role in the elaboration of the document.8 One year later, during their meeting in Budapest in June 1970,9 the ministers of foreign affairs of the Warsaw Pact gave a new dimension to the initial project: they offered the US and Canada a chance to take part in the European conference and accepted the inclusion of cultural questions in the agenda of the conference. While mobilizing all the satellite countries for the promotion of the project in the diplomatic sphere, the Soviets at the same time resorted to their own propaganda network to defend the project in the public sphere and soon mobilized their major avenues of influence.10 The famous World Council for Peace and the young International Committee for Security and Cooperation in Europe (created in 1963 for this purpose) untiringly organized forums and congresses on a grand scale in order to lead Western European opinion towards supporting the project. Until 1968, the International Committee for Security and Cooperation in Europe (ICSCE) remained a small body that timidly diffused its message from its headquarters in Brussels,11 but after its first congress organized in Vienna in 1969, the ICSCE developed into a network of national committees for Security and Cooperation that were dominated by Communists and “fellow travelers.” Between 1971 and 1975, it organized annual sessions and pursued two main goals. First, it tried to convince Western public opinion that the USSR was part of the European continent and that the Soviets had legitimate interests in Europe. A speech given by Aleksei Surkov, writer and deputy in the Supreme Soviet, during the annual meeting of the ICSCE in June 1971 clearly enunciates this perspective. Surkov deliberately uses the expression “among us, in Europe,” and his whole speech ingeniously underlines the proposition that, beyond the politico-social breach of the Cold War, the USSR is part of European culture.12 Second, the Committee tried to serve the interests of Soviet diplomacy by circulating its arguments among Western public opinion networks – for example, in the declaration put forth at the end of the session held in Brussels from 5–7 April 1974.13 The national committees of the ICSCE consisted for the most part of intellectuals close to the Communist parties and famous pacifists.14 But the situation was quite different within the Soviet branch of the Committee, where its composition (as listed in the internal brochure dated June 1971)15 cites key Party men like Anatoly Blatov, a member of Brezhnev’s secretariat; Evgeny Shaposhnikov and Vadim Zagladin, both deputy directors of the International Department of the Central Committee; analysts in international relations, including Nikolai Inozemtsev, director of the IMEMO, Georgy Arbatov, director of the United States and Canada Institute, and Timur Timofeev, director of the International Workers’ Movement Institute; artists and writers, like Mikhail Sholokhov and Konstantin Simonov; and last, journalists like Pavel Naumov,

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editor of the magazine New Times, Yury Zhukov, political commentator for Pravda, and Leonid Zamyatin, director-general of the TASS news agency. Admittedly, it is not easy to get a precise idea of how effective the ICSCE was in influencing Western governments and public opinions; but the presence of key Party members and specialists in international relations inside this body attests to the importance that the Soviet leaders attributed to it, and thereby to the projected conference. Soviet persistence eventually led to concrete results. The first official rallying to the plan was achieved with the Italian–Soviet communiqué after a visit by Soviet Minister of Foreign Affairs Andrei Gromyko to Rome in April 1966, and it was confirmed a few months later, in January 1967, during a visit to Italy by President Nikolai Podgorny. Two years later, in June 1968, the NATO Council met in Reykjavík and announced an agreement in principle in favor of the conference; and after the summer of 1969, the conference entered into a preparatory phase that led in November 1972 to the opening of multilateral consultations in Helsinki. Various political and economic goals At this point, the Soviet state had already obtained concrete and tangible assurances that legally acknowledged the frontiers inherited from 1944–45. The relations between the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG), the USSR, and Poland had been normalized by the treaties of August and November 1970, the quadripartite treaty on Berlin had taken effect in the month of June 1971, and the treaty between the two Germanies that ratified the division was on the verge of being signed. In this context, one may question the utility of such a conference for Soviet diplomacy. But in fact, even while the Soviet leaders were harvesting fresh success in Europe, most of them remained attached to the CSCE, since they believed it might further even larger goals. First, the CSCE would represent a symbolic conclusion of World War II in the form of an international treaty. This symbolic dimension cannot be neglected, since for the Soviet decision-makers in charge between 1965 and 1975, the memory of World War II remained omnipresent.16 Moreover, this desire for peace was combined from 1973–74 on with Brezhnev’s personal desire to appear to the world as a man of peace, if not as a potential candidate for the Nobel Prize.17 Second, beyond the symbolic aspect, and more importantly, the conference would also be a concrete way of perpetuating on a multilateral basis the territorial status quo resulting from World War II, the division of Europe, and the Soviet domination of Eastern Europe.18 This desire to institutionalize the Communist glacis would be expressed quite pointedly on the issue of frontiers: on 29 March 1973, the Soviet representative on the working group devoted to questions of security firmly opposed the possibility of any changes to the European map, including change of a peaceful nature.19 And on 25 October, during the first session of the conference, Anatoly Kovalev, the head of the Soviet delegation, defended an identical position.20

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Third, beyond rendering the Soviet effort irreversible, the CSCE was also meant to establish the principles that could govern European relations in the future: via the German Democratic Republic (GDR) as an intermediary, the USSR on 1 March 1973 offered a working document enunciating six fundamental principles: the inviolability of borders, territorial integrity, the independence and sovereignty of European states, non-interference in the internal affairs of states, and peaceful settlement of conflicts.21 Last, not content to seek to promote a code of good conduct among European countries, the Soviet state also tried to establish a pan-European dialog of a longstanding nature. In his long speech of 13 December 1972, Anatoly Kovalev advocated the creation of a “European body” charged with questions of security and cooperation, and on 9 February 1973 he proposed creating a pan-European consultative committee.22 These avowed goals were backed up by more discrete ambitions: in proclaiming its identity as part of the European continent and its will to maintain close and more institutionalized links with its Western European neighbors, the Soviet state was still trying imperceptibly to distance Western Europe from the US and to assume a right of privileged access to European affairs. The Soviets believed that the US tenants would have to be evicted from the “common European home.”23 Thus, these motives – the symbolic close to World War II, the irreversible perpetuation of the European territorial status quo, and the weakening of the Atlantic alliance – constituted the Soviet leadership’s major political objectives. But they were also accompanied by economic motives. After 1964–65, the Soviet economy was characterized by a noticeable lack of impetus, as the annual growth rate of the GNP slumped from 6 percent in the first half of the 1960s to 5 percent. Between 1966 and 1970, a slight upturn in growth occurred, with an annual average of 5.5 percent, but by 1971, the decline resumed, with an annual average of only 3.7 percent.24 These mediocre results soon spurred the Soviet leadership to new economic reflection and concrete attempts at reform: for example, the Libermann reform, adopted in October 1965, was precisely aimed to stimulate initiative by giving back to enterprises a share of their profits and by offering them higher bonuses as incentives to surpass initial forecasts, but the results were disappointing. Therefore, to relieve the decline in national growth and improve economic performance, the Soviet leaders, in particular experts in the Foreign Trade Ministry and in the State Committee for Science and Technology (GKNT), advocated a relative openness to the West: in order to realize ambitious objectives fixed in the Ninth Five-Year Plan (1971–75) – primarily, the building of modern complexes for the production of oil and gas in Siberia, the modernization of the metallurgic industry, the construction of truck and automobile factories, and the computerization of public transport services – technical experts took recourse to imports and technology transfers, which they saw as an effective substitute for shortfalls in national production.25 But in the middle of the 1960s, and more or less until the end of the decade, Soviet–US relations were still stuck in the logic of the Cold War, while the US was hardly in favor of developing economic,

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commercial, and technological exchanges with the Eastern bloc, as shown by their rigid attachment to the Coordinating Committee on Multilateral Export Controls (COCOM) list. In this unfavorable context, a rapprochement with Western European states, and in particular with EEC members, was perceived as particularly useful,26 and the Soviet leadership took a different approach, timidly from 1969 and more markedly from 1972.27 In a speech on 7 January 1969, Brezhnev, like his predecessors, denounced the “natural aggressiveness” of Western European countries and described imperialism as “the main obstacle on the road to freedom, peace, and democracy,”28 but for the first time since the creation of the EEC, he recognized the ability of Western European countries to organize themselves in strong and lasting structures: from now on, for Brezhnev as for Gromyko, it was no longer appropriate to point to the alleged weakness of the EEC. The time had come to admit the viability of the EEC in order to take advantage of it. Three years later, in March 1972, Brezhnev went further and declared in a public speech delivered before the Congress of the Soviet Trade Unions that “it is necessary to take account of this existing economic association.”29 And in August 1973, the secretary general of the Politburo sent a secret protocol to the leaders of the French Communist Party to clarify the new Soviet position towards the EEC, insisting on the necessity to “establish trade relations between the EEC and the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (CMEA or COMECON), and in this perspective, to promote unofficial and concrete contacts between representatives of both institutions.”30 In this context, the establishment of privileged economic links between the two parts of Europe via the CSCE was even a crucial necessity. Promoting faster development of East–West exchanges, the Soviet delegation at the conference on 21 March 1973 called for the elaboration of a veritable program of economic cooperation, which it again defended on 8 June.31 The project detailed the basis for future European cooperation, founded on a most-favored nation clause and the principle of non-discrimination. This text was a means of fostering an upsurge in East–West exchanges, but also promoted a broad pan-European economic logic. Overall, while they were clearly focused on political and geopolitical matters, the Soviet decision-makers in 1972–73 also pursued other objectives, including economic goals. But at the same time, the CSCE project was potentially dangerous for the USSR. Some significant risks On the diplomatic level, the Soviet state – which had, since the announcement of the Rapacki Plan, constantly mobilized its satellites to promote the conference – was likely to run up against the reservations, if not resistance, of some of them. Romanian President Nicolae Ceausescu met with French President Georges Pompidou at a summit in June 1970 and stressed his desire to use the CSCE as a tool to defend and promote national independence and national sovereignty.32 In fact, during the preliminary talks in Dipoli, the Romanian diplomats, supported

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by the Yugoslav delegation, would contest Soviet hegemony on several occasions; on 24 November 1972, during a debate on the rules for the conference, the Romanian delegate suggested that countries should present themselves “independently of their membership or non-membership in a military alliance.”33 At the ideological level, the openness to Western Europe was equally prone to risks. On the one hand, economic openness was regarded as a source of danger and destabilization in and of itself, of which the Soviet decision-makers were soon very aware, as Nikolai Polianski attests: Détente with the West became necessary for economic reasons. But the Soviet ideologues understood perfectly the threat that détente posed: neither more or less than a crumbling of the Soviet system. Contact with the material and spiritual riches of Western countries – the abundance of goods and freedom of information – would immediately reveal to the Soviet citizen his material and spiritual misery.34 On the other hand, the question of human rights and liberties of the individual in the USSR as in all the East European countries, was also a preferred target for Western demands, as shown by the communiqué published by the NATO Council on 5 December 1969, which stressed the necessity of greater freedom in the exchange of ideas and information and individual freedom of movement. In this specific context, the objectives and the risks soon became the subject of strong debates, discussions, and opposing positions inside the ruling bodies.35

Debates and tensions around the CSCE: ruling apparatuses torn between adherence and distrust From the end of the 1960s and throughout the first half of the 1970s, the toplevel discussions that took place over the question of the CSCE led to major splits among Soviet leaders and departments. In the decade from 1965 to 1975, the MID seems to have been characterized by an unwavering support for the project, while some Party institutions were much more reluctant. The MID as a vanguard This support can be attributed to several causes. The MID was an executive branch of the Party and the Politburo. In 1964, describing the functioning of Soviet diplomacy, diplomat Valerian Zorin underlined the quite explicit manner in which “the Communist Party leaders determine (and always have determined) the correct direction, content, and methods of Soviet diplomacy.”36 Consequently, the MID could only support and put into effect the desires expressed by the secretary general of the CPSU. But this support is also explained by two other more essential reasons. The first reason was institutional: throughout the 1960s and 1970s, the

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International Department of the Central Committee, as a direct emanation of the Party, had a predominant role in the elaboration of Soviet foreign policy,37 but this preeminence tended to be contested by the rise in power of the MID, which had been under Gromyko’s direction since 1957. A professional diplomat who had been present at the conferences of Dumbarton Oaks, Yalta, San Francisco, and Potsdam, had served in the prestigious position of ambassador to Washington, and had been a member of the Central Committee (as a candidate member since 1952 and as a full member after 1956), Gromyko was considered during the Khrushchevian period to be a shrewd operator who had to be reckoned with. His experience and authority, acquired thanks to his participation in great international conferences and through contact with a wide variety of interlocutors, soon worked in his favor and helped to turn this discreet man into the “memory” and mainstay of Soviet diplomacy. As an incarnation of the concept of the “specialist,” Gromyko survived the fall of First Secretary Nikita Khrushchev in 1964, and with Brezhnev’s rise to the post of general secretary of the CPSU, his importance grew. Gromyko and Brezhnev became personal friends,38 and this friendship contrasted with the mutual animosity that characterized relations between Brezhnev and Boris Ponomarev, the head of the International Department. So, from the second half of the 1960s onwards, Gromyko backed a policy of détente and openness largely because it was institutionally favorable to the MID: first of all, because this policy of détente would bring about a marked increase in ministry personnel, making the MID a powerful machine within the governmental apparatus (in 1959, the USSR had diplomatic representations in 66 countries; in 1965, this number had risen to 95, and by December 1970, the USSR was represented in 108 countries);39 and second, because by giving greater legitimacy to the diplomatic sphere at the expense of support for revolutionary movements, this policy would confer on the MID de facto credibility and prestige, leaving the International Department behind. The second reason was more political and involved the new generation of diplomats who were beginning to achieve important posts in the first half of the 1970s. Many of them were among the first graduates of the Institute of International Relations of Moscow (MGIMO); as products of Khrushchevian deStalinization, these diplomats were distinguished by their less ideological vision of international relations, an increasingly critical spirit with respect to Marxist–Leninist dogma, skepticism, and sometimes double-think. Polianski remembers: At the time, the heads of department and their assistants belonged to the old generation of Soviet diplomats. . . . But one already saw among the young generation graduates of the Institute of International Relations, often the sons of the preceding generation . . . The sons were distinguished from the fathers by a high level of education, knowledge of foreign languages, a much less dogmatic and more liberal mindset; moreover, they were in principle attracted by Western lifestyles.40

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This description well expresses the profound change that began to affect the MID in the 1970s. Faithful men put in place by Molotov were being replaced by the “products” of the Khrushchev era. Having reached influential positions in the 1960s and 1970s, newcomers such as Anatoly Kovalev,41 promoted in 1971 to the rank of deputy minister with responsibility for all departments relating to Western Europe, Yury Dubinin42 (a specialist in French foreign policy), and Valentin Falin43 (a specialist in German affairs), were radically different from the preceding generation. Better trained, at ease with foreign languages and with foreign cultures in general, and concerned with pragmatism and realism, these new diplomats in the first half of the 1970s became natural and sincere agents of true détente and of exchanges with the West – in which they saw a major potential for instigating an evolution in their regime. Polianski attests: “Many representatives of the Soviet intelligentsia, among them many diplomats, sincerely approved of the policy of détente with the West and endeavored to put it into effect because they wished for a liberalization of the Soviet system.”44 In short, this approach was governed by pragmatism as much as by a concern to see the regime evolve towards more flexibility and freedom. It was supported by certain structures and people outside the MID. Wider support for the MID position The Foreign Trade Ministry, directed since 1958 by Nikolai Patolichev, and the GKNT were also in favor of the ambitious programs of economic cooperation put forward by the Soviets during the Helsinki negotiations; they defended détente and openness towards Western Europe in a pragmatic approach that befitted them as “technocrats” concerned with efficiency. But more disparate groups backed the MID. We should remember, for example, the support brought by the IMEMO (the Institute of World Economy and International Relations) to openness and the CSCE. Headed by Nikolai Inozemtsev from 1965 to 1982, this analysis and forecasting body, which reported to the Party, made an important contribution to the defense and promotion of a more profound and continuous dialog between East and West.45 Similarly, the Institute for the United States and Canada, founded in 1968 and directed from its beginning by Georgy Arbatov, eagerly advocated détente with the West, seen as a means of gently liberalizing the “system.” This aspiration toward a gradual liberalization of the regime was also shared by the small group of consultants set up by Boris Ponomarev inside the International Department, for while the department as a whole was characterized by conservative positions and distrust, if not hostility toward the idea of openness to the West, the small group of consultants summoned by Ponomarev to make it more dynamic, adopted relatively independent positions, with often iconoclastic proposals. Anatoly Chernyaev was an active member of the group and attests to this in his memoirs: “We were expressing doubts about everything and Ponomarev knew it. It was not for nothing that he called us revisionists. But he had

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patience because he needed competent collaborators.”46 Coming from a Communist as orthodox (if not conservative) as Ponomarev, this summons to freethinking consultants might appear paradoxical, but Ponomarev would justify it in several circumstances by arguing for the necessity of recruiting collaborators of quality. Chernyaev recalls: Boris Ponomarev admitted to me one day that all his colleagues on the Central Committee Secretariat made cutting remarks that he was keeping in his service people who were ideologically doubtful. “And what should I do?” he asked me. “I know that so-and-so (he mentioned names) is tempted by revisionism. But these are educated people, who know how to think and write. As a general rule, the hardliners don’t know how to do either.”47 The existence and functioning of this group attests to the fact that inside the conservative International Department, iconoclastic thoughts and doubts were starting to circulate, and that its members began to express genuine support for détente. Thus between 1965 and 1975, there was a whole sphere of influence of “zapadniki”48 from various institutions – the MID, the MVT (Soviet Ministry of Foreign Trade), the GKNT, research institutes, and the consultant group of the International Department – who engaged in a policy of supporting détente in general and the CSCE process in particular. But at the same time, questions, if not criticism, were also being raised. Questioning and even hostile voices Within the Party, the top hierarchy of the International Department under the joint influence of Ponomarev and Mikhail Suslov49 soon expressed its distrust and even disagreement with CSCE. For these two ideologues, attached to a model of international relations based on the concept of a class struggle, the easing of tensions could only signify a weakening of Soviet positions and a fool’s bargain. This approach was also shared and asserted by the KGB hierarchy, for whom the détente policy advocated by the West carried grave risks and was nothing other than a “Trojan horse, an ideological diversion undertaken against the Socialist countries, aiming to shake their foundations.”50 Recalling a discussion that had taken place at the Soviet Embassy in Berne in 1973 between defenders of openness to Western Europe and a representative of the security services, Nicolai Polianski remembered the latter as speaking of the risk of enlarging contacts with the West, since the profusion of merchandise in the developed capitalist countries was proving a powerful means of propaganda aimed at the simple Soviet citizen, the worker, who was not versed in theoretical questions and was more impressed by the material side of life.51

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To these general risks were added other more concrete ones, which Yury Andropov, the KGB chief since 1967, did not fail to express repeatedly within the Politburo. In effect, his concern was not a matter of questioning the nature of the Helsinki process, but of ensuring that it should remain under control and be strictly circumscribed.52 For Andropov (as for many Party specialists in foreign policy), the major risk once negotiations had begun was that Soviet diplomats would find themselves constrained, albeit unwillingly, to make major concessions.53 Thus, far from ignoring or underestimating the importance of the Helsinki process and its potential impact on the regime, the Soviet managing leadership was in reality divided on the nature of this impact. Some actors, who were in support of opening the country towards the West for the sake of its own evolution, were consequently in favor of the Helsinki talks, while others feared the harmful effects of the process. But this uncertainty, even hostility, was minimized (if not ignored) by the promoters of the conference, who were more numerous and closer to the corridors of power: since the success of the conference was a matter of personal prestige for Brezhnev, it was a goal no longer to be questioned. However, whereas the Soviet engagement in the European conference remained firm and unquestioned, it was accompanied by an offensive strategy that disappointed the expectations of the reformers, since it aimed to defuse the risks of Western “contamination.”

An offensive strategy aimed to defuse risks Throughout the period from 1965 to 1975, in fact, Soviet power was exerted on two levels to steel the Eastern bloc against the potential dangers of the CSCE. First of all, the regime sought to set up internal “self-defense” against subversion, and second, during the negotiations proper, it endeavored to limit the extent of likely concessions as far as possible. It did not always manage to do so. Self-defense against the CSCE: a major preoccupation The efforts towards protection against the perceived negative outcomes of the CSCE were organized around two major axes, an external axis destined to counter the potential effects of the CSCE on the cohesion of the broader Eastern bloc, and an internal axis designed to counter these same effects on the Soviet population in particular. In fact, concerned with minimizing the risks of resistance to the CSCE, and the new challenges likely to arise from it, the CPSU clearly accentuated the “crackdown” observed since the Czech crisis. In 1972, the second conference on the Crimea, attended by all of the satellites except Romania, strongly reaffirmed the necessity of Socialist unity and the preeminence of the Soviet model.54 Moreover, Soviet leaders increased the pressure on Romania to return to the ranks, and in March 1972 (eight months before the opening of the Helsinki Conference preliminary talks), the latter agreed to participate in the military

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exercises of the Warsaw Pact. One year later, in July 1973, the report presented by Leonid Brezhnev during the annual Crimean conference labeled as “inopportune” the Romanian proposal to dissolve both the Warsaw Pact and NATO simultaneously, and called instead for the strengthening of political and military cooperation among Warsaw Pact states.55 On the economic plane, integration within the Socialist camp, inaugurated by the launching of the Complex Program in 1971, was reinforced when the twenty-sixth session of COMECON decided in July 1972 to create 20 new coordinating committees, thereby improving the functioning of the body. Finally, on the ideological and cultural terrain, the Soviet hold over the other Socialist countries was accentuated and diversified: the severe warnings uttered during the Crimean conference against any manifestations of centrifugal tendencies liable to manifest themselves during the European conference were supplemented by the introduction of more flexible procedures aiming to forge a veritable Socialist culture to be substituted for national cultures; at Soviet instigation, “weeks of Socialist friendship” and “months of Socialist culture” proliferated.56 Thus, on the eve of the conference and during its unfolding, one could observe an accentuation of the integrative process that – in terms of its political, ideological, and economic aspects – aimed to solder together the Socialist camp and to extinguish any centrifugal force. A similar clampdown was observed inside the borders of the Soviet Union proper. Even before the opening of the preliminaries to the Helsinki Conference, the struggle against political and religious dissidence resumed with force, after a slight remission at the beginning of the 1970s. In September 1972, the network that had clandestinely self-published (as samizdat) the Chronicle of Current Events since 1968 was dismantled amid a wave of arrests that included Vladimir Bukovsky, Petr Yakir, and Leonid Plyushch among its victims. Meanwhile, Soviet rule turned toward two new forms of repression: imprisonment in psychiatric hospitals (General Petr Grigorenko and Vladimir Bukovsky were condemned to a psychiatric “treatment”) and banishment (the physicist Valery Chalidze at the end of 1972, then the biologist Jaures Medvedev in August 1973, were successively stripped of Soviet nationality and expelled).57 At the same time, the prison regime inflicted on political prisoners hardened: in July 1972, many of those who had been grouped in camps in Mordovia were sent even further from Moscow, in difficult conditions, to the region of Perm.58 For the regime, it was a matter of discouraging any possible contact between these prisoners and Western journalists stationed in the capital. While the great dissident figures known in the West – Solzhenitsyn and Sakharov in particular – were for the time being physically spared, the repression orchestrated in 1972–73 aimed to sap the base of the dissident movement and annihilate it before the European conference got an inkling of it. And one year later, in 1973–74, even as the CSCE entered into its most active phase, the organized repression against Solzhenitsyn illustrated once again the Soviet refusal of any concession on the question of human rights.59 This repression of dissidents was coupled with a policy of prevention that

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pushed the authorities to a campaign of ideological rigor, principally directed against young people. In 1970–71, Pravda and Komsomolskaya Pravda repeatedly condemned the popular fascination with Western music and dress fashions. The objective of this campaign was to minimize the risks of ideological contamination by calling for reinforcement of the ideological struggle precisely in a period of détente. Western observers were aware of this ideological toughness that seemed to bode ill for freedom and human rights, as attested in March 1974 by a note emanating from the General Secretariat of the French presidency addressed to Georges Pompidou.60 In parallel with this strategy, Soviet decisionmakers also acted within the framework of the conference itself, but their success there was much more uneven. Uncertain attempts during the CSCE negotiations Throughout the preparatory phase of the conference, the Soviets endeavored to dodge the thorny question of the free exchange of ideas, information, and people; they were voluntarily entrenched in a very narrow vision of the cultural field. On 12 March 1974, in the Abkhaz resort town of Pitsunda, Brezhnev characteristically complained during his summit meeting with Georges Pompidou about the excessive attachment of Westerners to the concept of freedom of information within the CSCE: to the essential content, they have added various ideas on cultural and information exchanges that have no relation whatever with questions of sovereignty, of the inviolability of frontiers, the non-recourse to force, cooperation, and development of economic and cultural relations. I do not understand that. . . . The fundamental document should carry the principle of non-interference in internal affairs.61 And the next day, during their tête-à-tête, Brezhnev was even more explicit: I am beginning to doubt the purposes of certain countries when they advance unrealistic ideas. What are they more interested in? I have just learned, for example, that the Italians propose to establish on our territory an independent theatre, with its own police and personnel, a sort of concession. I was informed yesterday – I don’t know if you are aware of this – that France, too, is not shunning such ideas: it proposes to create cultural centres, independent libraries, and cinemas with their own administration. None of that is essential for Europe. We were dreaming of something quite different.62 Similarly, when they were confronted in concrete terms with the question of human rights during negotiations over the third basket, Soviet decision-makers would try to avoid it or limit its scope. On 31 January 1973, Kovalev tried to impose the idea that the human rights issue could not be raised in multilateral consultations between states, and on 4 April, Zorin declared that “this question

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can only be envisaged within the framework of cultural cooperation and not in and of itself.”63 Still, this position proved difficult to maintain, and in the course of 1974, some concessions were finally accepted by Soviet decision-makers with regard to the circulation of information and ideas and respect for human rights. In this development, the personal role of Anatoly Kovalev was crucial, since the diplomat on the one hand managed to persuade the still-anxious and hesitant Politburo with tact and skill,64 and on the other was able to win decisive support from Andropov, who had been convinced since 1974 of the necessity of granting certain concessions on paper, if not in reality.65 However, in the short term, neither the concessions made with respect to human rights nor the few guarantees about the circulation of ideas would bring about the opening of the system so fervently awaited by the zapadniki: in his memoirs, Dubinin recalls that only “a defensive strategy against the question of human rights was adopted”66 in response to the Final Act, and that no reforms were elaborated to improve the system. And, as mentioned by Arkady Shevchenko, Kovalev, who had served Soviet diplomacy skilfully during the CSCE process, was symbolically denied any promotion or reward at the XXVth and XXVIth Party Congresses, a victim of the direction taken by the Kremlin.

Conclusion In summing up, one may stress that the Soviet leadership, conscious of the risks it was incurring, tried during the Helsinki process to limit as much as possible the concessions made in return for its main goal, the legal consolidation of the post-World War II geopolitical order. In the short term, this defensive strategy was efficient, weakening the dissident movement and discouraging those inside the system who expected opening and reforms. But in the longer term, this strategy turned out to be counterproductive, not only because the Helsinki Final Act quickly became a weapon of defense for the dissidents, but more fundamentally, because the principles enunciated by the Final Act – respect for human rights, free circulation of ideas and people, and political freedom – were to become an essential part of Gorbachev’s perestroika. And from this last point of view, signing the Helsinki Act constituted not so much a “pyrrhic victory” for the USSR than, inside the system, the victory of reformers over conservatives.

Notes 1 Vladimir Bukovsky, Jugement à Moscou, un dissident dans les archives du Kremlin (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1995), p. 529. 2 See, e.g., Victor-Yves Ghebali, La diplomatie de la détente, 1973–1989: Organisations internationales et relations internationales (Brussels: Bruylant, 1989), ch. 1. 3 Marie-Pierre Rey, “L’URSS et la sécurité européenne, 1953–1956,” Communisme 49–50 (1997), pp. 121–36. 4 Quoted by John van Oudenaren, Détente in Europe: The Soviet Union and the West since 1953 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1991), p. 75.

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5 Ibid., p. 76. 6 For the records of the meeting, see the collection of Records of the Committee of the Ministers of Foreign Affairs of the Warsaw Pact, Parallel History Project on Cooperative Security (PHP), online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (2002) (accessed 18 January 2008). 7 On the precise role of the Soviets in preparations for the meeting, see Vojtech Mastny, Tenth Meeting of the PCC: 17 March 1969, Budapest, PHP, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (2000) (accessed 18 January 2008). 8 See Csaba Békés, Hungary and the Warsaw Pact, 1954–1989, Documents with an introduction, PHP, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (2003) (accessed 18 January 2008). 9 For the record of the meeting, see PHP, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (accessed 18 January 2008). 10 Clive Rose, The Soviet Propaganda Network: A Directory of Organizations Serving Soviet Foreign Policy (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1988). 11 Ibid., p. 99. 12 Aleksei Surkov’s Speech at the session of the Soviet Committee for Security in Europe, 8 June 1971, in Documents (Moscow: Soviet Committee for Security in Europe, 1971). 13 Statement by the ICSCE, 5–6 April 1974. Author’s archives. 14 For example, Canon Raymond Goor. 15 See Documents (Moscow: Soviet Committee for Security in Europe, 1971), pp. 58–73. Author’s archives. 16 See, e.g., Georgy Arbatov in his study of Brezhnev’s psychology, in The System, an Insider’s Life in Soviet Politics (New York: Times Book, 1992), and Yury Dubinin in Diplomaticheskaia byl’, zapiski posla vo Frantsii (Moscow: Rosspen, 1997), p. 170. 17 L. Kornilov, “Leonid Il’ich ne znal, shto zapuskaet mekhanizm perestroiki,” Izvestia, 21 July 1995. 18 See, e.g., Dubinin, Diplomaticheskaia byl’, pp. 177f. 19 Luigi V. Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation, Helsinki, Geneva, Helsinki (Geneva: HEI, 1979), pp. 26f. 20 Ibid., pp. 102f. 21 Ibid., pp. 19ff. 22 The Soviet text is preserved in the archives of the Quai d’Orsay in a note written on 5 March 1973 by the Directorate of Political Affairs, AMFAE, Direction des Affaires politiques, no. 49, DP CSCE, URSS, série 36, sous-série 23, Politique extérieure, dossier no. 3, URSS et CSCE, 1971–juin 1976. 23 Andrei Gromyko used this expression as early as 1966 and again in June 1972, in one of his talks with French President Georges Pompidou. See Georges Pompidou’s meeting with Andrei Gromyko, 23 June 1972, Archives of the Secrétariat Général of the French Presidency, 5 AG 2, advisers’ files, box no. 1,017. 24 G. D. Halliday, Issues in East-West Commercial Relations: A Compendium of Papers Submitted to the Joint Economic Committee (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1979), p. 51. 25 Cf. Nikolai Polianski’s testimony in MID, Douze ans dans les services diplomatiques du Kremlin (Paris: Belfond, 1984), p. 169: “Détente with the West was required for economic reasons.” 26 See the Annual Report of Nikolai Patolichev published in Pravda, 27 December 1973, quoted in Seweryn Bialer (ed.), The Domestic Context of Soviet Foreign Policy, (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1981), p. 190. 27 See Marie-Pierre Rey, “Le retour à l’Europe? Les décideurs soviétiques face à l’intégration ouest-européenne, 1957–1991,” Journal of European Integration 11, no. 1 (2005), pp. 7–27. 28 An extract of this speech is reported by Andrei Aleksandrov-Agentov, Ot Kollontai

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37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

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M.-P. Rey do Gorbacheva, Vospominania diplomata (Moscow: Mezhdunarodn Otnosheniia, 1994), p. 207. See Brezhnev’s speech in La Pravda, 21 March 1972. Protocol no. 92, 63 g, adopted during the session of the Secretariat General of the Central Committee, 14 August 1973, Soviet Communist Party Archives, collection no. 6, RGANI. Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation, p. 24. Talk between Georges Pompidou and Nicolae Ceauçescu, 17 June 1970, Archives of the Presidency of the French Republic, 5 AG 2, advisers’ files, box no. 1,016, “entretiens présidentiels,” 1970. Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation, p. 11. Polianski, MID, p. 169. Robert D. English, Russia and the Idea of the West: Gorbachev, Intellectuals and the End of the Cold War (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000), p. 154: The CSCE became “a highly contested topic inside the country, the subject of an acute ideological and political struggle.” Valerian Zorin in “The role of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the USSR. The Bases of Diplomatic Service,” quoted in The Soviet Approach to Negotiations: Selected Writings, US Congress, Senate, Committee on Government Operations (Washington: Government Printing Office, 1969), p. 85. Marie-Pierre Rey, “Le Département International du Comité central, le MID et la politique extérieure soviétique de 1953 à 1991,” Communisme 74–5 (2003), pp. 181–215. Andrei Aleksandrov-Agentov, Ot Kollontai do Gorbacheva, Vospominania diplomata, p. 71. US Congress Committee on Foreign Affairs, Soviet Diplomacy and Negotiating Behaviour, Emerging New Context for U.S. Diplomacy, vol. 1 (Washington: Congressional Research Service, Library of Congress, 1979), p. 6. Polianski, MID, pp. 28f. Born in 1923. Born in 1930. Born in 1926. Polianski, MID, pp. 28f. Yury Polski, Soviet Research Institutes and Formulation of Foreign Policy: The Institute of World Economy and International Relations (Michigan State University, Falls Chuch, VA: Delphic Associates, 1987). Anatoli Chernyaev’s testimony, 24 May 2001, Collection of oral archives on perestroika. Hoover Institution, Gorbachev Foundation. Anatoli Chernyaev, Moia Zhizn’ i Moë Vremia (Moscow: Mezhdunarod Otnosheniia, 1995). The Russian term “zapadniki” (“westernizers”) reappears in the Soviet political culture in the 1960s and 1970s after having being created in Russia in the first third of the nineteenth century. It refers to the major issue of “Russianness” and to the model of development Russia would have to follow to accelerate its modernization. See Marie-Pierre Rey, Le dilemme russe, la Russie et l’Europe occidentale d’Ivan le Terrible à Boris Eltsine (Paris: Flammarion, 2002). For Suslov, the CSCE was “a threat to the steel and concrete dogmata of the Communist ideals.” Quoted by English, Russia and the Idea of the West, p. 154. Quoted by Polianski, MID, p. 167. Ibid., p. 168. See Bukovsky, Jugement à Moscou. In this book, Bukovsky refers to Andropov’s reports where the head of the KGB stresses the dangers of seeing the enemies of the Soviet Union using détente for their profit. See Arkadi Chevtchenko, Rupture avec Moscou (Paris: Payot, 1985), p. 327:

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Many times, I heard the senior civil servants of the Ministry, some members of the Central Committtee or some representatives of the KGB warning us against the risks we were taking of losing ground in the talks or of being led beyond our own objectives. 54 Robert L. Hutchings, Soviet–East European Relations, Consolidation and Conflict (London: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983), ch. 4. 55 See Brezhnev’s Report and Brezhnev’s Concluding Speech at the Crimean Meeting, 30 July 1973, PHP, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (accessed 18 January 2008). 56 Hutchings, Soviet–East European Relations, ch. 7. 57 Richard F. Staar (ed.), Yearbook on International Communist Affairs (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1974), p. 75. 58 Vladimir Bukovsky, Et le vent reprend ses tours (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1978), pp. 375f. 59 Jean Chiama and Jean-François Soulet, Histoire de la Dissidence (Paris: Le Seuil, 1982). 60 Note for the President of the French Republic from the Secrétariat Général of the Presidency signed by Gabriel Robin, 6 March 1974, in archives of the Presidency of the French Republic, 5 AG 2, advisers’ files, box no. 1,019: In the dissident question and in particular regarding Solzhenitsyn, the Soviet leaders seemed to be embarrassed and hesitant. It is possible that they were divided on the attitude to adopt. . . . In accordance with the doctrine of peaceful coexistence, détente goes hand in hand with the strengthening of the discipline inside and with the intensification of the ideological struggle. 61 Talk between Georges Pompidou and Leonid Brezhnev, Pitsunda, 12 March 1974, large session, in Archives of the Presidency of the French Republic, 5 AG 2, advisers’ files, box no. 1,019. 62 Talk between Georges Pompidou and Leonid Brezhnev, tête-à-tête meeting, Pitsunda, 13 March 1974, in Archives of the Presidency of the French Republic, 5 AG 2, advisers’ files, box no. 1,019. Author’s emphasis. 63 Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation, p. 126. 64 In his memoirs, Anatoli Chernyaev insists at length on the positive role played by Kovalev all the way through the negotiations on the third basket. See Moia Zhizn’ i Moë Vremia, pp. 303f. 65 Historian Mikhail Narinsky interviewed Kovalev on 4 March 1999 and published the results in his article entitled “The USSR and the Question of the Human Rights in the First Half of the Seventies,” in Les droits de l’homme en Europe depuis 1945, Antoine Fleury, Carole Fink, and Lubor Jilek (eds.) (Brussels: Peter Lang, 2002), p. 330: I had a good relationship with Yury Vladimirovich Andropov, and it had a beneficial effect on all his apparatus. . . . And thanks to him I could negotiate all the “third basket” in the Final Act. For his part, Gromyko told me: “You will agree yourself with Andropov on these questions . . . It was the breakthrough in freedom of information, in contacts between people, in human rights, and so on.” 66 Dubinin, Diplomaticheskaia Byl’, p. 208.

Part III

Eastern strategies in the CSCE

5

The Warsaw Pact and the European security conference, 1964–69 Sovereignty, hegemony, and the German question Douglas Selvage

Introduction During the Cold War, most analyses of the Warsaw Pact’s renewed initiative for a European security conference (ESC) for the years 1964–69 focused on perceived Soviet goals: fostering divisions within NATO, isolating the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG), replacing the Western alliance with a system of collective security in Europe, and achieving a withdrawal of US forces from Europe. Or, on a more defensive level, Moscow sought to achieve Western recognition of the status quo in Eastern Europe – i.e., Moscow’s sphere of influence – and to “reduce the limits of independent action by Soviet client states.” Little attention was given to the roles of Moscow’s East European allies in the Pact’s ESC proposal, with the possible exception of Romania, which openly sought to augment its sovereignty by replacing the Warsaw Pact, as well as NATO, with a European security system.1 This chapter traces the debates within the Warsaw Pact over an ESC from Poland’s revival of the conference idea in December 1964 to the Moscow meeting of the Warsaw Pact in December 1969. Moscow’s East European allies, it argues, sought to exploit the ESC proposal to augment their own sovereignty. For the three states that the chapter examines – Poland, Romania, and the German Democratic Republic (GDR) – the issue of their sovereignty became linked to debates between the three states and Moscow over an ESC and the German question. Poland and the GDR wanted an ESC that would provide for Western, especially West German, recognition of key elements of their sovereignty: Poland’s western border, the Oder–Neisse Line, and the GDR’s existence as a second German state. Just as importantly, Poland renewed the ESC proposal on its own initiative in 1964 in order to prevent Moscow from undermining Poland’s sovereignty by negotiating bilaterally with Bonn on matters of vital interest to Poland. Poland’s efforts to defend its sovereignty through the ESC project by winning the support of Moscow and the other Warsaw Pact states for a hard, anti-West German line brought Poland into conflict with Romania and eventually Moscow.

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Bucharest sought to augment its sovereignty with an ESC not only by calling for the dissolution of NATO and the Warsaw Pact; it also sought to exploit the ESC proposal to justify its normalization of relations with Bonn – the very opposite of what Warsaw intended. After the Bucharest meeting of the Warsaw Pact in 1966, the Soviet Union also exploited the Pact’s ESC proposal to signal its willingness to negotiate bilaterally with West Germany. By 1969, the Soviets had transformed the Pact’s ESC project into the very opposite of what Warsaw had intended: a tool to help Moscow normalize relations with Bonn and to reaffirm Moscow’s hegemony over Poland and the other European Communist states. This led Poland, in a bid to preserve some semblance of sovereignty, to defer the convocation of an ESC in favor of Warsaw’s own bilateral negotiations with Bonn. Ironically, Poland ended up following in Romania’s footsteps: trying to augment its sovereignty through bilateral negotiations with West Germany.

Poland, Romania, and European security: the West German threat In December 1964, Polish Foreign Minister Adam Rapacki revived the idea of a European security conference in a speech to the United Nations General Assembly. In the speech, he linked Poland’s proposal for an ESC to the Warsaw Pact’s traditional hard-line demands toward Bonn: recognition of the existing borders in Europe, including the Oder–Neisse Line; recognition of the GDR; and Bonn’s renunciation of access to nuclear weapons in any form.2 Why did Poland decide on its own – after a brief consultation with Moscow – to revive what originally had been a Soviet initiative in 1954–55 to block the FRG’s entry into NATO?3 The ESC proposal marked Poland’s response to perceived attempts by recently fallen Soviet leader Nikita S. Khrushchev to compromise with Bonn on any or all of the Warsaw Pact’s three traditional demands for the sake of a “new Rapallo” with the FRG. With its ESC proposal, Poland sought to steer Moscow and the other Communist states back to a common, antiWest German line. It was also in keeping with the efforts of Poland’s Communist leader, Wladyslaw Gomulka, to multilateralize the foreign policy of the Warsaw Pact. At the January 1965 meeting of the Political Consultative Committee in Warsaw, Gomulka supported not only Poland’s security conference initiative but also a Soviet proposal for standing consultations within the Warsaw Pact through a new organ, a committee of foreign ministers. Such a committee, Gomulka openly suggested, could help block future unilateral Soviet moves that threatened the vital interests of its allies. In this context, Poland’s proposal for an ESC – a multilateral alternative to future unilateral gambits by Moscow – marked an attempt by Poland to defend its borders and its sovereignty and to transform the Warsaw Pact into a truly consultative body.4 Although Poland’s security conference proposal met with general approval at the January 1965 Warsaw Pact meeting, Gomulka’s efforts to multilateralize the foreign policy of the Warsaw Pact met with stiff opposition from Romania. While Gomulka sought to defend Poland’s sovereignty through the Warsaw

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Pact, Romania sought to defend its sovereignty in opposition to the Warsaw Pact and the Soviet Union. Romania vetoed the proposed foreign ministers’ committee and rejected a joint Warsaw Pact position on nuclear nonproliferation.5 In 1966, with the advent of a more active Ostpolitik by Bonn, Romania balked at the Warsaw Pact’s anti-West German line and opposed Poland’s hard-line position on an ESC. The Bucharest Declaration of the Warsaw Pact of July 1966, which called for the convocation of an ESC, reflected the diverging stances of the socialist states regarding relations with Bonn. In keeping with the stance of Poland and the GDR, the document condemned “revanchism” and “militarism” in West Germany and demanded that Bonn recognize not only the GDR and the Oder–Neisse Line, but also the invalidity of the Munich Agreement, ex tunc, renounce its claim to West Berlin, and forswear access to nuclear weapons in any form. Other sections of the declaration, influenced by Romania and the Warsaw Pact’s southern tier, supported improved economic relations with Western Europe, including the FRG; recognized the existence of peace-loving elements in Bonn; and called for economic, scientific, and cultural cooperation between all European states, regardless of their social system.6 The ensuing debate within the Warsaw Pact over the Bucharest Declaration – whether it bound the Warsaw Pact states to demand Bonn’s recognition of the status quo or whether it constituted a “green light” to normalize relations with West Germany – came to a head at the end of January 1967, when Romania established diplomatic relations with Bonn. Poland, with the backing of the GDR, demanded that Moscow take action to prevent the other Socialist states from following Romania’s example. “The Warsaw Pact,” Gomulka lectured Brezhnev in January 1967, “is dissolving.” At a meeting of the Warsaw Pact’s foreign ministers in February 1967, Poland succeeded, with the support of the GDR and Moscow, in ramming through its three demands and making them a precondition for diplomatic relations between the remaining socialist states and West Germany. Although the three preconditions, dubbed the “Warsaw Package,” bound the other Socialist states with regard to diplomatic relations with Bonn, Moscow made clear to Warsaw and East Berlin that the preconditions did not apply to other bilateral negotiations with Bonn – e.g., regarding trade. It was also left unclear whether the “Warsaw Package” demands constituted a precondition for the convocation or successful conclusion of an ESC.7 The Bucharest Declaration of the Warsaw Pact and Romania’s establishment of diplomatic relations with Bonn suggested that Gomulka had failed in his efforts to defend the sovereignty of Poland and the GDR by uniting the Warsaw Pact behind a hard-line stance towards Bonn. Still, if one excluded Romania from the process – as Gomulka sought to do – there was reason to hope. The agreement at the Warsaw foreign ministers’ meeting, the “Warsaw Package,” would prevent the other Socialist states from establishing diplomatic relations with Bonn until the FRG recognized the borders – and thus the sovereignty – of Poland and the GDR. Then, in April 1967, a conference of Europe’s Communist and workers’ parties at Karlovy Vary, boycotted by Romania, approved a declaration “for peace and security in Europe.” The declaration called for the

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establishment of a system of collective security in Europe based on recognition of the territorial status quo in Europe, including the Oder–Neisse Line and the GDR.8 Such a system of collective security, based on recognition of the existing borders, represented Poland’s ultimate goal in reviving the idea of an ESC.

The Soviet Union as an honest broker? A greater cause for concern for Poland than Romania’s position regarding an ESC was Moscow’s stance. The Polish Communists worried, on the one hand, that the Soviets were treating the security conference proposal too propagandistically; Moscow kept hinting publicly that the US would not be invited to such a conference. Although such a stance might appeal to French President Charles de Gaulle with his conception of a “Europe from the Atlantic to the Urals,” it was unacceptable to Paris’s NATO allies. Moreover, Poland wanted Washington to participate in an ESC so that it would also recognize the territorial status quo, including the Oder–Neisse Line.9 On the other hand, the Polish Communists worried that Moscow might use the ESC proposal – against the backdrop of Moscow’s rift with China – to reach a modus vivendi with Bonn and the West, potentially at the expense of recognition of the GDR and Poland’s borders. Although the new Soviet leaders, Leonid Brezhnev and Alexei Kosygin, disavowed Khrushchev’s “Rapallo policy,”10 the temptation for Moscow to improve relations with Bonn remained. Khrushchev had sought a modus vivendi with Bonn in order to secure Moscow’s European front in response to the growing threat from China. The threat grew only worse after Khrushchev’s fall from power and China’s first successful test of a nuclear device. After Chairman Mao Zedong sparked the Cultural Revolution in 1966, China’s rhetoric toward Moscow grew increasingly belligerent. Both Poland and the GDR could sense an ongoing tendency in Soviet policy to compromise with Bonn against the backdrop of the rising threat from China. When East German leader Walter Ulbricht complained to Brezhnev about Romania’s behavior in the fall of 1966, including Bucharest’s willingness to establish diplomatic relations with Bonn, Brezhnev instructed Ulbricht not to antagonize the Romanians. Brezhnev noted that no matter what their policy towards Bonn was, the Romanians had supported a joint Warsaw Pact statement on the Vietnam War – a key point of conflict between Moscow and Beijing. Gomulka even suspected the Soviets of secretly supporting the movement within the Warsaw Pact to establish diplomatic relations with Bonn. The Soviets had sent a note to the other Warsaw Pact states in January 1967 that effectively gave them permission to establish diplomatic relations with Bonn as long as they followed Moscow’s example of 1955 and afterwards affirmed publicly their recognition of the existence of two German states. The Soviets had not sent a copy of their note to Gomulka, and Brezhnev had lied to Gomulka by telling him that Ulbricht supported Moscow’s stance “100%.” In fact, Ulbricht had expressed reservations about the Soviet note.11 In terms of the ESC, it was the Soviet Union that had brokered the compromise between Romania, on the one hand, and Poland and the GDR, on the other,

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which in turn had led to the Warsaw Pact’s Bucharest Declaration of 1966. The compromise language of the Bucharest Declaration hewed closely to Moscow’s response to Bonn’s “Peace Note,” in which the FRG had expressed a willingness to exchange renunciation-of-force agreements with all of the GDR’s Warsaw Pact allies. While Poland and the GDR, joined by Czechoslovakia, had rejected Bonn’s offer, citing Bonn’s unwillingness to recognize the territorial status quo, the Soviet Union had responded by offering to enter into bilateral negotiations with Bonn. Although the Soviets had also demanded that Bonn recognize the territorial status quo, they had expressed an interest in improving economic relations and increasing scientific–technical exchanges with Bonn. In other words, the compromise language in the Bucharest Declaration reflected Moscow’s stance as much as it did Romania’s. It signaled Moscow’s earnest desire to enter into a dialog with Bonn over renunciation of force.12 This exchange between Moscow and Bonn in 1967 and 1968 threatened not only to undermine Poland and the GDR’s respective demands for recognition; it also threatened to undermine their respective claims to sovereignty. In May 1967, Gomulka objected to the title of Moscow’s first draft proposal to Bonn on renunciation of force, labeled a “Declaration on the Non-Use of Force in the Resolution of Disputed Problems.” Such a title, he admonished Brezhnev, would suggest that the Soviet Union and the FRG “recognize as ‘disputed’ ” Poland’s western border and the “GDR’s existence as a sovereign German state.” More importantly, if the other Socialist states – implicitly referring to the Soviet Union – included in their agreements a commitment by Bonn not to use force in its relations with the GDR, this would suggest that the GDR was an object, not a subject, in international law; it would suggest that the GDR was not able to enter into international agreements itself and thus lacked sovereignty. Gomulka did not point out, but it was undoubtedly also on his mind that if Bonn agreed not to use force to alter the Oder–Neisse Line in an agreement with the Soviet Union, it would constitute an affront to Poland’s sovereignty. In response to Gomulka’s complaint and pressure from East Germany, the Soviets changed the title of their draft declaration and made Bonn’s willingness to conclude renunciation-of-force agreements with the other Socialist states a precondition for a Soviet–West German agreement. Still, the Soviets continued their talks with Bonn.13 Concerned about the prospect of bilateral negotiations between Moscow and Bonn, Gomulka presented Poland’s conception of an ESC as the proper alternative. At the summit meeting of European Communist parties in Karlovy Vary, Gomulka had called for the conclusion of a multilateral renunciation of force by all the states of Europe. At the same time, he had criticized Bonn’s – and implicitly Moscow’s – bilateral approach to renunciation of force. “In contrast to the unilateral declarations or bilateral treaties on renunciation of force being put forward by the Federal Republic of Germany,” he declared, “such a [multilateral] treaty would contain concrete obligations regarding the security and inviolability of the borders of all European states.” For Poland, the advantage of such a multilateral approach was clear. Bonn would have to meet the entire “Warsaw Package” of preconditions at once, including recognition of the Oder–Neisse

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Line. Just as importantly, a multilateral agreement would avoid the sovereignty issue because no third country – that is, the Soviet Union – would be signing a multilateral agreement on behalf of either Poland or the GDR. All parties to the agreement would be equal. Gomulka thus made clear in 1967 what was acceptable to Poland in terms of an ESC: the conclusion of a multilateral renunciation of force between the states of Europe that would “contain concrete obligations regarding the security and inviolability” of all Europe’s borders, including the Oder–Neisse Line and the GDR’s border with West Germany.14

The GDR comes first Poland was not alone in its worries about what Moscow’s talks with Bonn would mean in terms of state sovereignty. As Gomulka had pointed out, a Soviet–West German agreement on renunciation of force, to the extent that it discussed the GDR, also constituted a threat to the GDR’s international claim to sovereignty. Nevertheless, the GDR, unlike Poland, supported Moscow’s bilateral approach to renunciation of force. East Berlin insisted, however, that Moscow make a German–German agreement on renunciation of force a precondition for any Soviet–West German agreement. To underline the point, the GDR’s leaders wanted Moscow to break off its talks with Bonn in order to pressure West Germany to negotiate directly with the GDR. In other words, the GDR supported a bilateral approach to renunciation of force in which the GDR would negotiate with Bonn first.15 At best, the GDR demonstrated a lukewarm attitude toward an ESC from 1964 to 1969. Although the GDR, like Moscow, had publicly supported Poland’s security conference initiative, it expressed concern privately that such a conference might bypass the issue of the GDR’s recognition. During a meeting in Brussels in November 1965, Hermann Axen, a candidate member of the Politburo of the East German Socialist Unity party (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands, SED) told Belgian Foreign Minister Paul-Henri Spaak: “There can be no step forward with regard to European security without the GDR, let alone against the GDR, but only with the GDR.”16 The GDR subsequently supported Poland’s hard-line interpretation of the Bucharest Declaration and was truly grateful when Gomulka succeeded in imposing the “Warsaw Package” on diplomatic relations between the other Socialist states and Bonn. Nevertheless, in its propaganda, the GDR focused on only one of the “Warsaw Package” demands: the need for Bonn to recognize the GDR.17 The GDR reacted to Moscow’s plans to enter into a dialog with Bonn over renunciation of force not by supporting Gomulka’s multilateral alternative for an ESC, but by preempting Moscow twice with bilateral initiatives of its own towards Bonn. On 10 May 1967, East German Chairman of the Council of Ministers Willi Stoph called on the FRG to conclude a renunciation-of-force agreement with the GDR in a public letter to West German Chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger. The letter explained:

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If the Federal Government is truly in favor of a renunciation-of-force between both German states, as it has often declared, this cannot result then from bypassing the GDR through third states [i.e., the Soviet Union]. To have the necessary effect for the preservation of peace, the renunciation of force can only be concluded between those directly concerned, the government of the GDR and the government of the West German Federal Republic. Then, in September 1967, on the eve of Moscow’s submission of its draft proposal on renunciation of force to Bonn, Ulbricht insisted that the GDR be permitted to submit to Bonn, either beforehand or simultaneously, a draft treaty on the normalization of relations between the GDR and the FRG.18 Gomulka, despite his preference for a multilateral renunciation of force, initially supported the GDR in its demand that East Berlin take precedence over Moscow in bilateral negotiations with Bonn over renunciation of force. Gomulka did so in the belief that he had won the GDR’s support for closer economic cooperation with Poland and the other Socialist states – for Gomulka, the best long-term guarantee for maintaining Germany’s division and thus the security of Poland’s borders. After the GDR abruptly decided not to sign an economic agreement with Poland providing for wide-ranging economic cooperation – as that scheme conflicted with Ulbricht’s goals under the New Economic System to make the GDR a leading industrial power – Poland sought to forestall the GDR’s plans to submit its bilateral normalization treaty to Bonn. More importantly, the GDR’s draft treaty provided for Bonn’s recognition of the GDR, but it ignored the other “Warsaw Package” conditions, including recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line. Under pressure from Moscow and Warsaw, the GDR revised the treaty to include the entire package of demands. Not surprisingly, Bonn rejected the GDR’s draft treaty. Bonn wanted to achieve a normalization of relations with the Warsaw Pact without recognizing either the GDR or the Oder–Neisse Line. It could do so only by bypassing Poland and the GDR through Moscow.19

Dual normalization: the Brezhnev Doctrine and the Budapest Appeal Throughout the “Prague Spring” of 1968, Ulbricht and especially Gomulka pushed the Soviets to intervene in Czechoslovakia. The reforms of the Dubcek government constituted a two-headed threat to the sovereignty of the Polish and East German Communist states. First, the Czech reform movement threatened to spill over into the neighboring countries, especially Poland, and to undermine the internal legitimacy and political control of these single-party states – i.e., their internal sovereignty. Second, the Dubcek government demonstrated an openness to normalizing relations with West Germany that threatened to undermine the “Warsaw Package” of demands and further postpone international recognition of the GDR’s existence and Poland’s borders – key aspects of their

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sovereignty on the international stage.20 Developments in Czechoslovakia thus became intertwined in the ongoing debate within the Warsaw Pact over sovereignty, hegemony, and the German question. Both Ulbricht and Gomulka hoped that the Warsaw Pact “Five’s” invasion of Czechoslovakia would lead Moscow to return to a hard line toward Bonn, especially since Moscow, following the lead of Poland and the GDR, had justified the invasion by pointing to Bonn’s alleged infiltration of Czechoslovakia. A renewed hard-line approach toward Bonn would assist the GDR and Poland in achieving their respective demands for recognition. For example, Moscow had broken off its talks with Bonn over renunciation of force a few weeks before the invasion; this had permitted the GDR to make its own offer to Bonn for negotiations, which, if Bonn had accepted, would have constituted Bonn’s de facto recognition of the GDR. In the wake of the Warsaw Pact’s invasion, against the backdrop of increased East–West tensions, Ulbricht proposed that Moscow conclude the separate peace treaty with the GDR that Khrushchev had promised during the Berlin crisis of 1958–61. Such a treaty would have meant renunciation of Moscow’s four-power rights in East Germany and full sovereignty for the GDR. Neither Ulbricht nor Gomulka viewed the invasion of Czechoslovakia or the Brezhnev Doctrine as a threat to the sovereignty of their own Communist single-party states. Gomulka and Ulbricht sought to shore up the sovereignty of the People’s Republic of Poland and the GDR as Communist states; they did not seek some greater sovereignty not to be Communist states.21 It soon became clear, however, that the Soviet Union had a more widereaching understanding of the Brezhnev Doctrine’s significance. It meant the reaffirmation of Moscow’s hegemony not only over Czechoslovakia, whose reforms allegedly threatened its continuing adherence to the Communist commonwealth, but also over the more orthodox Communist states. The Soviets had angered Ulbricht in June 1968 by helping West German Foreign Minister Willy Brandt circumvent new East German passport and visa requirements to meet with Soviet Ambassador to the GDR Pyotr Abrassimov in East Berlin. In response to a request from Brandt, the Soviets also offered to serve as a conduit for talks between East Berlin and Bonn over renunciation of force; this would have permitted Bonn to negotiate with the GDR without recognizing it. Ulbricht criticized the Soviets for assisting Brandt in his efforts to portray the GDR as a “satellite” of Moscow and to play off the Soviet Union against the GDR as the “fourth occupying power.” The Soviet Union, he suggested, was thus violating the GDR’s sovereignty, as established in Moscow’s agreements with the GDR in 1955 and the Soviet–East German friendship treaty of 1964. Abrassimov, for his part, responded to Ulbricht’s complaints by reaffirming his special role as Soviet ambassador to the GDR; he was the legal successor to the Soviet high commissar in East Germany. It was against this backdrop of the conflict between Ulbricht and Abrassimov over Soviet four-power rights in Germany that Ulbricht proposed the conclusion of a separate peace treaty between Moscow and East Berlin; such a treaty would have ended Moscow’s occupation rights in East Germany. Significantly, Brezhnev responded that the time was not yet

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“ripe” for such an agreement. The GDR also failed to conclude a renunciationof-force agreement with the FRG – i.e., de facto recognition. Moscow undermined the GDR’s efforts by moving to reopen its own negotiations with Bonn over renunciation of force in October 1968.22 The GDR thus failed to shore up its sovereignty, whether by means of a renunciation-of-force agreement with Bonn or a separate peace treaty with Moscow. The GDR’s experience in the second half of 1968 suggested that the restoration of Soviet hegemony or “normalization” under the Brezhnev Doctrine would not be limited to Czechoslovakia; the Soviets were moving to “normalize” the situation throughout the Soviet bloc. In terms of an ESC, the invasion of Czechoslovakia turned out to be – as French Prime Minister Michel Debré famously remarked – a “traffic accident on the road to détente” – in this case, the road to Soviet–West German détente. As Timothy Garton Ash has perceptively pointed out, the Soviets began to see a connection between “normalization” – restoring Communist control in and Soviet hegemony over the states of East Central Europe – and the normalization of Moscow’s relations with West Germany.23 Moscow could confirm both its hegemony over Eastern Europe and the limited sovereignty of the Socialist states by negotiating on their behalf with the FRG. China’s provocation of a border conflict with the Soviet Union along the Ussuri River in March 1969 galvanized Soviet policy in such a direction. It increased Moscow’s desire not only to reach an accommodation with Bonn to secure the Soviet empire’s European flank, but also to line up the Warsaw Pact states behind it in a demonstration of unity – if not a show of outright Soviet hegemony.24 It was against this backdrop that the leaders of the Warsaw Pact approved the Budapest Appeal for an ESC in March 1969. The document marked a major defeat for Polish and East German interests. It called openly for the convocation of an ESC without any preconditions. The only section of the document that bore any relationship to the “Warsaw Package” was a brief passage stating that the “inviolability” of the existing borders in Europe and “recognition of the existence” of the GDR were prerequisites for “European security” – but not necessarily for an ESC. More importantly, the passage did not call for recognition of the existing borders and the GDR, but merely affirmation of the inviolability of the existing borders and recognition of the existence of the GDR. It is important to note that the original version of the Budapest Appeal, drafted by the Soviets and submitted to the Warsaw Pact allies as a Hungarian draft, did not even contain this passage. Poland fought for the inclusion of such an amendment, which Romania succeeded in watering down. Even with Romania’s revisions, the final text demanded more from West Germany than Moscow originally had.25 Both Ulbricht and Gomulka saw a clear connection between the Budapest Appeal and Moscow’s renewal of its dialog with Bonn over renunciation of force. At the Budapest meeting, Gomulka called once again for a multilateral renunciation of force at an ESC based on recognition of the existing borders. Ulbricht, for his part, declared that any bilateral renunciation-of-force agreement

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with Bonn should be based on the FRG’s recognition of the existence of the GDR “in international law on the basis of equality.” The objections of Gomulka and Ulbricht had little effect on Moscow. The Soviets pointed out to Brandt at the end of March that the Budapest Appeal did not speak of “recognition” of the existing borders, only their “inviolability,” and that it did not call for recognition of the GDR, only the GDR’s existence. Moreover, these demands constituted preconditions for achieving security in Europe – not preconditions for an ESC. By inference, they were also not a precondition for bilateral talks between Moscow and Bonn over renunciation of force.26 Moscow’s decision to water down the preconditions for European security threatened both Poland and the GDR’s goals of recognition and thus affirmation of their sovereignty. Gomulka drew the conclusion from the Budapest meeting that if Poland wanted to achieve recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line, it could do so only through bilateral negotiations with Bonn. The Polish leader might have been willing to forego a separate dialog with Bonn if the Soviets had compelled the GDR toward economic integration with Poland and the other Socialist states – for Gomulka, the key to preserving Germany’s division and the best possible protection for the Oder–Neisse Line. Moscow failed to do so. Poland’s proposal for COMECON reform – aimed at the GDR – went down to defeat at the COMECON summit meeting in April 1969. For Gomulka, this was the final straw. On 17 May, he made a speech offering to enter into bilateral negotiations with the FRG regarding Bonn’s recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line without any preconditions – e.g., Bonn’s recognition of the GDR. At a meeting of the Polish Politburo on 2 June 1969, Gomulka explained the grounds behind his initiative. He complained in general about the movement within the Eastern bloc towards improving economic and political relations with Bonn, especially after the Budapest Appeal, but he reserved his harshest criticism for the Soviet Union and the GDR. In 1967, the Warsaw Pact, he said, had agreed to act in a unified fashion towards the FRG, but the Soviets had decided to negotiate an improvement of relations with Bonn on a bilateral basis. Poland, he implied, could not afford to be left behind, so it would enter into talks of its own with the FRG.27

Semenov says: renunciation of force, Soviet hegemony, and an ESC Gomulka’s opening to Bonn created difficulties for Moscow’s nascent drive for dual normalization. The GDR, which accused Poland of violating the “Warsaw Package” by seeking to negotiate with Bonn on only one of its demands, sought to enter into bilateral negotiations of its own with Bonn. It also insisted that Moscow once again make a German–German renunciation-of-force agreement a precondition for a Soviet–West German agreement. Moscow vetoed both ideas. In a meeting with East German Foreign Minister Otto Winzer at the beginning of September 1969, Gromyko made clear that Moscow would move ahead with its own negotiations with Bonn over renunciation of force, and East Berlin would have to wait until a “later stage” of the Soviet–West German talks to

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introduce its own bilateral proposal. Gromyko “underlined many times that the Soviet Union had been authorized by all the Socialist countries to come forward as their spokesman in matters relating to renunciation-of-force.” Winzer expressed the GDR’s willingness to accept Moscow’s self-proclaimed proxy, but he insisted that “we must do everything together so that all the Socialist countries hold to this.” Winzer mentioned specifically Gomulka’s offer to negotiate with Bonn.28 The Soviets took Winzer’s suggestion to heart; they moved to subsume all substantive political negotiations between their allies and Bonn under the rubric of an ESC. On 25 September 1969, Soviet Deputy Foreign Minister Vladimir Semenov unveiled Moscow’s intentions to Winzer in Berlin. The Warsaw Pact, he said, should push for the convocation of an ESC in the first half of 1970 in Helsinki. With the goal of encouraging Western participation, the United States and Canada would be invited to participate, and the East could put forward two or three proposals that would lead to “concrete results.” This would mean avoiding proposals that the West would likely reject at the initial conference, such as de jure recognition of borders or de jure recognition of the GDR. The Soviet Union would insist, however, that the GDR participate under the same conditions as the FRG; this would mean de facto recognition of the GDR by the West. If the West questioned the GDR’s participation, the East could make clear that its participation meant only de facto, not de jure recognition. In the meantime, Semenov suggested, Moscow would ask the other Socialist states to forego bilateral negotiations with Bonn over renunciation of force. “If we should succeed in bringing through the European security conference an all-European document on renunciation of force,” Semenov stated, “then we will have to consider anew the question of whether to conclude separate treaties between the Federal Republic and the Socialist countries on the basis of such a document.” In other words, the Soviet Union wanted to move ahead in its own talks with Bonn on renunciation of force while its East European allies waited for a “later stage” to raise their own bilateral issues. By that time, Moscow clearly hoped, agreements at an ESC would have made bilateral talks with Bonn redundant. The benefit for Moscow from such an approach to negotiations with Bonn was clear: it would reaffirm Moscow’s role as sole “speaker” for Eastern Europe on security matters – thus reaffirming Moscow’s hegemony in Eastern Europe. The GDR supported Moscow’s declared approach to an ESC because it made de facto recognition of the GDR the Warsaw Pact’s top priority, second only to Moscow’s planned renunciation of force with Bonn.29 The only question for East Berlin was whether Moscow could succeed in compelling Warsaw to forego its own bilateral negotiations with Bonn in favor of an ESC. Compelling Poland to accept Moscow’s new approach to an ESC would be no easy matter. In effect, the Soviets were proposing the very opposite of what Poland had been seeking from an ESC. Moscow sought to transform the conference proposal into a tool to accelerate Moscow’s bilateral negotiations with Bonn, to settle for something less than Bonn’s full recognition of the status quo (i.e., the Budapest Appeal), and to reaffirm Moscow’s hegemony. Only

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Moscow could enter bilateral negotiations with Bonn; its allies would have to wait until an ESC. This implied a lesser status for Moscow’s allies and their demands. The Poles first became aware of Moscow’s strategy of substituting an ESC for bilateral negotiations between its allies and Bonn during a visit by Gomulka to Moscow at the beginning of October 1969. The Soviet Foreign Ministry sought to replace a Polish draft passage for the visit’s joint communiqué voicing support for Gomulka’s opening to Bonn; it wanted to substitute a passage calling for the convocation of an ESC. When the Polish side objected, Soviet Deputy Foreign Minister Ilichev replied that Moscow could not permit any mention of Gomulka’s initiative because Poland had not consulted its allies in advance. Echoing the East Germans, he accused the Poles of “violating” the “Warsaw Package” by trying to negotiate on only one element of it. After a stormy meeting – Gomulka walked out on the talks when Brezhnev announced that Moscow was freezing its raw material exports to Poland at existing levels – a compromise was reached. The Soviets agreed to increase their raw material exports to Poland, and in an implicit quid pro quo, the joint communiqué made no mention of Gomulka’s opening to Bonn.30 Although the Polish Communists compromised on the joint statement, Moscow had failed in its efforts to compel Gomulka to forego bilateral negotiations with Bonn in favor of an ESC. On 19 October 1969, in an interview with West German television, Polish Foreign Minister Stefan Je˛drychowski reaffirmed Gomulka’s offer to negotiate with Bonn about the “final recognition” of Poland’s western border, and the following day, the newly elected West German government confirmed that Chancellor Willy Brandt would respond to Gomulka’s offer in his governing declaration. Indeed, the Polish Communists went so far as to suggest in talks with Western diplomats that the conclusion of a Polish–West German treaty would be a useful, if not necessary, preparatory step for the convocation of an ESC.31 The Poles thus shifted their position on an ESC in response to the Budapest Appeal and Moscow’s subsequent machinations. Before Gomulka’s proposal to Bonn, Warsaw had insisted on a multilateral renunciation of force through an ESC, rather than bilateral negotiations by Moscow or East Berlin, so that Bonn would be compelled to recognize the Oder–Neisse Line (and the GDR) as part of a pan-European agreement. In contrast, in late 1969, because Poland had proposed its own bilateral negotiations with Bonn and Moscow was trying to use an ESC to forego, at least temporarily, recognition of Poland’s western border, the Poles shifted their position to favor bilateral negotiations with Bonn before an ESC.

Poland’s diplomatic gambit: the victory of bilateralism and the postponement of ESC The Polish Communists resisted not only Moscow’s stratagem of substituting an ESC for bilateral negotiations between its allies and Bonn, they also opposed Moscow’s efforts to water down the content – or at least the initial content – of

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an ESC. Poland continued to insist that any ESC should provide for the recognition of the existing borders in Europe, including the Oder–Neisse Line. The Soviets presented the Polish Foreign Ministry with two draft documents for an ESC at the end of September 1969: a draft for an all-European renunciation-of-force agreement, and an agreement calling for improved trade and scientific–technical cooperation between East and West. The Soviet drafts, the Polish Foreign Ministry noted, did not provide for recognition of the postwar borders in Europe – which for Poland constituted the very reason for convening an ESC. “We understand the intentions of the Soviets,” the Polish Foreign Ministry concluded, “not to make the convocation of a European conference impossible or to risk its failure. On the other hand, the conference cannot overlook the basic questions of European security.” For Poland’s diplomats, Semenov’s assertion that raising the border recognition issue would delay an ESC was “too pessimistic.” After Semenov’s visit, the Polish Foreign Ministry redrafted its “maximalist program” for an ESC, presented to the Warsaw Pact in May 1969: a “Treaty for Collective Security and Cooperation,” which provided for de jure recognition of all the existing borders in Europe, including the Oder–Neisse Line. The Polish Foreign Ministry planned to present its draft treaty to the Warsaw Pact foreign ministers at their meeting at the end of October, and to Western governments for their consideration before a scheduled NATO meeting in December. The Soviets insisted, however, that the Warsaw Pact’s foreign ministers only consider Moscow’s draft agreements on cooperation and renunciation of force at the meeting.32 On 16 October 1969, Polish Deputy Foreign Minister Zygfryd Wolniak visited Moscow to discuss the impasse. In support of Poland’s contention that raising the issue of borders, including the Oder–Neisse Line, would not hamper the convocation of an ESC, Wolniak presented memoranda from Poland’s various consultations with Western states. Upon surveying the Polish material, Semenov declared it “a great success for Polish diplomacy.” Still, what Western officials stated in confidential discussions and what they were willing to state in public, he said, were quite different things. Semenov questioned the very need to raise the border recognition issue at an ESC. “The Oder-Neisse border,” he told Wolniak, is guaranteed by the Potsdam Agreement [and] Poland’s treaties with the USSR and the other Warsaw Pact states, including the USSR’s treaty with the GDR in which the USSR expressed its readiness to defend the GDR’s territory. The USSR will fight for the inviolability of the border on the Oder and Neisse. And this should not be doubted. The key to recognizing the European status quo, Semenov suggested, was recognition of the GDR, and the GDR’s equal participation in an ESC would provide de facto recognition. Moreover, Moscow’s minimum program for an ESC, based on renunciation of force, would also support “progressive forces” in the FRG. If an ESC did not succeed, Semenov warned, the newly elected Brandt

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government in West Germany would collapse. The East Germans concurred with Semenov; they told Wolniak during a visit to East Berlin that the GDR’s equal participation in an ESC would be a “substantial step forward on the path to political recognition of the status quo.” In the end, a compromise was reached. Moscow and East Berlin agreed to the inclusion of a new Polish formulation in Moscow’s draft declaration for an all-European renunciation of force: a call for “recognition and unconditional respect for the territorial integrity of all European states in their current borders.” Moscow also agreed to permit Poland to present its draft treaty on collective security and cooperation to the Warsaw Pact’s foreign ministers.33 The Soviets honored their promise to the letter at the Warsaw Pact foreign ministers meeting in Prague on 30 October 1969. They permitted Je˛drychowski to distribute Poland’s draft treaty on collective security, but Winzer and Romanian Foreign Minister Manescu blocked any discussion of the document. Gromyko presented Moscow’s two draft agreements for an ESC: a revised renunciation-of-force agreement and an agreement for increased trade and cooperation. A later stage of the ESC, Gromyko said, could consider “other, more complicated questions, for whose productive negotiation the conditions have not yet ripened” – a clear reference to Poland’s draft treaty. Moscow’s draft agreements received the unanimous approval of the Warsaw Pact’s foreign ministers. Je˛drychowski voiced Poland’s satisfaction with the draft renunciation-of-force agreement, but he called the formulations in the document, especially the provision for “recognition of the territorial integrity of all European states in their current borders,” the absolute “minimum” to which Poland could agree.34 Je˛drychowski also interpreted quite broadly the communiqué from the foreign ministers’ meeting, which voiced support for bilateral contacts between the Warsaw Pact states and the West regarding an ESC. He exploited the communiqué’s language to offer a vigorous defense of Gomulka’s proposal to enter bilateral negotiations with Bonn. “It is the duty of every Socialist state,” he told the assembled foreign ministers, to exploit to the maximum its possibilities through bilateral contacts to deal with all preconditions for European security and to shore up our positions in every important area. This is how we understand our initiative in the matter of the final and unconditional recognition of the Oder-Neisse border by the FRG. Lest Poland’s bilateral contacts be considered a deviation, he added: The steps that the German Democratic Republic has undertaken to reach a suitable arrangement regarding relations between the two German states also serve this goal. The negotiations that the Soviet Union has begun with the US, Great Britain, and France regarding the issue of West Berlin also serve these goals.35

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This, of course, was not the stance of the Soviet Union or the GDR. Dissatisfied with the Warsaw Pact foreign ministers’ refusal to consider Poland’s draft treaty for an ESC – i.e., to insist on recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line – the Polish Foreign Ministry engaged in its own diplomatic gambit toward the West. After Czechoslovakia presented the Warsaw Pact’s two draft agreements to Western capitals, Polish Ambassador to the US Jerzy Michalowski met with Assistant Secretary of State for European Affairs Martin Hillenbrandt in Washington on 17 November 1969. Michalowski presented Hillenbrandt with Poland’s draft treaty for collective security, along with copies of the Prague documents. The Poles, he said, had submitted their draft treaty to their Warsaw Pact allies as “suggestions for ESC agenda items.” Michalowski slyly added: “The Polish document would include points agreed in Prague but be more detailed.” He listed off the points contained in the Polish proposal, including de jure recognition of borders, but avoided discussion of the two approved documents. He thus implied that Poland’s proposal was of similar weight to the other agreements from Prague. When Hillenbrandt asked Michalowski “whether the Poles seriously thought the conference could be convened as early as within the next six months,” Michalowski deftly insinuated that the convocation of an ESC depended upon progress in bilateral talks, including Poland’s talks with the FRG – i.e., the very opposite of Moscow’s stance.36 The Polish provisions for de jure recognition of borders were bound to meet with Washington’s rejection; Michalowski’s presentation played into the hands of Washington and Bonn, who were stressing the need for “thorough preparation” – and thus the delay – of an ESC. Delaying the ESC, especially an ESC that did not provide for recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line, was in Poland’s interest. The delay would allow Warsaw to negotiate a bilateral treaty with Bonn. Je˛drychowski concluded in a memorandum to Gomulka on 22 November 1969: In general, the situation favors our offensive stance with regard to the FRG’s recognition of the border on the Oder and Neisse, directed towards obtaining the FRG’s recognition of Poland’s western border already before a European conference on security and cooperation . . . [R]ecognition of the Oder-Neisse border by the FRG government, or its near recognition, would have a real influence upon the convocation, course, and results of a European conference.37 The delay of an ESC was not in the interest of the GDR, which accepted Moscow’s pledge that such a conference would automatically lead to de facto recognition of the GDR. The East German Ministry for State Security, the Stasi, received information about Michalowski’s meeting with Hillenbrandt; it also learned that the Poles had given copies of their draft treaty to the Italian Foreign Ministry. Poland’s principles for European security, the Stasi reported, became a topic of discussion at the NATO meeting in December 1969; it was discussed alongside the Warsaw Pact’s two draft documents. Poland’s actions belied

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Je˛drychowski’s comments to East German Foreign Ministry officials in November that “until the Warsaw Pact states took a position, Poland would not do anything in terms of publishing the proposal or such.”38 The fact that NATO had discussed Poland’s points suggested that Warsaw’s gambit had succeeded – at least with regard to the West. Moscow’s attempt to divert Poland’s demands for recognition of its border to a later stage of an ESC had clearly failed. It seems obvious that Gomulka would reject such an approach. The very goal of an ESC for Poland was to obtain recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line. Moscow’s approach of postponing recognition of borders until a later stage of an ESC – a stage that might never come – led Poland, which had revived the idea of an ESC in 1964, to push for the postponement of such a conference until it obtained bilateral recognition of its Western border from Bonn. Moscow’s plan not to raise the issue of border recognition at the beginning of an ESC undermined the value of such a conference for Poland and made bilateral negotiations with Bonn all the more essential for Warsaw. If Poland obtained recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line from Bonn, this would lay the groundwork for its affirmation at an ESC. Despite ongoing pressure from the Soviet Union and East Germany, Gomulka stubbornly held to his decision to enter bilateral negotiations with West Germany. This may have contributed to a renewed effort by Ulbricht in November to push through the GDR’s own initiative toward Bonn in the form of a “new Westpolitik,” but Moscow, having secured the support of a faction of the East German Politburo led by Honecker, effectively vetoed Ulbricht’s attempt. At the December 1969 summit of the Warsaw Pact, the Soviets and East Germans failed to rein in Gomulka, so the Soviets permitted the GDR to present its own draft initiative to Bonn: a treaty providing for Bonn’s full de jure recognition of the GDR, an initiative that Moscow knew Bonn would reject. This would permit Moscow to go first in negotiations with Bonn and defer German–German negotiations. Bonn also made clear to Moscow its intention of putting Moscow first in its negotiations with the Soviet bloc.39 Although Moscow succeeded in obtaining Bonn’s recognition of its sphere of influence in Eastern Europe with the Treaty of Moscow of August 1970, Poland concluded its own treaty with Bonn providing for de facto recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line: the Treaty of Warsaw of December 1970. It ameliorated, at least slightly, the affront to Poland’s sovereignty that Moscow had committed in the Treaty of Moscow. The GDR, however, would have to settle for the continuation of fourpower rights and Bonn’s de facto recognition of the GDR in the Basic Treaty of 1972.

Conclusion From 1964 to 1969, Poland sought to use its proposal for an ESC to shore up its sovereignty, both within and outside of the Warsaw Pact. It tried not only to obtain international recognition of its western border, but also to forestall any Soviet attempts to negotiate with the West in its name. Romania, and to a lesser

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extent the Soviet Union, sought to use the project to signal a willingness to improve relations with Bonn. The GDR, for its part, was lukewarm to the idea of an ESC, although it welcomed the potential of such an initiative, as interpreted by Poland, for blocking negotiations between the other Communist states and Bonn. The GDR feared, though, that an ESC or negotiations between Moscow and Bonn over renunciation of force might bypass the issue of the GDR’s recognition, which East Berlin had always sought to place at the top of the Warsaw Pact’s international agenda. The GDR only became a vocal proponent of an ESC in 1969, when Moscow assured the GDR that its de facto recognition would be the immediate goal of such a conference. Indeed, the debates within the Warsaw Pact from 1964 to 1969 over an ESC had little to do with the actual concept of a European security conference. They had more to do with sovereignty and the German question. For most of the Warsaw Pact states, the issue of sovereignty arose in terms of their sovereignty to normalize relations with Bonn. The most extreme case in this regard was Romania. For Poland and the GDR, the sovereignty question was more complicated; they sought international recognition of their borders – a key element of their sovereignty – and in the case of the GDR, its very existence as a second German state. Both demanded the support of their allies, including the Soviet Union, in obtaining recognition of their sovereignty from the West, especially the FRG. Ironically, Poland and the GDR defended their sovereignty by blocking the sovereign efforts of their allies to negotiate with Bonn and by pushing for the invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. On the other hand, from the standpoint of the GDR and Poland, their allies sought to normalize relations with Bonn without much consideration for their sovereign needs in terms of international recognition of their borders. During the nineteenth century, the Polish left had fought under the slogan, “For your freedom and ours.” The slogan of the Warsaw Pact states during the 1960s might very well have been: “For our sovereignty, not yours.” The Warsaw Pact state least concerned about the sovereignty of its allies was the Soviet Union. Not surprisingly, Moscow resisted Gomulka’s efforts to bind it to a hard line and a multilateral approach towards West Germany. The Soviet Union had two major reasons for seeking an improvement in relations with Bonn: it sought to secure the USSR’s European “flank” at a time of escalating tensions and a potential military confrontation with China, and it sought to obtain much-needed trade, credits, and technology from the FRG. Until 1969, Moscow had treated the idea of an ESC somewhat propagandistically, but it also sought to use the proposal to signal a willingness to negotiate bilaterally with Bonn over renunciation of force. In 1969, the proposal for an ESC took on a third role for Moscow. By claiming a proxy to negotiate with Bonn on behalf of the entire Warsaw Pact and deferring the demands of its allies to an ESC – which might never take place – the Soviet Union could reassert its leadership role within the Eastern alliance at a time when Romania, Poland, and even China were calling it into question. The nascent tendency of using negotiations with Bonn to limit the sovereignty of Moscow’s allies and to reassert Soviet hegemony became a

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centerpiece of Soviet policy in the wake of the Warsaw Pact’s invasion of Czechoslovakia, Moscow’s proclamation of the “Brezhnev Doctrine,” and the Sino-Soviet border clashes in March 1969. As Timothy Garton Ash has noted, Brezhnev wedded a policy of “normalization” within the Soviet bloc to a policy of normalizing relations with the FRG and the West.40 This Brezhnevian policy of dual normalization found full expression in Moscow’s decision to reopen its exchanges with Bonn over renunciation of force while seeking to compel its allies to forego their own bilateral negotiations with Bonn. The Soviets sought to transform Poland’s original ESC project, based on recognition of borders, into a project for Western recognition of Moscow’s sphere of influence in Eastern Europe. The two goals – recognition of borders and recognition of Moscow’s sphere of influence – were interrelated, but they were not the same. Moscow sought to obtain West German and Western recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line and the GDR – de facto, not de jure recognition – through bilateral negotiations with Bonn. Such negotiations would confirm that Moscow could speak on behalf of its allies on matters that lay at the heart of their sovereignty; it would confirm Moscow’s hegemony. Did Brezhnev’s policy of dual normalization succeed? In the short term, although Moscow failed to defer Poland’s and East Germany’s negotiations to an ESC, it did succeed in obtaining West German recognition of its sphere of influence in the Treaty of Moscow of August 1970. Although Gomulka won a limited victory for Poland’s sovereignty with the Treaty of Warsaw in December 1970, which provided for Bonn’s de facto recognition of the Oder–Neisse Line, his success was fleeting. The removal of Gomulka in December 1970, Ulbricht’s fall from power the following spring, and their replacement with seemingly more docile leaders suggested that Brezhnev’s campaign for dual normalization would continue to move forward.

Notes 1 See, for example, Gerhard Wettig, Europäische Sicherheit: Das europäische Staatensystem in der sowjetischen Außenpolitik, 1966–1972 (Düsseldorf: Bertelsmann Universitätsverlag, 1972), pp. 36–70, 90–8; Thomas W. Wolfe, Soviet Power and Europe, 1945–1970 (Baltimore and London: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1970), pp. 310f.; and A. Ross Johnson, “The Warsaw Pact’s Campaign for ‘European Security,’ ” Rand Report R-565-PR (November 1970). The quotation comes from Johnson, p. 10. Johnson deserves great credit for deducing on the basis of public statements and press reports not only Romania’s dissent to Moscow’s views, but also the efforts of Poland and the GDR to include stronger terms vis-à-vis West Germany in the ESC proposal, along with Hungary’s role in introducing the draft version of the Budapest Appeal (see below). 2 United Nations General Assembly, Official Records of the General Assembly, 19th Session, Plenary Meetings: Verbatim Records of Meetings, vol. I: 1 December 1964–15 December 1964, pp. 7 ff. 3 Gromyko had told the Poles in November 1964 that “a European conference is a Polish idea, [and] he understands that we [the Polish foreign ministry] will prepare a concrete proposal.” Paszkowski (Moscow) to Wierna, Polish Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MSZ), 19 November 1964, Archiwum Ministerstwa Spraw Zagranicznych

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10

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14 15

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(AMSZ), Zespól depesz, w. 118, t. 683. Also see Pszczólkowski to Rapacki, 14 November 1964, ibid. On the original Soviet proposal of 1954–55, which culminated in the formation of the Warsaw Pact, see Wolfe, Soviet Power, pp. 75–8. Douglas Selvage, “The Warsaw Pact and Nuclear Nonproliferation, 1963–1965,” Cold War International History Project Working Paper 32 (2001), especially pp. 43–5. Ibid., pp. 15–19. Douglas Selvage, “ ‘The Warsaw Pact is Dissolving’: Poland, the GDR, and Bonn’s Ostpolitik, 1966–67,” paper presented at the conference, “NATO, the Warsaw Pact and Detente, 1965–1973,” Dobbiaco, Italy, 27 September 2002, passim. Ibid; Douglas Selvage, “Poland, the GDR, and the ‘Ulbricht Doctrine,’ ” in Ideology, Politics and Diplomacy in East Central Europe, M.B.B. Biskupski (ed.) (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2003), pp. 234–7. “Erklärung der Konferenz der kommunistischen und Arbeiterparteien Europas in Karlsbad,” 16 April 1967, in Dokumente zur Deutschlandpolitik (DzDP) V/1, pp. 1,047–54. Rapacki to Ambassador Pszczólkowki (Moscow), 30 April 1966, AMSZ, Zespól Depesz, Moskwa 1966, w. 159, t. 835. Also see Knight (Brussels) to Department of State (DoS), 13 September 1966, National Archives and Records Administration (NARA), Record Group (RG) 59, Central Files, 1964–66, Box 1,914, POL 7 BEL, and Riddleberg (Vienna), 3 October 1966, NARA, RG 59, Central Files, 1964–66, Box 2,160, POL EUR E – EUR W. “Rede des Genossen L.I. Brehsnew [sic], Erster Sekretär des ZK der KPdSU, auf der Tagung des Politischen Beratenden Ausschusses des Warschauer Vertrags,” 19 January 1965, in Stiftung Archiv der Parteien und Massenorganisationen der ehemaligen DDR im Bundesarchiv (SAPMO BA), IV 2/1–321, pp. 78–9; Aleksandr A. Fursenko (ed.), Pretsidium TsK KPSS, 1954–64 (Moscow Rossppen, 2003), t. 1, pp. 1,184–5. Selvage, “The Warsaw Pact is Dissolving.” Ibid. Gomulka to Brezhnev, 23 May 1967, Archiwum Akt Nowych (AAN), Central Committee of the Polish United Workers’ Party (KC PZPR), sygn. 2,632, pp. 301–6; “Vermerk” by Herder, 14 September 1967, SAPMO BA, J IV 2/201–1,096; Naszkowski to Gomulka, “Pilna notatka dotycza˛ce proponowanych przez ZSRR akcji w sprawie wymiany z NRF deklaracji o niestosowaniu sily,” 31 August 1967, AAN, KC PZPR, p. 116, t. 41, pp. 49–69. See the relevant excerpts from Gomulka’s speech in DzDP V/1, pp. 1,015–23. See Ulbricht’s speech at Karlovy Vary, DzDP V/1, pp. 743–8, and Ulbricht’s draft letter to Brezhnev, drafted by East German Foreign Minister Otto Winzer, in Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes (PA/AA), Abteilung Ministerium für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten (MfAA), G-A 432. Axen, “Bericht über die Unterredung des Genossen Axen mit dem belgischen Aussenminister Spaak,” 3 December 1965, SAPMO BA, IV2/2.0–35–75; Hermann Axen, Ich war ein Diener der Partei (Berlin: edition ost, 1996), p. 367. Rede des Ministers für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der DDR, Genossen Otto Winzer,” SAPMO BA, J IV 2/202–260; speech, apparently by Winzer to the East German Council of Ministers, 16 February 1967, SAPMO BA, J IV 2/201–1129. Stoph’s letter, 10 May 1967, Archiv der Gegenwart: Deutschland, 1949 bis 1999 (AdG), Bd. 5, (Sankt Augustin: Siedler Verlag, 2000), p. 4,292; Kohrt, “Vermerk über eine Unterredung des Genossen Walter Ulbricht mit Genossen Rapacki und Genossen Semjonow am 15.9.1967 im Gebäude des Staatsrates,” n.d., SAPMO BA, J IV 2/202/79. For the text of the GDR’s draft treaty on normalizing relations with the FRG, see DzDP V/1, pp. 1,670–1. Gomulka to Brezhnev, 23 May 1967, AAN, KC PZPR, sygn. 2,632, pp. 301–6;

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Winzer to Ulbricht, Stoph, Honecker, and Mittag, 1 November 1967, SAPMO BA, NL 182/1253, pp. 127f.; Kohrt, “Vermerk über eine Unterredung des Genossen Walter Ulbricht mit Genossen Rapacki und Genossen Semjonow am 15.9.1967 im Gebäude des Staatsrates,” n.d., SAPMO BA, J IV 2/202/79; S. Trepczynski, “Notatka ze spotkania delegacji partyjno-rza˛dowych Polski i NRD w Moskwie, w dn. 8 listopada 1967 r.,” 8 November 1967, AAN, KC PZPR, p. 110, t. 116. Douglas E. Selvage, “Papírháromszög: Lengyelország, az NDK és Csehszlovákia,” Külpolitika 1, no. 2 (2001), pp. 167–87. Ibid. Fischer, “Vermerk über ein Gespräch zwischen dem Minister für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der DDR, Genossen Otto Winzer, und dem Minister für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der UdSSR, Genossen A.A. Gromyko, am 1. Juli 1968 (17.15–18.45 Uhr),” 2 July 1968, SAPMO BA, J IV 2/201–1100; “Kurzniederschrift der Aussprache des Gen. Walter Ulbricht mit Gen. Botschafter Abrassimow, 5.8.1968,” 5 August 1968, SAPMO BA, J IV 2/202–80; Jochen Stadt, Die geheime Westpolitik der SED, 1960–1970: Von der gesamtdeutschen Orientierung zur sozialistischen Nation (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1993), pp. 65f.; text of Ulbricht’s speech in DzDP V/2, pp. 1,076, 1,084; “Entwurf für einen Brief an Genossen Breshnew,” 25 June 1968, in PA/AA, Abteilung MfAA, G-A 448. Timothy Garton Ash, In Europe’s Name: Germany and the Divided Continent (New York: Random House, 1993), pp. 16, 280. Regarding the Soviet desire for public unity among the Warsaw Pact states, see “Protokól ze spotkania przywódców PZPR i KPZR w Moskwie, 3–4 marca 1969 r.,” n.d., AAN, KC PZPR, p. 114, t.33, pp. 28–90. See the East German translation of the draft appeal for a European security conference, undated; the final draft of the Budapest Appeal of 17 March 1969; and the Minutes of the Romanian Party Politburo Session Concerning the PCC Meeting, 18 March 1969, online, available at: www.isn.ethz.ch/php/documents/collection_3/ PCC_docs/1969 (accessed 18 January 2008). Regarding Poland’s amendment, as well as the debates between Poland and Hungary, see Kruczkowski, “Notatka z rezultatów posiedzenia wiceministrów spraw zagranicznych Panstw-Stron Ukladu Warszawskiego w dniach 15–16 marca 1969 roku,” 16 March 1969, pp. 5–7, and “Notatka dotycza˛ca stanowiska Rumunii na posiedzeniu wiceministrów spraw zagranicznych w dniach 15–16.III.1969 r. w Budapeszcie,” n.d., pp. 52–4, both in AAN, KC PZPR, 237/V/758. On the Soviet origins of the Hungarian draft appeal, see Csaba Békés, “The Warsaw Pact and the Preparation for a European Security Conference, 1965–1970,” paper presented to the international conference, “At the Roots of the European Security System: Thirty Years Since the Helsinki Final Act,” Zurich, 8–10 September 2005, p. 8. “Wysta˛pienie przewodnicza˛cego delegacji PRL, I-go Sekretarza KC PZPR, Towarzysza Wladyslawa Gomulki na posiedzeniu Doradczego Komitetu Politycznego Panstw-Stron Ukladu Warszawskiego w dniu 17 marca 1969 roku w Budapeszcie,” n.d., AAN, KC PZPR, 237/V/758, pp. 19–27; Ulbricht’s speech to the PCC, 17 March 1969, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch/collections/colltopic.cfm?id=17125 (accessed 18 January 2008); Soenksen to Brandt, 26 March 1969, Archiv der sozialen Demokratie der Friedrich-Ebert-Stftung (AdSD), WillyBrandt-Archiv, Bundesminister des Auswärtigen, 1966–69, Mappe 15; “Gespräch des Bundesministers Brandt mit dem sowjetischen Botschafter Zarapkin,” 4 April 1969, Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (AAPD) 1969, Bd. I, p. 448, fn 5. “Wysta˛enie tow. Gomulki w sprawie NRF na posiedzeniu B.P. w dniu 2.VI.1969r.,” attachment to “Protokól Nr. 5 posiedzenia Biura Politycznego w dniu 2 czerwca 1969r,” n.d., in AAN, KC PZPR, sygn. 1742, pp. 269–73; Douglas Selvage, “The Treaty of Warsaw (1970): The Warsaw Pact Context,” in Bulletin of the German

The Warsaw Pact and the ESC

28 29

30

31

32

33

34

35 36

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Historical Institute, Supplement 1: American Détente and German Ostpolitik, 1969–1972, David C. Geyer and Bernd Schafer (eds.) (Washington, D.C.: German Historical Institute, 2004), pp. 73–4. Fischer, “Vermerk über ein Gespräch des Ministers für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der DDR, Otto Winzer, mit dem Außenminister der UdSSR, Andrej Gromyko, am 1.9.1969 in Moskau,” 3 September 1969, SAPMO BA, J IV 2/201–1103. Fischer, “Vermerk über ein Gespräch des Ministers für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der DDR, Genossen Otto Winzer, mit dem stellvertretenden Außenminister der UdSSR, Genossen W.S. Semjonow, am 25. September 1969,” 25 September 1969, SAPMO BA, J IV 2/201–1104; “Zusammenfassender Bericht über die Konsultation mit dem stellv. Außenminister der VR Polen, Gen. Wolniak, am 23.10.69,” 24 October 1969, SAPMO BA, NL 182/1254. Instytut Dokumentacji Historycznej PRL-u (IDH-PRL), Kolekcja Jana Ptasinskiego, “Dziennik ambasadora,” 1969, cz. II, PII/24a, k. 220, pp. 215–17, and cz. III, P II/24b, k. 141, pp. 136–9, 449ff.; ibid., “Moje rozmowy z Wladyslawem Gomulka˛ w latach 1960–1970,” 1992, cz. 1, PII/7a, k. 358, pp. 42ff.; Ptasinski, “Radzieckie opinie o polityce zagranicznej PRL w sprawie niemieckiej,” 4 January 1970, in AAN, KC PZPR, p. 123, t. 75, pp. 9–21; draft, “Komunikat o wizycie partyjno-rza˛dowej delegacji Polskiej Rzeczyspospolitej Ludowej w Zwia˛zku Radzieckim,” n.d., and “Poprawki radzieckie do polskiego projektu komunikatu,” in AAN, KC PZPR, p. 114, t. 33, pp. 308–18, 320–1; Mieczyslaw Rakowski, Dzienniki polityczne, 1969–1971 (Warsaw: Iskry, 2001), pp. 120f. Also see P. E. Shelest, . . . Da ne sudimy budete: Dnevnikovye zapisi, vospominaniia chlena Politbiuro TsK KPSS (Moscow: Izdatel’stvo “Kvintessentsiya,” 1995), p. 436. For the final text of the communiqué from Gomulka’s Moscow visit, see Trybuna ludu, 4 October 1969, p. 4. “Ein polnischer Wink an Bonn,” Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, 18 October 1969; Rush (Bonn) to DoS, 17 October 1969, NARA, RG 59, Central Files, 1967–69, Box 2,114, POL GER W – P; “Gespräch mit Minister Josef Winiewicz im polnischen Außenministerium am 5. Juni 1969 von 11–13.30 Uhr,” n.d., AdSD, NL Eugen Selbmann, Bd. 182; Memorandum of Conversation between Rogers and Je˛drychowski, 30 September 1969, NARA, RG 59, Central Files, 1967–69, Box 2,362, POL POL-US. Dept. Studiów i Programowania, “Notatka w sprawie naszego stanowiska wobec europejskiej konferencji bezpieczenstwa i wsólpracy [material roboczy],” 30 September 1969, AAN, KC PZPR, sygn. 2,947, pp. 170–3; Rakowski, Dzienniki polityczne, 1969–71, pp. 120f. IDH-PRL, Kolekcja Jana Ptasinskiego, PII/24b, k. 141, “Dziennik Ambasadora,” 1969, cz. III, pp. 33f., 42f., 47ff.; “Zusammenfassender Bericht über die Konsultation mit dem stellv. Außenminister der VR Polen, Gen. Wolniak, am 23.10.69,” 24 October 1969, in SAPMO BA, NL 182/1254; Memorandum by Wolniak, 25 October 1969, AMSZ, Z. 28/74, w. 6; “Protokól Nr 8 z posiedzenia Biura Politycznego w dniu 17 pazdziernika 1969r.,” AAN, KC PZPR, sygn. 1,743, pp. 1ff. “Einschätzung des Vorschlages der Volksrepublik Polen über ‘Grundprinzipien eines Vertrages über europäische Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit,” SAPMO BA, J IV 2/2/1253, pp. 43–50; “Stenografische Niederschrift: Beratung der Außenminister der Warschauer Vertragsstaaten am 30. Oktober 1969 in Prag,” n.d., SAPMO BA, J IV 2/202–266. The document approved at the conference, “Document on the Renunciation of Force or the Threat of Its Use in Mutual Relations among the States of Europe,” contained a passage in which the signatories would “declare that they shall recognize and unconditionally respect the territorial integrity of all European states within their existing borders.” NARA, Nixon Presidential Materials Project (NPMP), NSC Files, Box 667, Country Files, Europe, “European Security: US and Soviet Diplomacy, Jun 70.” “Stenografische Niederschrift,” ibid. DoS to US Embassy in Warsaw, 18 November 1969, NARA, NPMP, NSC Files, Box

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667, Country Files, Europe, “European Security: US and Soviet Diplomacy, Jun 70.” The State Department’s Bureau of Intelligence and Research (INR) deftly noted: a potential conflict between the Soviet Union and Poland over approaches to be taken toward a European Security Conference. Poland, on the one hand, appeared to be stressing . . . thorough preparation while seeking ways to move forward with bilateral discussions with the Federal Republic. Moscow, however, might choose to use the ESC as a means to restrict independent action by the Warsaw Pact nations toward Bonn.

37

38

39

40

Memorandum of Conversation between Fischer and Michalowski, 8 November 1969, NARA, RG 59, Central Files, 1967–69, Box 2,362, POL POL–US. Je˛drychowski to Gomulka, 22 November 1969, with attachment, Dept. IV, MSZ, “Ocena zalozen polityki zagranicznej nowego rza˛du NRF w sprawie warunków normalizacji stosunków krajów socjalistycznych z NRF i wnioski w sprawie stanowiska krajów ukladu warszawskiego w tych zagadnieniach,” AAN, KC PZPR, sygn. 2,584, pp. 88–118. Ministry for State Security, “Information über einige Aspekte der Außenpolitik der VR Polen,” n.d. Bundesbeauftragte für die Unterlagen des Staatssicherheitsdienstes der ehemaligen DDR (BStU), Ministerium für Staatssicherheit (MfS), Hauptverwaltung Aufklärung (HVA) 158, pp. 45–53; “Einschätzung des Vorschlages der Volksrepublik Polen über ‘Grundprinzipien eines Vertrages über europäische Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit,” attachment to “Protokoll Nr. 45/69 der Sitzung des Politbüros des Zentralkomitees am 18.11.1969” n.d., SAPMO, J IV 2/2/1253, pp. 43–50. “Mitschrift des persönlichen Mitarbeiters Ulbrichts, Berger, aus der außerordentlicher Sitzung des Politbüros des Zentralkomitees der SED,” 30 October 1969, DzDP VI/1, pp. 26–30; Mary Elise Sarotte, Dealing with the Devil: East Germany, Détente, and Ostpolitik, 1969–1973 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), pp. 30ff.; Egon Bahr, Zu meiner Zeit (Munich: Blessing, 1996), p. 277. Ash, In Europe’s Name, pp. 16, 280.

6

The GDR’s targets in the early CSCE process Another missed opportunity to freeze the division of Germany, 1969–73 Federica Caciagli

Introduction Since the late 1960s, the necessity of finding an agreement with the West on the convention of a general European security conference (ESC) came to dominate the meetings between the Soviet Union and its East German ally as a sort of “monotone lullaby.” This came to be a recurring leitmotif in the foreign-policy planning guidelines elaborated by the Politburo of the East German Socialist Unity Party (Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands, SED) as one of the main goals to be attained while the relationship between the two German states evolved in parallel through the paces of the Ostpolitik. Indeed, at a certain stage of the triangular contacts between Moscow, Bonn, and East Berlin, the SED leaders began to think that bringing together Western and Eastern European states to discuss issues of security and the status quo would have eased the progress of bilateral negotiations with the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) or at least given the East Germans the possibility of acquiring greater leverage at the complex inter-German negotiations vis-à-vis both the West German federal government and Moscow. Had that been the case, East Germany would possibly have come closer to its aim of recognition as a fully sovereign state without having to toe the Soviet line completely. But apparently neither the West Germans nor, less obviously, the Soviets were eager to endorse plainly East Berlin’s wishes. After the signature of the so-called Eastern Treaties, the Soviets were still lacking the last remaining element to square the circle of their European security policy and they believed that a conference on European security could be the right means to this end. Nevertheless, they had somehow to compromise with their East German ally, Walter Ulbricht, who hoped to obtain the unanimous recognition of the German Democratic Republic (GDR) as a state by the international community. The SED still hoped to attain through the conference the goals that had not been fully realized in the Ostpolitik negotiations or in the political-diplomatic bargaining, which had been dominated by the USSR to its own primary advantage. Even after Ulbricht’s ouster, the GDR leadership continued to hope that a general agreement on the existing status quo in Europe could enhance its official standing as a separate state from the FRG, at the same time making the division of Germany final.

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To what extent were Ulbricht’s hopes eventually fulfilled by the CSCE Final Act? To what extent were the Soviet Union’s designs in line with those of its allies, and how ready was Moscow – if at all – to compromise on its aims for the sake of the GDR’s national interest, that is, its decades-old aspiration for final international recognition as a state separate from the FRG? In order to answer these questions, we shall consider evidence from the state and party archives of the former GDR as well as the most recent literature. This chapter begins with an analysis of the initiatives undertaken since the end of the 1960s by the Socialist countries to promote a European security conference; it then addresses the main political developments in the GDR’s internal political scenario as well as the evolution of inter-German political relations, taking into account the role of the Soviet Union in the “triangle” – Moscow–Bonn–East Berlin. Third, by assessing the main foreign policy guidelines elaborated by the SED in internal and bloc meetings from the early phases of the CSCE throughout the process leading to the signing of the Helsinki Final Act, the analysis tries to define the East German aims and achievements, as well as the compromises East Germany was forced to accept to this end.

Hopes and obstacles on the path to collective security: the Bucharest Declaration and the Budapest Appeal In the mid-1960s, the theme of European collective security – a notion heavily endorsed since the 1950s by the USSR, but never welcomed by the West – returned to the fore at the initiative of the Warsaw Pact member states. In Moscow’s view, this was to be a process that would commit all European states to creating and keeping a lasting peace order on the continent, thereby also indirectly re-affirming the USSR’s hegemony over Central and Eastern Europe. However, the path did not run smoothly. One of the major sticking points was the German question, the resolution of which was the missing piece of the jigsaw, as Moscow saw it, for peaceful coexistence between the rival blocs in Europe.1 In 1965–66, several initiatives taking place in quick succession gave a new impulse to the Soviets’ strong determination to restart the East–West dialog about a general European security conference. The official invitation to the West by the Warsaw Pact came in July 1966 with the Bucharest Declaration, where – after long and, more often than not, sour discussions – the Socialist states codified their definition of security. Ulbricht, the old, proudly Stalinist leader of “the tail that did not always wag according to the Soviet dog,”2 had successfully asserted the notion that the solution of the German question was to be considered a precondition for any lasting European order of peaceful coexistence. Furthermore, this order necessarily rested on the “recognition of the existence of two German States, the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany, in the respect of their frontiers and of the mutual renunciation to the threat and use of force.”3 However, this conflicted – quite explicitly under the surface of the traditional

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“façade of unity”4 and cohesion of the bloc – with Moscow’s suggestion to its allies to start diplomatic relations with the FRG (despite continuing to criticize the Bonn government), since, in the Soviet analysis, setting up normal diplomatic relations would have led to a further crack in the “Hallstein Doctrine,” according to which the FRG would have broken diplomatic relations with every state that recognized the GDR. A somehow contradictory Soviet attitude towards the rapprochement to West Germany was to be read in Gromyko’s words at the Supreme Soviet in June 1968, when the foreign minister condemned the West German continued adherence to the Hallstein Doctrine, and reaffirmed that the Soviet Union would have not given suit to the dialog with Bonn if the GDR was not first recognized, as “the USSR security could not be separated by that of its allies.”5 This question was of fundamental importance for the SED leaders: “The growing aspiration of all European people and of the majority of their governments to reach a real peace order and find an effective security is of utmost importance for the convocation of a conference on pan-European security.”6 These were the words used by the SED Politburo in its statement in favor of the convocation of a European security conference, released after the decisions adopted by the Warsaw Pact with the Budapest Appeal in March 1969. The Budapest Appeal was an exhortation to all European states to “discuss the matters at the basis of common European security and of peaceful collaboration,”7 and gave verbal expression to the Soviet willingness to speed up its political efforts to reach a formal agreement on the territorial and political status quo of Europe. But the GDR seemed to have to pay the higher price for Moscow’s anxieties. Indeed, the Budapest Appeal was a step backward in respect to the points decided the year before at Karlovy Vary by the conference of the European Communist parties. The Budapest Appeal did not stipulate any “decisive criteria” as preconditions for the beginning of talks, nor did it demand that Bonn acknowledge the existing frontiers, the existence of two sovereign German states, or a “special status” for West Berlin, or that the West German government renounce its claim to be the exclusive representation of the German people. At the end of 1969, the SED perceived its chances of convening a conference as minimal. The East German party did not believe that an agreement that could bring closure for the remaining legacy of World War II could be reached in a short time, and Ulbricht’s focus at that time was on how to catalyze the evolution of inter-German relations. The deliberations of the SED leadership gradually led to acceptance of the line decided by Moscow: the linkage, or Junktim, between the conference and the East German traditional claims that – according to Ulbricht – would have given a decisive leverage to the GDR position, presented too high a price for Brezhnev to pay. But Brezhnev’s reluctance did not arise from a sudden change of opinion concerning the necessity of establishing a European security framework where, subject to conditions, a solution to the German question could be found. Instead, the real catalyst came from developments on Moscow’s eastern border with

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China. In March 1969, Moscow suffered heavy casualties in a series of bloody frontier disputes with China along the Ussuri River. This gave the Soviets an additional reason to secure their Western borders. The signing of the Moscow Treaty with Bonn in August 1970 was necessary to guarantee security at least along the western borders of the Soviet empire in Central Europe. Indeed, while recommending that the SED postpone any contacts with Bonn, in July of the same year the USSR resumed diplomatic talks with the FRG on renunciation-offorce agreements when delegations of the West German Liberal Democratic Party (Freie Demokratische Partei, FDP) and Social Democratic Party (Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands, SPD) came to Moscow. That summer not only proved to be a real watershed in the Soviet political strategy towards Bonn, but it also showed a clear demarcation between the respective political goals of the USSR and the GDR. A sign of this was the Soviets’ open recommendation to their German ally not to hinder the outcome of the elections in the FRG that would take place the following September, where a SPD–FDP coalition was likely to win under the leadership of Willy Brandt. Gromyko’s continuous reassurances to his East German counterpart, Otto Winzer, on the eve of the official opening of the negotiations between Bonn and Moscow were not enough to convince Ulbricht of the thoroughness of the Soviet “solidarity” with East Berlin’s aims. In Gromyko’s words, the two Soviet priority issues, “European security: main problem” and the defense of the GDR political aims, were intertwined.8 But this very last caveat did not match the Soviets’ real priority: to sign a treaty with the FRG that would consolidate their influence over Eastern Europe before the two German states began to approach the controversial theme of their bilateral negotiations. The discrepancies emerged more clearly at the Warsaw Pact foreign ministers meeting in October 1969 in Prague, the aim of which was to produce a common document describing the position to be endorsed by the Socialist countries at the conference, which was expected to begin – again optimistically – in the first half of 1970.9 On that occasion, the Soviets tried to convince the GDR leadership that East Germany’s participation in the conference was a great achievement for their German ally, which would have the same rights as the FRG. That concession, however, did not constitute legal recognition of the country, but only a de facto acknowledgment of it. At the same time, the Soviets invited the East Germans to accept, for the time being, this “status quo minus,” and asked them to avoid insisting on formal definition of their status, in order to sidestep further deadlocks in the process.10 The supposed reason for this attitude was the necessity of obtaining “concrete results and leaving aside for the moment more complicated issues.”11 This would have been a plausible position had the Soviets not continued in the meantime to deepen their contacts with Bonn, raising Ulbricht’s suspicions that Moscow was pursuing a course of its own.12 The SED general secretary was concerned about two issues in particular: on the one hand, he had not succeeded in preventing Moscow from giving priority to the improvements in relations between the two German governments over the intensification of contacts between the USSR and the FRG about the renunciation of force. On the

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other hand, he was concerned that a European multilateral arrangement might somehow bypass the issue of GDR’s de jure recognition and impede the acknowledgment of its full sovereignty. The signing of the Moscow Treaty in August 1970 was undoubtedly a success for Moscow, mainly – but not exclusively – for political reasons. It satisfied, at least partially, the Soviet desire to safeguard their sphere of influence – envisaged as Soviet hegemony over the Eastern bloc – and to establish the European status quo in law. However, this rapprochement between the two states also entailed positive economic side-effects, not least of which was the Soviet–West German agreement on construction of a natural gas pipeline, signed as early as February 1970.

After Ulbricht’s ouster: new aims for the SED? Ulbricht defined the 1970 Moscow Treaty between the USSR and the FRG as a “comma rather than a full stop,” stressing the provisional nature of that agreement, which would reduce the implications for the future of the European status quo and of the two German states.13 Yet, at the beginning of 1971, the SED general secretary suffered growing criticism from within the party, eventually leading to his dismissal, which modified the GDR’s stance in many respects, including a different approach towards a European security conference. By the beginning of the 1970s, a growing majority within the SED leadership – the so-called “Honeckerfraktion” – had turned to support Erich Honecker’s political line. At the same time, Walter Ulbricht’s attitude was becoming more and more annoying to the Soviet Union, which would obviously have preferred a German ally leaning towards moderation, but also differentiation (Abgrenzung) from the other Germany at the most delicate moment of the interGerman bilateral negotiations. On the one hand, Ulbricht was pushing to speed up the talks with the West Germans over the heads of a Soviet leadership that was very reluctant to loosen the reins of its control, while, on the other hand, he had exposed himself to criticism, both from within and outside, for his questionable economic decisions.14 Ulbricht was criticized in particular for his New Economic System (NES) launched in 1963. The NES brought a series of economic reforms based on decentralization and elements of private entrepreneurship, which were ultimately rejected by the party as having indebted the GDR to the tune of more than DM2 billion with the West.15 At the end of 1971, after tense internal discussions about Ulbricht’s leadership style, Honecker decided to send a letter to Brezhnev signed by 21 Politburo members, explicitly asking that the general secretary be relieved of his responsibilities, a request that was formally based on the failures of Ulbricht’s economic choices as well as his age.16 But these considerations on their own would not have been serious enough to convince Brezhnev that the time was ripe for a personnel change at the top levels of the SED. What prompted Brezhnev to take action was his concern about Ulbricht’s potential delaying effect on “very complicated foreign policy decisions,” as Honecker had pointed out in his

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letter.17 After all, Ulbricht had never really given up the idea of a confederation with the FRG based on technological and economic cooperation, which would certainly have narrowed the distance between the two German states, but would also have upset the delicate balance that the Soviet Union was working to establish at the time.18 The forced resignation of the old SED leader19 and Honecker’s new leadership substantially mitigated the East German insistence on the formal recognition of the GDR as a precondition for progress towards a general agreement on European security. The change of leadership also served to ease the achievement of the Soviet grand design in the following two years, with the ratification of the Moscow Treaty as the top priority. And yet, East Germany continued to wait patiently until the Soviet policies had fallen into place before the GDR’s goals could be taken into consideration within the game of political give-and-take. The policy directives elaborated by the SED for 1971 indicated three main aims: the normalization of relations with the West and, first and foremost, with the FRG; the admission of the two German states to the United Nations; and the convocation of a European security conference. This last point continued to represent a sort of safety valve for the GDR, always described in highly rhetorical terms. The SED’s participation in the preliminary phases of the conference was based on the belief that an active East German role could prevent any FRG attempt to codify, in a multilateral context, the “special relationship” (Sonderverhältnis) between the two German states – a step that the SED would have perceived as a veiled reference to a possible future reunification. The East German catalogue of desiderata was well known: the aims were the de jure recognition of the GDR’s international status, the final acknowledgment of the frontier separating the two German states, and an agreement on West Berlin that would recognize the city’s status as an independent political entity. These claims were not new, but were in fact only a projection onto the European stage of those targets that the GDR had not been able to reach yet in bilateral negotiations. Notwithstanding the ratification of the Eastern Treaties (Ostverträge) in May 1972, which for the Soviets represented an almost complete success in ratifying the status quo, Moscow was still seeking multilateral approval of its sphere of influence on Central and Eastern Europe. Indeed, although Honecker’s leadership of the GDR was much more reassuring than the fairly broad autonomy enjoyed by his predecessor, there were still several risks associated with the outcome of the complex negotiations between the two German states. The two sides were trying to find a compromise on the fundamental questions that had remained unsolved since the first steps of the Ostpolitik, and these gave rise to a still very foggy framework that could evolve according to two opposing scenarios. The GDR hoped for a solution that would result in two separate states, recognized as such by the international community. The other scenario – which the FRG was pushing for – would have instead resulted in the establishment of two different states that would, however, still be regarded as part of the same nation, the frontiers of which could have been modified in the course of time.

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The latter scenario still remained a distinct possibility, despite the SED’s continued rhetoric that “history had already decided on Germany’s future” and that “no place” was left for reunification.20 Many points remained to be decided, but Moscow’s orders to East Berlin were clear: it demanded that the GDR make concessions and avoid creating obstacles for the Brandt government, in order to facilitate the signing of a bilateral treaty as soon as possible. The Basic Treaty, or Grundlagenvertrag, signed on 21 December 1972 in Berlin after years of negotiations, eventually resulted in an agreement of a very temporary nature, especially concerning the key element of Ulbricht’s political strategy: indeed, Article 3 of the treaty confirmed the mere “inviolability of the existing frontiers” between the German states and their mutual commitment to honor the territorial integrity of the respective states. Therefore, once again, the existing frontiers were not regarded as “immutable,” with the ultimate result that the German question was, in fact, left open.21 The conclusion of the Basic Treaty and the results of the elections in the FRG, confirming the leadership of Brandt, were described at the beginning of 1973 – in a very optimistic SED assessment of the “international” situation, since the FRG was to be treated as a foreign state – as a great success and as the foundation for the consolidation of a peaceful coexistence in Europe. The two passages would allow “a constructive and quick preparation of the conference on security and cooperation in Europe.”22 However, the term “quick” proved to be premature, nor would the “Lex specialis” – as Siegfried Bock defines the Basic Treaty – be satisfactorily complemented, in line with the East German national interest, by the “Lex generalis,” the CSCE Final Act.23

The CSCE: the last chance to fulfill the GDR’s aspirations? On 9 November 1972, the Finnish government officially invited 32 European states as well as the US and Canada to start preliminary talks for the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) on 22 November in Helsinki. Throughout the first half of 1973, preparations for the conference were the main topic of the discussions between the SED and the CPSU (Communist Party of the Soviet Union), in addition to the still pending question of the two Germanies’ admission to the UN, until they eventually obtained their respective full memberships in the organization in September 1973. In the course of four rounds of preliminary consultations – from November 1972 to the beginning of June 1973 – the “Decalogue” of the Socialist countries’ proposals became apparent. They hinged on the consolidation of the European status quo through the affirmation of the principles renouncing the threat and use of force and of the inviolability of frontiers. The GDR had the residual hope that the sanctioning of the status quo could be interpreted as an injunction against changes to the frontier separating the two German states, and above all, that this principle could be declared final, something which had failed to materialize with any of the previous agreements signed in the Ostpolitik years. The first phase was still characterized by many hopes, which nevertheless increasingly came to

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clash in the following phase with Western and Soviet aims, the latter often fixed without regard to the wishes of the GDR leadership. The second phase of the conference began on 18 September 1973 in Geneva with the work of the specialized commissions focusing on the three “baskets.” In the two following years until the signing of the Helsinki Final Act on 1 August 1975, the SED focused on its main aim: to reach an agreement where the territorial and political status quo, and therefore the GDR’s existence as sovereign state, would be unanimously recognized by the international community. Targets and illusions: the first phase The aims pursued by the GDR continued to meet with the opposition of the US and the FRG, both firmly opposed to the exclusion of the hypothetical possibility that a future change of the European borders could be brought about by “peaceful means.” However, it had been Gromyko himself who, a few days after the ratification of the Eastern Treaties, had signaled that the FRG’s stance could not be neglected, being well aware of Nixon’s rigorous support for Bonn during the preliminary phases of the CSCE.24 At the end of June 1973, in preparation for the first phase of multilateral consultations, the East German Foreign Ministry’s section in charge of the ESC received an elaborate set of directives from the SED Politburo indicating the GDR’s main goals during the talks. What clearly emerged was an obsessive concern to take part with “equal rights” in the multilateral negotiations. The Politburo recommended exerting the utmost pressure to allow East Germany to be considered a “peer in all preliminary and central phases of the conference,” pondering with extreme attention all likely attempts (more or less the products of the East German leaders’ imagination) by other states to discriminate its status. The hypothetical issues which, according to the SED, should be listed in the agenda were reminiscent of earlier efforts, both in terms of the themes and in terms of their prioritization. The reference to the successes “obtained with the treaties signed in the course of the preceding years” did not significantly modify East Germany’s cahier de doleances. This was a very clear sign of the GDR’s lack of satisfaction with the many uncertainties concerning the future of the country, despite Honecker’s new leadership.25 Among the first points on the SED agenda was the proposal of a “European Declaration” based on a lowest common denominator that would determine relations between European states for peaceful coexistence. The ongoing search for an official formal agreement on the nature of interstate relations in Europe betrayed, on the one hand, the real extent of the questionable “successes” that the GDR’s leaders touted for propaganda reasons and, on the other, a tangible desire to seal an agreement necessary to safeguard the GDR’s position at last. The same applied to the insistence on “preventive measures” against the likely discrimination that the FRG was expected to bring up in the preparatory phases. The SED was worried about the possibility that Bonn might attempt to convince the other participants to subscribe to a document in which a “special relation-

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ship” between the two German states with respect to third parties was formally recognized. The basis for such an outcome was confirmed, according to the SED, by Bonn’s insistence on “the responsibility of the Four Powers for the whole of Germany and for Berlin until a final regulation was agreed in a Peace Treaty.” If the document had been accepted by the participating states, the logical consequence would have been the acknowledgment of “the validity of the right to self-determination in respects of a possible re-unification, hence the affirmation of a non-international relationship between the GDR and the FRG.” This was a scenario that could have not been more undesirable in the eyes of East Berlin.26 Besides the SED’s strong conviction that Bonn intended to exploit the conference in order to settle its disagreements with East Berlin to its own advantage, the concerns of the GDR extended to a whole gamut of hypothetical threats, not all of which were entirely unlikely. Indeed – as the list of directives continued – if increased cooperation with the Western countries was to be welcomed in the fields of economic, cultural, and scientific relations, at least in principle, the SED’s analysis was very clear about the well-documented risk that on the other hand, “the tactics of NATO” could aim not only at making the Socialist countries economically dependent on the West, but also at penetrating its frontiers through the “free exchange of ideas and people.” Subsequently, the GDR adopted a preventive stance, staking out a minimalist and conservative position that was much less open than the proposals put forward by its allies: Poland had suggested that the states taking part in the conference sign a treaty of industrial cooperation on the basis of a detailed list of Western projects, whereas Czechoslovakia had conceived an agreement to enhance common scientific and cultural projects.27 On the contrary, the GDR was oriented toward a much more generic and less binding position with respect to a possible agreement resulting from the conference, for at least three reasons. The adoption of a “Declaration of Principles,” rather than a series of more specific and subject-based documents, would have avoided not only overly detailed duties (and “superfluous complications,” in the party’s own phrasing), but would have also left more maneuvering space for the Warsaw Pact leaders to control the influence of Western “dangerous policies.” According to the SED, the institutional follow-up of the conference had to be based “not on three, but rather on four supporting columns” – referring to what was eventually defined as “baskets” – the fourth of which was to be the institutionalization of the body charged with guaranteeing permanent contacts between the states for their future cooperation. The East German leadership insisted on being counted among the full-fledged subjects of international law.28 If all the states taking part in the conference considered “the multilateral framework adopted for the conference” necessary, then why, the SED leaders rhetorically asked themselves, “should it be given up in the future?” This was the perspective from which the consultative body had to be interpreted, according to the SED, which was deeply convinced that the body was absolutely necessary in order to consolidate the “consensus” of the international community members.29

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This European body was to guarantee European security policies for the future “through multilateral consultations and the exchange of data about the political developments with the aim of preventing new conflicts” and “to supervise all information about the two blocs’ manoeuvres as confidence-building measures.” This last issue was a very thorny one for the entire Socialist bloc (with the exception of Romania), which had tried to impose severe restrictions on every single initiative that could lead to external interference.30 And it was all the more important for the GDR, since it would incidentally have confirmed the GDR’s status as a peer taking part in this body with equal standing as the FRG. Most of the efforts remained concentrated on getting the West to acknowledge the sovereignty of the GDR. The preliminary phases and the conference itself were therefore to be a vehicle for discussions within the Western countries about the opportunity to start diplomatic relations with the GDR. The leadership hoped that the country would not only be recognized on an international and undisputed basis, but would also obtain those resources that could have “to a certain extent enhanced the Socialist countries’ productivity.” However, this would have only been possible by maintaining a strict separation – according to a naïvely optimistic SED scenario – between scientific–technological and economic cooperation, on one side, and all political ideological matters, on the other. The Socialist countries saw a “great opportunity” for getting access to Western markets as an outlet for their goods, which (perhaps for the first time) contradicted the protectionist and autarkic orientation adopted by the bloc. This scenario was so appealing to the Eastern governments that they decided not to wait for proposals from the West, but to anticipate them, while always maintaining the principle of “mutual non-interference” in domestic matters between the new commercial partners.31 Cultural affairs, on the other hand, remained much more of a gray area in which the SED hoped for inter-bloc collaboration including “synergies” in the production of films, television, and radio productions, as well as common projects among museums, theaters, and libraries. The SED seemed to see a wide potential field for cooperation through a network of cultural centers, schools, and universities between the two blocs and exchanges of “students, scholars, and scientists.” This attitude may have been over-optimistic considering that it referred to a traditionally “sensitive” area, where the confrontation between East and West could open a Pandora’s box of unpredictable developments – a scenario that was very much feared by the Soviet Union and its allies. And yet, the SED seemed not to have adequately assessed the danger that “contamination” could go beyond the cultural sphere and that intense inter-bloc contacts might instead catalyze segments of civil society that disagreed with the regime. However, the risks of this attitude had not passed unnoticed by Gromyko, who, in commenting on the conclusion of the first phase of the conference, recommended that the allies introduce a “subtle work” intended to build an “offensive position” also in the field of culture. Yet, that “subtle work” would have often been slowed down – again according to Bock’s insider view of the negotiations – by the same Soviet delegation through exhausting “semantic discussions,” and,

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not least, because of a superior attitude on their part that often made Bock feel like a “diplomatic nobody.”32 Gromyko did not hide his satisfaction with the basis laid during the course of the first phase of the conference. The preliminary stance elaborated by the Socialist states had turned out to be effective, especially compared to “the political points without constructive proposals” advanced by the majority of the other states.33 The Soviet foreign minister reckoned that, even if the principle of the inviolability of frontiers had already been “anchored” in three treaties, it would nevertheless be preferable – but not “essential,” as it was for the SED – for that principle also to be reaffirmed in a document adopted in a multilateral context. But the Soviet leader’s lack of interest in the East German aspirations was quite clear.34 Nevertheless, the East Germans continued to pursue their main target, which was often reiterated with an obsessive insistence: “All participant states had to enjoy the same rights and were bound to the same obligations.” The shared basis of the conference would have to be respect for each state’s freedom to “decide its social, political, and economic system,” and to “see its independency and territorial integrity respected.” This would not be the case if the SED tried to avoid any question that could possibly slow down the progress of the conference.35 The phase of deceptions In May 1973, Brezhnev had communicated to Brandt his hope “that the proceedings of the conference should finish by the end of the year, to prevent the whole process from becoming a bureaucratic bubble without any effects of sort.”36 And yet, the second phase of the preliminary negotiations went on for a long time, for the entire duration of 1974 until 30 July 1975, eventually ending up in a third symbolic phase with the signing of the Final Act of the conference in Helsinki on 1 August. The SED directives to the East German delegation for this second phase, led by Foreign Minister Otto Winzer, recommended efforts to ensure that the four points suggested by the USSR – security, economic cooperation, cultural contacts, and an institutional follow-up to the conference – were adopted in the final document. The first and most important of these – security – basically coincided with the acknowledgment of the inviolability of frontiers and territorial integrity. This was a principle that had to be defended at all costs in order to “prevent attempts by the Western countries to water down” the contents, by concentrating the discussion on the second and third points on the agenda.37 The main goal was to confirm the inviolability of frontiers as an “independent principle,” which would be further strengthened by the affirmation of non-interference in each state’s domestic affairs. This last point was a concern that was also reflected in the second agenda point: economic cooperation. The Socialist countries needed guarantees for an unbreachable barrier that would offer utmost protection against any capitalist attempts to exploit the new permeability of borders. Similar caution was required for the inter-bloc relations in the sphere of cultural contacts that would have later permeated, to a much greater extent than the

118 F. Caciagli economic ties, the borders between the Warsaw Pact members, even though this was due more to the activities of domestic civil society groups working underground than to Western pressures, as the Warsaw Pact leaders feared.38 The territorial and political status quo remained at the core of the discussions up until the very last days of the conference. But despite the proclamations by Honecker – who would continue until the end of the 1980s to describe the decisions taken in Helsinki as the “very last act of a process, begun with the Eastern Treaties that sanctioned the final division of Germany”39 – the final compromise did not definitively seal the question. Indeed, tens of thousands of East Germans applied to emigrate after the publishing of the Final Act. Nevertheless, the long report on the results of the second phase of the conference elaborated by the SED shows that the final agreement was neither radically unbalanced, nor was it fully to the West’s advantage.40 The Western countries would have liked to include an explicit reference to the possibility of modifying the European frontiers through peaceful means in the Final Act’s list of fundamental principles. But they had to give up on this point and accept that this idea was only contemplated in a much less explicit way, namely as a corollary to the principle of “equal sovereignty” among states. The West had already scored a success by winning acknowledgment of the concept of “immutability rather than inviolability,” i.e., the mere affirmation of the inviolability of the frontiers, rather than the impossibility of any territorial change in the future, which the East Germans had been striving for. The Final Act included only the first principle, guaranteeing the existing frontiers and condemning any attempt to infringe on the integrity of the European states, but it did not exclude the option of peaceful and negotiated changes in the political and territorial European order. The overall results of the second phase of the conference were described by the SED as a successful achievement, since they “stabilized the political and legal basis necessary for the evolution of the détente process in Europe on the bilateral and multilateral levels.”41 The greatest success was the introduction of the inviolability of frontiers. The SED regarded this as a victory over Bonn’s attempt to “link this principle to the prohibition of the use of force” or to leave room for an interpretation in line with the so-called “Letter on German unity” unilaterally attached by the FRG to the Basic Treaty. But this was, for all intents and purposes, a questionable victory. The SED believed that the insistence of the Western states on including both detailed confidence-building measures and a reference to respect for the “freedom of people and ideas” in the catalog of principles had been the result of an awareness that the Socialist countries were determined to arrive at a positive outcome to the conference as quickly as possible, and that they were therefore ready to accept some compromises. In these two spheres, the Socialist countries had to accept the “far more grievous and more costly” compromises, as the SED noted in its conference report. The Warsaw Pact countries had to compromise on the mutual exchange of information. Although they did not accept the call for “total transparency of

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military activities” wished by the FRG, they had to accept the announcement of major military maneuvers.42 The Warsaw Pact thought that the sphere of contacts – referring to relations among citizens as well as civil and cultural institutions between the two blocs – had to be regulated according to the ten basic principles for security and cooperation they had elaborated since the end of the 1960s, whose contents and guidelines were under no circumstances to be diluted in the over 40 documents prepared instead by the Western countries. At each passage, the SED repeated that “no automatism” would be allowed in the new spheres of cooperation. The almost pedantic use of the expression “no automatism” seemed to be the last defense with which the GDR hoped to protect its boundaries. Yet, the GDR had in fact opened them up when it had underestimated the importance of the third basket and had instead almost totally focused on the first one. In the Final Act, the divergent “aims of the Socialist and capitalist countries” were translated into compromises by the two parties. The Socialist countries had to accept many such compromises, according to the SED assessment of the document. In the field of economic cooperation, it had failed to win most-favored nation status or to “eliminate all forms of discrimination in the mutual commercial exchanges.”43 In the sphere of “culture” in the widest sense, despite recognizing “a fundamental” success for the Socialist countries – namely, the agreement on the principle of non-interference in respective domestic affairs – the SED could not ignore the “high price” that had to be paid in terms of the detailed description demanded by the West of the sectors and conditions in which the cooperation was to be enhanced, in particular with respect to the modalities of “contacts” among people that were so important in the political and civilian affairs of the two German states.44 If the SED accepted the “sacrifices” that it was forced to accept for the sake of a final agreement on the subjects of the second and third basket, the East German party did not stop instead to recognize the much higher price paid in the bargain on the questions regarding security included in the first basket, which was the more important one in terms of defining the GDR’s status as a sovereign state under international law. According to the SED, the Warsaw Pact countries had achieved their main aim with the affirmation of the principle of inviolability of frontiers, which was stated separately from the renouncement to the threat and use of force in international relations. This was basically the panacea adopted by the SED against any likely attempt by the FRG to “violate the frontiers or the territorial integrity of the GDR.” However, this partial consolation did not take into account scenarios where territorial and political changes to the status quo could be achieved without force. The SED obtained two formal consolations, rather than effective remedies for its fears of a possible reunification of Germany: a few guarantees to prevent interference in the domestic sphere, and the exclusion of an explicit reference to the “overcoming of all divisions in Europe” from the Final Act. The Final Act welcomed the Western position on the likelihood of modifying the existing frontiers “in the respect of the international law, of the will of the interested parts,

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and with peaceful means.” These three conditions were sufficient to restrain greatly the (possibly consciously exaggerated) enthusiasm with which the East German leaders were to present to their country the “great success” of the European document which had “definitively closed their frontier” with the FRG.45

Conclusions This chapter has attempted to address the aims that the GDR pursued during the process leading to the CSCE Final Act, and has tried indirectly to assess the role that the Soviet Union played within the larger picture of the Ostpolitik negotiations by encouraging or waving off the SED’s political strategy, as the situation required. Ulbricht’s desire to see his country recognized by the international community as being a separate state from the FRG, increasingly risked clashing with the Soviet designs for improving relations with Bonn and for securing their own sphere of influence and the European status quo. The “resignation” of the old SED leader, and his replacement by the more pro-Soviet Honecker did not formally change the GDR’s aims, but it did lead to less uncompromising requests by the GDR delegation at the CSCE negotiating table. With the agreement of the Western states, the conference added cosmetic improvements to the already consolidated post-Yalta division. But it was not “the ceremonial aspect of the German question”46 (as the conference has sometimes been labeled), since it did not explicitly state that the two German states were separate entities under international law. The CSCE confirmed the division of the German states, but, once again, only as a temporary fact, by simply acknowledging an existing reality – this time with the agreement of the international community. In concrete terms, the GDR got what it was looking for: the two German states took part in the CSCE as two separate sovereign states, and were admitted as such to the United Nations. Above all, the separation of the two parts of the country remained in effect for almost 30 years. Nevertheless, what the GDR continued to lack was an official acknowledgment of its existence. This formal recognition, which had been pursued as a central objective at each of the bilateral and multilateral negotiations in the détente years, was eventually given, but without final recognition of the frontier with West Germany – the one element that would indeed never materialize. The language adopted first in the Moscow Treaty, later in the Basic Treaty, and then in the Helsinki Final Act, did not assert anything else but the “contingent” recognition of the existing European frontiers. But none of the bilateral and multilateral agreements excluded the possibility that those frontiers could be modified by events and future developments. The legal status of the GDR and of the FRG therefore remained subject to the progress of history and of relations between the two blocs on the continent.

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Notes 1 The author would like to refer to her Ph.D. dissertation: “Neue Ostpolitik oltre Bonn: la DDR al centro del triangolo di sicurezza sovietico 1969–1975” University of Florence, 2005. 2 Hope Harrison, Driving the Soviets Up the Wall: Soviet–East German Relations, 1953–1961 (Princeton, Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2003). 3 The draft of the declaration prepared by Moscow and presented at the Bucharest Consultative Political Committee of the Warsaw Pact in July 1966 appeared as an attempt to mediate between, on one hand, the East German and Polish positions, which harshly condemned Bonn’s refusal to acknowledge the status quo, and, on the other hand, the position of the other members, primarily Romania, which were more than inclined to intensify their relations with the FRG. The final version included references to the FRG’s revanchism and militarism, but was nevertheless not a victory of the Polish and East German stance, since it in fact authorized the improvement of relations with Bonn. Cf. Douglas Selvage, “The Warsaw Pact Is Dissolving: Poland, the GDR, and Bonn’s Ostpolitik, 1966–1967,” paper presented at the Conference “NATO, the Warsaw Pact and the Rise of Détente, 1965–1972,” 26–28 September 2002, Dobbiaco. Cf. also the VIII. Meeting of the PCC in Bucharest, 4–6 July 1966, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (accessed 18 January 2008). 4 Indeed, new research contradicts from its very beginning the unity of the Warsaw Pact, see Vojtech Mastny and Malcolm Byrne, A Coardboard Castle? An Inside History of the Warsaw Pact (Budapest, New York: Central European University Press, 2005). 5 Dokumente zur Deutschlandpolitik, Aus der Erklärung des Außenministers Gromyko vor dem Obersten Sowjet der UdSSR, pp. 898–902. 6 Anlage 1. Erwägungen zum Problem der europäischen Sicherheit in Zusammenhang mit dem Budapester Appell, SAPMO, BArch, Büro Ulbricht, DY 30/3325, pp. 76ff. 7 Ibid. p. 81. 8 Einschätzung des Genossen Semjonov sowie des Vorschlages für die mündliche Erklärung an die Botschafter der Westmächte in der UdSSR, 29 August 1969, MfAA, Politisches Archiv, C581–76. 9 Cf. Records of the Meetings of the Warsaw Pact Deputy Foreign Ministers, Forerunners (1959–75), online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (accessed 18 January 2008). 10 Einschätzung der sowjetischen Vorschläge über die Vorbereitung und den Inhalt einer europäischen Sicherheitskonferenz, SAPMO, BArch DY 30/3524, p. 252ff. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid., p. 265. 13 Notiz über ein Gespräch des Genossen Walter Ulbricht mit Genossen Otto Winzer am August 1970 in Dierhagen, MfAA, Politisches Archiv, C586/76. 14 Vermerk über die Konsultation des Minister für Auswärtiges Angelegenheiten der UdSSR, Genossen A.A. Gromyko, am 11.1.1971 in Moskau, SAPMO, BArch, Büro Hermann Axen, DY 30/2/2.035/55. 15 Rede des Ersten Sekretärs des ZK der SED, Genossen Walter Ulbricht, auf dem Treffen in Warschau am 14./15. Juli 1968, SAPMO BArch, DY 30, J IV 2/202/294. 16 Untitled document, Letter from Brezhnev to Honecker, 28 July 1970, SAPMO, BArch, Büro Honecker, DY 30/2118/2119, p. 8. 17 Ibid., p. 10. 18 Cf. Mario Frank, Walter Ulbricht. Eine Deutsche Biografie (Berlin: Siedler Verlag, 2003). 19 According to a West German analysis, the SED did not succeed in presenting the change of its leadership (Machtwechsel) as a natural and painless political– generational handover. The June 1971 issue of Deutschland-Archiv featured Ilse

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Spittmann’s interpretation of Ulbricht’s replacement. She wrote that (author’s translation): Walter Ulbricht, removed by the charge of SED Central Committee General Secretary, officially because of age and health reasons, and given by several voices in his very last days of life, had instead made several public appearances between the day of its resignation and the VIII. Party Congress, this created the impression that he was neither too sick nor too old for its role, but rather undesired. . . . What appears clearly is that the grand, old gentleman of East German communism did not spontaneously retire, but that he was invited to leave. Cf. Ilse Spittmann, “Warum Ulbricht stürzte,” Deutschland-Archiv, no. 4 (1974), p. 7. 20 Report on Gromyko’s talk at the SED Central Commitee in Berlin, 5 June 1972, SAPMO, Abteilung Internationale Verbindungen. 21 Cf. M. E. Sarotte, Dealing with the Devil: East Germany, Détente and Ostpolitik 1969–1973 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001); Timothy Garton Ash, In Europe’s Name. Germany and the Divided Continent (London: Jonathan Cape, 1993); Ernest D. Plock, The Basic Treaty and the Evolution of EastWest German Relations (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1986); Karl Seidel, Berlin-Bonner Bilanz: 20 Jahre deutsch-deutsche Beziehungen. Erinnerungen und Erkenntnisse eines Beteiligten (Berlin: edition ost, 2002); Stephan Fuchs, “Dreiecksverhältnisse sind immer kompliziert”: Kissinger, Bahr und die Ostpolitik (Hamburg: Europäische Verlaganstalt, 1999). 22 Einschätzung der außenpolitischen Lage in 1973, SAPMO, BArch, DY 30/2112. 23 Siegfried Bock, Ingrid Muth, and Hermann Schwiesau (eds.), DDR-Aussenpolitik im Rückspiegel: Diplomaten in Gespräch (LIT Verlag: Münster 2004), p. 107. 24 Ausführungen des Genossen Andrei Gromyko, Minister für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der UdSSR, am 5.6.1972 im Hause des ZK der SED, SAPMO, BArch, Abteilung Internationale Verbindungen IV 2/2.035/55. 25 Standpunkt der DDR zur Organisation und Arbeitsweise, Teilnehmerkreis, Konferenzort und Tagesordnung der Konferenz fur Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa, November 1972, MfAA, Politisches Archiv, C371/78, pp. 7f. 26 Ibid., pp. 12–21. 27 Ibid., pp. 26–37. 28 Ibid., pp. 68–71. 29 Ibid., pp. 72ff. 30 Vorbereitung der Konferenz für Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa (KSZE) durch die DDR, MfAA, Politisches Archiv, C365/78 pp. 10–22. 31 Ibid., pp. 72–82. 32 Bock et al., DDR-Aussenpolitik, p. 107. 33 Kreml-Tagung des Warschauer Vertrages, SAPMO, Büro Axen, DY 30IV 2/2.035. 34 Ibid., pp. 7ff. 35 Standpunkt der DDR zur Organisation und Arbeitsweise, Teilnehmerkreis, Konferenzort und Tagesordnung der Konferenz für Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa, November 1972, MfAA, Politisches Archiv, C371/78. 36 Information über Brezhnev’s Treffen in den Bundesrepublik von 31 Mai 1973, SAPMO, Allgemeine Abteilung, DY 30/J IV 2/202, 493. 37 SED Directives for the second CSCE phase, 21 August 1973, SAPMO, Protokolle des Sitzungen del Politbüro, DY 30 J IV 2/2, p. 1,464. 38 Bericht über die Konsultation zwischen Genossen Staatssekretär Michael Kohl und dem Leiter der 3. Europäischen Abteilung im Ministerium für Auswärtige Angelegenheiten der UdSSR, Genossen A. P. Bodarenko, 17–18 April 1973 in Moskau, SAPMO, Büro Axen, DY 30 IV2/2.035/119. 39 Edwina N. Moreton, East Germany and the Warsaw Alliance: The Politics of Détente (Boulder, CO: Westview, 1978), p. 220.

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40 Bericht über die Ergebnisse der 2. Phase der europäischen Sicherheitskonferenz. SAPMO, BArch, Büro Axen, pp. 15ff. 41 Ibid., p. 21. 42 Ibid., p. 22. 43 Ibid., p. 23. 44 Ibid., pp. 24f. 45 Ibid., pp. 38f. 46 Moreton, East Germany, p. 227.

7

“Europe must not become Greater Finland” Opponents of the CSCE – the German CDU/CSU and China Bernd Schaefer

Introduction On 25 July 1975, the parliamentary faction of the Christian Democratic Union/Christian Social Union (CDU/CSU) introduced a motion to the Bonn Bundestag to request the Social Democratic/Liberal (SPD/FDP) government of the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) under Chancellor Helmut Schmidt not to sign the Helsinki Final Act. As expected, given the distribution of seats in parliament, the conservative opposition parties were defeated. Nonetheless, this move constituted the most visible opposition in Europe to the Conference for Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) process and its Final Act. After all, the CDU/CSU then represented about 45 percent of the FRG electorate and would lose the upcoming 1976 election just by a hair’s breadth, garnering almost 49 percent of the vote. The conservative parties officially rejected the Final Act because: it does not represent the essential interests of divided Germany and its people . . .; because due to conflicting interpretations, it is creating additional conflict instead of détente . . .; it does not meet the Western demands for freedom of movement of people, opinions, and information; it serves the purpose of a global delusion about the real security situation in the world. . . . Results of the CSCE threaten to develop into instruments to accomplish long-term goals of the Soviet Union, in particular in all of Germany, and stand in contrast to the elementary interests of the West in Europe.1 Parts of this argumentation, especially phrases like “global delusion” and accomplishment of “long-term Soviet goals,” sounded strikingly similar to public statements by the People’s Republic of China (PRC), where the CSCE had been denounced as the “insecurity conference.” This is not to say that CDU and CSU had plagiarized Chinese statements or vice versa, but the similarities of wording are much more than coincidental superficialities. The PRC leadership – namely Chairman Mao Zedong, seconded by Zhou Enlai and Deng Xiaoping – unequivocally warned visiting Western politicians between 1973 and 1975 not to pursue the European Security Conference or sign an agreement with the

The German CDU/CSU and China 125 Soviet Union after negotiations. Such appeals fell on deaf ears with most of China’s capitalist guests at the time – with the notable exception of Bavarian CSU leader Franz Josef Strauss, who paid a spectacular visit to the PRC in January 1975. In symbolism and substance, it surpassed encounters with any other Western leader since China’s rapprochement with the US of 1971/72. With regard to the CSCE and its Final Act, this 1975 visit contributed to the rejection of the Helsinki results by the CDU/CSU later in the year and constituted China’s only tangible success at the time to mobilize the West against the USSR.2 The following chapter is based on West German, East German, US, and Danish archival sources and contemporary publications on the FRG and Chinese policy. In particular, the transcripts of conversations between Western and Chinese leaders provide major insights into authentic Chinese thinking at the time, as do the meticulous notes taken by the personal assistant who accompanied Franz Josef Strauss during the January 1975 trip. After sketching PRC positions towards the CSCE based on Mao Zedong’s theory of the three global zones, this chapter will continue to highlight Strauss’ criticism of superpower hegemony and his ideas for playing a “Chinese card” against the Soviet Union. It will conclude with his visit to China, Mao’s and Strauss’ warnings of a “Finlandization” of Western Europe, and the subsequent rejection of the Helsinki Accords by the West German conservative parties.

The People’s Republic of China and the ESC/CSCE Chinese positions on a European security conference (ESC) were developed quite consistently over time. They originated in the period of extreme tensions with the USSR from 1969–72, when Beijing criticized Moscow from a Maoist standpoint and appealed to the global Communist movement. Through the years between 1973 and 1975, the PRC aligned with anti-Soviet forces worldwide and reached out to capitalist countries, including groups on the right of the political spectrum in the latter. As the Soviet Union termed it: China eventually abandoned a “class-based” foreign policy. In the context of bloody border clashes with the USSR,3 China hardly noticed the 1969 Warsaw Pact appeal for convening a European security conference. Coincidentally, the latter had been announced right after the massive Soviet military counterstrike on Damansky Island in the Ussuri River on 15 March after two weeks of incessant skirmishes. Apparently this harsh Soviet military response to small-size Chinese provocations had left up to 1,000 Chinese soldiers dead and firmly secured Soviet possession of the small island.4 These military misfortunes pushed Beijing to undertake short-term reviews of its military organization and strategy,5 and eventually led to long-term consequences with regard to its global positioning. At the World Conference of Communist and Workers’ Parties convened to Moscow in June 1969, Leonid Brezhnev repeated a Soviet initiative from the mid-1950s for a “Collective Security System in Asia” (CSSA). This proposal, and especially the World Conference, which was attended by more than 60

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international delegations, were both unquestionably aimed at ostracizing the PRC within the international Communist movement and to isolate the country from its Asian neighbors. Despite the formal offer to Beijing to join in an Asian security system, the Soviet “collective security” concept was viewed by Beijing as a carbon copy of the European situation with two antagonistic military blocs under the respective leadership of Moscow and Washington. In the particular case of Asia, the PRC also suspected that the Soviets were aiming at encircling and containing China. This context clearly influenced the Chinese position of outright suspicion against the upcoming European security conference, which, after all, had been launched on the initiative of the Soviet Union. Tellingly, Moscow stepped up its proposal for an Asian conference, through statements by Brezhnev and Gromyko and via newspaper articles, during the border conflict year of 1969, the initial CSCE phase in 1972/73, and the period after the Helsinki Final Act in 1975/76. Despite lukewarm support from Asian countries, with only Mongolia clearly coming out in favor of it, the USSR repeatedly floated its Asian security proposal. Apparently Moscow felt encouraged by the fact that for a long time, the CSCE had also been considered to be unrealistic.6 What remained constant, however, was China’s position from 1969 onwards on both initiatives. Speaking for the entire Chinese leadership, PRC leaders told Henry Kissinger in November 1974 that the CSCE “represents the same Soviet tactic as the Asian Collective Security scheme, namely to divide and control the countries of the area.”7 Back in 1969, China had responded to the perceived Soviet threat by adopting modified ideological guidelines for its global policy at the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) IX Party Congress. This new strategy was based on the notion of China being an essential part of the Communist world movement. It aimed at denouncing Soviet “revisionism,” differentiated between its allies, called for a global “anti-imperialist struggle,” and aspired at achieving peaceful coexistence with Western capitalist countries in the long run. PRC Vice Chairman Lin Biao, who delivered the main speech at the IX Party Congress, couched this idea in the phrase of the “four great contradictions in today’s world,” namely between “imperialism” (the US and its allies) and “social-imperialism” (USSR) confronting the “oppressed” nations of the world, between “proletariat and bourgeoisie” in capitalist and “revisionist” countries, and between “imperialist” countries (the US and its allies) and the USSR. Finally Lin Biao emphasized the fourth contradiction, namely that between China and its allies8 versus the Soviet Union, the US, and all of the countries in their respective spheres of influence.9 These positions were at least partially based on class categories and propagated the inevitability of global Socialist revolutions following Maoist models. On the other hand, such theories laid the groundwork for new ways of thinking that would arise once China had scaled down the export of revolution, dropped the class category in assessing external relations, and shifted its geostrategic focus in the years to follow. The IX Party Congress of 1969 preceded Mao Zedong’s later, longer-lasting, and influential geopolitical theory of three

The German CDU/CSU and China 127 worlds, or global zones, with the first consisting of the two hegemonic superpowers, the USSR and the US, the second “intermediate” zone defined as including the developed countries allied with one of those two powers (Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Japan), and the third zone comprising China as a part, if not the leader, of developing countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Because it had switched to promoting the unity of Western Europe and the dissolution of the Soviet realm in Eastern Europe, China demanded the autonomy of the intermediate zone from superpower hegemony.10 The CSCE process constituted the exact opposite of these PRC theories and obviously did not sit well in the Chinese ideological framing of global affairs: in Geneva and Helsinki, the entire intermediate zone of Europe, with the exception of Albania, negotiated with the two superpowers to work out joint frameworks guaranteeing the antagonistic status quo and to reach agreements based on mutual consent. Besides ideological concerns, Beijing was obviously afraid from the beginning of the European security consultations that political and military détente in Europe might free the Soviet Union’s hands for military action in the Far East. Prime Minister Zhou Enlai told a French parliamentary delegation in February 1972 that the CSCE was causing great concerns for the PRC: either the Soviets would leave the conference as “victors” and advance to become the “guarantor” of Western European independence or, in the case of military détente between East and West, Soviet troops would be relocated to China’s northern border.11 When this and other instances of Chinese criticism vis-à-vis the CSCE process were tacitly dismissed as self-serving by Western European politicians otherwise extremely eager to extend relations with the PRC, Mao Zedong raised the stakes. He added a twist to his long-standing prediction as to the certainty of global war and China being the main target of a Soviet menace (“the strong polar bear”). In order to persuade the skeptical Western Europeans to become more united and tie the Soviets down militarily, the Chinese chairman had begun since mid-1972 to predict an inevitable war in Europe only. He portrayed that continent as being a much more attractive and more easily attainable trophy for Soviet conquest than China, not the least because of prevalent European “delusions” concerning détente and the CSCE process. Mao contended that attacking on two fronts simultaneously was tantamount to defeat, as the German Emperor Wilhelm II and Adolf Hitler had learned the hard way in World Wars I and II. On the basis of those historical lessons, and with a view to the deployment of military forces at the time, the USSR would therefore only target the West, while making empty noises in the East.12 On 20 October 1974, Mao told Danish Prime Minister Poul Hartling that he did not “believe in the value of permanent peace.” He continued: “I have often warned my friends from Europe and told them to be prepared. If they don’t prepare they will suffer later on.” When Hartling interceded with the remark that war in an age of destructive weapons would be a “disaster” and lead to “global catastrophe,” Mao responded: “There will always be catastrophes. War will not be that terrible.”13 This conversation with the Danish leader, who had

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unexpectedly been flown out of Beijing to meet Mao during his official visit to the PRC in October 1974, added further confirmation to the Chinese judgment that the Europeans were fearful, and therefore weak. US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who had been comprehensively briefed by Hartling14 before his own visit to Beijing in November 1974, could not help but refer to the Dane’s “nerves” when talking to his Chinese counterpart Deng Xiaoping about the frightened European politician.15 Over time, however, the US visitor elicited even deeper skepticism in Beijing than the “soft” Europeans. Such was the outcome of Deng’s ongoing close relations with the Soviet Union pertaining to the CSCE and other examples of “collusion,” and of Mao’s perception of apparent US “weakness” in Indochina, Europe, and Africa. Since 1974, Kissinger’s constant critical and dismissive remarks about the Soviet Union and the CSCE, made to curry favor with Zhou, Deng, and Mao, no longer bolstered his credentials with the Chinese leaders. During his conversation with Kissinger on 21 October 1975, Mao Zedong chided the US secretary of state for being “too busy,” because “when the wind and the rain are coming, the swallows are busy.” Kissinger replied it would take him “several days to understand the full significance of that.”16 Basically, the Chinese party chairman had stated the inevitability of war as a result of flawed US–Soviet diplomacy and the resulting lack of preparedness on the part of the US. One month later, during his meeting with West German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt in November 1975, Mao again referred to the “weakness and disunity” of the Europeans being “scared to death by the prospect of war,” and referred specifically to the Danes in the first place (followed by the Belgians, the Dutch, and the US, with the Germans and the Yugoslavs being “somewhat better in comparison”). Schmidt argued eloquently, while the ailing Mao responded in relaxed, crisp manner and insisted frequently that “he knows” for sure that “there will be war.”17 In public propaganda, China “plagiarized the critical Western comments” on “delusions” made during the CSCE process by various media in Western Europe.18 On the operative level, though, Chinese argumentation was occasionally more sophisticated than if it had only been driven by the theories of the chairman and the fear of Soviet aggression. Western leaders, too, exhibited a higher degree of sophistication privately in their differentiated responses to Chinese exhortations. When confronted with appeals to unite the intermediate zone against the superpowers, Western European leaders mostly ignored the military component of this idea, but welcomed Chinese support for a closer integration of the European Economic Community (EEC). French President Georges Pompidou, the first Western leader after Richard Nixon to be received with full honors in the PRC in September 1973, wrote to FRG Chancellor Willy Brandt that Chinese support for a true European union was “probably not altruistic.” It would, however, constitute a “positive element” working to the advantage of EEC members to establish friendly contacts with China on all levels, whether political, economic, scientific, or cultural.19 Western official guests were hardly deterred by Chinese apocalyptical predictions, but rather thrilled by the

The German CDU/CSU and China 129 prospect of China opening up and offering enormous opportunities for business and other modes of interaction and exchange. From the Chinese perspective, at times the CSCE process was not completely rejected as long as there was scant hope that it might lead the smaller European countries in West and East to align their interests against both superpowers and work towards the dissolution of NATO and Warsaw Pact. This notion was conveyed by Chinese diplomats in the GDR through a mutually approved secret backchannel of information exchange with the East German state security service and government20 in early 1973.21 Doubts were raised, though, whether the Soviet Union would comply with a withdrawal of armed forces, as she would be “distrustful of her allies.” Such assessments changed with the decision to declare the entire ESC process “meaningless” from its beginning.22 By 1974, the PRC had become disillusioned with any prospect for the dissolution of military alliances in Europe. Now it was contended the CSCE would not change anything and had been rendered completely meaningless long before its Final Act. On the other hand, PRC diplomats, coming as they did from a country with highly efficient internal security structures, were curious to learn about the extent of Soviet and Eastern European concessions in humanitarian issues.23 Unlike China, they considered the USSR to be so weak economically that Moscow had to make concessions and seek Western economic assistance at the expense of Soviet sovereignty.24 Privately, and drawing on confidential information that the Chinese envoys in the GDR had received from the PRC Embassy in Bonn, which in turn had been secretly briefed before by the West German government, the diplomats even credited the Soviet Union for its major concessions in accepting a clause on peaceful changes of borders. At that point, they considered the CDU/CSU criticism of the Final Act to be exaggerated.25

Franz Josef Strauss and his China policy Since the late 1960s, Franz Josef Strauss, chairman of the conservative Bavarian government party CSU, had become the only prominent West German politician to argue for rapprochement between the FRG and the PRC as a counterbalance to the Soviet Union and Ostpolitik as conceived by the Social Democratic governments in Bonn. Despite the fact that the party was limited to the state of Bavaria, the CSU carried disproportionate weight and enjoyed a de facto veto power within “the Union” with the much larger CDU, which was established in all other West German states. From 1957 onward, Strauss served as FRG minister of defense in Chancellor Konrad Adenauer’s governments until he was forced to resign in 1962 over his heavy-handedness in the “Spiegel affair,” when he had journalists arrested for allegedly leaking state secrets. He returned to government as finance minister in the “Grand Coalition” between CDU/CSU and SPD under Chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger from 1966 to 1969 and accomplished an acknowledged political comeback.26 From the 1950s through the 1970s, Strauss figured first as a vocal, and later a more quiet, proponent of an independent German nuclear deterrent in a

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European context, thus exhibiting an idiosyncratic breed of German nationalism. Inspired by certain features of “Gaullism” rather than by the French general himself, with a few others in CDU and CSU he advocated in the 1960s a unified Western Europe as a counterweight to the US and a reduction of transatlantic ties with Washington. Drumming up the bogeyman of the “fateful” Yalta conference, Strauss railed against superpower collusion and hegemony in a European condominium.27 Unlike the French Gaullists, Strauss was also stridently antiSoviet and harbored almost apocalyptical notions of the “red menace” emanating from Moscow and “the East.” In other words, Strauss figured as the ideal representative of the “intermediate global zone” in Europe even before Mao Zedong believed to have discovered it. The Bavarian leader considered himself a taboo-breaker when he published in 1968 his widely successful book Herausforderung und Antwort: Ein Programm für Europa [Challenge and Response: A Program for Europe].28 It was to be translated into many languages and tied in with Jean Jacques ServanSchreiber’s preceding bestseller Le Défi Américain [The American Challenge].29 Passages Strauss devoted to the PRC became notorious especially in Soviet eyes, and Moscow’s propaganda “unmasked” the German politician with respective quotes until well into 1980. As early as in October 1964, Strauss had already suggested in the West German parliament that the West should explore how to harvest gains from the Sino-Soviet rift. In his 1968 book, he became even more explicit: Certainly Beijing won’t become our ally for that matter. However, pragmatic thinking should enable us to realize that Red China has interest in a potent force at the western border of the Soviet Empire in Central Europe, while we are interested to have the Soviets further tied down at their Asian eastern border. Therefore, partially and temporarily, our interests and those of the Chinese are converging.30 Such and other provocative lines from Strauss’ chapter Yellow Peril?, like the call for a quadrangular geopolitical balance Moscow–Beijing–Washington– Europe, or his indication not to mind Chinese expansion towards Vladivostok and Central Asia,31 were immediately condemned by Moscow in a detailed polemical newspaper review: “It really looks like Mr. Strauss, the extreme German militarist, is presenting himself as a semi-Maoist. By reading certain passages of his book, one gets the impression that he has more sympathy for Beijing than for Washington.”32 Challenge and Response did not go unnoticed in China either and placed Strauss on Beijing’s radar screen. A low-key CSU delegation visiting the PRC in April 1974 returned with the message for Strauss that in the highest Chinese government levels, his publications and statements were considered to be the “only sober and realistic assessment of the European situation.”33 When a few months later it was announced that the PRC would invite the CSU chairman, Strauss publicly contended that passages from his 1968 book had raised

The German CDU/CSU and China 131 Beijing’s curiosity to have him come to China for political discussions. Inadvertently confirming this impression, the Soviet Press Agency APN immediately drew a direct line from the book to Mao’s formula of the “two superpowers” and his theory of three global zones: The astonishing similarity between many foreign policy concepts of Strauss and the Maoists have been noticed already for some time. For instance, the notorious formula of the “two superpowers,” which today figures as the core belief of China’s entire policy, seems to have been borrowed by the Maoists from none else than Strauss. On this thesis . . . the Bavarian politician based his book of 1968, published before Mao began to propagate his “superpowers” theory.34 Still there was some way to go from Strauss’ book and global strategies before his meetings in China eventually materialized in January 1975. Though the Bavarian politician courted the PRC through various channels (“five times,” as Ambassador Wang Shu noted), he had to wait for the formal establishment of diplomatic relations between the FRG and the PRC and the green light from Mao and Zhou to the Chinese Embassy in Bonn.35 While China could not break out from her international isolation and did not return to active foreign diplomacy outside Asia before 1971, West German Ostpolitik and negotiations with the Soviet Union and her Eastern European neighbors had been in full swing since late 1969. Strauss used the occasion of the announcement of the upcoming Nixon visit to China in July 1971 to attack the SPD/FDP government in Bonn for “shortsightedness” in having preferred to deal with the USSR at the expense of the PRC. New perspectives for Europe now demanded a swift rapprochement with Beijing as well. Chancellor Willy Brandt warned sarcastically against listening to the advice of certain “Neo-Chinese” in Germany who thought that “Berlin could be saved in Beijing.”36 In general, however, the government in Bonn was favorably disposed towards establishing diplomatic relations with Beijing, but it was definitely not interested in doing so before the ratification of the Eastern Treaties with Moscow and Warsaw. When that condition was met in May 1972, Brandt consented to have a CDU envoy, namely former West German Foreign Minister Gerhard Schröder, in his capacity as chairman of the Bundestag Foreign Relations Committee, accept a March 1972 invitation to Beijing for political talks. As the first West German politician ever, Schröder traveled to the PRC in July and prepared in close cooperation with the Foreign Ministry in Bonn the establishment of diplomatic relations.37 They received the official seal of approval during a follow-up visit by Foreign Minister Walter Scheel to Beijing in October 1972. Schröder’s visit had occurred during the 1972 federal election campaign in West Germany, and upon his return from Beijing he could not help but to indicate China would prefer a CDU/CSU government in Bonn to the current one. This was indeed the case.38 However, in November 1972, the Brandt

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government sailed to a convincing electoral victory. Beijing had to realize that Bonn still attributed priority to FRG–USSR relations over an FRG–PRC relationship. PRC diplomacy innocently hoped to exert pressure on the Bonn government and make it more favorably inclined toward China by reaching out to its domestic opponents. In July 1974, Beijing finally issued a semi-official invitation to both CDU Chairman Helmut Kohl and CSU Chairman Strauss through the Chinese Institute for International Affairs. Clear preference was given to Strauss, whose January 1975 visit would feature a much more attentive and exquisite program than that of his domestic party rival Kohl in September 1974.39 “Strauss as a prominent rightist, and also as a proponent of European unity, was our first choice,”40 and “we really liked Strauss,”41 former Chinese diplomats today confirm Beijing’s mindset at the time. It also had further helped Strauss’ cause that in May 1973, he had publicly demanded on various occasions that the interests of the PRC, if not the country itself, be included in the CSCE negotiation process. Eight Chinese journalists visiting Munich, among them the chief editor of party newspaper Renmin Ribao, were obviously delighted to hear from Strauss how it would be wrong to sign agreements excluding China, to pretend Moscow and Washington were the world’s only centers, and how the question of European security would be inconclusively addressed without the PRC represented.42

Strauss’ 1975 visit to the PRC During the second half of 1974, Strauss’ personal assistant Friedrich Voss negotiated details for the planned January 1975 visit with Chinese diplomats. He did not receive, however, any specific commitments as to whom the CSU leader would meet in Beijing.43 Simultaneously, SPD Chancellor Schmidt was quite anxious about his political rival’s upcoming visit. The Bonn chancellery seriously pondered intervening with Beijing to ensure that Strauss would see neither Mao Zedong nor Zhou Enlai and would only be received with minor protocol. It also became very eager to arrange a visit for Schmidt himself later in 1975.44 As far as Strauss himself was concerned, in order to prepare for his talks, he accepted an invitation from Zaire’s President Mobuto Sese Seko in early January and flew to Kinshasa to hear the African leader’s assessments of Mao and Zhou, whom he had met during two recent visits to China.45 Soviet propaganda reacted furiously to the announcement of the Strauss visit and accompanied it throughout with a barrage of public attacks.46 Strauss, “the chieftain of West German right-wing extremists,” and Beijing were accused of “adventurism and revanchism” as well as advocating a revision of World War II results and the annexation of the GDR by the FRG.47 East German propaganda seconded and joined in the criticism, calling Beijing “the Mecca of the West European reaction and enemies of détente.”48 The CSU chairman took some pride from this attention given to him by Moscow, and quipped publicly that he was “not going to ask Mr. Brezhnev for permission to travel abroad.” On 13 January 1975, Strauss arrived in Beijing for what turned out to become

The German CDU/CSU and China 133 a celebrity 12-day visit to China. This despite the fact that he did not hold any government position in his home country, and although a National People’s Congress was held in Beijing during those days in total secrecy.49 During the first three days of his stay, Strauss talked twice with Foreign Minister Qiao Guanhua, as well as to Deputy Chief of General Staff Li Ta and Deputy Prime Minister Deng Xiaoping. He must have left such a favorable impression with his conversation partners that, during a tourist excursion to the Great Wall and the Ming Tombs, his hosts whisked him away and flew him to a Wuhan countryside residence where he became the first West German politician ever to meet Chairman Mao. Back to Beijing, the ailing Zhou Enlai endeavored to welcome Strauss to his palatial hospital for a post-midnight talk. Furthermore, he was shown the underground tunnel and shelter system in Beijing, visited the 196th Infantry Division in Tientsin, and attended a sharpshooting exercise with People Militia minors in a Beijing school. Finally he traveled to major cities in the northern and southeastern provinces of the PRC (Shenyang, Anshan, Nanjing, Shanghai, Guangzhou). The Chinese side did not take up his suggestion to travel to the Chinese–Soviet border along the Ussuri River.50 Thanks to Strauss’ assistant Friedrich Voss, the political conversations between “Mister Chairman” Strauss (as Mao Zedong welcomed him) and his high-ranking Chinese counterparts are amply documented. As Zhou Enlai noted in his conversation with the Bavarian politician, it had been Western Europe [that taught] us bluntly to commit ourselves to Communism. Now today we are talking to you, as an anti-Communist expert, about the unification of Western Europe. This historical development is very interesting. When Mao met Nixon three years ago, he told him the same. Just because you are an anti-Communist expert we wanted to meet with you.51 Strauss had the most detailed political talks with Foreign Minister Qiao Guanhua, and it was here that the CSCE was prominently discussed. The CSU chairman portrayed negotiations in Geneva and Helsinki as a continuation of wrongheaded Ostpolitik pursued by SPD/FDP governments in Bonn. People like him, Strauss asserted, who refused to recognize “Soviet hegemony over all of Asia and Europe,” were denounced as “enemies of peace.” The European security conference would be a “trap” that was not identifiable as such at first glance. But the CSCE would legitimize Soviet rule over Eastern Europe and provide the USSR with capital and technology to expand its naval capabilities on a global scale: “The bear learns how to swim.” Qiao Guanhua seconded that Mao Zedong and the CCP’s Central Committee had argued and proven to an international audience how the CSCE was in fact an “insecurity conference.” Unfortunately, though, the Europeans had not heeded this advice. The conference would only create a “superficial impression of security, détente, and peace,” Qiao continued. Moreover, it would “delude” many people. Strauss concurred absolutely and expressed concern “that the coming years will vindicate the two of us.” The USSR would still aim at an “all-European union conference”

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resulting in a Europe “entirely controlled by the Soviets.” Qiao commented that “this is like a union between bear and sheep.” Strauss added that “wolf and lambs would be together. The lambs are well fed and will be the wolf’s easy prey.”52 PRC Deputy Chief of General Staff Li Ta was completely convinced during his meeting with Strauss that “war is just a matter of time.” The “so-called security conference in Europe and the Soviet-propagated security conference in Asia are just delusional plots.” If Europe committed itself to a “strong defense not permitting the Soviet to move troops to the Chinese border, and at the same time a strong People’s Republic of China exists in the East, the Soviet Union cannot play games in the West,” Strauss summarized the talk. Both leaders agreed that, if at all, the USSR would attack in the West (like in Yugoslavia or Romania).53 Ultimately, during his visit with Mao Zedong, Strauss discussed similar themes and called the CSCE “deceptive” and a “very dangerous trap. If the US and others sign an agreement, the Soviet can move at will in the Balkans.” Mao replied: “You mean Finlandization for Western Europe.” Strauss immediately recognized this favorite term of his. He described Finland to Mao as a country being “completely immobilized and under control. No Finnish government can do a step without permission from Moscow.”54

“Finlandization” and the CDU/CSU rejection of the Helsinki Final Act If there was one phrase encapsulating the domestic fallout in West Germany of Strauss’ visit to China, then it was the warning of Finlandization. It is very likely that Mao used this phrase because he had been briefed accordingly for his meeting. Obviously, it was a huge vindication for the Bavarian politician to hear Mao himself speak of Finlandization. Thus Strauss himself fostered this reception when he reported Mao’s quote to FRG Ambassador Rolf Pauls in Beijing as the quintessence of his meeting. He even told Pauls that this demonstrated how familiar Mao had been with Strauss’ ideas.55 The ambassador was a supporter of Bonn’s Ostpolitik and had quibbled with Strauss repeatedly during the January visit, culminating in a public argument during a dinner Qiao Guanhua gave for Strauss and his delegation.56 Pauls, like other West German adherents of Ostpolitik, found the warning of Western Europe becoming the Soviet Union’s “Greater Finland” excessive. Probably for that reason, he featured it prominently in his telegraphic report to the FRG Foreign Office in Bonn. The latter, in his capacity as a frequent target for Strauss’ own swipes, soon leaked the telegram to the liberal press to embarrass the Bavarian politician. The Hamburg news magazine Stern published on 30 January 1975 a story about the China visit ridiculing the “Finlandization” passage. On the cover, Strauss was featured in Mao uniform under the headline: “Is Strauss now Going to Become the Great Chairman in Bonn?”57 The CSU chairman was angry over the leak and proud at the same time. He felt vindicated and called his visit “proof” that the world was being transformed

The German CDU/CSU and China 135 from a “system of bipolarity to one of multipolarity.”58 On many occasions in the months and years to come, e.g., during a foreign policy speech in March 1977, Strauss put his own spin on Mao’s “telling summary” of their historic January 1975 meeting: “Mr. Strauss, please warn the Europeans over Finlandization. Europe must not become Greater Finland.” But this warning was not heard, Strauss continued: Soviet expansion in Africa and the world’s oceans was still being ignored because of “media indolence” and “degenerating apathy.” During the CSCE in Helsinki, everybody had “hugged each other,” drowsy from “Crimean champagne.”59 The repercussions of the spectacular January 1975 visit on FRG party politics were felt immediately. The press speculated intensively how Strauss could now become CDU/CSU chancellor candidate and figure as Helmut Schmidt’s conservative challenger in the upcoming 1976 federal elections. The incumbent chancellor in Bonn considered the high profile of the Strauss visit, especially the Mao meeting, as a Chinese snub. Schmidt dispatched a retired diplomatic friend, who took issue with the Chinese special treatment and apparent preference for Schmidt’s Bavarian political opponent, to the PRC Embassy in Bonn.60 The embassy staff showed embarrassment during this private talk, but it was obvious that the Chinese leadership would have really welcomed Strauss as the leader of the next FRG government. During their conversation in Beijing, Zhou Enlai had referred to German newspapers indicating Strauss could become the next FRG chancellor. Strauss responded he might become “foreign minister or finance minister, if not federal chancellor.”61 Indeed, his China trip had temporarily bolstered his credentials for the nomination as the CDU/CSU chancellor candidate. His assistant Voss noted in his diary right after the meeting with Mao how the “smear” of Strauss not being a “conversation partner for Communists” was now unsustainable. Referring to the Bavarian’s liberal inner-party rivals, Voss continued: “I really would have liked to see the faces of Helmut Kohl, Richard von Weizsäcker, Walter Leisler Kiep, and their friends when they heard the news of Franz Josef Strauss having a meeting with Mao.”62 Still, the CDU/CSU chancellor candidate and, given the national poll figures at the time, the likely next FRG chancellor would not be nominated in China. Inner-party correlations eventually tilted in favor of CDU Chairman Helmut Kohl, though Strauss made a very strong showing and remained a powerful number two on almost equal footing with Kohl. Buoyed by his Chinese reception as a world statesman, Strauss at least won the inner-party argument to nail down the CDU’s and CSU’s rejectionist course vis-àvis the CSCE in July 1975, with a vote against the Helsinki Final Act.63 As the Bavarians had threatened to vote against the accords in any case, the CDU had only the option to fall in line, or to leave the unfavorable impression of a split in the opposition camp. Like during the divisive internal debate on how to vote on the Eastern Treaties in May 1972, the conservative opposition remained on the sidelines by taking a stance against the SPD/FDP government and West Germany’s allies alike. The Helsinki accords of 1975 were seen as the final stage of a fateful journey that had begun with Willy Brandt’s Ostpolitik back in 1969.

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Whereas in May 1972, divisions had become public when some CDU/CSU deputies rejected the Eastern Treaties, a few supported them, and the majority abstained, in July 1975 all of those present in parliament voted against the Helsinki Final Act. Liberal CDU foreign-policy spokesman Walther Leisler Kiep attempted in vain to mitigate the CSCE rejection. During the parliamentary debate on 25 July 1975, he was placed by his party on reserve speaker list only. He left after Franz Josef Strauss had delivered the final opposition speech denouncing CSCE “delusions,” evoking the A.D. 451 Battle of the Catalaunian Fields in France that marked the furthest point of Attila the Hun’s move westward.64 In general, opposition deputies criticized the decoupling of the CSCE process from the stalling MBFR negotiations in Vienna and “too many concessions” to the Soviet Union, without having gained anything in return that Moscow had not already been committed to.65 CDU Chairman and chancellor candidate Helmut Kohl avoided a speech on the floor and voted along Strauss’ line. Before long, once the CDU/CSU had seen the fruits that the CSCE process was bringing forth in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, the party came to regret its July 1975 vote. Almost 30 years later, Helmut Kohl admitted but one “foreign-policy mistake” during his early political career, namely his party’s “outright” rejection of the Helsinki Final Act on 25 July 1975.66 Franz Josef Strauss died of a sudden stroke in October 1988. In his memoirs, posthumously published in 1989, he was still on record as having warned Western Europe, in accordance with China, of Finlandization when signing up to “delusions” like the Helsinki Final Act.67

Conclusion The signing of the CSCE accords by the United States, Canada, and every European government except that of Albania further darkened the world view of ailing Mao Zedong. The Chinese leader staunchly believed in the inevitable outbreak of a new world war in Europe through Soviet aggression against an intimidated and divided West. Chinese diplomats in the GDR dismissed the Final Act as a “worthless piece of paper” that did not address the real tensions in Europe. They predicted that Soviet hegemonic tendencies would increase the likelihood of another conflict period in Europe, in particular in places like Yugoslavia, Portugal, Italy, Spain, West Berlin, and Finland (after President Urho Kekkonen’s death).68 At the time, the German opposition parties CDU and CSU were the only significant major political force in the West to reject the Helsinki Accords. The results of the CSCE, according to the two parties, were a major victory for the Soviet Union, a Western self-delusion, and the end of the journey that had begun with the FRG’s Ostpolitik in 1969. CSU Chairman Franz Josef Strauss had drawn political inspiration for his foreign-policy thinking from the Chinese challenge to the Soviet Union. He pleaded in vain for the integration of China into Western European strategies to create a multi-polar international system balanc-

The German CDU/CSU and China 137 ing both the USSR and the US. Obvious similarities and coincidences of such ideas with Mao Zedong’s strategic thinking created a mutual attraction, culminating in Strauss’ high-profile visit to the PRC in January 1975. As intended by Beijing, the prominent treatment of the Bavarian politician bolstered his standing within the FRG opposition and fostered its unanimous rejection of the Helsinki Final Act in July 1975 as a vote against the prospect of “Greater Finland.” PRC leaders, following Mao’s apocalyptic determinism, went further and predicted a certain war in Europe. The Chinese world view at the time, imperatively imposed by Mao Zedong, reflected a severe lack of perception and an international diplomacy deeply engrained in Sino-centrism. One important factor might, however, help to explain China’s thinking. Various public Soviet proposals for a system of “collective security” in Asia (CSSA) since 1969 had contributed significantly to Beijing’s aversions against the European security conference project. Maoist China may have been prone to peculiar world views, but it correctly interpreted the Soviet CSSA proposal as a “scheme.” Europeans and Americans wondered about Beijing’s dire perspectives on the CSCE, but they neglected to take into account the importance of CSSA for China’s anxieties. Finally, even as China fell out of touch geo-strategically with the US and Western Europe during Mao’s last years between 1974 and 1976, it had made a sincere diplomatic opening to the West after 1972. This resulted in economic and cultural ties that proved to become highly relevant to Chinese reforms later. Not least in his contacts with Western leaders in 1974 and 1975, then-vice premier Deng Xiaoping was exposed to ideas of economic reform, foreign investment, and business deals he followed up from 1978 – with many of the same people he had met during Mao’s lifetime, Franz Josef Strauss very prominently among them.

Notes 1 Deutscher Bundestag, 7. Wahlperiode, Drucksache 7/3885 [German Parliament, 7th Electoral Term, Document 7/3885], 25 July 1975, “Motion Draft by Caucus CDU/CSU Concerning an Official Statement by the Federal Government” (translation from German by the author). 2 This chapter does not consider the only other rejectionist force in Europe concerning the CSCE process: the Socialist Republic of Albania refused from the very beginning to participate in any meetings and negotiations, initially emulating Chinese positions of leftist radicalism. After 1972, however, Albania became increasingly isolated with its aggressive equidistance from “American Imperialism, Soviet Revisionism, and West German Imperialism.” 3 Yang Kuisong, “The Sino-Soviet Border Clash of 1969: From Zhenbao Island to Sino-American Rapprochement,” Cold War History 1, no. 1 (2000), pp. 21–52; William Burr, “Sino-American Relations, 1969: The Sino-Soviet Border War and Steps Towards Rapprochement,” Cold War History 1, no. 3 (2001), pp. 73–112; Lyle J. Goldstein, “Return to Zhenbao Island: Who Started Shooting and Why it Matters,” China Quarterly no. 168 (2001), pp. 985–97. See also “New Evidence on Sino-Soviet Relations” CWIHP Bulletin 11 (Winter 1998), pp. 155–75. 4 Interview with former GDR General Hans-Werner Deim, Washington, D.C., 28 May

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2005. The number of casualties is based on 2001 publications by the Institute for Military History of the Russian Federation’s Ministry of Defense on Soviet involvement in post-1945 military conflicts. See Chen Jian, Mao’s China and the Cold War (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001). Eberhard Schneider, Nach der KSZE das KSA? Kollektives Sicherheitssystem als Grundmuster sowjetischer Asienpolitik [After CSCE a CSSA? A Collective Security System as Basic Pattern of Soviet Asia Policy] (Cologne: Bundesinstitut für Ostwissenschaftliche und Internationale Studien, 1976). See also: GDR Embassy to the PRC, “On the Mao Zedong Group’s Reaction to the World Conference of Communist and Workers’ Parties in Moscow,” 9 July 1969, Political Archive of the German Foreign Office (PAAA), Ministry for Foreign Affairs of the GDR (MfAA), C 576/77. Summary of November 1974 Talks, Ford Presidential Library (FPL), National Security Adviser, Kissinger Reports, China Memoranda of Conversations and Reports, Box 2, pp. 1f. On 12 December 1974, the official CCP paper Renmin Ribao came out sharply against both the Asian and European security conferences: Postscriptum to Beijing’s Position on the CSCE, 12 December 1974, PAAA, MfAA, C 599/77. According to definitions at the IX Party Congress, China considered these countries as her allies: Albania as the only other Socialist country besides the PRC, Romania, North Korea, and North Vietnam as intermediate Socialist, “non-revisionist” countries. Soviet Material for Third Interkit Meeting in Warsaw (10–13 March 1970), “The Chinese Problem after the IX Party Congress of the CCP,” Foundation Party and Mass Organizations in the German Federal Archive (SAPMO), DY 30, IV A 2/20/1151, p. 64. On tracing precursors and modifications of Chinese “intermediate zone” theories since 1964, if not since 1946: Ernst A. Findorff, “Die VR China und die Europäische Gemeinschaft” [The PRC and the European Community], in China: Deutschlands Partner? [China: Germany’s Partner?], Joachim Schickel (ed.) (Frankfurt: S. Fischer, 1974), pp. 40–6. Secret Soviet “Information” for GDR leader Erich Honecker (on Chinese European policy), 9 July 1973, DY 30, J IV 2/202/542. The French parliamentary delegation had spent three weeks in North Vietnam and China in January/February 1972 shortly before Richard Nixon’s visit to the PRC. Wang Shu, Mao’s Mann in Bonn: Vom Journalisten zum Botschafter [Mao’s Man in Bonn: From Journalist to Ambassador] (Frankfurt am Main: Societätsverlag, 2002), pp. 120f. Poul Hartling, Godt vejr og darligt vejr: Erindringer 1971–1978 [Good Weather and Bad Weather: Memoirs 1971–1978], vol. 3 (Copenhagen: Gyldendal, 1983), p. 114. The author is very grateful to Svend Aage Christensen of the Danish Institute for International Studies (DIIS) in Copenhagen for providing this reference and its translation. See also “Mao, Hartling og den store isbjorn,” Morgenavisen Jyllands Posten, 13 November 2005, p. 12. Hartling wrote to Kissinger on 6 November 1974 and the latter responded on 14 January 1975. Rigsarkivet, Copenhagen, Private personarkiver, Poul Hartling. Statsminister, FN-hojkommissaer [Danish National Archives Copenhagen, Private Personal Archives, Poul Hartling, Prime Minister, UN High Commissioner]. Arkiv Nr. 8,134, Box 44. Visit to China. 18–25 October 1974. The author is again very grateful to Svend Aage Christensen for providing this reference. Memoranda of Conversations between Deng and Kissinger on 27 and 28 November 1974, FPL, National Security Adviser, Kissinger Reports, China Memoranda of Conversations and Reports, Box 2. Memorandum of Conversation (MemCon) between Mao and Kissinger on 21 October 1975, ibid.

The German CDU/CSU and China 139 17 MemCon between the Federal Chancellor and Chairman Mao Zedong in Beijing on 30 October 1975, Friedrich Ebert Foundation, Archive of Social Democracy (FES, AdsD), Helmut-Schmidt-Archiv (HSA), Bundeskanzler, Auswärtige Beziehungen, Box 6,660. 18 GDR Embassy Beijing, “On the PRC’s Reaction to the Helsinki Conference,” 20 July 1973, PAAA, MfAA, C 582/77. 19 Georges Pompidou to Willy Brandt, 3 October 1973. FES, AdsD, Willy-BrandtArchiv (WBA), Bundeskanzler, Bundesregierung, Folder 51. 20 Interview with Liu Qibao, former Chinese diplomat to the GDR, Beijing, 24 March 2004. His account is clearly confirmed by available GDR Stasi (secret service) files in Berlin. 21 “On Phenomena of Maoist Undermining and Diversion Activities in the GDR (Period of 1 December 1972 through 9 February 1973),” 13 February 1973. Federal Commissioner for Stasi Records (BStU), Central Archive (ZA), Main Directorate (HA) XX/2, 11055, p. 15. 22 “On Phenomena of Maoist Undermining and Diversion Activities in the GDR (Period of 8 October 1972 through 1 December 1972),” 5 December 1972, BStU, ZA, HA XX/2, 11055, p. 112. 23 “Information on Comments by Diplomats of the PRC Embassy to the GDR on some Current Political Events and on the Current Situation in the PRC,” 12 November 1974, BStU, ZA, HA XX/2, 3,887, p. 27f. 24 “Comments by Diplomat XX of the PRC Embassy to the GDR on some Current Political Events,” 18 December 1974, BStU, ZA, HA XX/2, 10243, p. 4. 25 “Comments by Diplomats of the PRC Embassy to the GDR on some Current Political Events,” 14 July 1975, BStU, ZA, HA XX/2, 10244, p. 158. 26 David Hotham, “The Return of Franz Josef Strauss,” New York Times, 23 March 1969. 27 Ronald J. Granieri, The Ambivalent Alliance: Konrad Adenauer, the CDU/CSU and the West, 1949–1966 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2003). 28 Franz Josef Strauss, Herausforderung und Antwort: Ein Programm für Europa [Challenge and Response: A Programme for Europe] (Stuttgart: Seewald, 1968). This book was in part based on an earlier volume first published in English: Franz Josef Strauss, The Grand Design: A European Solution to German Reunification (New York: Praeger, 1966). 29 Jean Jacques Servan-Schreiber, Le Défi Américain (Paris: Denoël, 1967). ServanSchreiber wrote the preface for all of Strauss’ publications, Strauss contributed the foreword to the French author’s German version. 30 Strauss, Herausforderung und Antwort, pp. 111f. (translation from German by the author). 31 Ibid., pp. 97–112, 125f. 32 Article by Soviet Press Agency (APN) published in Literaturnaya Gazeta, 20 March 1969. Hanns-Seidel-Stiftung, Archiv für Christlich-Soziale Politik (HSS, ACSP), Franz Josef Strauss Archive (FJSA), Newspaper Collection, China I. 33 Strauss speech at CDU/CSU Conference on “Intra-German Policy and Ostpolitik,” 4 May 1974, HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Collection Kray, CSU State Office, Strauss Speeches, 74/8. 34 Frankfurter Rundschau, 30 July 1974 (APN article by Yuri Agranov), HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Newspaper Collection, China I. Obviously this was a propagandistic shot from Moscow not based on evidence, but it would be indeed illuminating to see from Chinese material what, if any, influence Strauss might have had on Maoist foreign policy theory. 35 Wang Shu, Mao’s Mann, p. 167. 36 “Brandt Calls Strauss ‘Neo-Chinese,’ ” Schwarzwälder Bote, 24 July 1971 (AP/DPA wire report), HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Collection Kray, CSU State Office, China I. The

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“Neo-Chinese” quip alluded to Strauss’ former support of the Republic of China/Taiwan, which the Bavarian politician had visited in 1964 despite the absence of diplomatic relations between Bonn and Taipei. Wang Shu, Mao’s Mann, pp. 105–12. Ibid., p. 142; Interview with Liu Qibao, former Chinese diplomat to the GDR, Beijing, 24 March 2004. Wang Shu, Mao’s Mann, pp. 158–60. Ibid., p. 143. Interview with Liu Qibao, former Chinese diplomat to the GDR, Beijing, 24 March 2004. CSU Press Information, 2 May 1973, HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Collection Kray, CSU State Office, China I; Abendzeitung (Munich), 3 May 1973, HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Collection Kray, CSU State Office, Strauss Speeches, 73/1. Whereas the CSU Press Information only stated that the CSCE process “must consider the PRC,” German media reported correctly that Strauss had advocated China’s actual participation in the upcoming Helsinki negotiations. Friedrich Voss, Den Kanzler im Visier: Zwanzig Jahre mit Franz Josef Strauss [Eyes on the Chancellery: Twenty Years with Franz Josef Strauss] (Mainz/Munich: v.Hase & Koehler, 1999), pp. 83f. Federal Chancellery, II/1 to Director Chancellery, RE: Chancellor’s Visit to China, “Conversation with Ambassador Wang Shu,” 18 November 1974, FES, AdsD, HSA, Box 6,660. Voss, Kanzler im Visier, p. 108. Subsequently, during his own meetings with Mao and Zhou, Strauss delivered personal greetings from Mobutu. Soviet criticism was not limited to Strauss, but extended to the entire spectrum of FRG–PRC relations by referring to a traditional “anti-Soviet axis Bonn–Beijing,” thereby alluding to the former Fascist “axis Berlin–Tokyo.” See A. I. Stepanov, FRG i Kitaj [West Germany and China] (Moscow: Mezdunarodnye Otnosenija, 1974); FES, AdsD, HSA, Box 6,660. “Soulmates,” report by Soviet news agency TASS, 6 January 1975; Radio Moscow, 11 and 12 January 1975, HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Collection Kray, CSU State Office, China I. “E. German Score Strauss in Peking,” New York Times, 18 January 1975, p. A8. Even Strauss himself did not detect anything unusual, although his political meetings with Qiao Guanhua, Li Ta, and Deng Xiaoping were held in the same building where the Congress was in session. Voss, Kanzler im Visier, pp. 88–105; Wang Shu, Mao’s Mann, pp. 167–9; Foreign Office to Chancellery, Telegrams FRG Embassy Beijing to Bonn, #17 of 16 January 1975 and #21 of 17 January 1975, FES, AdsD, HSA, Box 6,660; Franz Josef Strauss, Die Erinnerungen [Memoirs] (Berlin: Siedler, 1989), pp. 466–9; Wolfgang Horlacher, Mit Strauss in China: Tagebuch einer Reise [In China with Strauss: A Journey’s Diary] (Stuttgart: Seewald, 1975). Voss, Kanzler im Visier, p. 379. Ibid., pp. 354–7. Ibid., pp. 361–8. Ibid., p. 375. Foreign Office to Chancellery, Telegram FRG Embassy Beijing to Bonn, #21 of 17 January 1975, FES, AdsD, HSA, Box 6,660. Strauss, Erinnerungen, p. 468. Stern magazine, 30 January 1975. HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Newspaper Collection, China I. Wang Shu, Mao’s Mann, p. 169. Strauss’ Lecture at “Söhnlein Forum” (sponsored by a major German champagne manufacturer), 18 March 1977, HSS, ACSP, FJSA, Collection Kray, CSU State Office, Strauss Speeches, 77/11.

The German CDU/CSU and China 141 60 Ambassador (ret.) von Walther’s notes on a Conversation with PRC Acting Ambassador Sung Yi Feng, 22 January 1975, FES, AdsD, HSA, Box 6,660. 61 Voss, Kanzler im Visier, p. 383. 62 Ibid., p. 104. 63 On inner-party developments in CDU and CSU: Walther Leisler Kiep, Was bleibt ist grosse Zuversicht. Erfahrungen eines Unabhängigen, Ein politisches Tagebuch [There Remains Great Optimism. Experiences of an Independent: A Political Diary] (Berlin/Wien: Philo, 1999). Kiep was the long-time party treasurer of the CDU and a representative of its “liberal” wing; Christian Hacke, Die Ost- und Deutschlandpolitik der CDU/CSU: Wege und Irrwege der Opposition seit 1969 [CDU/CSU Eastern and Intra-German Policy: The Opposition’s Tracks and Wrong Tracks since 1969] (Cologne: Wissenschaft und Politik, 1975). 64 Ibid., p. 109. 65 Helga Haftendorn, Sicherheit und Entspannung: Zur Außenpolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1955–1982 [Security and Détente: On FRG Foreign Policy, 1955–82] (Baden-Baden: Nomos 1983), pp. 489–91. 66 Helmut Kohl, Erinnerungen [Memoirs] 1930–1982 (München: Droemer, 2004), p. 378. 67 Strauss, Erinnerungen, p. 466. 68 Report by informer “Gerhard Unger” on a conversation with a PRC diplomat in his apartment, tape transcript, 19 September 1975, BStU, ZA, HA XX/2, 10244, p. 107f.

Part IV

Western strategies in the CSCE

8

The EC Nine, the CSCE, and the changing pattern of European security Daniel Möckli

Introduction The CSCE and European unification during the Cold War represented two processes with remarkable, but as yet little-explored similarities. They were both multilateral security projects designed to defuse tension and prevent further conflict in Europe through cooperative, non-military means. In the case of the CSCE, the main goal was to ease East–West hostilities, while the European Community (EC) was primarily about securing peace in Western Europe and strengthening the “free world” against the advancement of Communism. A key issue underlying both processes was the “German question.” In this chapter, I will argue that the interaction between these two processes in the early 1970s was largely responsible for the emergence of two features that became characteristic of the European security system. First, the CSCE became a major catalyst for the rise of the European Community as a foreign-policy actor. Second, and conversely, the EC Nine at the CSCE were a key driving force behind the expanding notion of security that resulted in the recognition of human rights as a principle of international relations and the security of individuals as a complement to the security of states. My findings are based on archival research in France, Britain, and the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG), the three major powers of the European Community in the 1970s. The chapter will begin with some general reflections on the link between détente and European unification. This will be followed by an examination of how the pan-European conference proved instrumental in establishing the nine EC countries as a new collective player in international diplomacy. Both the intra-Western constellation of interests and the nature of the CSCE enabled the EC members to perform very effectively in this first major test of European foreign policy cooperation. In Helsinki and Geneva, the Nine were the actor group with the single biggest impact on the outcome of the negotiations, which fostered international recognition of their foreign-policy ambitions and led them to realize the feasibility as well as the potential of political cooperation. The CSCE became the one major success story in this pioneer period of European diplomacy, providing the Nine with the kind of boost necessary to continue their struggle toward a European foreign policy at a time when other attempts to act collectively turned out to be less effective.

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Reversing the perspective, I will subsequently analyze the impact of the Nine on the CSCE. The EC states had already strongly influenced the agenda and procedures of the CSCE at the Multilateral Preparatory Talks (MPT) in Helsinki in the first half of 1973. As the main Western body to confront the Soviet Union during the conference negotiations in Geneva from mid-1973 to mid-1975, they had a large share in giving the CSCE its dynamic dimension, with the Soviet Union subscribing to a conception of détente that referred not only to states, but also to the people, in return for Western recognition of the political status quo in Europe. Neutral and non-EC NATO delegations also pursued the objective of promoting practical improvements for the citizens under Communist rule. But the Nine tabled a large majority of the proposals in question, and it fell to them to serve as the main bulwark against Eastern attempts at watering them down. Their lead role was embedded in a system of close cooperation with other nonEastern participants, however, and was largely non-competitive.

Détente and European unification In the history of European integration, the early 1970s constituted an outstandingly dynamic period. At the summit of The Hague in December 1969, France eventually lifted its veto on British accession to the community, which paved the way for the EC to overcome its previous paralysis and embark on a first round of widening and deepening. In 1970–71, France, the FRG, Italy, and the Benelux states as the original EC Six launched the ambitious projects of Economic and Monetary Union and European Political Cooperation (EPC). On 1 January 1973, Britain, Ireland, and Denmark joined the EC, and at their first summit in Paris in October 1972, the Nine declared their intention of converting all their relationships into a European Union by 1980. This summit became symbolic for a new sense of ambition and self-confidence of the “New Europe,” as the enlarged EC was often called. It marked the starting point for intensive European efforts at becoming a distinct international actor with its own political identity. These efforts were remarkably successful at first, with the Nine speaking with one voice not only at the CSCE, but also in transatlantic relations (the “Year of Europe” debate with the US on reforming the Atlantic Alliance) and in the Middle East. By mid-1974, however, Europe had lost much of its dynamic again. Transatlantic disagreement on the role of Europe within the West and a profound economic downturn that came to shake the international system threw both EPC and the integration process into crisis. Although Europe’s struggle toward a common foreign policy continued, policy successes became rare – the field of the CSCE constituting a notable exception.1 While several factors account for the advancement of European unification between 1969 and 1974, East–West détente was very important. As Ostpolitik, superpower détente, the negotiations on Mutual Balanced Force Reductions (MBFR), and the CSCE all posed potential challenges to Western European security, the Europeans perceived a heightened need of strengthening their unity. Fear of German neutralism and of a superpower condominium (with the US for-

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feiting Western European interests for the sake of stable relations with the Soviet Union) was an essential reason why France admitted Britain into Europe and, accordingly, was closely linked to the relance européenne in the early 1970s.2 In addition, détente also brought about new opportunities for Europe to assert itself. Nuclear parity between the superpowers implied a growing importance of economic power and a multipolarization of the international system, which gave regional units greater maneuverability.3 The CSCE as an opportunity for Europe The particular significance of the CSCE in the overall relationship between détente and European unification was that it represented the only manifestation of East–West rapprochement allowing the EC countries to get involved collectively. The CSCE was Europe’s chance to shape détente, the one opportunity of participating in the negotiations on restructuring the international system. It was here that détente and European integration interacted – with far-reaching consequences for both the emerging pan-European security system and the evolution of European unity. The CSCE did, of course, entail risks to the community that contributed to the decision of the EC countries to forge a common position for this East–West conference. The very similarities between these two processes meant that the CSCE potentially represented an alternative design to the Western European framework and to some extent was competing with it. The Europeans were convinced that the Soviet Union had pressed for a pan-European conference partly with a view to demolishing EC solidarity and slowing down the process of European unification. Moscow was expected to challenge European unity at the CSCE economically as well as politically, by promoting a system of allEuropean trade, and by advocating a new European security system based on a permanent pan-European organ and a binding set of principles of state behavior. Such institutions beyond bloc structures were bound to diminish the relevance of NATO and the EC, giving the Soviet Union a say in the development of Western Europe.4 Yet, even more than such concerns, the EC countries’ determination to speak with one voice on this occasion was due to two opportunities that the CSCE seemed to offer. On the one hand, the Six and later Nine viewed the CSCE as a unique chance to involve the Soviet Union in a dialog about the division and security of Europe. As the Soviet quest for Western recognition of the postwar realities in Europe had to a large extent already been met through Brandt’s Ostpolitik, they believed that the conference could actually be transformed to the advantage of the West. In view of their common cultural and political heritage with Eastern Europe, they were intrigued by the prospect of an all-European forum to formulate jointly standards of behavior and common perspectives for the continent.5 The CSCE’s approach of basing security on principles defined in common declarations and on growing cooperation and interaction was concordant with their own approach in Western Europe. It offered them the chance of

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presenting to the East their model of unity and attempting to shape the notion of security in accordance with their own norms.6 In particular, the EC members came to share a desire to place human rights on the CSCE agenda. From the outset of the integration process, the Europeans had emphasized human rights and principles such as representative democracy, the rule of law, and social justice as core constituents of their unity.7 If they now sought to externalize these values through the CSCE, they advocated a very dynamic conception of détente, which contrasted with how the Soviet Union and the US went about East–West rapprochement (see below). To be sure, some EPC members were initially much more inclined to use the human rights issue to embarrass the Soviet Union than to reformulate the parameters of East–West relations in Europe, which is why it is important not to overstate this point. But by the autumn of 1972, there was consensus among the Nine that a serious attempt should be made to modify the notion of security at the CSCE, with human rights being at the center of attention.8 Naturally, some differences remained among the EC countries – and even within some national governments – as to what exactly the CSCE should and could achieve. France, for instance, was primarily interested in cultural exchanges between East and West. President Georges Pompidou perceived the CSCE as an instrument to weaken the Soviet grip over Eastern Europe by spreading “the virus of liberty” and hollowing out Communist ideology with a “peaceful penetration of ideas,” which, according to his foreign minister Maurice Schumann, might even lead to a “peaceful rollback.”9 In contrast, the FRG as a divided nation was concerned with preventing a Soviet clause on the immutability of borders in Europe and paid particular attention to possibilities of improving the plight of everyday life under Communist regimes. The driving force behind West Germany’s CSCE policy clearly was the Auswärtige Amt, with Chancellor Willy Brandt and Egon Bahr, his architect of Ostpolitik, for a long time being more interested in MBFR and the military dimension of détente.10 As for the British, they were generally more skeptical about the potential of the CSCE, but backed an offensive community policy, if mainly to “squeeze the Russian lemon very hard to demonstrate to public opinion how little juice there is in détente à la russe.”11 Nevertheless, all these EC members shared a desire to bring back a closer relationship between the two parts of Europe, and they were well aware that the chance of wresting concessions from Moscow was much higher if they acted collectively. On the other hand, the CSCE also offered an opportunity for the EC countries to promote their foreign-policy aspirations. EPC became operational in the autumn of 1970, with the EC accession countries joining the original Six in early 1972. Based on the “Davignon Report” of the Six (named after the Belgian political director, Etienne Davignon), EPC was set up as a light and voluntary intergovernmental mechanism outside the community structures, so as to avoid the controversies that had blocked the grand political designs in the 1950s and 1960s. The core idea was to harmonize the national foreign policies in designated issues by interlinking the foreign ministries in a dense web of consulta-

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tions. EPC’s key organ was the Political Committee, manned by the national political directors, who jointly presided over a number of issue-specific working groups (composed of nationally responsible officials) and who prepared the decision-making by the foreign ministers. While the launch of EPC was not directly linked to the prospect of a CSCE, this pan-European conference, together with the Middle East, was selected as its first topic. The CSCE, therefore, became an important early test of political cooperation in practice, which is why the EC countries were eager to make it a success.12

The impact of the CSCE on the Nine Two main factors allowed the community countries to emerge as an effective foreign-policy actor at the CSCE: a constellation of interests within the West conducive to the Nine taking the lead at the conference; and the particular nature of the CSCE, which enabled the Nine to preserve their cohesion throughout the negotiations and ultimately persist against the Soviet Union. Between 1969 and mid-1972, NATO was the undisputed lead institution in the West to prepare for a CSCE. This was in line with the Harmel Report of 1967, which had added the objective of East–West détente to NATO’s traditional purpose of Western defense. Not only had the alliance become engaged in a remarkable diplomatic dialog with the Warsaw Pact on the conditions and specifics of the CSCE, but it also intensively studied possible Western objectives and individual aspects of the conference, functioning as a bazaar for member states to popularize ideas and proposals.13 Yet for a variety of reasons, it was the EPC countries that had taken over the lead by the end of 1972 and throughout the CSCE, as a British official put it, were the motor and sat at the steering wheel of intra-Western consultation and policy formulation.14 French and British opposition to NATO involvement during the negotiations certainly played a role in this. According to Paris and London, a caucus of the alliance at the CSCE would give the Soviets an excuse for imposing bloc discipline on their own allies, which would be detrimental to the European objective of achieving a degree of liberalization in Eastern Europe.15 Also, once it became clear in 1972 that the CSCE and MBFR talks would constitute two different negotiation platforms, the notion of confidence-building measures (CBM) was the only CSCE issue left that belonged to NATO’s core competence. The CSCE’s double change of emphasis, from military to political aspects of security and from issues of security to issues of cooperation, made it exceedingly difficult for NATO to hammer out common Western positions.16 Allies like Greece, Turkey, and Portugal found it difficult to accept certain proposals relating to human rights or freer movement of people and information that were dear to the EC countries. In particular, Greece with its military junta and martial law had been an embarrassment to the alliance since 1967. The Nine as a non-military actor obviously found it easier to act as a community of values. Although NATO did an excellent job in identifying a vast number of policy options for the CSCE and setting up a comprehensive thematic documentation,17

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it often failed to agree on concrete preferences. The Nine, in contrast, had succeeded by the end of 1972 in working out a common report on objectives and tactics for MPT and already disposed of draft texts for vital elements of the conference itself.18 Significantly, their common brief differed not only from some positions held by the authoritarian regimes in NATO, but in several respects also from US policy. Whereas Washington appeared to regard the West’s fundamental objective in the CSCE as being to approach the East with maximal demands for propaganda purposes, the Nine made the case for serious negotiations and aspired to concrete results. Rather than making any East–West cooperation dependent on progress in the freer movement field, the community countries advocated confidential matter-of-fact discussions and a non-provocative approach of holding talks on all issues in parallel rather than bringing up the most sensitive Western demands at the beginning.19 Therefore, they defended a (French-inspired) conference model of a limited preparatory phase followed by a main conference in three stages, with the opening and closing ceremony on political level and a second stage of commission work, where experts and diplomats would discuss every agenda item in depth over an extensive period of time.20 The US model, by contrast, expected most of the substantive discussions to take place in two “exploratory” and “preparatory” phases, with the actual CSCE amounting to little more than a short rubber-stamp conference.21 Taking the lead within the West The fact that the US as the Western hegemon came to accept a lead role of the Nine within the West, despite such substantial differences, was a key condition for the Europeans to be able to develop their own profile at the CSCE. It was the result of a conspicuous lack of interest vis-à-vis the CSCE professed by both President Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger, his security adviser and later secretary of state. With their realist perspective of international relations, Nixon and Kissinger were much more concerned about “hard power” and the military realities on the ground than with the rather lofty, more abstract issues of the CSCE. Concepts such as human rights and freer movement were not part of the US conception of détente, which was about managing superpower relations and getting Soviet support in Vietnam. Washington indeed remained pessimistic about the Socialist bloc’s susceptibility to change. From a US perspective, the CSCE was a potential losing proposition for the West, and in view of the amount of actors and issues involved, it was not to the taste of Nixon and Kissinger, anyway.22 The more superpower détente advanced in 1973/74, the less inclined the US administration was to expose itself at the CSCE and risk any unnecessary collision with Moscow.23 The US delegation at the conference consequently kept a very low profile and was, as the French once put it, happy to “leave to the Europeans the role of the infantry.”24 However, it is important to note that the US delegation was not only passive through much of the CSCE, but usually also acted

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as a loyal partner to the Nine. As it often seemed to lack detailed instructions from Washington, it frequently supported the positions of the community countries.25 Even when Kissinger came to play a more active role in late 1974 in response to the deteriorating superpower relations and bilaterally negotiated some key issues of the CSCE with the Soviet Union, he often defended provisions as developed by the Nine and did not himself reformulate basic Western positions.26 Significantly, the relationship emerging between the Nine and the NATO Fifteen in the CSCE was largely non-competitive and constructive, which was essential to the Nine’s claim of a lead position within the West. A system of close intra-Western cooperation was set up on the ground, with the EC countries regularly presenting to the Fifteen the substantive and tactical propositions they had worked out in EPC. NATO as an organization did not become operational in Helsinki and Geneva, and both the NATO council in Brussels and the 15 delegations on the ground were engaged in much fewer coordination meetings than the corresponding bodies of the Nine.27 Depending on the subject, discussions in the Fifteen could still amount to substantial consultations. Yet, generally, the nonEPC members of NATO appeared to rally willingly to a lead from the Nine, who, as a German official noted not without enthusiasm, found themselves able to “pre-program” effectively the position of their allies.28 To be sure, on more than one occasion, Kissinger became frustrated with the Nine, and he continued to call the conference a “mistake.”29 In the spring of 1973, he accused the EC countries of being “thoroughly unhelpful” to the US, as their ambitious conference policy threatened to obstruct superpower détente. He therefore asked the Nine to let the Russians, as sponsors of the CSCE, “have what they wanted,” to make the conference “short” and “snappy,” and to accept that little progress was possible.30 Urging the Europeans not to transform the conference into a “Wagnerian drama,” he suggested that the CSCE’s outcome ought to be “virtually meaningless,”31 with its third stage taking place by October 1973 so as to give positive impulses to the MBFR negotiations that would commence then.32 In the summer of 1974, Kissinger again shocked the Europeans by asking them to reduce their demands to a few essential points so as to enter into rapid global negotiations with the Soviet Union based on a Western minimum requirement list.33 This proposal caused the more concern in European capitals since Washington had agreed, in a bilateral US–Soviet summit communiqué of June 1974, to a reference to the CSCE that was full of Soviet phraseology and, as the British pointed out, read like a Soviet draft.34 Yet for all his impatience, Kissinger always kept his pressure moderate. Neither did he ever combine pressure with threats such as withdrawal of US troops. Nor did he threaten to “go it alone” in case of European non-compliance. European fears in 1973/74 that Washington might give priority to superpower relations over Atlantic unity and break ranks with Western positions or make premature concessions proved unfounded. From a US perspective, the CSCE was simply not worth a row with the European allies, which is why the Nine in this case could go their way without seriously risking a negative effect on

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transatlantic relations. This contrasted sharply with developments in other EPC domains, such as the Middle East and the “Year of Europe,” where the years 1973/74 witnessed fierce European–American rows, with the US eventually flexing its muscles to bring the Nine in line with its own policies.35 The CSCE’s idiosyncrasies and EPC’s performance As the leading Western grouping at the CSCE, the Nine’s major negotiating counterpart in Helsinki and Geneva was the Soviet Union, which left the Warsaw Pact countries (with the partial exception of Romania) less room for maneuvering than the Europeans had hoped for. That the EC countries were able, throughout the negotiations, to formulate and implement common policies and in the end managed to wrest essential concessions from Moscow was a great success for EPC. Two main features that provided the basis for EPC’s remarkable cohesion and effectiveness were a shared perception of interests as well as a stable political will to act jointly and see through the often tedious and seemingly never-ending negotiations. Both qualities found reflection in how European cooperation worked in the case of the CSCE. First of all, there was an extraordinary degree of consultation among the Nine. The sous-comité and the ad hoc group – EPC’s working groups in charge of Baskets I and III, and Basket II, respectively – were in quasi-permanent consultancy session in Helsinki and Geneva.36 There were additional working bodies for each of the 11 CSCE subcommittees. Together with the meetings of the head of delegations and the extra working groups convoked to deal with specific problems, as many as 15 committees were engaged in coordinating the policies of the Nine.37 The overall number of official EPC gatherings for each six-month EPC presidency was in the hundreds. In the course of these consultations, the Nine worked out numerous collective reports, some of which were progress reports providing an inventory of outstanding issues and defining the respective positions of the Nine,38 while others dealt with specific issues or tactical questions39 or provided basic guidelines for the delegations.40 The process of policy formulation was also characterized by what could be called an EPC prerogative. Although there were substantive differences and occasionally heated disputes among the Nine, each of them was usually willing to give priority to a collective position, either by internal compromise packages or by adapting national preferences.41 A typical element of policy implementation by the Nine was their division of labor. EPC established a chef-de-file system during the conference, where individual delegations, according to their interests, took the lead in specific issues, being in charge of internal reporting and coordination as well as external contacts in the respective matter.42 Such a system of national specialization allowed the Nine to keep up with the multitude of parallel negotiations and to pay sufficient attention to all issues at stake. Cooperation was also marked by a high degree of flexibility, which meant room of maneuver for individual delegations to act outside the framework of the Nine, either by tabling additional proposi-

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tions or by linking up with other like-minded countries.43 This made it possible to keep the Nine together, despite diverging national attitudes vis-à-vis the Soviet Union: while the Dutch and Italians belonged to the hardliners among the Nine, the West Germans sought to avoid confrontation, the Danish were prone to early concessions, and the French, although generally a firm leader within EPC, occasionally tried to negotiate bilaterally with Moscow.44 Furthermore, the Nine proved resilient to external pressure designed to modify their course. Diplomatic campaigns by Moscow to bring the conference to an early close and drop the practical provisions of Basket III and CBM proved just as futile as secret Soviet offers to France and the FRG to hammer out the basic CSCE compromises outside of the multilateral framework.45 Remarkably, the Nine clung tenaciously to their position even at times when they themselves felt a sense of fatigue about the negotiations and were gloomy about the prospect of ever achieving anything substantial at the CSCE.46 This stamina stood in contrast to the increasing impatience of the Soviet Union, whose self-imposed time pressure compelled the East to make important concessions both at MPT and towards the end of the negotiations in Geneva. EPC’s ability to assert itself in a sustainable way at the CSCE had much to do with three idiosyncrasies of this conference. First, the emergence of a European community of interests was facilitated by the fact that the CSCE was a relatively new foreign-policy issue. The vested interests of individual community members had not crystallized before the CSCE became an EPC topic, which implies that the CSCE was more about jointly developing policies than about seeking to harmonize previously established ones.47 Second, the CSCE concept of defining security by debating about norms and working out declarations was not only in agreement with the European approach to foreign policy-making, but also corresponded well with the means the Nine had at their disposal to engage in international diplomacy. Europe’s one-sided emphasis on “soft power” during the Cold War was not so much an ideational preference as a consequence of its inability to develop military capabilities. As the Nine emerged as what François Duchêne in 1973 coined a “civil power,”48 they were bound to be more effective at the CSCE than in a place like the Middle East, where their lack of “hard power” made it exceedingly difficult for them to be seen as a credible actor. Third, the CSCE became a bureaucratic project, with a triple shift of the lead role from the political to the bureaucratic level, from the national bureaucracies to the officials on the ground, and from the formal negotiating fora to small private sessions. What Kissinger criticized as “a case of multilateral diplomacy run amok”49 was EPC’s gain. As the multitude and complexity of issues rendered the CSCE comprehensible only to a select group of experts and diplomats, it became increasingly bottom-up driven and remained largely immune to changes of governments or the attitudes of political decision-makers. The political will and shared perception of interests of the Nine were thus more closely tied to the bureaucracy than in other issues of EPC, which largely accounts for the constancy of both features – as well as for the fact that détente in Europe outlived the much more personalized superpower détente between Richard

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Nixon and Leonid Brezhnev. It is also relevant in this respect that the CSCE provided the Nine with a permanent framework of consultation, an advantage that EPC otherwise lacked, as it had no secretariat and was run by the – rotating – EC presidency.50 “The Mighty Nine”: a new actor in European security The significance of the CSCE for the evolution and psychology of European political cooperation in its infant years cannot be exaggerated. It provided the Nine with a morale boost that reverberated for years, demonstrating to decisionmakers the feasibility, potential, and desirability of EPC and establishing the EC countries as a new actor in European security. It might not have been without an undercurrent of irony that the Soviets came to refer to the EPC countries in Geneva as “the Mighty Nine.”51 But the fact is that during the negotiations, Moscow usually treated the Community countries as a group, approached them as a clearing unit for the position of the West, and addressed only the respective lead country when seeking to bargain with EPC delegations over a specific issue.52 Vociferous Soviet assertions that it was in the hands of the Nine to determine whether anything would ever come out of the CSCE also gave an indication of the acknowledged role of the community countries at the CSCE. So did Soviet accusations that the Nine would constitute a new bloc within NATO, and that their common position would make the negotiations much more complex.53 This kind of external recognition of the important role the Nine played at the CSCE corresponded with positive self-assessments by the EPC members that were preponderant throughout the negotiations. With much satisfaction, and no little vanity, the Nine publicly declared in July 1975 that the CSCE had been marked by their concerted contribution and had become a “shining example” of their cooperation.54 The reassurance gained from the CSCE, namely that effective foreign policy cooperation was possible, was the more valuable when other fields of cooperation stagnated or even collapsed in 1974. The CSCE carried European foreign policy through its first period of crisis, becoming in fact EPC’s biggest policy achievement throughout the Cold War.

The impact of the Nine on the CSCE Just as the CSCE had been important for the formation of EPC, the Nine were also influential in shaping the conference proceedings. Assessing the role of an actor group such as the Nine at the CSCE, with its several thousand formal and informal negotiating sessions, is no easy task. For the purpose of this chapter, it is sufficient to summarize the impact of the EPC countries on the course and the outcome of negotiations in some key issues. Although their share in shaping the Final Act is not quantifiable, the EC countries with their concerted policy exerted the single biggest impact on the negotiations and played a big role in lending the CSCE its dynamic dimension of an expanded conception of security. Given that Eastern and Western objectives at the CSCE were irreconcilable,

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with the Soviets asking the West to acquiesce in their sphere of influence in Eastern Europe while the West sought to penetrate precisely this sphere, the West emerged from the conference in a position of clear advantage. The Final Act did acknowledge the postwar political status quo in Europe and the inviolability of frontiers, as the Soviet Union had wanted. But Moscow had to pay a heavy price for its desperate quest for legitimacy. With its “peaceful change” clause, the CSCE left the possibility of overcoming the division of Germany and Europe open. Moreover, the conference broadened the notion of what European security was about by recognizing respect for and the promotion of human rights as a condition for peace, acknowledging the security of individuals as a complement to the security of states, introducing CBM as a new element of stability, and establishing a right to neutrality. With its Basket III, the CSCE also provided a specific barometer for the state of détente. Furthermore, whereas no permanent organ was set up that could enable the Soviet Union to exert any legitimate influence in Western Europe, a role of the US and Canada in European security was explicitly acknowledged. The Nine played a key role in negotiating many of these Western gains. The right to neutrality had obviously been proposed by the neutral and non-aligned countries (NNA), while CBM had been promoted by a coalition of some NATO, EPC, and NNA delegations. But in most other issues, the Nine were in a lead position. To be sure, they did not accomplish the West’s achievements in these fields alone. Their interests and objectives in many cases converged with other non-Communist participants, which is why they consulted not only with the NATO Fifteen, but also maintained close relations with the NNA group, and particularly with the four neutrals Austria, Finland, Sweden, and Switzerland. Yet the NNA countries, which only came to form a group in the course of the CSCE, were for the most part too heterogeneous to wrest key concessions from the Soviets. They played an invaluable role in dragging the negotiations forward, be it through substantive compromise packages or through good offices, such as presiding over informal working groups.55 But it fell to the Nine, as the major bulwark of the interests of the “free world,” to table the majority of Western proposals and confront the Soviet Union. Shaping the conference agenda in Helsinki The extensive preparations by the Nine, who arrived in Helsinki in November 1972 with a common brief and had already thought through every possible turn of debates before the MPT began, allowed them to put their mark on the course of negotiations from the very beginning. This was of tremendous importance, since the “Final Recommendations of the Helsinki Consultations” of 8 June 1973, which specified the organization, agenda, and procedures of the CSCE, anticipated to a considerable extent the CSCE’s outcome.56 It was on 15 January 1973 that the Nine for the first time visibly acted as a group at MPT, submitting draft proposals for a CSCE agenda and for terms of references for each issue. Justly described by a witnessing delegate as EPC’s hour of birth on the

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international stage,57 this move took both the Warsaw Pact and the NNA countries by surprise. The drafts were an impressive demonstration of the unity the Nine had achieved even at that early stage. Previously already, the Nine had managed to win acceptance for their conference model. Although the Soviet Union had pressed for a short, declaratory conference, it had come to accept the approach of extensive commission work as well as the specific sub-commissions proposed by the Nine. And although it had sought to identify a vague agenda for the CSCE only, it had agreed to define mandates for each of these subcommissions.58 As the joint working out of terms of references had become one of the major tasks of the MPT, the early tabling of their draft texts now provided the Nine with an immediate advantage in the substantive discussions that followed. In order to make sure that the Eastern delegations would have to comment upon all Western proposals, the Nine insisted on an inductive, bottom-up method of discussing all propositions before jointly drafting the terms of references and labeling the respective agenda items.59 They would have preferred to run the entire debate in one working group, but came to accept the Swiss idea of informal drafting groups or so-called “Mini-Groups.”60 With respect to the substance of the individual agenda items, the biggest battles were fought over Baskets I and III, with the Nine managing to wrest concessions from Moscow in both fields. Concerning the catalog of basic principles, they accepted the Soviet key objective of establishing the inviolability of frontiers as a new principle of international relations only in return for Moscow agreeing also to include human rights and national self-determination into what became a decalogue. These too were principles not codified in previous international declarations, only this time contrary to Soviet interests, as they challenged the Brezhnev Doctrine.61 The issue of human rights became the longest and best-defined title of the principles in the Final Recommendations, being referred to as “respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, including the freedom of thought, conscience, religion or belief.”62 The extensive terms of references that characterized Basket III constituted the Nine’s single biggest achievement at the MPT. While the meaningless title “[co-]operation in humanitarian and other fields” reflected the enormous struggle to put this issue on the agenda at all, the important thing was the substantive mandate for the four subcommittees; human contacts, information, culture, and education. These not only comprised key references to “freer movement” and “freer and wider dissemination of information,” but also listed specific fields of study such as reunification of families, travel, or working conditions for foreign journalists.63 Although the Warsaw Pact delegations initially insisted on a preamble to circumscribe these mandates by referring to the principles of non-interference and national sovereignty, they eventually accepted the EC compromise offer of a global reference to all principles.64 Interestingly, the Nine came to play a prominent role in these debates despite the fact that those two issues that they had initially perceived as the CSCE’s major challenges to European unity never received the kind of attention they had

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expected. Basket II on economic cooperation remained uncontroversial and led a life of its own throughout the CSCE.65 This was also because the Soviet Union in 1973/74 generally ceased to attack the existence of the EC, and at the same time refused to be demandeur in this basket.66 Similarly, the Eastern proposals for a permanent consultative committee remained harmless. The Nine defused the sensitivity of this issue further by insisting that they would only consider any follow-up on the basis of progress made during the CSCE, which ensured that such negotiations were delayed until well into the last phase of the conference.67 Expanding the notion of security in Geneva If the community countries, together with other non-Communist delegations, had succeeded in providing the CSCE with a dynamic and innovative agenda in Helsinki, they had to take note in Geneva that the Soviet Union was trying to turn the clock back to 1972 and that all major battles of the MPT had to be refought once more.68 The Geneva negotiations became a tedious affair and turned into a trench war that lasted much longer than any delegate could have expected in the summer of 1973. Still, in 1975, the Nine emerged with a similarly positive balance sheet as they had at the MPT, managing both to qualify Moscow’s main objective of consolidating the political status quo in Europe and to obtain their own major goal of an expanded notion of security. Qualifying the principle of the inviolability of frontiers with an explicit reference to the right to peaceful border changes was a major goal of the Nine, not only because of the division of Germany, but also because of the EC objective of removing the borders within the community. The Soviet Union rejected for a long time any “peaceful change” clause and was particularly hostile to including such a clause into the inviolability principle, as proposed by the Nine in their draft decalogue of October 1973.69 In April 1974, it was possible partly to overcome the ensuing deadlock, which had paralyzed work in Basket I for months, when the Spanish delegation came up with an interim compromise to register the “peaceful change” formula simultaneously with the inviolability principle, but on a separate piece of paper.70 But there remained the problem of where to put this floating sentence. Together with the US, the Nine eventually managed to insert the provision that “frontiers can be changed, in accordance with international law, by peaceful means and by agreement” into the first principle of sovereign equality. Accordingly, the static, Soviet-inspired principles in the Final Act became contrasted with a dynamic notion of change.71 Regarding their own two new principles, the Nine remained especially successful in the case of human rights. The principle of self-determination of the peoples was phrased in a manner that was short and vague, not least because of resistance from NATO delegations such as Turkey and Canada.72 By contrast, the issue of “human rights” ultimately carried the longest explanatory text of the entire decalogue. The Soviet Union continuously argued that human rights were a domestic rather than an international matter and sought to water down the drafts wherever possible.73 Nevertheless, the Nine eventually managed to get

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through a whole series of detailed provisions on the duty to respect and promote human rights, as well as references to the non-Marxist conception of human rights deriving from the “inherent dignity of the human person,” and to the respect for the universal significance of human rights as an “essential factor for . . . peace.”74 This was one of the most important areas of Soviet concessions, which together with Basket III fostered a broader conception of security. The Nine and Basket III Basket III witnessed both the most sterile debates during the CSCE and some of the biggest scoring points for the Nine. Rather than try and strengthen the rights of individuals, as the UN had attempted in several declarations, the nonCommunist delegations at the CSCE focused on defining guidelines for the behavior of the state vis-à-vis its citizens, with a view to lowering barriers to cooperation and mobility in fields where problems had been especially virulent.75 To this end, they swamped the conference with proposals for practical improvements. None of these proposals were, in and of themselves, very provocative or ideological, but taken together, it was hoped they would yield a tangible impact.76 The Socialist delegates, for their part, sought to introduce limitative formulations into Basket III to rob the specific proposals of their practical significance. Moreover, they insisted on a preamble designed to emasculate the basket’s entire content.77 Again, the pertinacity of the EC countries was a key reason why the Soviets, despite indefatigable efforts and intensive pressure, failed to water down most provisions. The NNA countries did play an important part in this basket in that their procedural and substantive compromises prevented the negotiations from completely collapsing when both the Soviets and the Nine applied stonewall tactics and refused to move.78 Also, it is unlikely that so many provisions would have made it into the Final Act if it had not been for Kissinger’s effort in 1975 to negotiate bilaterally with Moscow the so-called “global initiative,”79 where the Nine offered some concessions in the fields of human contacts and information in order to obtain their essential points. Yet it was the EPC members that not only initiated the majority of proposals, but also composed the major caucus to defend them.80 Essential for the relevance of Basket III, the Nine resisted the Soviet proposal of working out separate documents for each basket and giving the decalogue a special status by making it the only declaration to be signed at summit level. The Dutch in February 1974 submitted for the Nine a draft structure of what at British suggestion came to be called “Final Act,” with the Eastern delegations eventually accepting the approach of a single compendium of all agreements to be signed collectively.81 Finally, it is also worth pointing out that the Community countries had their way about the CSCE’s follow-up. By April 1974, the Nine had established internal agreement to advocate an interim period of a couple of years followed by a meeting of high officials in 1977 – a proposition they tabled as a Danish contribution.82 The logic behind this proposition was to

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make follow-up negotiations dependent on whether the countries of the East implemented the provisions they had signed with the Final Act. The ensuing debates in 1974/75 were peculiar in that some Neutrals favored a permanent organ, which in their eyes was essential to monitor the implementation of the Final Act and provided a unique platform for them to stay involved in the European security dialog.83 The Nine, however, prevailed once more, which reflected their negotiating power and their impact on the substance of the Final Act.

Conclusion To this day, the CSCE’s significance in East–West relations has remained disputed. Some argue that the Helsinki process played a seminal role in bringing the Cold War to an end. Others are doubtful about any link between the norms specified in the Final Act and the implosion of the Soviet Union.84 However, while they remained divided about the relevance of the modifications that the CSCE brought to Europe’s security system, both sides agree that such changes did take place. In this chapter, I have argued that the interaction of the CSCE with the process of European unification brought about a twofold change to European security. On the one hand, the CSCE fostered the emergence of the EC countries as a new actor in international diplomacy and a key player in European détente. If one of the original Soviet motives in advocating a European security conference had been to weaken the West, EPC’s success in functioning as a new cohesive caucus of Western interests in the context of the CSCE was an unexpected and remarkable development. On the other hand, the Nine had a large share in rendering the Final Act its dynamic substance. They had to give very little away on their joint positions, and they made the Soviet Union subscribe to an expanded notion of security that is commonly referred to today as “soft security” or “human security.” The collective role of the Nine at the CSCE found official recognition when the 35 heads of government on 1 August 1975 assembled in Helsinki to approve the Final Act. Aldo Moro signed the voluminous document not only as the prime minister of Italy, but also “in his capacity as President in office of the Council of the European Communities.”85 The expediency of such a clause had initially been disputed among the Nine because of the official presence it gave to the European Commission. Moreover, once the EPC members had agreed on it, it still took intensive negotiations to get Soviet acceptance.86 Yet it is hard to exaggerate the significance of finally attaining this double signature, which reflected the Nine’s rise as an acknowledged actor in European security as much as their collective contribution to the CSCE.

Notes 1 See Daniel Möckli, European Foreign Policy During the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity, 1969–74 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2008). 2 Ibid.

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3 Andreas Wenger and Doron Zimmermann, International Relations: From the Cold War to the Globalized World (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2003), pp. 157–64. 4 See EPC’s first report on the CSCE, “Rapport du Comité Politique consacré à la Conférence sur la Sécurité et la Coopération en Europe,” approved on 14 May 1971, Archives Diplomatiques du Ministère des Affaires Etrangère (ADMAE), Direction Europe, Généralités (Gén.) 2921. 5 See, e.g., the record of conversation between Schumann and Douglas-Home in Paris on 15 July 1970, Archives Nationales (AN) 5AG2 108. 6 Daniel C. Thomas, The Helsinki Effect: International Norms, Human Rights, and the Demise of Communism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001), p. 51. 7 See, e.g., the numerous drafts on European political unity of the 1950s and 1960s, as compiled in Christopher Hill and Karen E. Smith (eds.), European Foreign Policy: Key Documents (London: Routledge, 2000). 8 Möckli, European Foreign Policy, ch. 2. 9 Pompidou in his conversation with Heath on 19 March 1972 at Chequers spoke of a “pénétration pacifique des idées” and the French hope to be able to “diffuser le virus de la liberté.” AN 5AG2 1014. For the Schumann quote, see Documents on British Policy Overseas, series III, vol. II, The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1972–75 (henceforth DBPO), no. 8. 10 Bahr openly identified a Soviet withdrawal from the GDR as Bonn’s negotiating goal and seemed to view MBFR as a means of reunifying a neutralized Germany. In a letter to Brandt of 15 April 1973, he argued that a modest result of MBFR would be a 60 percent reduction in ten years. Archiv der sozialen Demokratie, Egon Bahr papers 439. 11 DBPO, no. 31 (italics original). 12 Möckli, European Foreign Policy, ch. 1. 13 UKDEL NATO to FCO, “East/West Negotiations,” 17 November 1971, British National Archives (UKNA), FCO 41/893. 14 Crispin Tickell, “The Enlarged Community and the European Security Conference,” in EEC Policy Towards Eastern Europe, Ieuan G. John (ed.) (Westmead, Farnborough, UK: Saxon House, 1975), pp. 115–24. 15 Record of conversation between Schumann and FRG Ambassador Sigismund Freiherr von Braun in Paris on 2 January 1973, ADMAE, Europe, République Fédérale d’Allemagne (RFA) 3019; Douglas-Home to UKDEL NATO, 15 November 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1055. 16 Michael Clarke, “Britain and European Political Cooperation in the CSCE,” in European Détente: Case Studies of the Politics of East-West Relations, Kenneth Dyson (ed.) (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986), pp. 237–53, 242. 17 NATO Report C-M(71)69(Révisé), “La Conférence sur la Sécurité et la Coopération en Europe dans l’optique de la négociation,” 29 November 1971, ADMAE Gén. 2922; interview with John Maresca, US delegation CSCE, 6 October 2004. 18 “Rapport du Groupe Ad Hoc en exécution du mandat donné par le Comité Politique de rechercher une position harmonisée en vue des travaux de préparation multilatérale de la CSCE,” RM (72)8, 23 November 1972, ADMAE Gén. 2925; the recommendations of the EPC sous-comité, CP(72)57, approved by the foreign ministers on 20 November 1972, could not be found in the archives. They are summarized, however, in an FCO brief, “Meeting of the Foreign Ministers of the Nine 20/21 November in The Hague, Agenda Item 1: Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe,” n.d., UKNA, FCO 41/1055. 19 Sous-Comité sur la CSCE, Délégation française, “Conversations multilatérales préparatoires sur le volet culturel et humain de la C.S.C.E.,” CSCE (72)F, 23 October 1972, UKNA, FCO 28/1682. 20 French working paper, “Question de procedure concernant le deroulement de la conférence sur la sécurité et la coopération en Europe,” distributed in NATO on 21

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October 1971, ADMAE Gén. 2922; note Auswärtiges Amt (AA), “Sitzung der IMAG/KSZE – Ergebnisvermerk,” 25 October 1972, Politisches Archiv AA (PA) B150/266. See the US paper “Procedures” of 6 April 1971, ADMAE Gén. 2921. DBPO, no. 12; Vojtech Mastny, “Superpower Détente: US–Soviet Relations, 1969–1972,” in American Détente and German Ostpolitik, 1969–1972, David C. Geyer and Bernd Schaefer (eds.) (Washington, D.C.: German Historical Institute, 2004), pp. 19–25; Henry Kissinger, Years of Upheaval (London: Phoenix Press, 2000), ch. 7. John J. Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe 1973–1975 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1985), pp. 44f. Note Secrétariat-Général de l’Elysée (Jean-Bernard Raimond to Pompidou), 10 January 1973, AN 5AG2 100: “Tout se passe comme si les Américaines . . . laissaient, dans le cadre de la Conférence sur la Sécurité européenne, aux Européens le rôle de l’infanterie.” Interview with Maresca, 6 October 2004. Akten zur auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (AAPD) 1974, no. 360. “Sitzung der IMAG/KSZE am 22. Februar 1973 im Auswärtigen Amt,” 9 March 1973, PA B150/275; Jan Höhn, Aussenpolitik der EG-Staaten: Im Fall der KSZE – Geschichte – Struktur – Entscheidungsprozess – Aktion – Möglichkeiten und Grenzen (Munich: tuduv, 1978), p. 246. Note AA (Jürgen Diesel to Paul Frank), 27 February 1973, PA B150/274: “De facto sind die Neun in der Lage, die NATO-Haltung vorzuprogrammieren.” Callaghan to FCO, no. 426, 19 June 1974, UKNA, FCO 41/1418. DBPO, no. 25. Both quotes are taken from record of conversation between Thomas Brimelow (FCO) and Kissinger in Washington, 5 March 1973, UKNA, FCO 73/135. FRG Embassy Washington (Berndt von Staden) to AA, 17 May 1973, PA B150/280. AAPD 1974, no. 199; DBPO, no. 92. FCO brief (no. 6), “Visit of Dr Kissinger on 8 July: CSCE,” n.d. [1974], UKNA, PREM 16/290; Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 66. Daniel Möckli, “Asserting Europe’s Distinct Identity: The EC-Nine and Kissinger’s ‘Year of Europe,’ ” in The Strained Alliance: Conflicts and Cooperation in Transatlantic Relations from Nixon to Carter, Matthias Schultz, Thomas A. Schwartz, and Bernd Schaefer (eds.) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). Höhn, Aussenpolitik, pp. 205–19. Götz von Groll, “The Nine at the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe,” in European Political Cooperation: Towards a Foreign Policy for Western Europe, David Allen, Reinhardt Rummel, and Wolfgang Wessels (eds.) (London: Butterworth Scientific, 1982), pp. 60–8, 64. For two examples, see “Rapport oral du président du Comité Politique à la Réunion des Ministres du 16 Mars 1973,” 16 March 1973, ADMAE Gén. 2926; “Rapport du Sous-Comité CSCE sur ‘Les problèmes à résoudre’,” CP (74)21 P, 18 April 1974, FCO 30/2486. For two examples, see “C.S.C.E. – Organisation du travail de la prochaine session,” 16 February 1973, enclosed to NATOGERMA to AA, 19 February 1972, PA B150/274; “Les suites de la CSCE (Rapport du Comité Politique),” CSCE RM(74)2 CP, 6 February 1974, UKNA, FCO 30/2482. “Objectifs et Stratégie des Neuf à la CSCE: Rapport au Comité Politique,” RM(73)20CP, 13 November 1973, ADMAE Gén. 2926. Höhn, Aussenpolitik, p. 220. The FRG, for example, was in charge of human contacts and industrial cooperation; Britain was responsible for CBM, information, and tactics; and France was in charge

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of the decalogue and cultural exchanges. See also Alfred Pijpers, “European Political Co-operation and the CSCE Process,” Legal Issues of European Integration 10, no. 1 (1984), pp. 135–48, 139. “Sitzung der IMAG/KSZE am 9. Januar 1973 im Auswärtigen Amt,” 17 January 1973, PA B150/272. For a more detailed analysis, see Möckli, European Foreign Policy, ch. 3. Record of conversation between Pompidou and Brezhnev in the Soviet Union on 11 January 1973, “Deuxième Partie de la réunion plénière,” AN 5AG2 1019; AAPD 1974, no. 37. See, e.g., DBPO, no. 75, on the Nine’s “disposition to see things through” and to insist on progress in basket III. Tickell, “The Enlarged Community,” p. 115. François Duchêne, “The European Community and the Uncertainties of Interdependence,” in A Nation Writ Large? Foreign-Policy Problems before the European Community, Max Kohnstamm and Wolfgang Hager (eds.) (London: Macmillan, 1973), pp. 1–21. Henry Kissinger, Years of Renewal (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999), p. 642. Interview with Davignon, 3 March 2006. Interview with Belgian diplomat Philippe de Schoutheete de Tervarent, 21 January 2005. Höhn, Aussenpolitik, p. 345. AAPD 1974, nos. 37 and 64. European Navigator, “Statement by the European Council in Brussels on the CSCE (17 July 1975),” online, available at: www.ena.lu (accessed 18 January 2008). Hans-Jörg Renk, Der Weg der Schweiz nach Helsinki: Der Beitrag der schweizerischen Diplomatie zum Zustandekommen der Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa (KSZE), 1972–1975 (Bern: Paul Haupt, 1996), pp. 127–35. The Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe, “Final Recommendations of the Helsinki Consultations,” online, available at: www.osce.org/docs/ (accessed 18 January 2008). Renk, Der Weg, p. 54. Circular Ministère des Affaires Etrangère (Hervé Alphand), 7 December 1972, ADMAE Gén. 2925; FRG delegation MPT, report no. 32, 14 December 1972, PA Zwischenarchiv (ZA) 100001. Douglas-Home to UK Embassy Brussels, 21 February 1973, FCO 41/1295. Note AA, “Sitzung des Unterausschusses KSZE der PZ in Brüssel am 3.3.1973,” 7 March 1973, PA ZA 100020; Renk, Der Weg, p. 61. AAPD 1973, no. 32; Renk, Der Weg, p. 80; Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 154. “Final Recommendations” (note 56). Ibid. FRG delegation MPT, report no. 104, 29 March 1973, PA ZA 100002. Renk, Der Weg, p. 115. AAPD 1973, no. 347. “Rapport du Président du Comité Politique aux Ministres,” RM(73)3P. (définitif), 12 March 1973, ADMAE Gén. 2926. DBPO, no. 42. REPAN-Bruxelles, “Projet révisé de Déclaration sur les Principes Gouvernant les Relations entre les Etats Participant à la C.S.C.E. (2. révision),” 6 September 1973, PA B150/288. AAPD 1974, no. 102. The Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe, “Helsinki Final Act” (henceforth Final Act), online, available at: www.osce.org/docs/ (accessed 18 January 2008); Maresca, To Helsinki, pp. 113–16.

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72 Note AA (von Groll to 500), “Revidierter französischer Prinzipienkatalog,” 10 September 1973, PA B150/288. 73 AAPD 1973, no. 32; Renk, Der Weg, pp. 80–7. 74 Final Act; Thomas, To Helsinki, p. 84. 75 Gerhard Henze, “Freizügigkeit und verbesserte Informationsmöglichkeit als Ziele der KSZE,” in Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europe: Beiträge und Dokumente aus dem Europa-Archiv, Hermann Volle and Wolfgang Wagner (eds.) (Bonn: Verlag für Internationale Politik, 1976), pp. 77–86. 76 DBPO, no. 68. 77 DBPO, no. 94. 78 Ibid. 79 Maresca, To Helsinki, pp. 147–9. 80 Interview with Helmut Liedermann, Austrian delegation CSCE, 2 November 2004. 81 “Draft Final Act,” CSCE (74) 62 P rev., 13 February 1974, PA ZA 100020; AAPD 1973, no. 347. 82 Note AA, “KSZE: Sachstand,” 2 April 1974, PA B1/553. 83 Renk, Der Weg, pp. 154–8. 84 On this debate, see Thomas, To Helsinki, pp. 3–7. 85 Final Act. 86 Luigi Vittorio Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation: Helsinki – Geneva – Helsinki 1972–1975 (Alphen aan den Rijn: Sijthoff & Noordhoff International Publishers BV, 1979), pp. 373–83.

9

From linkage to freer movement The FRG and the nexus between Western CSCE preparations and Deutschlandpolitik, 1969–72 Petri Hakkarainen

Prologue: the Dipoli ABC In the afternoon of 22 November 1972, the delegates of the 35 states participating in the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE)1 were in for a surprise. Arriving for the opening session of the multilateral preparatory talks (MPT) at the Dipoli conference center in Finland, they found that the delegations were seated according to the French alphabet. Although French was one of the official languages of the CSCE, up until that moment the Finnish hosts had consistently used English in the preparations. At the very last minute, however, the Finns had gone to the trouble of reshuffling the seating order and printing new name signs for the delegations in French. In the end, this hasty procedural rearrangement proved to be a permanent solution. The French alphabet prevailed all the way through the conference. The small-scale alphabetical diplomacy behind this incident is an illuminating example of the essential importance that the inner-German relationship had for the early CSCE process – and vice versa. Indeed, for the West Germans, the placement of delegations in the MPT was anything but a trivial detail. The seating order touched on a fundamental question of principle – that of who represented the German people. Regardless of the language used in the CSCE context, the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) wanted its delegation to be listed under the letter referring to the national element in its name. This position was under threat in the autumn of 1972, as it became evident that the Finns were considering seating the FRG under “F” and the German Democratic Republic (GDR) under “G.”2 The West Germans turned to multilateral means to resolve the impasse. On 20 November, only two days before the MPT were due to begin, Foreign Minister Walter Scheel raised the subject at the ministerial meeting of the European Communities (EC) in The Hague. Scheel’s colleagues unanimously pledged to support the FRG in its insistence on being seated under “G.”3 At a council meeting of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in Brussels on the following day, the remaining allies, equally unanimously, were also brought onboard.4 Having secured the backing of its allies, the FRG could afford to raise the stakes. On 21 November, the Finns were told that the FRG delegation would

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refuse to take part in the MPT the following day unless West German requests on the seating order were met.5 In the end, the Finns had no choice but to succumb to this West German ultimatum.6 The subsequent switch from English to French was purely cosmetic, a face-saving measure of the Finnish hosts.7 What truly mattered was that the West Germans had got their way, and their seating corresponded to the word “Germany.” The fact that the German delegations ended up sitting next to each other was merely a by-product of this achievement. The choice of French put the two German states together at the top of the list, under “A” (for “Allemagne, République Fédérale d’ ” and “Allemande, République Démocratique”) – a further symbol of the important link between inner-German relations and the conference.

Introduction: instrumental and substantive approaches to the CSCE In the particular case described above, the Federal Republic was able to combine its national, inner-German interests favorably with the multilateral Western CSCE preparations. As the state secretary of the Auswärtige Amt, Paul Frank, put it a few days after the start of the MPT, he had seldom seen the European partners in such unison behind the West Germans.8 However, just as Frank’s statement implies, this was clearly a special case. Whereas the seating order was a high-ranking question of national interest for the West Germans, no fundamental issues were at stake for their allies. The purpose of this chapter is to look back from the Dipoli affair and to find out whether the West Germans had managed to get their views on more controversial CSCE questions adopted as common Western positions. Rather than looking at the emerging East–West dialog about the prospects for a possible security conference, the emphasis is on the role of the FRG in the internal dynamics of the West. The focus here will be on two separate cases in which the Western CSCE preparations and Deutschlandpolitik were intimately intertwined. At first, this chapter will follow the implementation of initial West German plans to make their participation in the conference dependent on the previous conclusion of a general agreement with the GDR. Second, special attention will be given to the impact of the FRG on Western deliberations of one specific point on the conference agenda, namely the “freer movement of people, ideas, and information.” This kind of combination of instrumental and substantive approaches to the conference was, also in general, typical of the West German CSCE policy during the preparations preceding the MPT.9 The selection of these cases is intended to highlight the remarkable shift in the West German approach to the conference – moving from the purely instrumental strategy of using the CSCE as leverage to a more substance-oriented perception of the conference as a valuable tool in its own right. Furthermore, whereas numerous other agenda items of the conference (most notably the “peaceful change” of borders) were also extremely relevant for Bonn’s

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Deutschlandpolitik, the choice of the “freer movement” issue has gained additional legitimacy through the retrospective image of the CSCE. Given the particular importance attached to the so-called Basket III of the Final Act (“Cooperation in Humanitarian and Other Fields”) after 1975, it is appropriate to focus here on the discussion of the core element of that basket during the early preparations. Another aim of this chapter is to stress the interconnectedness of West German Ostpolitik, Westpolitik, and the CSCE process in the early 1970s. In the abundance of existing literature on West German foreign policy in that era, there has been a tendency to see the bilateral Ostpolitik and the multilateral CSCE process as separate developments, with the latter only having properly started once the former had been completed.10 This chapter argues that they were all elements of the same complex process and interacted constantly from the very beginning. The time frame chosen for this chapter, concentrating on the “prehistory” of the CSCE proper, serves the purpose of underscoring this early connection. On the one hand, the years 1969–72 witnessed the essential achievements of Ostpolitik, initiated by the new government of Chancellor Willy Brandt in the autumn of 1969. On the other hand, although the CSCE itself only became truly multilateralized with the MPT and the subsequent lengthy negotiations in Helsinki and Geneva, important pioneering work for the Western contribution to the CSCE process had already been done before Dipoli. In addition, precisely in the CSCE context, multilateral Western cooperation was undergoing a fundamental change at this point in time, with interaction between three institutional frameworks increasingly overlapping. First of all, following the 1967 Harmel Report, NATO was assuming a more outspoken political role than before.11 Soon after the Warsaw Pact’s so-called Budapest Appeal in March 1969, which once again called for the convocation of a European security conference, NATO members started to discuss CSCE matters within the permanent machinery in Brussels as well as at their semiannual ministerial meetings. For a moment, NATO was clearly the main forum for Western CSCE deliberations. Nevertheless, another significant forum was emerging. As a result of the so-called Davignon Report in 1969, the six original members of the EC began to coordinate their foreign policy more closely. After the first ministerial meeting of the European Political Cooperation (EPC) in November 1970, the EPC procedure was institutionalized in frequent meetings on ministerial and bureaucratic levels, first among the Six, but soon also including the four applicant countries. From the outset, the major test case for the nascent EPC mechanism was cooperation on CSCE issues.12 The third and final important Western framework in the CSCE preparations was the so-called Bonn Group. Consisting of representatives of the US, Britain, France, and the FRG, this four-power consultation group had been set up in the mid-1950s to discuss issues pertaining to Berlin and Germany as a whole. During the high tide of Ostpolitik, however, the work of the Bonn Group was rapidly intensified and institutionalized, with meetings taking place at various levels on a weekly basis, and sometimes every day. As its influence

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peaked in 1969–72, the Bonn Group was actively involved in the CSCE preparations.13 Given these circumstances, the Federal Republic was in many ways at the epicenter of multilateral CSCE preparations in the West. On the one hand, the German question was both geographically and substantively at the heart of any considerations on enhancing European security and cooperation. On the other hand, the FRG’s membership in all of the three key frameworks – NATO, EPC, and the Bonn Group – gave it an ideal institutional setting to exert influence over common Western conference preparations.14 But to what extent was the FRG able to rise to the occasion and take the lead in the Western CSCE preparations?

Inner-German linkage: erosion of a strategy I was resented in the East for it, and not everybody in the West agreed with me either, when I said that the participation of the Federal Republic of Germany in a European security conference would be pointless if the relationship between the two parts of Germany had not been settled first. The Federal Republic had some leverage here; I did not overestimate it, but we had it. My argument: if a wedding is planned and the other half of the bridal couple does not turn up, the other partner will not be very happy about it.15 This citation from Willy Brandt’s memoirs corresponds to the generally accepted view of the marching order of West German foreign policy in the early 1970s. Only once the goals of bilateral Ostpolitik, in particular the settlement with the GDR, had been accomplished, was the FRG prepared to enter the multilateral CSCE. In fact, the mere sequence of events supports this view. It took over three-and-a-half years after the Budapest Appeal before the MPT were opened. During that time, the West German treaties with Moscow and Warsaw were signed and ratified, the Four-Power Agreement on Berlin was concluded, and, perhaps most significantly, the Basic Treaty between the FRG and the GDR was completed. Furthermore, as soon as the Basic Treaty had been initialed, progress on the CSCE front was rapid. The state secretary of the West German Chancellery, Egon Bahr, and his East German counterpart Michael Kohl finished their negotiations on 8 November 1972. On the very next day, the Finnish government finally sent out its formal invitations for the MPT. And only two weeks later, the two German delegations sat side by side in Dipoli. Timing this close, it would seem, can hardly have been just a coincidence. Indeed, in retrospect, both Brandt and Bahr have argued that with the help of its allies, the FRG was able to delay the CSCE for as long as it needed to conclude the key steps of its bilateral Ostpolitik.16 Certainly, plans for precisely this kind of linkage did exist in the Auswärtige Amt and the Chancellery in Bonn. But were the West Germans truly able to set the pace of the conference preparations in the West to meet the timetable of their Deutschlandpolitik? West German plans to instrumentalize the CSCE project had already been hatched during the end of the Grand Coalition government of the Christian

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Democrats (CDU/CSU) and the Social Democrats (SPD), in office 1966–69. Chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger and the Christian Democrats in general more or less ignored the new initiatives for a security conference in the spring of 1969, which had first been proposed by the Warsaw Pact and were soon supported by Finland. But Brandt, who served as foreign minister under Kiesinger, and Bahr, at that time heading the planning staff of the Auswärtige Amt, took an interest in the opportunities provided by the prospect of a CSCE. Already in June 1969, Bahr argued for turning a settlement of the inner-German relationship into a prerequisite for West German participation in the conference.17 During the months that followed, Bahr developed his idea further, arguing that “[a]bove all, we should use the conference idea as a lever, forcing the GDR to accept a rapprochement of the German states.”18 The Grand Coalition, however, suffering from infighting between the coalition partners, was in no position to implement these plans.19 It was not until the formation of the SPD–FDP government in October 1969 that the blueprint could be put to a real test. As the idea of instrumentalizing the CSCE for Deutschlandpolitik was first discussed in the Western alliance, the response the Federal Republic received from its three major allies was fairly positive. In fact, at a quadripartite gettogether in December 1969, it was French Foreign Minister Maurice Schumann who suggested that the West German government should demand progress in the inner-German talks before agreeing to take part in a CSCE. In Schumann’s words: “Germany was at the center of this whole issue and it was for it to take the lead in formulating the conditions for allied participation in a European Security Conference.”20 Accordingly, the declaration issued by the NATO ministerial meeting in December 1969 made it clear that NATO supported West German bilateral initiatives, including efforts to reach an agreement with the GDR, as integral parts of the improvement of climate needed before the convocation of a multilateral conference.21 In the following ministerial in May 1970, the alliance for the first time made specific reference to progress in the innerGerman talks as a prerequisite of a multilateralization of CSCE preparations: In so far as progress is recorded as a result of these talks and in the on-going talks – in particular on Germany and Berlin – the Allied Governments state that they would be ready to enter into multilateral contacts with all interested governments.22 At the same time, however, the West Germans were increasingly conscious of the temporary nature of this favorable state of affairs.23 As far as the CSCE policies of the major allies were concerned, during the latter half of 1970, the US maintained its relatively indifferent approach to the conference project. The West German idea of linking the CSCE with the innerGerman negotiations was considered “entirely reasonable” and continued to receive full support from the State Department.24 But the British and French positions were in flux. The British opposition to the West German linkage strategy, which had been on the rise in the spring, receded significantly after the

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change of government in June 1970. During Edward Heath’s premiership, the UK focused its European policies on accession to the EC and assumed a distinctly more passive role in the CSCE discussion. In the new British view of the Western CSCE preparations, “most of the cards were in Federal German hands.”25 However, quite the opposite was true of the French. The one-week visit of President Georges Pompidou to Moscow in October 1970 was the occasion of a first positive French statement about the proposed CSCE.26 But following that visit, the transformation was rapid. In a true volte-face, the French now spotted an opening for a lead of their own and began to speak actively in favor of the conference. Accordingly, toward the end of 1970, West German attempts to insist on “clarification” of the inner-German relationship as a prerequisite for multilateral CSCE preparations were beginning to meet with French resistance in all of the Western frameworks. The West German overtures to other representatives in the Bonn Group in November did not have the intended result of securing continued three-power support for Bonn’s position.27 In the back-to-back meetings of the EPC and NATO at the ministerial level in the beginning of December, West German Foreign Minister Walter Scheel was confronted with an uncompromising line presented by his French colleague. In a remarkable departure from his position a year before, Schumann argued that a result in the Four-Power Berlin talks would be a sufficient precondition for the CSCE preparations. In Schumann’s view, not even “progress in,” let alone “conclusion of,” the innerGerman negotiations should be mentioned as a prerequisite in the NATO communiqué.28 In the end, the communiqué only ambiguously referred to favorable progress in “other on-going talks.”29 As Egon Bahr had predicted over a year earlier, West German bargaining with the CSCE in order to achieve an inner-German arrangement was sustainable only for as long as the support of the Three Powers was secured.30 With France no longer backing the FRG in this respect, no measure of support by the other two was sufficient to persuade the alliance to adopt the line Bonn would have preferred.31 As a result, within weeks after the NATO meeting in December 1970, West German demands for an inner-German agreement as a precondition for the CSCE preparations had disappeared completely from the diplomatic stage. This change in policy was to a large extent driven by the West German Chancellery. In an interesting development during the autumn of 1970, just when the key officials of the Auswärtige Amt had finally fully approved and adopted the brainchild of Brandt and Bahr, the very creators of the linkage strategy were already beginning to depart from it. For the Chancellery, the CSCE linkage had already served its main purpose in the German–Soviet negotiations leading to the Moscow Treaty in August 1970. There was no longer much to be hoped from it in the inner-German context. Moreover, at the end of 1970, the innerGerman negotiations seemed to regain momentum – even without applying leverage connected to the CSCE.32 In addition, it was considered inopportune for West German leaders to insist on their own preconditions for the conference, as

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such a stance could cause unnecessary isolation within the alliance. Thus, Bahr wrote in November 1970: “We should avoid the impression that we are working on a new linkage.”33 Instead of holding onto a linkage strategy that was no longer supported by all of the Bonn Group powers, the West Germans chose to focus on an area where the consensus still prevailed – the necessity of a Berlin agreement. The new line became apparent at the Franco-German consultations in January 1971. Since a Berlin agreement would already imply a certain degree of inner-German rapprochement, Brandt and Scheel pledged to their French colleagues that the FRG would no longer insist on inner-German progress as a separate prerequisite for the CSCE.34 This sudden change was met with surprise in Washington and London – both interpreted the West German move as bowing to French pressure. This perception of the FRG having gone “unnecessarily far to meet French desires” was reinforced by the comments made by several West German officials, who had also been caught off-guard by their superiors’ decision.35 While this change in West German policy certainly pleased the French, the Dutch and the US, at least, would have preferred also to see the inner-German precondition maintained.36 Nonetheless, the British representative in the Bonn Group spoke for most of the NATO members when he declared that his government was “prepared to be guided by the FRG and would not take a tougher position than the FRG themselves” in this matter.37 And the West German shift turned out to be irreversible. In the preparations for the June 1971 NATO ministerial, the West German line was to drop any reference to “other on-going talks” as prerequisites for the CSCE – a result in the Berlin negotiations would be sufficient. This position was pursued consistently in bilateral discussions as well as in the NATO and EPC frameworks.38 In line with the remarkable West German U-turn between two successive NATO ministerial meetings, the communiqué of June 1971 clearly indicated that a conclusion of the Berlin talks was the only remaining Western precondition for a CSCE.39 The four-power negotiations on Berlin progressed rapidly during the summer, and their first stage, a quadripartite agreement, was concluded in September 1971. While additional negotiations were still pending, the moment for signing the final quadripartite Berlin protocol was approaching quickly. At this stage, at least the US was expecting the West Germans to maintain a correlation between the pace of the CSCE process and the development in the inner-German relationship.40 The West German perception of the situation was, however, completely different. Although the opening of multilateral conference preparations at the current state of the inner-German relationship would have been “disturbing and premature,” the prospects of preventing such a development in the long run were considered to be slim. In the West German analysis, it was likely that majorities both in the EC and in NATO would favor an advance towards the MPT as soon as the Berlin precondition had been met, regardless of the state of inner-German relations at that stage.41 “Due to the situation within the alliance,” the last remains of the linkage strategy were finally buried at a high-level interministerial meeting in the Chancellery in late September 1971.42

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But as soon as they had abandoned the linkage between Deutschlandpolitik and the CSCE, the West Germans not only lost their potential leverage vis-à-vis East Berlin; in addition, with this decision, time started to work for the East Germans. As the signing of the final Berlin protocol was beginning to draw closer, negotiations for an inner-German treaty had not even been started yet. All of a sudden, it was the West German delegation that had to rush into talks with their neighbor in order to achieve results before the CSCE. Reverting to the original linkage strategy would have been the only way out of the situation. However, this was a move that the Federal Republic was not prepared to take responsibility for. At the NATO Council in March 1972, the West Germans strictly denied that the FRG might try to establish a connection between the negotiations on an inner-German modus vivendi and West German participation in the CSCE.43 In the spring of 1972, the West Germans judged that an approach that appeared to put “German policy before European policy” in this context was simply too risky.44 At the end of May 1972, Foreign Minister Scheel admitted to his British colleague that the West Germans were fully aware that the GDR was expecting to enhance its international status with the help of the conference: “That is their trump card, and that is why we are under time pressure.”45 This pressure grew stronger with the decision of the subsequent NATO ministerial to give the green light for multilateral preparations to commence in Finland in the following autumn.46 The Four-Power Berlin agreement entered into force only a few days later, in the beginning of June 1972. Accordingly, the West Germans realized that they had to move rapidly. To avoid entering the CSCE without any regulation of the inner-German relationship, the FRG needed to conclude negotiations with the GDR already during the autumn of 1972.47 The Bahr–Kohl negotiations on a Basic Treaty were duly opened on 15 June 1972. In a meeting of the Bonn Group in late June, Bahr soberly described the situation to the three allies: Negotiations on a Basic Treaty will become more difficult once the GDR takes part in a CSCE. . . . Nevertheless, the Federal Government is not thinking of establishing a linkage between these negotiations and the CSCE. We will not set new preconditions for it.48 The dilemma of not being able to use the CSCE leverage was characteristic for the West German position throughout the negotiations for the Basic Treaty. As Bahr again argued in October, it would naturally be optimal if the Western alliance as a whole were able to make the conference conditional on the conclusion of the Basic Treaty. But, in Bahr’s view, the hands of the West had been tied ever since the entry into force of the Berlin agreement. At this stage, a new linkage could no longer be established.49 By the autumn of 1972, Bahr had come a long way from the linkage plans he had made over three years earlier. Although the inner-German Basic Treaty was, in the end, accomplished just in time before the MPT, the timing can hardly be attributed to a consistently implemented West German strategy. Indeed, toward

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the end of the period at hand, the CSCE–Deutschlandpolitik linkage was not merely ineffective from the Bonn perspective – it had turned against its authors. Instead of the FRG luring the GDR to the negotiating table with the promise of a CSCE, the pressure was on Bonn to settle its relations with East Berlin before the conference. While it is difficult to pin down any actual concessions that the FRG might have made in the inner-German negotiations due to this pressure, it seems that the wedding comparison put forward by Brandt in his memoirs was not perfectly accurate. Instead, if one necessarily wants to force a marital analogy on this, that of a shotgun wedding might be more appropriate. As the estimated due date, 22 November 1972, drew closer, the FRG had no choice. An inner-German arrangement was the only respectable option. Certainly, the FRG was not keen on assuming the role of the difficult partner blocking European efforts at détente with selfish demands. However, a far more significant reason for the erosion of the linkage strategy than fear of isolation was the West Germans’ changing perception of the CSCE per se. From their perspective, the substantive elements of the conference had begun to outweigh its instrumental value, even when it came to Deutschlandpolitik.

Freer movement: evolution instead of revolution The FRG views it [the CSCE] as a long-range process seeking somehow to bridge the deep gap that exists between Eastern Europe and the Atlantic world. Much depends on whether we can find a way to begin this process without creating the impression in the USSR that we are trying to overthrow its regime.50 This quote from State Secretary Berndt von Staden in March 1972 clearly illustrates the other side of West German CSCE policies. Increasingly, instead of seeing the conference merely as a bargaining chip, the decision-makers in Bonn started to conceive of the CSCE as a long-term process with important substantive objectives. A prime example of this is the growing importance the Federal Republic attached to the “freer movement” issue. In Bonn, freer movement was considered to be one of the central issues covered by the CSCE, not least because of its potential implications for grass-root improvements in innerGerman affairs – the reunification of families being the most obvious example. Nevertheless, it was the FRG, of all members of the Western alliance, that was the most reluctant to confront Warsaw Pact countries openly in this respect. Instead, the West Germans preferred a “step-by-step approach” – starting negotiations with softer issues such as cultural cooperation rather than immediately pressing hard for the inclusion of more controversial topics such as human rights on the conference agenda. Somewhat ironically, from the summer of 1971 onwards, West Germany’s insistence on this principle of avoiding unnecessary East–West controversies occasionally became a major source of internal tension within the West. Freer movement had been raised as a potential Western contribution to the

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agenda of future East–West negotiations early in the preparatory discussions within NATO. During the autumn of 1969, the various versions of the “List of Issues for Possible Negotiations with the East” document prepared by the NATO Senior Political Committee (SPC) already referred to increases in cultural exchanges and tourism as potential items for a CSCE agenda.51 In December, NATO foreign ministers declared: Allied governments consider that not only economic and technical but also cultural exchanges between interested countries can bring mutual benefit and understanding. In these fields more could be achieved by freer movement of people, ideas, and information between the countries of East and West.52 At least in retrospect, the West Germans claimed to have been the driving force behind the inclusion of the “freer movement” element in the declaration.53 In any case, subsequently, this demand was constantly reiterated – with only minor modifications – in the semi-annual ministerial communiqués of NATO.54 During the autumn of 1970, the SPC drafted a thorough working paper on the substance of the CSCE, in which “cultural relations and freer movement of people, ideas, and information” was raised as one of three main substance areas for East–West negotiations. This topic, the SPC argued, could “put the Soviets on the defensive and focus public opinion on the closed nature of Communist regimes.”55 The SPC continued its work intensively during the following spring. In their contribution to this debate, the West German delegates underscored in February 1971 that the achievement of freer exchange of people, ideas, and information with Eastern Europe was the declared long-term objective of the Federal Republic. In the short term, however, the focus should rather be on cultural cooperation. A British official promptly characterized this West German approach as “both muddled and complacent.”56 The West Germans repeated similar statements during the spring, but lacking support from others, did not press their point.57 When the SPC finalized its working paper on the substance and procedures of East–West negotiations in May 1971, freer movement was given an increasingly important role in the Western CSCE policy.58 Accordingly, the issue also figured prominently in the ministerial communiqué in June, stressing that freer movement was necessary to the development of international cooperation in all fields.59 It was not until the summer of 1971 that the NATO allies truly entered a serious discussion about the substance of the CSCE. In this discussion, the West Germans began to confront their allies, in particular the US. At the end of August 1971, Götz von Groll, the leading official of the Auswärtige Amt on CSCE matters, told a US diplomat in Bonn that the West Germans had “serious misgivings” about certain proposed agenda items favored by Washington – such as greater movement between East and West and cessation of radio jamming. While the FRG also wished to achieve the same objectives, the view in Bonn was that they should only follow later in the “evolutionary process of détente

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initiated by a CES.” Raising them too early, von Groll argued, “seemed almost designed to ensure that a CES would fail.”60 Alarmed by this and earlier suggestions for focusing on cultural exchange, the US NATO mission warned that the FRG’s “persistence in this very soft line on potentially useful freer movement item” was beginning to jeopardize allied positions.61 Eager to maintain the initiative in Western discussions about freer movement, the FRG circulated a working paper to NATO allies in September 1971 stressing that “for tactical reasons, we should be careful that long-term aims should not occupy the first place on a CES agenda.” Otherwise, the West Germans argued, the West would run the risk of sharp disputes right from the start of the conference, making it difficult to discuss other items where agreement on concrete results would be possible.62 The US negotiators were not at all pleased by this, arguing that the FRG was seriously harming the ability of the alliance to develop a good bargaining posture at a CSCE.63 Nevertheless, during the autumn of 1971, a unified alliance position on freer movement was no longer discernible. Whereas the US and the UK delegations defended a tougher line, the French and the Danes, for instance, were moving closer to the West German view. In bilateral discussions, West German officials constantly tried to put their US counterparts at ease, arguing that their differences were “more tactical than substantive.”64 However, the FRG showed no signs of retreating from this tactical position, emphasizing the need to avoid unnecessary confrontation with the East. This was due, more than anything else, to the innerGerman situation. In December 1971, the CSCE unit of the Auswärtige Amt stressed that the long-term goal, “a maximum on freedom of movement for people, ideas, and information” was shared by the FRG and the US. However, endangering the whole East–West dialog with disputes about the principles of freer movement at the beginning of a CSCE would be particularly detrimental for the West Germans: “For us, the freer movement issue has also a specific Deutschlandpolitik aspect: agreements in the CSE framework can have favorable repercussions on the implementation of humanitarian improvements in Germany.”65 Towards the end of 1971, at the very latest, the cautious West German approach on freer movement issues in the context of the CSCE was anything but a symptom of “hesitation and ambiguity”66. By contrast, the favored step-by-step approach in this field was increasingly seen in Bonn to have a direct relevance for the long-term development of the inner-German relations. Rather than using the issue as a vehicle for global ideological propaganda, the West Germans considered freer movement to be an avenue for achieving concrete improvements on the ground. Because of this importance attached to the issue, the West Germans were prepared to take the lead in the West. In December 1971, the West German NATO ambassador strongly encouraged his government to take a more active role in the Western CSCE preparations. In his view, the vital interests of West Germany were directly at stake here, giving it a unique perspective that differed from those of its allies.67 Significantly, this new, more proactive West German approach was not limited to discussions within NATO. In early 1972, the Federal Republic

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expanded its efforts to use the EPC framework, which had so far only dealt with other elements of possible East–West cooperation in a CSCE. In an EPC meeting in January, the head of the West German delegation argued that the Six should no longer regard the issues of freer movement as the sole prerogative of NATO. Instead, he called for intensive consultations on these matters to be held in the EPC as well. The special importance of freer movement for the innerGerman situation was cited as the main reason why the West should approach the issues delicately, and not start with the most controversial elements.68 Fairly soon, the engagement of the EPC appeared to bring first favorable results for the FRG. According to a British report from an EPC meeting in February, the French were increasingly supportive of the West German idea of the West seeking piecemeal improvements instead of promoting the possibly controversial proposal of free movement as a specific agenda item of the conference.69 Encouraged by first indications of success on the EPC front, the West Germans submitted their updated position paper on freer movement to the CSCE subcommittee of the EPC in March 1972 – weeks before tabling the same document in NATO. Again, the paper made the argument for the exceptional position of the FRG: Inadequate freedom of movement is the problem Nr. 1 of our divided country. It is particularly in this field that it will have to be seen to what extent the détente to which we want to contribute by our policy can become a reality. Therefore, none of the other countries participating in a CSCE is so directly affected as the Federal Republic of Germany by the discussion of “freer movement” at the conference.70 With this proclaimed authority, the FRG argued for developing a long-term concept with prospects of tangible and practical results, instead of attempts at “spectacular moves.” Rather than focusing on a potentially provocative separate declaration on freer movement, the West Germans pointed out, the West would be better advised to include the topic in a general declaration of principles as well as to ensure that the principle of freer movement was an integral part in all areas of East–West cooperation.71 Simultaneously with their efforts to strengthen their position in NATO by achieving consensus in the EPC beforehand, the West German officials also continued to try to communicate their point to the US bilaterally. As the US ambassador reported from Bonn in January 1972, “the Germans stressed their preference for limiting freer movement to cultural exchange at this point, arguing that this served their particular interests vis-à-vis the GDR.”72 Visiting Washington in March, von Staden tried to persuade his interlocutors to agree that “one should start with things that can be done.”73 The West German argument was made even more poignantly to a US diplomat in Bonn in April. Freer movement “was simply too important to the FRG for it to be handled in any polemical fashion.”74 It was precisely the inner-German meaning that Bonn attributed to the issue

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of freer movement that ensured that the US was not able to change the West Germans’ minds on the matter, despite repeated attempts.75 In fact, when the West German government drafted its official CSCE policy guidelines, approved in May 1972, the whole concept of “freer movement” was replaced with the less provocative label “improvement of communications.”76 A similar attempt to reformulate agenda titles was made in the North Atlantic Council (NAC) discussion on 10 May. The SPC document on the CSCE that was being discussed contained two separate dossiers on “freer movement of people” and “freer movement of ideas and information.” The French delegation, actively supported by the FRG, suggested that these dossier headings be changed to “development of contacts between persons” and “dissemination of information,” respectively.77 This attempt was not successful in the framework of NATO. But when the CSCE report of the EPC Political Committee was discussed at the ministerial meeting of the EC Ten at the end of May, the proponents of these less confrontational titles were in the majority.78 A few days later, at the NATO ministerial meeting, Scheel put the West German approach in a nutshell: “The FRG attached great importance to freer movement of peoples but did not wish to engage in a philosophical dispute over the subject.”79 As it turned out, freer movement remained a controversial issue within NATO all the way until the opening of the MPT. During the summer and autumn of 1972, the EPC members moved closer to a mutual agreement on the most suitable approach. In an effort to enhance cooperation between the two Western frameworks, the EPC countries’ final CSCE document prior to the MPT was introduced to the NAC on 17 November. But at this stage, less than a week before the opening of the Dipoli talks, a NATO consensus was nowhere in sight. Non-EPC members of NATO criticized the EPC document as diverging substantially from earlier NATO formulations. This was the case in particular when it came to the suggested changes in agenda item titles – from “freer movement of people” to “development of human contacts” and from “freer movement of information and ideas” to “expansion of the dissemination of information.”80 As a result, the NATO countries had to enter the MPT without an agreed tactical position on the freer movement items. The two dossiers on freer movement issues from May 1972 were not updated in the run-up to the multilateral preparations, and the NATO steering brief for the MPT, issued on 7 November, explicitly referred to internal divisions within the West in this context.81 While this may have been harmful to the cohesion of the alliance, it did prevent the FRG’s worst-case scenario – an East–West confrontation about a declaration on the principle of freer movement at the very beginning of the conference preparations. Consequently, as the multilateral CSCE preparations began in Dipoli, the West Germans were able to keep alive their idea of a long-term approach to the improvement of human contacts. The motives for this “evolutionary”82 approach were succinctly outlined by von Groll in April 1972: We want to prevent a confrontation in the multilateral preparations. We want to formulate the agenda topics under the heading “freedom of move-

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ment” in a way that enables the other side to accept them – otherwise there is a risk that they will not be included on the agenda at all.83 Indeed, the British officials were right on target when they perceived a “Bahr flavor” in the West German strategy on freedom of movement.84 Satisfied with the results achieved through bilateral negotiations with the Soviet Union and Poland in 1970, the Federal Republic attempted to persuade its allies to adopt the “Ostpolitik method.” What the FRG wanted was a continuation of Ostpolitik by other means. Applied to multilateral East–West negotiations, the underlying idea of “change through rapprochement” called for avoiding unnecessary confrontations and for pursuing gradual evolution instead of a rapid revolution.

Conclusion As outlined above, the West German approach to linking the CSCE with Deutschlandpolitik underwent a dramatic change during the years 1969–72. As the CSCE preparations were slowly making progress, the conference project began to be seen in Bonn as an important element of the desired “European peace order” as the long-term goal of West German foreign policy – possibly also providing a more sustainable solution to the German problem. Such a perception, naturally, was bound to weaken any intentions to use the conference merely as a bargaining chip. During the Brandt–Scheel government’s first term in office, political leaders and key officials in Bonn, although obviously preoccupied with and at times overstretched by the bilateral Ostpolitik, increasingly began to believe in the substantive possibilities that the CSCE offered. On the CSCE agenda, the Federal Republic gave special attention to the issues concerning freer movement. They were considered vitally important for achieving small-scale improvements in the inner-German affairs. At a stage when negotiations for a modus vivendi between the FRG and the GDR had not even been started yet, Bonn was beginning to see the CSCE as an alternative route towards establishing and safeguarding freedom of movement between the two German states. The impact of the CSCE in this respect was not diminished by the eventual completion of the Basic Treaty on the eve of the MPT. By contrast, according to the West German logic, adhering to a long-term, step-by-step approach in the CSCE framework could help to secure the GDR’s commitment to the principles laid out in the inner-German treaty. In the end, the CSCE did in fact have the potential to become a useful tool of Deutschlandpolitik. But instead of the instrumental leverage originally anticipated by Brandt and Bahr, it was the substance of the conference that was considered to be more promising in the long run. This leads us directly to the quintessential question about the general nature of détente, the CSCE, and West German foreign policy during the Brandt government. Were they in essence aimed at continuity or change? In retrospective views, the focus has understandably been on the element of change – the impact of the CSCE Final Act and especially its third basket on the end of the

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Cold War. However, while the Final Act undeniably gave important support for the citizens’ movements in Central and Eastern Europe in the 1980s, there was nothing inevitable about this development. During the early preparations of the CSCE, Western policies in general – and West German policies in particular – were primarily aimed at making the Cold War more bearable, not at overcoming it. Those improvements that were pursued were expected to occur within the Cold War framework. In a sense, this West German approach, stressing the importance of avoiding unnecessary disputes with the East and blunting the more confrontational suggestions of Western allies, was an important contribution to ensuring that the “softer” elements of security and cooperation ended up on the CSCE agenda. But there were no subversive aspirations to speak of behind this strategy. The West German goal was evolution, not revolution. Jeremi Suri is right in arguing that “détente emphasized continuity over change, and stability over reform. Détente ‘normalized’ the Cold War instead of replacing it with something better.”85 Research focusing on the early stages of the CSCE ought to break free from the perspective of the end of the Cold War. Without the benefit of hindsight, the seating of the two German delegations next to each other in Dipoli in November 1972 was not only a symbol of East–West and inner-German rapprochement. While the seating arrangement produced wonderful photo opportunities over the course of the conference, it also seemed to imply at the same time that the division of Germany and Europe was a permanent state of affairs.

Notes 1 The acronyms used of the conference during its preparatory stages varied over time (ESC, CES, CSE, etc.). In this chapter the acronym CSCE is used constantly, the only exceptions being direct citations and archival references, where the acronyms of the original documents are used. 2 See Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amtes, Berlin, Germany (PAAA), B28, 109312; Ulkoasiainministeriön arkisto [Archive of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs], Helsinki, Finland (UMA), 7B; and Urho Kekkosen arkisto [Urho Kekkonen Archive], Orimattila, Finland (UKA), 21/159. 3 Diesel to Washington, Natogerma and Helsinki, 20 November 1972, PAAA, AV Neues Amt, 4208. 4 Boss (Natogerma) to AA, 22 November 1972, PAAA, B28, 109312; Douglas-Home to Helsinki, 21 November 1972, National Archives (Public Record Office), Kew/London, United Kingdom (TNA), FCO 41/1049. 5 Diesel to Helsinki, 21 November 1972, PAAA, B1, 516. 6 Keisalo, 3 January 1973, UMA, 7B, 12.1–12.2. 7 Contrary to what John Maresca has suggested, this author has not found any evidence for West German demands for the use of French. John J. Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–1975 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1987), p. 7. The Finnish officials involved have in retrospect argued that the last-minute choice of French was the only way to meet the West German demands. Author’s interviews with Jaakko Iloniemi, 12 February 2004, with Paavo Keisalo, 15 October 2003, and with Richard Tötterman, 6 February 2004, all in Helsinki. Yet from a purely technical point of view, it seems, the original idea of

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“Germany, Federal Republic” and “Germany, Democratic Republic” would have served the same purpose just as well. Thomas to Helsinki, 27 November 1972, Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (AAPD) 1972, doc. 383. In more detail, see Petri Hakkarainen, “Amplifying Ostpolitik: The FRG and the CSCE, 1969–75” (Ph.D. thesis, University of Oxford, forthcoming). See, for instance, Helga Haftendorn, Deutsche Aussenpolitik zwischen Selbstbeschränkung und Selbstbehauptung, 1945–2000 (Stuttgart and Munich: DVA, 2001), pp. 173–218; Werner Link, “Aussen- und Deutschlandpolitik in der Ära Brandt 1969–1974,” in Republik im Wandel: Die Ära Brandt, 1969–74, Karl Dietrich Bracher, Wolfgang Jäger and Werner Link (eds.) (Stuttgart: DVA, 1986), pp. 161–282. Andreas Wenger, “Crisis and Opportunity: NATO’s Transformation and the Multilateralization of Détente, 1966–1968,” Journal of Cold War Studies 6, no. 1 (2004), pp. 22–74; Parallel History Project (PHP) document collection, online, available at: www.isn.ethz.ch/php/collections/coll_Harmel.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). See Daniel Möckli’s contribution to this volume as well as the forthcoming publication of his Ph.D., Daniel Möckli, European Foreign Policy During the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity, 1969–74 (London: I.B. Tauris, 2008). Helga Haftendorn, “Das institutionelle Instrumentarium der Alliierten Vorbehaltsrechte: Politikkoordinierung zwischen den Drei Mächten und der Bundesrepublik Deutschland,” in “ . . die volle Macht eines souveränen Staates”: Die Alliierten Vorbehaltsrechte als Rahmenbedingung westdeutscher Außenpolitik 1949–1990, Helga Haftendorn and Henning Riecke (eds.) (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1999), pp. 37–80; Helga Haftendorn, “The ‘Quad’: Dynamics of Institutional Change,” in Imperfect Unions: Security Institutions over Time and Space, Helga Haftendorn, Robert O. Keohane and Celeste A. Wallander (eds.) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), pp. 162–94. Of other Bonn Group members, the United States was for obvious reasons not included in the EPC. Britain joined the EPC mechanisms later on, but for a while only with the status of an EC applicant. France, then again, having pulled out of its military command in 1967, had a somewhat special position in NATO. Willy Brandt, Begegnungen und Einsichten: Die Jahre 1960–75 (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1976), p. 248. Brandt used exactly the same phrases already in January 1970: “Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Brandt mit Staatspräsident Pompidou in Paris,” 30 January 1970, AAPD 1970, doc. 29. Egon Bahr, Zu meiner Zeit (Berlin: Siedler, 1998), p. 397; Brandt, Begegnungen, p. 557. Sahm’s diary entry, 12 June 1969, Bundesarchiv, Koblenz, Germany (BArch), Nachlass Ulrich Sahm (N1474), 73. Bahr (New York), 21 September 1969, AAPD 1969, doc. 296. Petri Hakkarainen, “Einheimische Kontroversen und Inkubation von Strategien: Die Bundesrepublik Deutschland und die Idee einer Europäischen Sicherheitskonferenz während der Grossen Koalition, 1966–69,” in Einfluss, Vorbilder, Zweifel, Vesa Vares (ed.) (Tampere, Finland: Tampere University Press, 2006), pp. 195–209. Ruete (Brussels) to AA, 4 December 1969, AAPD 1969, doc. 386; Rogers (USNATO) to State, 5 December 1969, National Archives and Records Administration, Archives II, College Park, Maryland, United States (NARA), RG 59 (1967–69), Box 1,539. Declaration of the North Atlantic Council (NAC), Brussels, 4–5 December 1969, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c691204b.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). Final Communiqué of the NAC, Rome, 26–27 May 1970, online, available at:

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33 34 35

36 37 38

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www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c700526a.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). Lahn to Natogerma, Washington, Moscow, London and Paris, 29 June 1970, PAAA, B150, 205. Vest (USNATO) to Secstate, 16 November 1970, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,705; Rogers to Bonn and USNATO, 20 November 1970, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,705. Cradock to Bendall, 15 July 1970, TNA, FCO 41/743. See also Douglas-Home to Wilson, 1 December 1970, Documents on British Policy Overseas (DBPO) III/I, doc. 57. Andreas Wilkens, Der unstete Nachbar: Frankreich, die deutsche Ostpolitik und die Berliner Vier-Mächte-Verhandlungen, 1969–74 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1990), pp. 47–8. Rush (Bonn) to State, 10 November 1970, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,705; Vest (USNATO) to State, 16 November 1970, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,705. Hansen to IIA1 and IIA3, 3 December 1970, PAAA, B130, 2667; Grewe (Natogerma) to AA, 4 December 1970, AAPD 1970, doc. 586; Lahn and Grewe (Natogerma) to AA, 3 December 1970, PAAA, B150, 219; van Well to Paris and Moscow, 7 December 1970, PAAA, B150, 219. Final Communiqué of the NAC, Brussels, 3–4 December 1970, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c701203a.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). Bahr to Pommerening, 1 September 1969, Archiv der sozialen Demokratie, Bonn, Germany (AdsD), Dep. Bahr, 396. Von Groll, 11 December 1970, PAAA, B150, 219. See Sahm, 29 October 1970, AAPD 1970, doc. 501; Eitel, 27 November 1970, AAPD 1970, doc. 574; and Mary E. Sarotte, Dealing with the Devil: East Germany, Détente and Ostpolitik, 1969–73 (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), pp. 84–6. Bahr to Sahm, 3 November 1970, AdsD, Dep. Bahr, 398A. “Deutsch-französische Konsultationsbesprechung in Paris,” 25 January 1971, AAPD 1971, doc. 29; “Deutsch-Französische Konsultationen in Paris am 25./26. Januar 1971,” 26 January 1971, PAAA, B150, 222. Rush (Bonn) to State, 20 February 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,705; Memorandum of Conversation (von Staden–Hillenbrand), 17 February 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 2,288; Pauls (Washington) to AA, 17 February 1971, AAPD 1971, doc. 67; Rush (Bonn) to State, 12 March 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 2,288; Annenberg (London) to State, 19 March 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,705. Scheibe (Den Haag) to AA, 16 April 1971, PAAA, B150, 228; Behrends, 22 April 1971, PAAA, B150, 228. Richards (Bonn), 19 April 1971, TNA, FO 1042/424. Van Well to Natogerma, 4 May 1971, PAAA, B150, 229; Rush (Bonn) to Secstate, 5 May 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 2,289; Simon to FRG embassies, 18 May 1971, PAAA, B1, 496; von Groll, 21 May 1971, PAAA, B40, 186; von Groll, 18 May 1971, PAAA, B150, 230. Final Communiqué of the NAC, Lisbon, 3–4 June 1971, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c710603a.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008); von Groll, 18 June 1971, PAAA, B40, 191. Vest (USNATO) to State, 10 September 1971, NARA, NSC Institutional (“H”) Files, Box H-187, Folder NSSM 138. Von Groll, 13 September 1971, PAAA, B40, 187. Blech to von Staden (Unogerma), 27 September 1971, PAAA, B150, 238; von Staden and Gehlhoff (Unogerma) to Blech, 27 September 1971, PAAA, B150, 238; von

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55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71

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Staden to Frank, 15 October 1971, PAAA, B150, 240; Soames (Paris) to FCO, 18 November 1971, TNA, FCO 41/892. Boss (Natogerma) to AA, 17 March 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 59. Hibbert (Bonn) to Wiggin, 5 April 1972, TNA, FCO 41/1070. Thomas to London, Paris and Washington, 30 May 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 151. Final Communiqué of the NAC, Bonn, 30–31 May 1972, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c720530a.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). Blech, 5 June 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 162. Bräutigam, 26 June 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 182. Bräutigam, 31 October 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 353. Von Staden during his visit to Washington in March 1972. Rogers to USNATO and Bonn, 18 March 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,708; von Groll, 13 March 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 52. C-M(69)34, “List of Issues for Possible Negotiation with the East,” 14 July 1969, NATO Archives, Brussels, Belgium (NATOA); C-M(69)46, “List of Issues for Possible Negotiation with the East,” 21 October 1969, NATOA. Declaration of the NAC, Brussels, 4–5 December 1969, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c691204b.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). Note by the German Delegation (NATO), 7 April 1972, TNA, FCO 28/1679. However, the author has not been able to locate any direct evidence from the autumn of 1969 to support this claim. Final Communiqué of the NAC, Rome, 26–27 May 1970, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c700526a.htm (accessed 18 January 2008); Final Communiqué of the NAC, Brussels, 3–4 December 1970, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c701203a.htm (cited 20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). C-M(70)56, “East-West Negotiations,” 13 November 1970, NATOA. Rantzau to Kastl, 12 February 1971, TNA, FCO 41/882. For the British comments, see Braithwaite to Grattan, 4 March 1971, TNA, FCO 41/882. See, for example, Vest (USNATO) to Secstate, 23 April 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 2,264, Folder 2. C-M(71)40, “Substance and Procedures of Possible East-West Negotiations,” 17 May 1971, NATOA. Final Communiqué of the NAC, Lisbon, 3–4 June 1971, online, available at: www.nato.int/docu/comm/49–95/c710603a.htm (20 March 2006) (accessed 18 January 2008). Rush (Bonn) to State, 2 September 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,706. Vest (USNATO) to State, 7 September 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,706. Vest (USNATO) to State, 24 September 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 2,264, Folder 3; Boss (Natogerma) to AA, 29 September 1971, PAAA, B150, 238. Vest (USNATO) to State, 24 September 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 2,264, Folder 3. Cash (Bonn) to State, 14 October 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,706. IIA3, 13 December 1971, PAAA, B150, 244. Vest (USNATO) to Secstate, 11 March 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,708. Krapf (Natogerma) to AA, 21 December 1971, PAAA, B150, 245. Diesel to von Staden and Frank, 18 January 1972, PAAA, B28, 109307. Allan (Luxembourg) to FCO, 29 February 1972, TNA, FCO 41/1052. Deutsche Delegation, 17 March 1972, PAAA, B28, 109307; Diesel to von Staden, 28 March 1972, PAAA, B28, 109307. For the circulation of the same paper in NATO, see: Note by the German Delegation (NATO), 7 April 1972, TNA, FCO 28/1679. Deutsche Delegation, 17 March 1972, PAAA, B28, 109307; Diesel to von Staden, 28

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March 1972, PAAA, B28, 109307. For the circulation of the same paper in NATO, see: Note by the German Delegation (NATO), 7 April 1972, TNA, FCO 28/1679. Rush (Bonn) to State, 22 January 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,707. Rogers to USNATO and Bonn, 18 March 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,708. Cash (Bonn) to State, 4 May 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,709. Rogers to USNATO, 19 May 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 3,148; Bazing to von Groll, Diesel and von Staden, 23 May 1972, PAAA, B150, 255. Scheel to Ehmke, 9 May 1972, PAAA, B150, 254; “Leitlinien der Bundesregierung für die ‘Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa’ (KSZE),” 18 May 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 138. C-M(72)24 (Revised), Volume One, “Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe,” 16 May 1972, NATOA. IIA3, 29 May 1972, PAAA, B150, 255. Rogers (Bonn) to State, 30 May 1972, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 3,149; Jackling (Bonn) to FCO, 30 May 1972, TNA, FCO 41/969. Krapf (Natogerma) to AA, 17 November 1972, AAPD 1972, doc. 378. C-M(72)67, “Steering Brief for the Multilateral Preparatory Talks and the CSCE,” 7 November 1972, NATOA; PO/72/423, “CSCE: Unresolved questions,” 30 November 1972, NATOA. Rush (Bonn) to Secstate, 2 September 1971, NARA, RG 59 (1970–73), Box 1,706; von Staden to Natogerma, 24 November 1971, AAPD 1971, doc. 412. Von Groll’s handwritten remarks to Krapf (Natogerma) to AA, 25 April 1972, PAAA, B150, 253. Hibbert (Bonn) to Wiggin, 5 April 1972, TNA, FCO 41/1070. Jeremi Suri, Power and Protest: Global Revolution and the Rise of Détente (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), here p. 214.

10 “It was Cold War and we wanted to win” Human rights, “détente,” and the CSCE Floribert Baudet Introduction The signing of the Helsinki Final Act was accompanied by much discussion in the Western media. The New York Times called it a sell-out: the West had sanctioned the partition of Europe, and no legally binding results had been obtained in return. To make matters worse, the document would be signed by heads of states rather than foreign ministers.1 The Wall Street Journal asked rhetorically whether détente meant that the US president became the chief apologist for the Soviet Union.2 The influential commentator of the French paper Le Monde, André Fontaine, called it a “diplomatic gadget which no one will read.”3 Dutch newspapers essentially concurred. A cartoon printed in the left-wing de Volkskrant showed US President Gerald Ford and Soviet First Secretary Leonid Brezhnev driving the “Helsinki express” that Henry Kissinger had inherited from his great inspiration Metternich. The caricature showed Western and Eastern Europe behind bars, apparently as captives of great-power politics; it was clear that Europe had been betrayed.4 Socialist Het Parool feared an “overwhelming diplomatic show” and warned its readers that this “Peace festival” was built on thin air.5 The liberal NRC-Handelsblad and the Protestant Trouw acknowledged that the West had obtained major concessions, such as the formal demise of the Brezhnev Doctrine, but they otherwise agreed with the other pundits.6 Such comments generally betrayed a superficial reading of the Helsinki Final Act. Still, this assessment became the mainstream view of pre-1989 Cold War historiography, although the Final Act became an important tool for human rights activists. This judgment regarded the CSCE as a Soviet victory and treated the emergence of groups such as Charter 77 as an unexpected and even unwanted by-product. Representing a minority view, Richard Vine held that the West had introduced humanitarian issues and political rights into the CSCE precisely because the wars of liberation and revolutions in Eastern Europe had failed in 1956 and 1968.7 Post-1989 historiography places more stress on the importance of the Final Act and on the transnational networks inspired by it during the demise of Communism. Daniel Thomas’s The Helsinki Effect is a fine example of this, but

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his account of the intentions of Western participants during the CSCE is traditional in that he does not explore the possibility of state actors challenging the status quo.8 In this chapter, I will show that the Netherlands did exactly that. Unlike many other Western states, the Dutch negotiators had a clear conception of their goals and interests. They perceived the Cold War as an ideological battle, a view that was reinforced by domestic anti-Communism and the events of 1948, 1956, and 1968. These gave rise to a profound distrust of the Eastern European regimes and strengthened the belief that real peace could only be obtained when those regimes were removed. It was believed the status quo could be challenged successfully, because it was Moscow, not the West, that wanted a conference on Europe, and because decisions would be taken by consensus, which would enable smaller countries to play a disproportionate role as long as they were willing and able to confront criticism and pressure from the other participants, be they allies or opponents.

“We are too realistically minded for that” Consecutive Dutch governments publicly stated their willingness to participate in a conference on European security.9 But a June 1972 report summarizes their opinion much better: the Soviets wanted the US out of Europe in order to impose a Pax Sovietica across the continent. The US should be made aware of this, and Washington ought to take the lead within the alliance. In that case, the “feeble-hearted members, especially the British and West Germans,” would loyally follow the US.10 Nevertheless, it seems that the Dutch were fearful of a détente à l’Américaine or à l’Allemande as well: superpower détente might result in a sell-out, and Ostpolitik endangered the cohesion of the West.11 The Dutch believed that a conference would lead to an unjustified sense of euphoria that would erode the willingness of the West to uphold a strong defense, and that the Soviets had understood this.12 Not surprisingly, the Netherlands also rejected the notion of “peaceful coexistence,” as it “served the subversion of the West.” Taking recourse to this concept meant “recognition of the division of the world in two hostile camps and acceptance of the internal situation in the Eastern bloc,” a civil servant at the NATO directorate wrote in 1972. He concluded that the division would “remain in force till the day that the whole of Europe will be Socialist.”13 To sum up, the Netherlands did not believe in détente: “We are too realistically minded for that.”14 This attitude was also manifest in the lack of bilateral relations between the Netherlands and the Eastern European countries during the 1960s, when most other Western countries were actively engaged in such contacts. The prospect of a conference nevertheless unleashed a vigorous debate between the European Directorate and the NATO Directorate in the Dutch foreign ministries. In line with traditional thinking, the former felt the Netherlands should stay out of the CSCE.15 This was a rather unrealistic position from the start, given the fact that several Western countries were genuinely interested.

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Officials at the NATO Directorate, however, thought that even though Moscow was probably striving to impose a Pax Sovietica, the conference offered an excellent opportunity to press the West’s demands, precisely because of Moscow’s eagerness.16 By late June 1972, this view had carried the day. Officials in the NATO Directorate argued that in order to improve further its negotiation position, NATO should pretend not to be interested in the CSCE, and at the same time reach internal agreement on the goals it wanted to achieve. The Netherlands used various tactics to bolster NATO’s negotiation position: Dutch diplomats demanded that NATO stick to its original list of demands and eschew unilateral concessions.17 Additionally, they stressed that the presence of Dutch officials at the Multilateral Preparatory Talks (MPT) did not imply they would participate in the actual conference; they would only do so if the outcome of the MPT was satisfactory.18 The CSCE itself also offered opportunities: envisaged as a three-tier conference, Phase II could only take place if Phase I had been successful, and so on.19 Noticing the Soviets’ eagerness to hold a summit, and in order to temper the optimism among some NATO partners, the Dutch declared that no result would warrant the participation of the top political leaders.20 Last, the Netherlands stressed their interest in the talks on Multilateral and Balanced Force Reductions (MBFR). These were deemed to be much more important because of the legally binding nature of the agreements to be signed there. MBFR should start even if there was no agreement on the CSCE. The reverse, however – a CSCE without MBFR – was out of the question.21 The Foreign Ministry’s interest in MBFR was sincere, although there were also domestic pressures; the Dutch Labor Party was becoming increasingly critical toward NATO membership and military expenditures, the size of which also troubled the ruling Center–Right coalition.22 A MBFR treaty would be legally binding, whereas a European security conference should never be, as this might legalize a Pax Sovietica. Additionally, MBFR was seen as complementary to SALT (strategic arms limitation talks). Nuclear disarmament, or even limitation, would result in a shift of power away from the West unless it was accompanied by an agreement on the balanced reduction of conventional forces. The Dutch interest in MBFR was fueled by the belief that security was indivisible; military matters had an impact on the political relations between East and West and vice versa. For legal and political reasons, the Dutch preferred separate talks, but these issues should form part of the agenda of any conference on European security. In Helsinki, they tried to establish a close and direct link between MBFR and the CSCE, but their effort failed, as both of the superpowers as well as France, for different reasons, opposed a linkage.23 When their proposal was vetoed, the Netherlands then purported to have no real interest in the CSCE and continued its tough bargaining. The Dutch opinions and objections closely resembled NATO’s original position on a CSCE, but as most allies had moved away from that stance, the Netherlands was effectively acting as a brake on those states’ enthusiasm.24 As Italy shared many of the Dutch views and because NATO preferred decisions by consensus, this “minority of two” was often able to block unilateral Western

186 F. Baudet concessions, but not always. Not surprisingly then, the outcome of MPT was reviewed very critically. The NATO directorate was not pleased with the “faulty” mandate. Though it did contain crucial Western demands to which we shall return later, the elevation of the inviolability of frontiers to the status of a separate principle caused dismay, as did the mandate in military matters. What was agreed now gave people a “false sense of security.”25 A week later, however, Foreign Minister Max van der Stoel judged that “we came out rather well.” His general feeling was that the chances of a breakthrough in East–West relations “had never been as good since the end of World War II.”26 It is not clear why their analyses differed. Possibly, the NATO directorate was not initially sure that the mandate could lead to the results it was aiming at.

Fighting the Brezhnev Doctrine The above-mentioned June 1972 report concluded that détente would only be worthwhile if it resulted in “better relations with and within Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union, which concretely meant a code of good conduct between states, a free flow of individuals, ideas and information, and mutual and balanced force reductions.”27 On the same day, Foreign Minister Norbert Schmelzer explained in Cabinet that the aim of the West was “a gradual luring away of the satellites from the existing bloc.”28 In other words, the CSCE was meant to force a breakthrough in East–West relations.29 A few months later, delegation leader Théodor Valck Lucassen publicly repeated this aim in his opening statement in Helsinki: “We will have to strive for a lasting détente and a real rapprochement, and to this end, today’s divisions and controversies will have to be removed gradually.”30 Of course, no one thought this would happen overnight, and many doubted that the Soviet Union would ever cooperate. Both Schmelzer and his successor, van der Stoel, however, agreed that a lasting peace in Europe was impossible as long as the Communist regimes were in place. The subjugation of Eastern Europe to Soviet interests was a continuing source of instability.31 As an August 1973 memorandum stated: “To the West, the postwar period is paramount, with among other things the events of 1948, 1956 and 1968, on which our desire to clearly formulate principles such as the right to self-determination and human rights is based.”32 During Phase II (September 1973 to July 1975), the Dutch focused on several issues, all of which would contribute towards this goal. In the following, their effort and the reactions it produced will be discussed in some detail. But first a word on their negotiating tactics. As before, The Hague believed that it was the Soviets that wanted the CSCE and that in spite of their own set of goals, Moscow was the requester. If the Soviets wanted real détente, they would have to prove it: Soviet concessions at the MBFR talks would lead to Dutch ones at the CSCE. But Van der Stoel limited his delegation’s leeway by closely linking the baskets at the CSCE as well.33 Over time, this attitude acquired a new rationale: as the MBFR negotiations soon became deadlocked, the importance of the

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CSCE gradually increased. It now became paramount to score a success, both in the military and in the political spheres, which for instance helps explain the Dutch interest in confidence-building measures (CBMs). It also explains how the Dutch became committed to a conference they originally did not want. For the tactics they employed, this change in rationale mattered little. The almost proverbial Dutch intransigence annoyed many Western allies. It certainly annoyed the Russians, although it sometimes also commanded respect. More importantly, this approach was successful, even though former delegation leader Rein Huydecoper van Nigtevecht deplored what he saw as an unnecessary limitation on the Dutch leeway: Van der Stoel’s instruction was that the delegation should give up its resistance when it found itself alone. Huydecoper felt the Netherlands unduly had to conform to watered-down NATO or EPC compromises.34 His superior at The Hague seemed to share these reservations, but his effort to convince Van der Stoel failed.35 Regardless, the Dutch had disproportional influence, and saw most of their demands satisfied. Like most Western states, the Netherlands did not want the CSCE to become an Ersatzfrieden. It also feared that the Soviets wanted to create a separate European system of international law that would give them a droit de regard in Western European affairs, hence the West’s opposition to a legally binding document and the establishment of a permanent body.36 In this respect, the West’s effort in Basket I was defensive. It wanted to retain its freedom of movement. Additionally, the West feared that the European system envisaged by the Soviets would legitimize the Brezhnev Doctrine and the ideological division of the continent, thus consolidating Soviet domination of the East and enabling it to repeat the events of 1956 and 1968. The Netherlands definitely went beyond that. When the members of the Western alliance agreed in late 1970 to formulate proposals that might eventually be filed, the Dutch focused on the Brezhnev Doctrine, although it was clear that blocking it would not be easy. However, by April 1971, the foreign ministry’s legal adviser had come up with a text based on the right to selfdetermination. Its wording implied that regardless of their present system, Socialist states still had that right.37 The NATO directorate was not entirely satisfied and amended the draft to make the notion of change more explicit. It next had to make sure self-determination was on the agenda of the conference. It was included in the draft list of principles that was compiled by Switzerland and met with fierce resistance from Moscow, which claimed that self-determination was only relevant in a colonial context. States that had adopted Socialism had forfeited that right once and for all, since Socialism represented a higher stage of human development, according to the Soviets.38 When the West kept insisting, Moscow traded it for acceptance of the principle of inviolability of frontiers on the part of the Western, neutral, and non-aligned states. Italy and the Netherlands vehemently opposed such a deal because they did not want to pay that price, but were overruled by their allies. This was one of the reasons why the conference agenda was initially viewed critically at The Hague.39 While Dutch civil servants were debating their text, there was some

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discussion about the subjects of the right to self-determination. International law is not clear on this. Some texts suggest that this right extends to peoples; others suggest that it is the prerogative of states, territories, or citizens – entities that are by no means identical. In the end, it was agreed that the right to selfdetermination should be reserved for states, in view of the fact that NATO states Canada and Turkey had to cope with the separatist aspirations of the Québécois and the Kurds, respectively, and would never accept an interpretation that granted the right to self-determination to ethnic groups.40 However, when the proposal finally was discussed in Brussels, West Germany objected to the formula “the people of every State,” because that implied the existence of a separate East German nation. The objections of the West Germans were taken into account, and the proposal was reworded accordingly. It was filed on 3 October 1973:41 The participating States recognize the inalienable right of every people, freely and with all due respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, to choose, develop, adapt or change its political, economic, social or cultural system, without interference of any kind on the part of any State or group of states.42 In other words, society should be arranged on the basis of respect for human rights. And, because these rights are inalienable, their primacy is also nonnegotiable. This effectively limits the options to one type of system: a pluralistic democratic society. When the proposal was discussed in late 1974, conflict erupted within the Western camp because West Germany proposed accepting a Hungarian draft that was supported by East Germany and the other Eastern states. Bonn’s attitude angered the Dutch, who believed the Federal Republic was acting against its own interest, but was supported by the other Western delegations, who agreed that the Hungarian text was the East’s final bid. Departing from his instructions regarding minority positions, Van der Stoel, who feared that the crucial opportunity to condemn the Brezhnev Doctrine would be lost, told the delegation not to concede a single inch.43 At the plenary discussion, the Dutch amended the Hungarian text so as to preserve the dynamics of their own proposal. To their surprise, they received support from Greece, which added the words “with due respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms” and “inalienable” that had been part of the original Dutch draft.44 In the bargaining that followed, the Soviet Union was unable to neutralize this dynamic interpretation; it had to recognize that the right to self-determination could not be forfeited.45 This result could hardly have been satisfactory for Moscow. The dynamic interpretation of the principle advanced by the Dutch, and its subsequent adoption, amounted to a real coup. Self-determination of peoples was recognized to be an inalienable right that could not be forfeited by the adoption (or imposition, for that matter) of a particular political system. The West consented to the postwar borders, but the Communist regimes were less secure

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than before. This success surprised most Western delegations,46 but it did not convince them that the Dutch confrontational approach was better than their own. In Basket I, the Dutch also filed a text for the tenth principle. In line with the belief that it was crucial to reaffirm existing international law, it aimed to do so especially between the member states of the Warsaw Treaty Organization. Its wording was vague so as to ensure that even unwritten agreements had to be in conformity with international law.47 The Dutch proposal was rejected. Most Western states were satisfied with an East German compromise that unambiguously stated that when conflict arose between treaty obligations and the Charter of the United Nations, the Charter would have precedence. The Dutch distrusted the phrase “obligations arising from treaties . . . as well as . . . international law,” and for a while contemplated an amendment from its own draft, but in the end they accepted the East German draft.48 In spite of the despair that transpired from the reports of the Dutch negotiators, they were not alone in their opposition to the Brezhnev Doctrine. Most Western proposals contained clauses to that effect.49 These drafts reflected the initial agreement within NATO that under no circumstance should the Brezhnev Doctrine be sanctioned, a view that was also expressed in the alliance’s communiqués, which stressed the right of peoples to shape their own destinies, free of the threat of external intervention, coercion, or constraint.50 What set the Dutch apart, however, was their relentless effort to reject the Brezhnev Doctrine even in the face of tough opposition from their own allies. The US, in particular, felt that no purpose would be served in doing so. When Dutch State Secretary for Foreign Affairs Pieter Kooijmans paid a visit to Washington in October 1973, US Deputy Assistant Secretary for European Affairs George Springsteen was infuriated at his remark that the CSCE should not reaffirm the status quo. Soviet domination of Eastern Europe was a fact of life, Springsteen observed. Kooijmans retorted that this only showed the importance of the Dutch proposal on self-determination.51 After the Kooijmans visit, Kissinger coined the immortal expression “Dutch Cabaret,” which Brezhnev later used to castigate Van der Stoel.52 Of the other Western governments, the French, the Germans, and several others believed it was counterproductive to ask for the impossible. Nevertheless, when the Final Act was signed, the Brezhnev Doctrine not only conflicted with Principles Eight and Ten, but with most others as well. The preamble of the Final Act states that the Principles would guide relations between all states in Europe, regardless of their membership in an alliance. Principle One reaffirms the right of every state to choose and develop its political system and pursue its own foreign policy. Principle Two condemns the use of force, whereas Principle Four prohibits occupying another country. Principle Six prohibits intervention as well as the threat of intervention, regardless of the relations between the states concerned, and rules out the subjugation of one state’s rights to the interests of another.53 The frequent references to the purposes and principles of the United Nations were also intended to condemn the Brezhnev

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Doctrine: all states, regardless of their political system, were bound by the universally accepted rules of international law.54 Rather than sanctioning the division of Europe, as most historiography maintains, the CSCE opposed it. The implicit condemnation of the Brezhnev Doctrine by all 35 CSCE states robbed the Soviet Union of a means of dominating its sphere of influence, while the recognition of the right to self-determination and the condition that this be exercised with full respect for human rights – principles Seven and Eight taken together – effectively sewed the seeds for a breakthrough of status quo.

Negotiating CBMs: a “shameful” and “disgusting” chapter Apart from the guiding principles, the Dutch had a distinct interest in confidence-building measures (CBMs). This stemmed from their belief that détente could not be subdivided into political and military détente, and paralleled their interest in MBFR. The NATO directorate was convinced that CBMs could serve as a means to “open” the Soviet system and make it more transparent.55 They had little real military value and would not actually deter attacks, but a continuous flow of information would contribute to realizing the goal of pacifying the Soviet Union. A further consideration may have been that CBMs increased the satellite states’ security vis-à-vis Moscow.56 The negotiations focused on territory, time, and the amount (and type) of troops involved. The Dutch, who did not file proposals of their own, characterized the sessions as “shameful” and “disgusting.” The East opposed any meaningful discussion, and as elsewhere, the West’s position was complicated by disagreement between NATO member states and discrepancies between what they were saying in Brussels and in Geneva. The central issue was the feasibility of NATO’s initial demands, which suggested that the CBMs include all of Europe including Turkey and the Soviet Union west of the Urals, a 60-day time span, mandatory notification of maneuvers involving 10,000 troops or more, and troop movements. The US wanted to exclude those (“kill the movements”), whereas Greece and Turkey did not want all of their territory included.57 The Dutch clung to these demands, which led to the Eastern complaint that they were “unrealistic” and trying to sabotage the CSCE.58 This complaint was not justified, because Norway and Italy also clung to NATO’s original list, but the Dutch bore the brunt of Eastern, and Western, criticism.59 In June 1975, discussing the matter with Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin, Henry Kissinger proposed an agreement involving an 18-day time span, 30,000 troops, and a 250-kilometer zone, without informing the NATO allies, who felt stabbed in the back and vetoed it. The neutral and non-aligned countries then came up with the compromise that was adopted. The Soviets only agreed when the Netherlands threatened to veto Stage III of the CSCE.60

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Basket III – the litmus test of détente Just like Basket I, Basket III was a Cold War battleground, at least in the opinion of The Hague. The idea of including the free movement of individuals, ideas, and information on the agenda of the CSCE apparently originated with the US State Department, which saw in it a means of subverting the Communist regimes. Precisely for this reason, Kissinger opposed it. But he could not prevent the Europeans from taking up the issue.61 As in the negotiations over Basket I, Western opinions differed considerably as to what to demand and how to achieve it, and again, the Dutch were hardliners. They filed three proposals, two of which were highly controversial: one dealt with personal correspondence, the other with access to (foreign) books and literature.62 The personal correspondence proposal was a logical addition to direct human contacts, The Hague believed. In order to prove that the KGB and other secret police were obstructing these contacts, the Dutch Foreign Ministry sought the help of Amnesty International, which immediately sent a bag full of returned mail and documentation about countless letters that had been opened by parties other than the legitimate recipients.63 All this was sent to Geneva to annoy the East and to disprove their claims.64 The East held that mail had nothing to do whatsoever with international relations, and stressed that their constitutions contained ample guarantees to safeguard personal correspondence and – again – accused the Dutch of spoiling the good atmosphere of détente. Still, the proposal seemed to be headed for success. The Soviet Union did not veto it outright, but parenthesized all of the text, indicating its acceptance that the subject would figure in the final document.65 The satisfaction on the part of the Dutch was premature, as the proposal was dropped in its entirety during the last redaction phase.66 The other proposal, on accessibility, was symbolic, even bordering on propaganda, but it was a serious proposal. Even when it was obviously provocative, the Dutch Foreign Ministry believed it was possible to include some of its ideas into the final document.67 They intended to enable dissident authors to express and disseminate their views. Privately known as the “Solzhenitsyn proposal,” it should be understood as an effort to counter the post-1968 re-ideologization within the Soviet bloc. It was also a sign that the Netherlands was not prepared to pay any price for détente. Both parties had to conform to certain norms of civilization, including human rights.68 The proposal set off a controversy among the Western allies. France believed it would lead to pointless confrontation, while being of no real use to dissident authors. The Dutch delegation maintained that proposals of this type were needed, as Andrei Sakharov and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had argued. Furthermore, Van der Stoel had told parliament about it, and could hardly be expected to withdraw a proposal that was widely supported in the Netherlands. They also argued it was not wise to present prima facie “acceptable” proposals: such an approach would only water down the final text, which was not in the interest of the West.69

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The West’s reactions were mild in comparison to those of the East.70 Still, in the spring of 1974, a second Dutch draft received the support of the neutral and non-aligned countries as well as of the Western states. There only seems to be an indirect connection with the eviction of Solzhenitsyn from the USSR in February 1974. His expulsion aroused public opinion in the West, and several Western governments protested. The Hague also instructed the delegation in Geneva “not to slow things down, but to negotiate firmly.”71 In practice, this was the same thing. Most Western delegations took it slow and revitalized older proposals that the East had already vetoed. But the original Dutch “Solzhenitsyn proposal” did not attract new support.72 The revised one did, however. Huydecoper then received instructions to stick firmly to that text: the proposal had once served to facilitate the adoption of the proposal on personal correspondence, but this was no longer the case. It should be possible to include similar wording in the final document.73 As in the case of the CBMs, the Dutch used their opposition to a summit as leverage to obtain Soviet concessions.74

Détente à la Hollandaise From the above, it may be concluded that of all NATO members, the Netherlands was the most consistent hardliner. Prince Henri of Liechtenstein described their attitude aptly: “We all throw stones at the Soviets, but the Dutch throw entire blocks of concrete.”75 What caused this attitude? In my opinion, the Dutch intransigence and the Dutch proposals are best explained as an expression of an anti-Communism that had already been manifest during the inter-war years and that was reinforced by the totalitarianism paradigm that presented the struggle against the Soviet Union as a continuation of the struggle against Nazism. The reports of the Dutch negotiators in Geneva and Helsinki testify to a strongly developed anti-totalitarian outlook. During the 1950s and early 1960s, the formative years of most of the Dutch diplomats that negotiated the Final Act, antitotalitarianism was officially endorsed by government propaganda and remained the dominant outlook well into the 1970s. Events during these years, such as the Eastern European popular uprisings of 1956 and 1968, the construction of the Berlin Wall, and personal experiences during World War II and with Soviet Communism – for instance, the experiences of Dutch policy-makers and members of the CSCE delegation that had served in Eastern Europe – further contributed to this stance. Unfortunately, to a large extent, the sources and persistence of this antitotalitarianism still await clarification. Dutch political traditions, which were generally skeptical of a strongly politicized executive and stressed personal liberty, may have exerted considerable influence. By the mid-1970s, antitotalitarianism had become old-fashioned, and many self-styled progressives had come to believe that they and the Communists held essentially the same views. The Foreign Ministry’s hierarchical organizational structure seems to have helped prevent such views from becoming dominant, at least in those directorates that were waging the Cold War.76 It was this anti-totalitarian outlook that

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shaped the Dutch attitude toward Eastern Europe and, consequently, their performance during the CSCE. At the core of their deliberations was the belief that the Cold War was primarily caused by the Soviet Union, which was denying a number of European states the right to self-determination and imposing its own inhuman system on them. But there were other factors at play, like the consensus rule. At several critical junctions (self-determination, personal correspondence, and CBMs) the Dutch made use of this principle. Without it, it is conceivable that the Dutch would have had to cave in earlier. Some of the former diplomats attribute their intransigence to the fact that they had a better understanding of the West’s excellent negotiating position, which translated into tough instructions and an even tougher stance of the Dutch delegation, which would not have objected if the conference had failed.77 It is true that, like the Canadians and the Italians, the Dutch understood that Moscow was the requester. But this fact in itself has little explanatory value. Why did the Netherlands have this understanding in the first place? The answer to this question can be found in the anti-totalitarian outlook of the Netherlands, and, additionally, in the absence of any “real” Dutch interest in Eastern Europe. The aim was to prevent a deterioration of the West’s position, and, if possible, to bring about change. Several Western countries held that the right to selfdetermination and the free flow of information were essentially bargaining tools; in the eyes of the Dutch, however, they constituted the essence of the CSCE. But if the conference failed, only a little would be lost: there were no Dutch behind the Iron Curtain, and economic or cultural contacts were negligible. Unlike the Germans or the French, the Netherlands delegation could not be blackmailed by the other side. Leaving aside differences in diplomatic style, this may have contributed considerably to the Dutch approach. Last, one negotiator pointed to the relatively young age of the Dutch delegation. Due to their lack of experience in multilateral negotiations, they were not impressed by the countless negotiators with UN experience that crowded both Eastern and Western delegations and who were used to finding compromises.78 This may have been an additional factor, as in the Swiss case.79 But it should not be forgotten that although the Dutch had sent a young team, it was led by experienced diplomats, and it was they who were often dismayed at their allies’ willingness to compromise.

Conclusion In view of these observations, how are we to interpret the Dutch negotiation strategy? Was there a master plan aimed at undermining Soviet hegemony in Eastern Europe? In fact, this was not the case: many of the European allies fostered different ideas, and intra-NATO relations were strained. These divisions

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often became manifest, and the Soviet Union tried to exploit them. NATO’s attempt to coordinate the West’s efforts at the Conference utterly failed for lack of unity in goals and perceptions when it actually came to negotiations. By early 1975, it had effectively given up trying to coordinate a common Western position, which the Netherlands deplored.80 If there was a master plan, it was not put into effect. As outlined above, policy-makers in The Hague felt that the Eastern European regimes and their involuntary relationship with Moscow lacked legitimacy and were a continuing source of tension. As long as this remained the case, a lasting peace was unattainable. The question was how to translate these views into concrete policy. Here, too, there were fundamental differences between the Netherlands and many of its allies. Many of them opted for a policy of rapprochement in the 1960s. The Dutch government, on the other hand, preferred to minimize contacts with the East. When, as a result of improved relations between Washington and Moscow, such policies had become untenable, the Netherlands now chose an offensive, ideologically inspired strategy, which aimed at creating conditions for a gradual change, both in Moscow’s relationship with its satellites and within those states. Rather than reaffirming the status quo, the CSCE was to (re-)establish the Eastern European states’ right to selfdetermination and undermine the Communist Parties’ monopoly of information. For that reason, the Netherlands took a tough stance with regard to proposals that had a corrosive potential. It received support from other Western and neutral delegations: Italy, and sometimes Britain and Belgium often teamed up with the Dutch delegation. The US delegation frequently offered tacit support. And although not all of the Dutch proposals were included in the Final Act, the most fundamental one was: the right to self-determination, and especially the implicit clause that such a right could not be forfeited by adopting a Communist system. The tenacity of the Netherlands helped to ensure that the Final Act had much potential. Although its wording was veiled, it was in fact explosive. Furthermore, the presence of the fourth basket, i.e., the provision that the implementation of the agreement was subject to review by the other signatories, turned the CSCE into a process that had to deliver or be terminated. “Control” over détente was effectively wrested from the Soviet Union. Détente could no longer simply be proclaimed – it had to be proven. Turning the CSCE into a process, however, also meant that Western agendas had to be reformulated. While there had been no effective plan during the negotiations at Geneva, NATO now adopted the concept of the margin of tolerance. Each Eastern European country was believed to have a specific margin of leeway in relation to the Soviet Union. The margin could be determined by each country’s reaction toward Western complaints about human rights violations.81 The more it differed from that of the Soviet Union, the broader the margin and the greater the possibilities for internal liberalization and an independent foreign policy in the respective country. A crucial aspect of the concept was that it was not static: Western carrot-and-stick tactics could expand the margin. This could be considered a “plan,” even if there

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was no timetable; however, conflicts remained due to diverging assessments of each Eastern European country’s performance. Several Western countries had already announced at the start of the talks in Geneva that the future of détente depended on progress in Basket III. During the follow-up meetings in Belgrade (1977–78), Madrid (1980–83), and Vienna (1986–89), the Netherlands continued its crusade in the same vein. The pronounced role it had played in Helsinki and Geneva diminished after Henry Kissinger left office. The US became more interested in the CSCE, and finally took the lead within the alliance. The Dutch hardly became less active. They continued to propagate a hard-line approach even within the ranks of NATO, and in so doing had considerable success. They explored the limits of the margin where they saw fit, and over time a pattern evolved according to which Eastern European countries that tried to adopt an independent foreign policy, as well as those that offered their citizens some breathing space, were encouraged to pursue further that course, whereas countries that did neither were heavily criticized. In the process, Van der Stoel’s successor Hans van den Broek, for instance, was the first Western foreign minister to talk with Lech Wale˛sa of the Polish Solidarnosc movement. If the CSCE and human rights issues contributed to the erosion of the Eastern European regimes, this can be ascribed partially to the Dutch efforts at the CSCE.

Notes 1 New York Times, paraphrased in telex 388.968, Washington to The Hague, 22 July 1975, Archief Ministerie van Buitenlandse Zaken (archives of the foreign office, hereinafter ABZ), Directie Atlantische Samenwerking en Veiligheidszaken (Directorate of Atlantic Cooperation and Security Matters, hereinafter DAV), 1975–84, file 653. 2 Wall Street Journal, 23 July 1975. 3 “Ce n’est qu’un gadget diplomatique . . . que personne ne lira,” Jacques Bariéty, “La France, les Droits de l’Homme et la Genèse de la Conférence d’Helsinki de 1975,” in Human Rights in Europe after 1945, Antoine Fleury, Carole Fink and Lubor Jilek (eds.) (Berne: Peter Lang, 2003) pp. 297–320, p. 320. 4 De Volkskrant, 30 July 1975. 5 Het Parool, 3 August 1975. 6 NRC-Handelsblad, 22 and 25 July 1975, respectively; Trouw, 28 July 1975. 7 Richard D. Vine, “The Sources of Western Policies,” in Soviet–East European Relations as a Problem for the West, Richard D. Vine (ed.) (London, New York, and Sydney: Croom Helm, 1987) pp. 9–39, at p. 24. Cf. Bernhardt Gräfrath, “Zu internationalen Aspekten der Menschenrechtsdiskussion,” Neue Justiz 32, (1978), p. 330, quoted in Christoph Müller, Die Menschenrechte als Außenpolitisches Ziel [Human Rights as a Foreign Policy Goal] (Baden Baden: Nomos, 1986) p. 157; Geoffrey Edwards, “Human Rights and Basket III Issues: Areas of Change and Continuity,” International Affairs 61, no. 4 (1985), pp. 640–2; Vojtech Mastny (ed.), Helsinki, Human Rights and European Security (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1986), p. 10; Bernd von Staden, “From Madrid to Vienna; the CSCE Process,” Aussenpolitik 37, no. 4 (1986), pp. 359f. Post-1989 historiography includes the excellent work by Alexis Heraclides, Security and Co-operation in Europe: The Human Dimension 1972–1992 (London: Frank Cass, 1993).

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8 Daniel Thomas, The Helsinki Effect: International Norms, Human Rights, and the Demise of Communism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2001). See also Stephan Lehne, The Vienna Meeting of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1986–1989: A Turning Point in East-West Relations (Boulder, CO, San Francisco, and Oxford: Westview Press, 1991), pp. ix, 2; James Goodby, Europe Undivided: The New Logic of Peace in US–Russian Relations (Washington and Stanford: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1998) pp. 37–64. 9 Alfred van Staden, Een Trouwe Bondgenoot: Nederland en het Atlantisch Bondgenootschap [A Loyal Ally: The Netherlands and the Atlantic Alliance] (Baarn: Anthos, 1974), p. 150. 10 Weekly digest 24, 23 June 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 690. 11 Jacco Pekelder, Nederland en de DDR [The Netherlands and the GDR] (Amsterdam: Boom, 1998). 12 Concept talking points for North Atlantic Council (NAC), 30 and 31 May 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 690, and draft speech Van der Stoel for NAC, 12 and 13 December 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 733. 13 “Notities bij Europese veiligheid en samenwerking,” (Summer 1972), ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 661, Compare Ministerie van Buitenlandse Zaken, Helsinki, Genève, Helsinki (The Hague: SDU 1976), p. 18. 14 Van Staden, Bondgenoot, p. 154. 15 Personal communications by Paul Polak and Harm Hazewinkel (head and assistant head, respectively, of the East European desk). 16 Personal communications by Nicolas Biegman (NATO directorate; negotiator MPT), Jo van der Valk (NATO directorate; head of CSCE delegation), and Willem van Eekelen (NATO directorate). 17 Talking points NAC, 30 and 31 May 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 677; cf. The Hague to Paris (embassy), 26 December 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 742; NATO directorate to Schmelzer, 28 April 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 720. 18 Internal memorandum “Voorbereiding EVC” [Preparation, Security Conference], 25 February 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 720. Cf. New York to The Hague, 2 October 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 661. 19 London to The Hague, 9 April 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 702. 20 The Hague to Geneva, 29 November 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 725; Van der Stoel to political director, 30 January 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 726. Cf. ibid., The Hague to Geneva, 2 April, 1974 and Washington to The Hague, 13 August 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 731. 21 The Hague to Stockholm, 23 January 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 699; The Hague to Helsinki, 30 May 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 702; Address by Van der Stoel before the European Council of Ministers, 5 June 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 703. 22 Frank Zuijdam, Tussen Wens en Werkelijkheid: Het Debat over Vrede en Veiligheid binnen de PvdA in de Periode 1958–1977 [Between Wish and Reality: The Debate about Peace and Security within the Dutch Labor Party, 1958–1977] (Amsterdam: Aksant, 2001). 23 Johannes Reef, Die Niederlande im internationalen System: Fallstudien zur Einfluss eines Kleinstaates [The Netherlands in International Politics: Case Studies of the Influence of a Small State] (Hamburg and Münster: Lit, 1995), pp. 202–4; Bert Bomert, Nederland en Oost-Europa. [The Netherlands and Eastern Europe] (Nijmegen: Studiecentrum voor Vredesvraagstukken, 1991), pp. 84–8. The Dutch proposal is on p. 86; John J. Maresca, To Helsinki (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1985), pp. 45 and 158. 24 Helsinki to The Hague, 2 April 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 701; Letter 1740/244, Helsinki to The Hague, 8 June 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 703; Geneva to The Hague, 4 and 8 May 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 679; Rome to

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25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34

35 36

37 38 39 40 41 42

43 44 45 46 47 48 49

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The Hague, 11 January 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 726. See also: NATO directorate to Schmelzer, 71/72, 28 April 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 720. Weekly digest 22, 8 June 1973 and letter 1740/244, Helsinki to The Hague, 8 June 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 703. Address by Van der Stoel to NAC, 14 and 15 June 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 703. Weekly digest 24, 23 June 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 690. Cabinet meeting, 23 June 1972, National Archives (The Hague) 2.02.05.02, cabinet meetings, file 1161, 299. See, for example, draft memorandum NATO directorate, 15 November 1971, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 675 and European directorate to Van der Stoel, 75/73, 11 July 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 679. Address by Théodor Valck Lucassen, 29 November 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 698. Personal communications by Norbert Schmelzer and Max van der Stoel. The Hague to Brussels (NATO) and CSCE embassies, 3 August 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 713. New York to The Hague, 29 September 1973, ABZ, political affairs, 1965–74, file 724. The Hague to Geneva, 2 July 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 731. Added with a pen is the remark: “additions by M” – i.e., Minister. For Huydecoper’s view: “Slotakte,” pp. 85–95, 109, and 130. He refers to the proposals aimed at attacking the Soviet monopoly on information. NATO directorate to Van der Stoel, 91/74, 9 July 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 731. NATO directorate to European directorate, 4 April 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 701; legal adviser to NATO directorate (not specified), 15 August 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 713; ibid., legal adviser to NATO directorate 23/73, 20 August 1973; The Hague to embassies in CSCE countries, 28 August 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 723; Paris (embassy) to The Hague, 8 November 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 725. Cf. Ministerie, Helsinki, p. 34. Legal adviser to NATO directorate 18/71, 5 April 1971, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 711. Helsinki to The Hague, 31 January 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 699. See Helsinki to The Hague, 4 May 1973 and The Hague to Helsinki, 8 May 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 679. International organizations directorate to NATO directorate, 39/71, 6 May 1971, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 711. The Hague to Brussels (NATO), 13 August 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 713. CSCE/II/A/8, in Human Rights, European Politics and the Helsinki Accord: The Documentary Evolution of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–1975, Igor I. Kavass, Jacqueline Paquin Granier, and Mary Frances Dominick (eds.), 6 vols. (Buffalo, NY: W. S. Hein, 1981), vol. III, pp. 121f. Geneva to The Hague, 2 October 1974, and The Hague to Geneva, 8 October 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 718. Geneva to The Hague, 17 October 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 718. Ibid., Geneva to The Hague, 14 November 1974. “Bien plus que vous n’aurez pu espérer.” Geneva to The Hague, 29 November 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 718. CSCE/II/A/14 in Kavass et al., Human Rights, vol. III, pp. 124f; The Hague to Geneva, 9 October 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 715; cf. The Hague to Paris (embassy), 30 July 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 718. Compromise filed by the GDR: Geneva to The Hague, 14 March 1975, ABZ, DAV, 1975–84, file 1,353; the Dutch response can be found ibid., The Hague to Geneva, 21 March 1975. Note, “Het Nederlandse standpunt t.a.v. een ter CEV te aanvaarden ‘declaration on guiding principles for relations between the states attending the CSCE’ ” [Dutch

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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

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position on a “declaration on guiding principles”], NATO directorate to ambassador at large, 21 December 1972, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 711. NATO Communiqué, 27 May 1970, paragraph 4. Washington to The Hague, 8 October 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 682. See Frans Bletz, “Notities bij vier jaar Oost–West beleid,” Internationale Spectator (1977), pp. 655–9, at p. 656. Helsinki Final Act, online, available at: www.osce.org/documents/mcs/1975/08/ 4044_en.pdf (accessed 18 January 2008). Internal memorandum, NATO directorate, 2/75, 10 January 1975, ABZ, DAV, 1975–84, file 1,353. Willem van Eekelen, Sporen trekken door strategische jaren [Laying tracks in strategic years] (The Hague: SDU, 2000) p. 93; see also Floribert Baudet, “ ‘Im Osten nichts Neues’: De Veiligheidsdimensie van de CVSE in Nederlandse ogen” [“All quiet on the eastern front: Dutch views on the security dimension of the CSCE”] Militaire spectator, 174, no. 3 (2005), pp. 125–30. Internal report De Vos to Van der Valk on session of 25 September 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 121. Geneva to The Hague, 14 February 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 80. Geneva to The Hague, 21 January 1975, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 81. Ibid., Geneva to The Hague, 16 May 1975. Personal communications by De Vos and Biegman. Goodby, Europe Undivided, pp. 52f. Personal correspondence: CSCE/II/I/21 in Kavass et al., Human Rights, vol. V, pp. 54f. Accessibility: CSCE/II/K/4 ibid., pp. 171f. Letters from Amnesty International to NATO directorate, 26, 27, and 28 September 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 681. The Hague to Geneva, 2 October 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 682. Geneva to The Hague, 27 February 1974 and 4 March 1974, and The Hague to Geneva, 7 March 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 686. See Bomert, Nederland en Oost-Europa, p. 95. The Hague to Geneva, 22 March 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 686. The Hague to CSCE embassies, 20 August 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 680. Geneva to The Hague and The Hague to Geneva, 18 September 1973 and Geneva to The Hague, 25 September 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 681. Geneva to The Hague, 22 October 1973, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 682. The Hague to Geneva, 16 February 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 727. Geneva to The Hague, 21 March 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 686. Geneva to The Hague, 1 and 2 May 1974 and The Hague to Geneva, 8 May 1974, ABZ, DAV, 1965–74, file 687. Ministerie, Helsinki, p. 68. “Wir alle werfen Steine in der Richtung der Sowjets; die Holländer aber ganze Betonblöcke,” in Huydecoper, “Slotakte,” p. 134. They did influence the development aid sector. Cf. Peter Malcontent and Jan Nekkers (eds.), Fifty years of Dutch Development Cooperation, 1949–1999 (The Hague: SDU, 2000). Personal communications by Biegman and De Vos van Steenwijk. De Vos van Steenwijk to the author, 29 August 2000. Cf. Hans-Jörg Renk, Der Weg der Schweiz nach Helsinki: Der Beitrag der schweizerischen Diplomatie zum Zustandekommen der Konferenz über Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa (KSZE), 1972–1975 [Switzerland’s Road to Helsinki: The Contribution of Swiss Diplomacy to the CSCE, 1972–1975] (Berne: P. Haupt, 1996). Geneva to The Hague, 13 February 1975, The Hague to Geneva, 2 May 1975, and Geneva to The Hague, 16 May 1975 and 10 June 1975, ABZ, DAV, 1975–84, file 81. The Hague to CSCE embassies, 14 July 1977, ABZ, DAV, 1975–84, file 951.

Part V

The Neutrals – economics – military security

11 Expanding the East–West dialog beyond the bloc division The Neutrals as negotiators and mediators, 1969–75 Christian Nuenlist1 Introduction On 1 August 1975, Switzerland, Austria, Sweden, and Finland – the four neutral countries in Cold War Europe – were among the 35 states that signed the Helsinki Final Act. It is commonly accepted that the Neutrals played a crucial role in formulating compromises between NATO and Warsaw Pact states and in constructively shaping the CSCE negotiations.2 Swiss delegate Hans-Jörg Renk, for example, enthusiastically summarized Switzerland’s performance from 1972 to 1975 in his book on his country’s role at the CSCE: “In less than three years, Swiss diplomacy was transformed from an unknown dimension into an important factor in the European East–West dialog – Switzerland evolved from an outsider to a central actor of the conference events.”3 Austrian, Swedish, and Finnish perspectives on the early CSCE process offer the same positive view of their respective opportunities to contribute to the negotiations in Dipoli/Helsinki and Geneva.4 This chapter analyzes the impact the Neutrals had on the early CSCE process, by focusing both on their individual contributions and on Western perceptions thereof. In the scholarship on the Neutrals’ role in the “Helsinki process,” the question of how neutral efforts were perceived by Western countries has been almost completely neglected so far. In this chapter, I investigate to what extent we need to revise the traditional, positive self-perception of neutral foreign policy in the early 1970s – mostly based on the memoirs of CSCE diplomats of Switzerland, Finland, Austria, and Sweden – due to newly available foreign archival evidence. The chapter is structured into three chronological parts, dealing with (1) national and bilateral preparations for a European Security Conference from 1969–72; (2) the multilateral Dipoli talks (1972–73); and (3) the actual CSCE negotiations in Geneva (1973–75). Particular attention will be given to the evolving cooperation among the four Neutrals. I argue that the Neutrals not only provided services to the East and West as intermediaries, but that they actively shaped the substance of the Helsinki Final Act. That the Neutrals aggressively fought for their own interests as negotiators – and sometimes irritated and angered the West – is documented in the CSCE records preserved in British and German archives. In retrospect, the Neutrals, after 1974 mostly in conjunction with the non-aligned countries (Yugoslavia,

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Cyprus, Malta, Liechtenstein, and San Marino), were instrumental in achieving two of the most enduring legacies of the Final Act, namely the acceptance of confidence-building measures (CBMs) as tools for enhancing security in Europe, and the establishment of a continuous “follow-up” process to implement and review the results of the three-year negotiating marathon.

The Neutrals and the idea of a European security conference, 1969–72 When Moscow first introduced the idea of a pan-European security conference (ESC) into international diplomacy in 1954, Switzerland, Sweden, and Finland – but not the United States – were among the addressees of the Soviet note. Austria was not invited because before the State Treaty of 1955, it was not considered as a sovereign country. The Eastern bloc returned to the idea from 1955 to 1966, yet it was not until the Warsaw Pact’s Budapest declaration of 17 March 1969 that a proposal resembling Molotov’s 1954 idea was made to all European states, including the Neutrals.5 In May 1969, Finland, the Neutral with close relations to Moscow, invited 34 interested countries to gather in Helsinki and thus renewed discussions about a security conference. In the following few years, Austria, Switzerland, and Sweden all reviewed their attitude towards the Soviet idea and contributed their ideas for such a pan-European security conference. Finland: impartial host? In the 1960s, Finland’s foreign policy gradually changed from a Nordic to a European focus – active neutrality was perceived as an instrument to achieve sovereignty. On 5 May 1969, the Finnish government sent a memorandum to 32 European countries and the US and Canada, reminding them of the Warsaw Pact declaration of March 1969. At the time, many Western (and even some neutral) countries thought the Finns were plainly acting as on behalf of Moscow, which desperately wished to break out of its diplomatic isolation after its invasion of Czechoslovakia in August 1968. Indeed, Finland’s initiative resulted from a meeting of Soviet Ambassador A. E. Kovalev with Finnish President Urho Kekkonen in early April 1969. Kovalev suggested that Finland prepare a proposal for an ESC and actively participate in the preparations. Kekkonen, however, was concerned that Finland would appear as the Warsaw Pact’s “mailman” and lose credibility in the West. To avoid this impression, Finland’s initiative deliberately differed from earlier Soviet proposals and included three new aspects: first, it invited both German states and the US and Canada to participate in the ESC; second, it emphasized the necessity of thorough preparations, including bilateral consultations and a multilateral preparatory meeting; third, Finland declared its readiness to serve as host for both the security conference and the preparatory meeting.6 With the initiative, Finland aimed at gaining profile as a key promoter of

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détente and using its “special position” in the Cold War to mediate between East and West. On the one hand, Finland was within the Soviet sphere of influence, and its security depended on the goodwill of Moscow; on the other hand, culturally, sociologically, and economically, Finland was firmly embedded in the Western camp of pluralist democracies. Providing good offices for mitigating the East–West confrontation would strengthen Finland’s policy of neutrality.7 To speed up bilateral pre-consultations, the Finnish government in February 1970 established the post of a special delegate. In 1970–71, Ambassador Ralph Enckell visited the 34 prospective participating countries and consulted with them about their views on the idea of an ESC.8 Enckell’s main goal was to demonstrate that Finland was able to organize the security conference in an ideologically independent manner.9 On 24 November 1970, Finland decided that the time was ripe to start multilateral consultations, for example through the “chiefs of mission” in Helsinki – a well-considered term, since West and East Germany were only represented with trade missions in Helsinki at that time.10 On 9 November 1972, after the US presidential elections and after the Soviet Union had met Western conditions for holding a preparatory meeting, the Finnish government formally invited 33 countries – Albania refused to participate – to start multilateral preparatory talks (MPT) in Dipoli/Helsinki on 22 November 1972. In sum, from 1969 to 1972, Finland reduced its role to that of a provider of “good offices” and a catalyst between East and West. Helsinki almost completely refrained from formulating substantive national ideas and thus succeeded in presenting itself as an impartial host and “honest broker” between East and West. Finland also made clear from the very beginning that it had no intention at all of playing the role of an arbitrator between East and West. The Finnish ambassador to Washington, Olavi Munkki, reassured the Nixon administration in May 1972 that it had “never been the intention of Finland to dictate to the conference.”11 Vis-à-vis Western governments, Finnish representatives emphasized that they were interested in practical progress, but that they had no national ambitions. “To play a national Finnish role and present Finnish ideas,” an official from the Finnish foreign ministry assured Britain in November 1972, “was the least important Finnish interest.”12 Thanks to its special qualities – its neutral, Northern European location and good relations with all states, and balanced relations with both German states in particular – Finland was at that time perfectly suited to host the ESC. Western capitals, however, agreed among themselves that “the Finns are likely to be much less neutral than, say, the Swiss and liable to feed some of our views back to the Russians.” But they still took Finland into consideration as much as possible on the assumption that if they treated it as a true neutral, it was “more likely to behave as one.”13 Austria: active neutrality under Bruno Kreisky Austria had supported Warsaw Pact proposals for an ESC since 1964.14 The first substantial Austrian position toward an ESC was published on 24 July 1970.

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Instead of trying to find a compromise solution between the viewpoints of NATO and the Warsaw Pact, Vienna put forward an original Austrian viewpoint on security in Europe. To prevent a situation where military aspects of security would be dealt with exclusively between NATO and the Warsaw Pact,15 Austria proposed that the topic of “mutual and balanced reduction of military potentials in Europe” be placed on the agenda of an ESC. In addition, Vienna was particularly interested in an international agreement on the renouncement of force, since Austria did not directly benefit from the defense shield of a Cold War alliance. Finally, Austria declared its readiness to host preparatory multilateral expert talks in Vienna.16 Austrian CSCE preparations consisted largely of the isolated ideas of Prime Minister Bruno Kreisky. On 25 January 1971, in a speech before the Council of Europe in Strasbourg, Kreisky emphasized Austria’s “strong engagement” for an ESC. He came back to his earlier idea that the situation in the Middle East also needed to be discussed at an ESC. Emphasizing that the “war-like situation” in the Middle East currently threatened peace and security in Europe, he felt that a security conference did not deserve such a name if it did not include the Middle East on its agenda and Middle Eastern countries among its participants.17 The Austrian foreign ministry at first did not support Kreisky’s Middle East proposal, but by mid-1972, the idea was included in Austria’s CSCE policy.18 Finally, in September 1972, the Austrian government circulated its ideas regarding the “follow-up” procedure of a CSCE. Vienna suggested signing a European Security Treaty, including mutual security guarantees for treaty members, and establishing a so-called “European Security Council,” modeled on the UN Security Council.19 The West rejected most of the Austrian ideas. It did not want to include the Middle East problem on the CSCE agenda. It was aware that this topic was “a bee in Dr Kreisky’s bonnet” and that his enthusiasm for it was not shared in the Austrian foreign ministry. Western governments also did not want to turn the CSCE into a “mini General Assembly.”20 In general, the Austrian government was still traumatized by the events in Prague in 1968, and was hesitant to consider a Soviet détente initiative. The Austrians only began to develop a real interest in the CSCE in Dipoli. Switzerland: from skepticism to activism In 1969, Switzerland thought that the Finns were acting on behalf of the Soviet Union. Swiss diplomat Hans-Jörg Renk later recalled that at that time, “the Swiss regarded themselves as the only ‘real’ Neutrals, whereas Austria, Finland, and Sweden were seen as ‘neutralistic’.”21 The Swiss government acknowledged a general interest in the East–West conference project, but insisted that as a permanent neutral country and non-belligerent from 1939–45, it could not assume a vocal role at a “belated peace conference of World War II.” It was not ready to discuss border questions such as the Oder-Neisse Line or German reunification at an ESC. Like Finland and Austria, Switzerland declared its pre-

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paredness to act as a host and offered Geneva as conference site. It hoped that preparations for an ESC would not be dominated by NATO and the Warsaw Pact, but might also grant the non-members of Cold War alliances a voice.22 In July 1970, a working group within the Swiss foreign ministry directed by chief legal adviser Rudolf Bindschedler concluded a 100-page, strictly confidential report on the implications of an ESC for Switzerland. It recommended that Switzerland should participate in the conference if the Soviet Union was willing to respect Swiss neutrality. The so-called “Bindschedler Report” introduced three important aspects to the Swiss position. First, if the Swiss participated, they should participate actively. Second, Switzerland should stand up for the strengthening of international law, a traditional Swiss concern. Switzerland should submit an arbitration proposal to an ESC. Third, besides introducing its own proposal, Switzerland should mediate between opposing viewpoints and seek acceptable compromises as an honest broker.23 When Swiss Foreign Minister Pierre Graber publicly presented the Swiss idea of a compulsory system of peaceful settlement of disputes, he also emphasized that the Swiss were interested in the exchange of persons and ideas, not only of goods, between East and West. He proposed an exchange of opinions regarding the development of international tourism.24 Swiss attitudes towards an ESC thus changed from pronounced skepticism in 1969 to an active role envisaged in July 1970 and beyond. The “Bindschedler Report” was quite an achievement compared with the more passive approaches of other potential participants of an ESC. From 1970 onwards, the Swiss government actively lobbied both for its substantial proposal to establish a system of peaceful settlement of disputes and for a procedural go-between role at the talks, thus carefully preparing the path for a “third-party” role beyond the Western and Eastern camps. The Swiss made clear vis-à-vis Western governments in 1972 that they were under no illusion that their arbitration system might be adopted by the CSCE. From a tactical viewpoint, however, the idea had the advantage that a Soviet refusal would expose the Soviets as only paying lip service to the principles of peaceful settlement of disputes.25 The West was relieved that the Swiss seemed to be approaching the conference “in a very practical spirit” and looked upon their proposals “as much as means of discomforting the Russians as of achieving anything practical.”26 The British noted gleefully that the Swiss arbitration proposals could have propaganda value in that they would “embarrass the Soviets even more when presented by a neutral.”27 In its substance, the Swiss idea was rejected both by West and East. In the West, the main criticism was that the proposed tribunal might duplicate the work of the existing International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Hague. If the Soviet Union, against expectations, accepted the Swiss proposal, Moscow might exploit such a system to gain direct interference in Western affairs, or simply ignore the rulings of the new system in practice. It was also feared that a second Swiss proposal, for a European commission of inquiry, would lead to permanent CSCE mechanisms, as desired by the Soviet Union.28 The speculations about

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Moscow’s reaction were irrelevant, as the Soviets “entirely opposed” the Swiss ideas on an arbitration tribunal.29 By the time the Dipoli talks opened, the Swiss were under no illusions about the chances for an implementation of their project.30 Sweden: Olaf Palme and arms control Sweden’s attitude towards the conference idea was cautiously positive in the mid-1960s. Compared with the activities of Finland, the Swedish behavior was rather passive. Traditionally, Sweden looked to the universal domain – the international system as represented by the United Nations – and did not incorporate a European or regional orientation into its neutrality policy.31 Swedish Prime Minister Olof Palme played a crucial role in shaping Swedish perspectives on détente and its active neutrality policy. He advocated disarmament within the UN framework and criticized the superpowers’ military aggressions both in Vietnam and in Czechoslovakia. As a consequence of this criticism, the possibilities of Sweden acting as an intermediary between East and West were substantially diminished by the late 1960s.32 The Swedish government regarded the 1969 Finnish memorandum as “a constructive contribution” to efforts aiming at a détente in Europe, but underlined in its response of 10 July 1969 that the suggested security conference needed to avoid any duplication to the Geneva-based UN Economic Commission for Europe (ECE) or any contradiction of the UN Declaration of Friendly Relations between States (1970). Stockholm also stated that “unrealistic topics” such as the German question or the situation in the Middle East should not be discussed at an ESC.33 On 10 June 1970, Swedish Foreign Minister Torsten Nilsson introduced a traditional Swedish concern into the considerations for a security conference: he stated that disarmament questions should not be ignored at an ESC.34 Nilsson’s successor, Krister Wickman, also emphasized the need for a linkage between an ESC and the ongoing disarmament conference in Geneva.35 In general, the Swedish government was more skeptical than Austria or Switzerland that the multilateral talks on European security would amount to anything practical. Stockholm used the preparatory phase mostly to reiterate its interest in global East–West disarmament. Origins of Neutral cooperation In the literature on the Helsinki process, it is generally assumed that the Neutrals did not cooperate and harmonize their views until the Geneva phase in September 1973.36 As Hans-Jörg Renk recalls, Neutral cooperation only developed slowly and – even in Geneva – mostly occurred through informal talks in the corridors rather than through institutionalized channels like NATO, the EC, or the Warsaw Pact had established.37 However, a close reading of the foreign policies of Switzerland, Austria, Sweden, and Finland reveals that there was consid-

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erable consultation and even cooperation among them well before the Geneva phase. By the early 1960s, for example, a loose coalition of states had emerged in the so-called “Group of Nine” (Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, Belgium, Denmark, Austria, Finland, Sweden, and Yugoslavia). Of the four European Neutrals, only Switzerland was missing in the group, because at the time, it was not yet a member of the United Nations. The “G9” came to play a prominent role working for détente, and their cooperation and agenda foreshadowed the emergence of a similar neutral and non-aligned grouping and agenda in the context of the CSCE. The group was launched at the UN General Assembly in 1960, and in 1965, it introduced the project of regional measures to resolve specifically European security problems. The resulting UN Resolution 2129 served as a catalyst to identify and inaugurate a “third voice” on East–West issues that would be independent of the channels used by the two blocs.38 Bilateral probes of the Neutrals both in the capitals of fellow neutral states and in Eastern Europe from 1969 to 1972 were viewed with initial suspicion in Washington, London, and Bonn. In Western capitals, not much was known about the concrete results of the bilateral talks among Neutrals in this period. Mutual visits led to growing speculation: did the Neutrals intend to court each other to promote a common position in the run-up to CSCE negotiations?39 In 1972, it was confirmed that Switzerland had “already engaged in mobilizing neutral support” for its own CSCE proposals.40 West German officials called the bilateral meetings of Neutrals a “neutral quad,” which replaced the traditional “symbiotic relationship” between Switzerland and Austria. Bonn felt that the four Neutrals were trying to work out, to a certain extent, “a common policy of neutrality.”41 Yet, in fact, some Neutrals were rather hesitant in forming a “third bloc.” In the summer of 1970, for example, the Kreisky government tried to set up a “club of Neutrals.” The Swiss government, however, showed a considerable lack of enthusiasm to adopt Austria’s concept of a positive role of the Neutrals in the international system. Switzerland was reluctant to become “too closely tied to Austria.”42 Switzerland and Sweden both felt that the preparations were mostly a task for the superpowers. In May 1972, they agreed that “the Neutrals should not aspire to play too active and ambitious a role” in the CSCE process.43 In terms of substance, the Neutrals mutually supported their respective initiatives, with a few exceptions. For example, Switzerland did not support the Austrian proposals for a state treaty and a mutual security guarantee for CSCE members, which Swiss diplomats characterized as “grandiose and dangerous.”44 Sweden, on the other hand, was reluctant to support the Western and Neutrals’ objective to improve East–West human contacts and human rights in Central and Eastern Europe. Palme made clear in 1972 that Sweden felt that to push too hard with regard to closer contacts of people and information between East and West would lead nowhere. He argued that “the Russians lived in closed societies and wanted to keep it that way.”45 The Western states had a clear interest in keeping the Neutrals on board of their CSCE policy. They wanted to establish close relations with the Neutrals,

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which the West could then “exploit in the corridors of the conference itself.”46 The West feared that “the Russians would certainly soon try to woo the Neutrals to their cause.”47 It was felt that the Neutrals could contribute a lot towards supporting Western views on free movement of people, ideas, and information.48 The Neutrals, in the eyes of the British, were basically on their side and should be allowed to behave as such. The British hoped “to avoid any bloc to bloc approach” that would “force the Neutrals into the middle.”49 For their part, Switzerland, Austria, and Sweden tried to reassure the West that they would not play a balancing role between East and West, since they saw their own interests as being “closely identified with those of the West.” Switzerland made clear that it rejected the role of a mediator between East and West in the preparatory talks, and that it hoped for close, but “as informal as possible” cooperation with Western countries throughout the conference. Austria and Sweden also promised to adopt positions similar to those of the West on most of the main issues.50 While the Neutrals realized that they needed to coordinate their policies to influence the CSCE negotiations, there was also suspicion and mistrust among them. Austria and, to a lesser degree, Switzerland, actively lobbied for hosting the main CSCE, thus directly competing with the Finnish aim to hold both the preparatory meeting and the CSCE itself in Helsinki.

The “coming out” of the Neutrals in Dipoli, 1972–73 When the multilateral preparatory talks (MPT) started in Dipoli near Helsinki on 22 November 1972, the Neutrals were very well prepared. In addition, the Neutrals had a large degree of maneuvering space. Unlike the EC and NATO countries, they were not constricted by time-consuming intra-bloc consultation mechanisms and could thus react much quicker to unexpected developments.51 Swiss Ambassador Edouard Brunner soon became one of the most central players in Dipoli. He – correctly, in retrospect – regarded the conference as an eminently political event. His main interest therefore lay in human rights questions and their implementation in Socialist countries. Instinctively, he understood the general political constellation correctly: The west should be able to wrest a few concessions from the Eastern participants through intelligent bargaining, he felt.52 The Neutrals as intermediaries From the very first day, the Neutral delegations engaged in the fight for conference rules and grabbed the limelight by successfully mediating between East and West. The grand entrance of the alleged outsiders was a surprise for the NATO and Warsaw Pact countries. The first controversy arose from a Finnish proposal to appoint Jaako Iloniemi as deputy of the Finnish chair of the MPT, Richard Tötterman. Many delegations opposed this proposal, because they did not want to create the impression of a permanent Finnish conference secretariat, and because they preferred a stronger separation between the Finnish delegation and the conference secretariat.53

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At the first, short MPT session on 22 November, Tötterman was elected chairman. Tötterman presented Iloniemi as his deputy and closed the meeting. A Romanian request to speak remained unnoticed or was consciously overlooked. Having already submitted a written protest note, Romanian delegate Valentin Lipatti suggested at the second session on 23 November that the chairmanship and deputy chairmanship be rotated. Switzerland tabled a suggestion for a compromise, which was immediately supported by Sweden and Austria. The chair should remain with Finland, but the post of his deputy should be rotated on a daily basis. The Swiss–Romanian team play and the clever interventions by Austria and Sweden led to a first succès d’estime of the Swiss delegation. It was not the result of spontaneous coordination: Switzerland, Sweden, and Austria had met in the Swedish Embassy during the morning of 22 November to harmonize their strategies for the first actual plenary session. Also, the Swiss delegation had bilaterally approached the Romanians in advance to discuss how to counter the Finnish plan effectively. The Neutrals played a similar intermediary role in December 1972, when the question of a Christmas break disunited the Dipoli parties – the Soviet Union and its Warsaw Pact allies had opposed such a break. On 7 December, Switzerland and Sweden chimed in and proposed to suspend the talks after 15 December for about a month – a proposal that was accepted after a heavy verbal exchange of blows on 11 December.54 When the Soviet Union tried to enforce its agenda concerning the participants, place, and timing of a CSCE in the remaining days until the Christmas break, Switzerland, Austria, and Sweden again lobbied successfully for first deciding upon an agenda before deciding upon participants.55 On 18 January 1973, Swiss delegate Samuel Campiche introduced the term “Basket,” borrowed from everyday speech, to secure a place on the CSCE agenda for Western demands of freedom of travel and information using a harmless-sounding label.56 France felt that such a compilation should not be a task for the Finnish conference secretariat. Four days later, the Belgian and French delegations asked the Swiss delegation on behalf of the EC and NATO to prepare the synopsis. In the plenary, Campiche accepted Swiss readiness to undertake such a task if all delegations approved. He emphasized that this “Operation Basket” was not intended as an “Operation Guillotine” – more agenda items could be added later in the process. With the approval of all delegations, the Swiss delegation grouped all motions for agenda topics into four “baskets” numbered I to IV within two hours in the afternoon of 24 January. Campiche presented the 29-page document, clearly marked as a Swiss paper, to the plenary session of 29 January and earned praise from both East and West for having provided a working document for further consultations. Switzerland had once again proven its usefulness as an “honest broker.”57 The Neutrals also chaired the informal meetings of the “mini-groups” to draft mandates for agenda items.58 When the “mini-groups” were renamed “editorial groups” in late March 1973, Switzerland and Austria by turns chaired the editorial group on the principles of international relations.59

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Western delegations wondered about the active behavior of the Neutrals and their close cooperation in Dipoli. For British Ambassador to Finland T. A. K. Elliot, the first MPT session was notable for “the lively role played by the nonaligned, the independent attitude of Romania, and the low profile maintained by the United States.” He summarized in December 1972 that Switzerland, Sweden, and Malta had been “particularly clear, forceful, and on most major issues helpful to the West.” He felt that, after a nervous start, Finnish chairman Tötterman had been a “very fair chairman” and that, in general, “the Finns have behaved well.” Austria was not mentioned in this first interim report by the British delegation.60 Finland strictly separated its roles as host and as participating country. Finland had two objectives in Dipoli: first, it wanted to exercise its “chairmanship” in an impartial and neutral way. Second, it wished to demonstrate to the international community that it was capable of organizing such meetings.61 At times, the West feared that Finland would “nod to the East,” since for Urho Kekkonen, the Finnish–Soviet relations were “far and away priority number one” in foreign policy. By the end of the Dipoli talks, however, the West acknowledged that the Finns had been “careful participants but efficient organizers.” The “vigorous pro-Western performance” of the Austrians, the Swedes, and the Swiss, the British foreign office argued, had placed the Finns “in a position of some embarrassment,” because Finnish neutrality by definition could not be pro-Western and the Finns had been careful not to associate themselves with the three “Western Neutrals.” Yet, Finland had not allowed itself to be used as an “Eastern neutral” to provide a counterweight, despite some Soviet pressure on Helsinki.62 Instead, Finns had kept resolutely silent, and in Western reports, the Finnish attitude in Dipoli was characterized as “inactive neutrality.”63 Neutral proposals to transform European security After the Christmas break, the Dipoli talks moved from discussing procedure to debating substance. The second stage opened with a bang on 15 January 1973: the EC Nine tabled a comprehensive Western proposal for a CSCE agenda. In response, Switzerland, Sweden, and Austria met again to harmonize Neutral strategies. They decided to remain silent for the time being. By not immediately supporting the EC proposals, they tried to avoid the impression of “ganging up” on the West. At the same time, they wished to submit their own original proposals ahead of the Warsaw Pact. On 17 January, therefore, Austria tabled its initiative on détente in the Middle East; Sweden introduced its ideas on military aspects of security and disarmament; and Switzerland elaborated on its arbitration project. Each of them supported the initiatives of the other two countries.64 Excluded from East–West negotiations on military aspects of security – within the framework of the SALT and MBFR talks – Sweden, Austria, Switzerland, supported by Spain and Yugoslavia, also lobbied for the indivisibility of military and political security, as they wanted to use the CSCE, as the only forum in which their voice was heard, for the discussion of military détente as

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well. The Neutrals also vainly demanded that the MBFR participants be required to report to the CSCE, either in an institutionalized form or bilaterally.65 While the West was positively surprised about the strong support of Switzerland and, to a lesser degree, also of Austria and Sweden, for Western positions,66 it was also concerned about the “pet projects” of the Neutrals, namely arbitration (Switzerland), disarmament (Sweden), and the Middle East (Austria). Western governments felt that while giving “a special flavor” to the debates between East and West, the “special concerns” of the Neutrals in fact “complicated the task of negotiation.”67 For example, the British believed that the CSCE should not discuss disarmament in any depth and that the Swedish ideas were not “very cleverly presented.” The Swedish attitude appeared to be “unnecessarily ambitious” and “widely unacceptable” to the West.68 The West Germans agreed that mandatory reporting on the MBFR talks to the CSCE delegations went “too far.”69 In May 1973, the British noted that the Swiss were becoming “increasingly keen to demonstrate the active role which they as Neutrals could play in international affairs,” that they were “clearly interested in facilitating discussions between East and West,” and that they were “playing a prominent and useful part” in the Dipoli talks.70 In June 1973, the West characterized the Swiss attitude as “comfortably right of the NATO center,” with the Swiss defending the Western position “actively and often with heat, taking a particularly strong line in the early stages against Soviet attempts at bullying.”71 In sum, it seems that the Finns, as impartial hosts, and the Swiss, as very active participants, were the real winners among the four Neutrals in Dipoli. Moving the CSCE negotiations from Helsinki to Geneva, 1973 In the spring of 1973, rumors spread that many delegations were unhappy about the prospect of conducting the main CSCE negotiations in Helsinki. Alternatives such as Vienna, Paris, or Geneva were mentioned in the corridors.72 From March to May 1973, the Swiss, according to a British report, “played a clever hand” by indicating a desire to see the second stage held in Geneva, but refusing to the last to invite the conference there formally. Instead, West Germany officially argued for a change from Helsinki to Geneva. By mid-May, a clear preference for Geneva was beginning to shape up among delegations in Dipoli, despite the earlier support of Washington and Paris for Helsinki.73 (Informally, Switzerland had already made it known among Neutrals and the West in May and June 1972 that it was not disinclined to act as host and would provide facilities for the CSCE if asked – but that it would not actively promote itself.)74 All neutral and non-aligned states “south of Stockholm” – Sweden did not want to breach Nordic solidarity – preferred a city on the continent, even if they did not want to lobby actively against Helsinki, i.e., against a fellow Neutral. Romania argued for a rotation of host countries (“three stages – three countries”), thus providing the anti-Helsinki front with a formal argument for a move to Geneva. The EC Nine were ready to commit themselves to Helsinki as the

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venue of the final CSCE Summit when the CSCE was ready to move to Geneva for the second phase.75 In the end, delegations decided to move the second stage of CSCE to Geneva (for practical reasons and to support the principle of rotation), but at the same time committed themselves to Helsinki as the location for the concluding stage three (thus disregarding a strict rotation).76 In 2007, Finnish diplomat Paavo Keisalo revealed that, in fact, the Finns had been “extremely happy” that the Swiss took the second phase away from them. According to him, the Finns had toured Finland to find a place to accommodate more than 200 delegates and the media, but no such facility was available in Helsinki at that time. In order to secure Helsinki for the third phase of the CSCE, Finland had actively campaigned to host the second phase, even though it had known that it could not organize it.77 Freed from the role as host, Finland participated more actively in the Geneva negotiations than in Dipoli. However, the Finnish delegation still avoided getting involved in controversial issues. In Jaakko Iloniemi’s view, Finland was “not just another participant.” It was important for Finland to demonstrate that it was under no pressure from the Soviet Union during the negotiations. Also, Finland had a real interest in hosting the third stage of the CSCE in Helsinki. Finland thus paid careful attention to ensure that its role in Geneva did not spoil that prospect.78

Negotiating the Helsinki Final Act in Geneva, 1973–75 During the multilateral CSCE negotiations in Geneva, the traditional, purely informal collaboration between the Neutrals transformed into close cooperation both within Basket III – the human dimension of security – and within Basket I with regard to the military aspects of security and confidence-building measures, including notification about troop movements and maneuvers. As a group, the Neutrals in Geneva again played an important role in organizing informal consultations among delegations. Such open-ended “non group” sessions were arranged on a rotating basis by the Neutrals and held in their own facilities. All delegations were free to participate. Often, the Neutrals together with delegation members from Bulgaria, the GDR, Poland, the Soviet Union, the FRG, France, Italy, Britain, the Netherlands, and – at a later stage – from Canada and Norway already could find a consensus in these informal meetings for subsequent more formal, official negotiations.79 In February 1974, the Neutrals rendered an important service to the CSCE, which affected the substance, when their compromise solution with regard to the preamble of Basket III was accepted.80 Frustration over lack of progress Soon thereafter, however, Switzerland and Austria became increasingly frustrated about the standstill in the Geneva negotiating marathon, in particular in Basket III,81 but also in Basket I (regarding confidence-building measures, in particular). In May 1974, Swiss delegation chief Rudolf Bindschedler com-

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plained that “the Conference had done nothing thus far to add to security and cooperation in Europe.” He ridiculed the negotiations as “tragicomedy” that resulted only in “platitudes and phrase-mongering.” The delegates from Austria, Sweden, and Finland also voiced their disappointment about the slow progress of the negotiations.82 In July 1974, Swiss Foreign Minister Graber too complained that “so far, only the Soviet Union has benefited from the CSCE.”83 The Neutrals were concerned that “on the whole, the West [was] not being tough enough with the Russians.”84 To overcome an impasse in the negotiations in Basket III, they organized separate hearings with Eastern and Western delegations. A result of their “go-between action” was the so-called “neutral package-deal.” In early July 1974, the Finnish delegation received signals from the Soviet as well as the US side that they both were ready to start informal negotiations across Baskets I and III. Washington and Moscow had approached Finland because it coordinated negotiations on the preamble of Basket III. The Neutrals thus presented a deal to the CSCE on “a take-it-or-leave-it basis.” The compromise they offered included a linkage of Basket III with Basket I. After some resistance the package deal was accepted by the Warsaw Pact on 23 July under the condition that “no word and no comma” would be changed.85 Yet, despite this apparent success, the mood remained sober among the Neutrals. In late 1974, Ernesto Thalmann, secretary-general from the Swiss foreign ministry, “was under no illusions that the final agreement, assuming it was reached, would change anything.” His bet was that “as soon as the ink was dry on the signatures in Helsinki, the whole agreement would sink into oblivion.”86 Western concerns over Switzerland’s twin role in Geneva After 11 months of negotiations in Geneva, the British delegation summarized that the Neutrals continued “to exploit their position at the conference to present a remarkably bold and active front.” Comparing the four Neutrals, the British foreign office felt that the Swiss and the Finns had been “most active.” Describing their individual contributions, however, the British were rather critical about the Neutrals. They felt that the Swiss had shown themselves to be “erratic and not wholly trustworthy mediators.” The Finns had seemed “to be acting with an eye more to their relations with the East than the West.” The Austrians had been “pedestrian but well-intentioned” and generally staunch in their support in Basket III. The British felt that the Swedish delegation had been “of low caliber” and had had “little to contribute.”87 What had happened? When and why did the positive Western assessments of the Neutrals change into negative comments? In the case of Switzerland, British and German records make clear that a distinct change emerged in Western opinion after the negotiations had moved from Helsinki to Geneva in the fall of 1973. Switzerland’s performance as host country, compared with Finland’s role in Dipoli, was quickly criticized in the West. When in late August 1973, the Swiss delegation pushed too vehemently in the inaugural meeting of the

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Coordination Committee in Geneva for the treatment of its own project for peaceful settlement of disputes, the West felt that “as hosts, the Swiss left something to be desired.” The British criticized that the Swiss were trying “to make too much use of the chairmanship . . . to promote their own ill-conceived ideas about organization.”88 The behavior of the Swiss delegation was characterized as “selfish and unhelpful.” The British charged that the Swiss “in their keenness to promote a satisfactory debate upon their own ideas, [were] neglecting wider interests” of the West. The Foreign Office even compiled a “detailed list of recent unhelpful Swiss interventions” with the telling title “Catalogue of Swiss Misdeeds.”89 In October 1973, the British delegation approached the Swiss and threatened to reconsider Britain’s previous active support for the Swiss arbitration proposal “if it were now to appear that discussions of the Swiss proposal were to be given priority at the expense of the matters in Basket III.”90 In 1974, the West increasingly criticized the – mostly successful – Swiss efforts to find compromises between East and West: “At times, the Swiss carry it to excess and they maybe generate a bit too much ambition.”91 The British felt that Edouard Brunner, the deputy leader of the Swiss delegation, was “keen to play a personal role” that had led him on occasion “to go further than we think desirable in trying to arrange compromises with the Russians.”92 Overall, however, Western perceptions of the role of the Neutrals were positive, even though it was felt that the role of the Neutrals had been “less significant” in Geneva than in Dipoli.93 The struggle for confidence-building measures With regard to military aspects of security (in Basket I) – the Swedish priority at the CSCE – the Neutrals introduced a joint paper on the military aspects of security on 25 February 1974. For the first time, the Neutrals submitted a proposal in the enlarged framework of the so-called “N+N Group” (or NNA), including the non-aligned countries Yugoslavia and Cyprus. (The other nonaligned countries did not sponsor that proposal: Malta for tactical reasons, Liechtenstein and San Marino because they had no army.) For the NNA countries, which did not participate in the MBFR and SALT negotiations, a conference on security in Europe simply had to deal with military aspects.94 Nevertheless, during the protracted negotiations on confidence-building measures (CBMs), it became clear that Washington and Moscow both opposed the Neutral suggestions on military aspects. Commenting on Neutral ideas about giving notification of troop movements, the Soviet Union made clear in September 1974 that the figures suggested by the Neutrals were totally unrealistic. Moscow argued that the Soviet Union was a large country – thus, a large part of troops was constantly moving. It would be ridiculous to publish these troop movements. The Soviet Union underlined that Luxembourg or Belgium would have to announce the movement of “local fire fighters” if the Neutrals’ proposals were applied to the size of each CSCE member state.95 In the end, the CSCE settled on parameters for the notification of military

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maneuvers that were close to a compromise proposal introduced by the NNA. On a voluntary basis, large military exercises should be publicly announced 21 days in advance if more than 25,000 troops participated. This rule applied to the whole of Europe with two exceptions (Soviet Union: only within 250 km of the border; Turkey: only within 100 km). From mid-September 1975, NATO countries announced the larger military exercises and invited observers (one or two from each CSCE country).96 More ambitious Swedish and Finnish disarmament plans – the latter ones on a nuclear-free Nordic zone, introduced at the CSCE on 13 November 1973 in Geneva – had no chance of being seriously discussed, let alone implemented at the CSCE.97 The crucial link between Baskets III and IV In retrospect, the greatest success of the Neutrals in the CSCE negotiations was their strong commitment to a follow-up conference to monitor and advance the results of the CSCE. The Soviet Union had demanded an institutionalization of the CSCE from the very beginning. The West, however, had always opposed such an idea and criticized the “makings of an alliance between the Neutrals and the East” that started to take shape in the course of 1974 over the issue of the follow-up of the CSCE.98 For the Neutrals, the CSCE offered an important forum to represent their interests, have their voices heard, and to take part in influencing and shaping pan-European matters, for example on arbitration or disarmament, despite the bipolarity of the East–West conflict. Switzerland was the first “Western country” that officially advocated a link between Baskets I (Security) and IV (Follow-up), when it agreed to water down its proposal for a peaceful settlement of disputes in May 1974.99 Acknowledging the hopelessness of incorporating its arbitration system into the CSCE’s final document, Switzerland settled for the commitment by CSCE members to discuss the matter again at a follow-up meeting of experts. In June 1974, Eastern European diplomats were enthusiastic about the fact that Switzerland apparently supported their aim of an institutionalization of a CSCE.100 In June 1974, Finland introduced its own proposal for a follow-up meeting that included the establishment of a permanent Coordinating Committee. The Finnish government wanted to keep any permanent institutions in Finland, and thus supported a follow-up process.101 Neutral and Western views on the desirability of a follow-up process repeatedly clashed: while the West regarded follow-up conferences as a kind of “reward” for the Soviet Union’s implementation of the CSCE’s 1975 decisions, the Neutrals argued that in fact only the control function of follow-up conferences would force the East to implement the Final Act.102 The Soviet Union had always preferred a formal follow-up meeting, but in March 1975 signaled that it was more interested in a quick conclusion of the CSCE than in a permanent political follow-up institution. From then on, Moscow settled for a second CSCE as the substance of Basket IV.103 In the end, Switzerland and Finland on 5 May 1975 introduced a compromise solution with regard to a follow-up process, largely based on the Western proposal

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tabled by Denmark in April 1974.104 In the end, Western caution and Soviet indifference won over Neutral innovative vision with regard to the follow-up, which ended up in the Final Act as a typical CSCE compromise formula.

Conclusion The exclusively positive assessment of the role that the Neutrals played in the early Helsinki process that can be found in the national historiographies on Finnish, Austrian, Swiss, and Swedish foreign policy in the 1970s is clearly an overly positive depiction. By taking into account US, British, and German archival documents, a somewhat more balanced picture emerges. First, Neutral preparations for a CSCE were viewed with suspicion in the West. For Washington, London, and Bonn, it was not entirely clear whether the Neutrals were approaching the CSCE with a skeptical wait-and-see attitude, or whether they were actively promoting close consultations among themselves to build a Neutral bloc, a third force, at the CSCE. Second, vis-à-vis the West, Switzerland initially presented their arbitration proposals mainly as a “barometer” of Soviet readiness for a true détente; in Dipoli and Geneva, however, the Swiss damaged their reputation as an impartial host primarily by clinging to their ambitious arbitration project. Thus, Western overall praise for Swiss interventions in Dipoli markedly contrasted with occasional Western irritation over the Swiss role in Geneva. Still, even so, the Neutrals clearly played a role in the early Helsinki process that transcended the size of their countries. Why was this the case? First of all, it was due to the personalities of the negotiators that represented the Neutrals at the conference. At this big multilateral conference, only an inner circle dominated the events. In Basket III, Franz Ceska and Helmut Liedermann (Austria) and Edouard Brunner (Switzerland) were part of this inner circle. Second, the special format of the negotiations – each country was on equal footing – and the consensus rule favored small countries. Third, the informal bloc of neutral and non-aligned countries also enhanced the performance of individual neutral countries. The Neutrals were tasked with coordinating functions, and they played a constructive and useful role as mediators and honest brokers between East and West, offering their neutral good offices to the CSCE. During the complex negotiations in Dipoli and Geneva, which paved the way for the 1975 Helsinki Final Act, most of the “pet projects” of the Neutrals – including the Swiss arbitration proposal, the Austrian Middle East idea, or the Swedish disarmament plan – proved to be unacceptable to East and West. Yet, the Neutrals in the end still benefited from the protracted negotiations. First, they managed to win international recognition for their neutral status – against Soviet opposition. The incorporation of a “right to neutrality” into the CSCE principles was a remarkable achievement in the mid-1970s, since at that time, it could have prepared the ground for states to break away from military alliances. For the first time, neutrality was acknowledged as a specific instrument of European security and cooperation. Second, within Basket III, many of the Swiss and Austrian pro-

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posals for the diffusion of information and the improvement of working conditions for journalists ended up being integrated almost verbatim into the Final Act. The two countries had actively engaged in the most central, major controversies of the conference, and in general supported the ideas of the West. Conversely, the Helsinki process also clearly benefited from the contributions of the Neutrals. In retrospect, the Neutrals were instrumental in the two most outstanding achievements of the CSCE, namely the linkage of Baskets III and IV (the human dimension and the follow-up conferences) and the implementation of confidence-building measures after the follow-up conferences in Madrid and Stockholm in the 1980s. First, it was largely thanks to the Neutral insistence that, at the very last minute, a compromise was found with regard to the confidence-building measures in Basket I, on the military aspects of security. It is true that the agreement between the US and the Soviet Union to discuss military aspects primarily at the MBFR and SALT negotiations – from which the Neutrals and Non-aligned were excluded – deprived the military dimension of the Final Act of most of its substance. Nevertheless, the Neutrals had linked up with the non-aligned countries and pursued an innovative “third way” between East and West. Second, the Neutrals’ lobbying, supported by the non-aligned countries, had been essential for the success of an institutionalized follow-up procedure. The Neutrals’ support for such a follow-up process, however, had been a risky gamble in 1974–75, when the West feared that the Soviet Union would use such East–West conferences mainly as propaganda forum. However, it soon became evident that the CSCE follow-up meetings were perceived as tribunals on the human rights situation in Socialist countries, rather than serving as a Soviet propaganda tool. In retrospect, the innovative efforts of the Neutrals had introduced new tools into international diplomacy and actively contributed to the acceleration of democratic change in Europe and the transformation of the Cold War in the mid-1980s.

Notes 1 I would like to thank former Swiss CSCE diplomat Hans-Jörg Renk for his enlightening comments on the final draft of my chapter. Andreas Wenger also read several drafts and gave very helpful feedback. I also benefited from comments from Jeremi Suri, Douglas Selvage, Erwin Schmidl, and Anna Locher on earlier drafts that I presented at conferences in Rüschlikon and Lawrence, Kansas. 2 Michael Zielinski, Die neutralen und blockfreien Staaten und ihre Rolle im KSZEProzess (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1990), p. 230; Hanspeter Neubold (ed.), CSCE: N+N Perspectives: The Process of the CSCE from the Viewpoint of the Neutral and Non-aligned Participating States (Vienna: Braumüller, 1987). According to HansJörg Renk, Spain – under General Franscisco Franco – never had a desire to join the Neutrals in the early Helsinki process. Author’s interview with Hans-Jörg Renk, 12 November 2007. On Spain and the CSCE, see Javier Rupérez, Europe entre el Miedo y la Esperanza (Madrid: Cuadernos para el Dialogo, 1976). 3 Hans-Jörg Renk, Der Weg der Schweiz nach Helsinki: Der Beitrag der schweizerischen Diplomatie zum Zustandekommen der KSZE, 1972–75 (Berne: Haupt, 1996), p. 7. Author’s translation. On Switzerland and the CSCE, see also Christian Nuenlist, “New Perspectives on Switzerland’s Role in the CSCE, 1969–75,” paper

218

4

5 6 7 8 9 10

11 12 13

C. Nuenlist presented at international conference “At the Roots of the European Security System,” Rüschlikon/Switzerland, 8–10 September 2005; Thomas Fischer, Die Grenzen der Neutralität: Schweizerisches KSZE-Engagement und gescheiterte UNO-Beitrittspolitik im kalten Krieg 1969–86 (Zurich: Chronos, 2004), pp. 81–9, 140–57; Christoph Breitenmoser, Sicherheit für Europa: Die KSZE-Politik der Schweiz bis zur Unterzeichnung der Helsinki-Schlussakte zwischen Skepsis und aktivem Engagement (Zurich: CSS, 1996), pp. 168–74; Edouard Brunner, Lambris dorés et coulisses: Souvenirs d’un diplomate (Geneva/Paris: Georg, 2001). On Austria’s role, see Thomas Fischer’s forthcoming monograph on the role of the Neutrals in the Helsinki process as well as his chapter, “Austria and the Helsinki Process, 1954–89,” in Austria and Eastern Europe, 1955–89, Arnold Suppan and Wolfgang Mueller (eds.) (Vienna: LIT, forthcoming). See also Helmut Liedermann, “Österreichs Rolle beim Zustandekommen der KSZE,” in Mit anderen Augen gesehen: Internationale Perzeptionen Österreichs, 1955–90, Oliver Rathkolb, Otto Maschke, and Stefan August Lütgenau (eds.) (Vienna: Böhlau, 2002), pp. 467–506; Erwin Schmidl, “L’Autriche et le processus d’Helsinki,” in Vers la réunification de l’Europe: Apports et limites du processus d’Helsinki de 1975 à nos jours, Elisabeth du Réau and Christine Manigand (eds.) (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2005), pp. 89–96; Christian Glatzl, Franz Kernic, and Simon Palmisano (eds.), Österreichs Sicherheit und die KSZE (Vienna: LVA, 1985). On Finland’s role in the Helsinki process, see, in particular, Jamie Lee Leatherman, “Engaging East and West Beyond The Bloc Division: Active Neutrality and the Dual Role of Finland and Sweden in the CSCE,” unpublished Ph.D. thesis (University of Denver, 1991). See also Paavo Keisalo, Hätäpotkusta Voittomaali: Suomi Euroopan Turvallisuus-ja Yhteistyökonferenssin valmisteluprosessissa (Helsinki: Finnish Foreign Ministry, 2007); Jaakko Iloniemi, “Finland and the Conference on European Security and Cooperation,” in Kekkonen: A Statesman for Peace, Keijo Korhonen (ed.) (Helsinki: Otava, 1975), pp. 147–61. Finnish diplomat Markku Reimaa is currently writing a book on Finland’s role in the Helsinki process. Sweden’s role in the CSCE can also best be traced in Leatherman, “Engaging East and West.” See also Bo Huldt, “Swedish Disarmament and Security Policy from the 1920’s to the 1980’s,” Review Internationale d’Histoire Militaire no. 57 (1984), pp. 35–57; Ulf Bjereld, “Critic or Mediator? Sweden in World Politics, 1945–90,” Journal of Peace Research 32, no. 1 (1995), pp. 23–35. Renk, Der Weg, p. 27. See Seppo Hentilä, “Maintaining Neutrality between the Two German States: Finland and Divided Germany until 1973,” Contemporary European History 15, no. 4 (2006), pp. 473–93. Risto Hyvärinen, “Finnland und die Sicherheitskonferenz,” in Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa, vol. 1, Hans-Adolf Jacobsen, Wolfgang Mallmann, and Christian Meier (eds.) (Cologne: Wissenschaft und Politik, 1978), pp. 151f. See Jacobsen et al., Sicherheit, pp. 201f. Jaakko Iloniemi, “Finland’s Role in the CSCE,” Yearbook of Finnish Foreign Policy (Helsinki: Finnish Institute of International Affairs, 1975), pp. 33–5. On the pivotal linkage between the German question and Finnish CSCE preparations from 1969 to 1972, see Dörte Putensen, Im Konfliktfeld zwischen Ost und West: Finnland, der Kalte Krieg und die deutsche Frage 1947–73 (Berlin: Arno Spitz, 2000); Seppo Hentilä, Neutral zwischen den beiden deutschen Staaten: Finnland und Deutschland im Kalten Krieg (Berlin: BWV, 2006). Memorandum of Conversation (MemCon) Springsteen–Munkki, 23 May 1972, UK National Archives, Kew/London (UKNA), FCO 41/1074. MemCon Tuovinen–McLaren, 9 November 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1074. Adams to McLaren, 8 November 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1074.

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14 See Zielinski, Die neutralen und blockfreien Staaten, p. 132. 15 For the linkage of the CSCE with MBFR talks, see Helga Haftendorn’s contribution in this volume. 16 Published in Österreichische Zeitschrift für Aussenpolitik 10 (1970), pp. 250f. 17 Published in Österreichische Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 11 (1971), pp. 58–62. Kreisky had already put forward this idea on 31 March 1969, at that time as opposition leader. 18 For Foreign Minister Rudolf Kirchschläger’s disagreement with Kreisky’s Middle East project, see e.g., “Wien: KSZE: Erörterung des Nahost-Konflikts,” 14 July 1972, Political Archives of the German Federal Office, Berlin (PAAA), ZA 109298; “Finnish–Austrian Talks, 9–12 March 1971,” 25 March 1971, UKNA, FCO 33/1582. 19 UK Mission NATO to FCO, 21 September 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1072. 20 Position Paper prepared for Kreisky Visit to London, 1 October 1972, UKNA, PREM, 16/749. 21 Statement of Hans-Jörg Renk, 23 February 2007, Oral History Workshop on “The Historical Experience of the Neutral and Non-aligned States in the CSCE,” Vienna, online, available at: www.php.isn.ethz.ch (Vienna Workshop) (accessed 18 January 2008). 22 Jacobsen et al., Sicherheit, p. 150. 23 “Die Schweiz und die Europäische Sicherheitskonferenz,” 7 July 1970, Swiss Federal Archives, Berne (BArch), 2001 (E), vol. 138, VII. See Breitenmoser, Sicherheit, pp. 98–106. 24 Jacobsen et al., Sicherheit, pp. 218–24. 25 “Ergebnis der deutsch–schweizerischen KSE-Konsultationen vom 6. April 1972,” 10 April 1972, PAAA, ZA 109303. 26 Adams to UK Del NATO, 2 October 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1072. 27 Adams to UK Del NATO, 9 August 1972, ibid. 28 UK Del NATO to Ramsay, 30 June 1972, ibid. 29 UK Embassy Berne to FCO, 20 November 1972, ibid. 30 FRG Embassy Berne to AA, 3 April 1973, PAAA, ZA 111518. 31 See Leatherman, “Engaging East and West,” pp. 178–203. 32 Ibid., pp. 233–6. 33 Jacobsen et al., Sicherheit, pp. 149f. 34 Ibid., pp. 217f. 35 Friedrich-Karl Schramm, Wolfram-Georg Riggert, and Alois Friedel (eds.), Sicherheitskonferenz in Europa: Dokumentation 1954–72 (Frankfurt: Metzner, 1972), pp. 711f. 36 See Renk, Der Weg, pp. 119–20. Luigi V. Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation: Helsinki, Geneva, Helsinki (Alphen: Sijthoff & Noordhoff, 1979), p. 191; John Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–75 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1987), p. 91. 37 Author’s interview with Hans-Jörg Renk, 12 November 2007. 38 Jeanne Kirk Laux, “Small States and Inter-European Relations: An Analysis of the Group of Nine,” Journal of Peace Research 9, no. 2 (1972), pp. 147–60. 39 See, e.g., US Embassy Vienna to Department of State, 24 November 1970; US Embassy Helsinki to DoS, 14 May 1971, both in US National Archives, College Park, Maryland, RG 59, Central Files, Subject-numeric Files, 1970–73, POL SWITZ, Box 2,612. 40 Tickell to Brimelow, 2 October 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1072. 41 Political Annual Report on Switzerland (1971), PAAA, ZA 109303. 42 UK Embassy Vienna, 30 July 1970, UKNA, FCO 33/1256. 43 UK Embassy Stockholm to Tickell, 26 May 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1072. 44 Tickell to Brimelow, 21 September 1972, UKNA, FCO 42/1072.

220 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

C. Nuenlist MemCon Palme–Heath, 13 September 1972, UKNA, PREM 15/1223. Documents on British Policy Overseas III, vol. 2, pp. 1–15, at p. 11. Ibid., p. 49, fn. 16. “Schweizerische Haltung zur KSZE,” July 1972, PAAA, ZA 109303; “Secretary of State’s Meeting with the Swiss Foreign Minister, 22 February,” 18 February 1972, UKNA, FCO 33/1908. Tickell to Brimelow, 21 September 1972, UKNA, FCO 41/1072. Political Annual Report on Switzerland (1971); “Die Schweiz und die europäische Sicherheitskonferenz,” 29 July 1972, PAAA, ZA 109303; MemCon Kreisky–Heath, 1 October 1972, UKNA, PREM, 15/749; MemCon Palme–Heath, 13 September 1972, UKNA, PREM 15/1223. Renk, Der Weg, p. 32. On Brunner, see Paul Widmer, Schweizer Aussenpolitik und Diplomatie (Zurich: Amman, 2003), pp. 383–93, and Brunner, Lambris dorés, pp. 38–58. For the following episode, see Renk, Der Weg, pp. 37–47; CSCE Delegation Record (DR) nos. 2 (22 November 1972), 3 (23 November 1972), 4 (24 November 1972), all in PAAA, ZA 100001. CSCE DR nos. 22 (7 December 1972), 25 (11 December 1972), 29 (12 December 1972), 33 (15 December 1972), all in PAAA, ZA, 100001. Renk, Der Weg, p. 51. Renk, Der Weg, p. 57f. According to Renk, Campiche used the metaphor of a housewife sorting different kinds of dirty clothes into different laundry baskets. For an Austrian claim to have invented the term “Basket,” see Christian Glatzle, “Die sicherheitspolitische Bedeutung der KSZE für Österreich sowie der Beitrag Österreichs im Rahmen dieser Konferenz,” in Österreichs Sicherheit und die KSZE, von Christian Glatzle, Franz Kernic, and Simon Palmisano (eds.) (Vienna: Landesverteidigungsakademie, 1985), p. 98. Renk, Der Weg, pp. 57f. See also “Präsentierung des schweizerischen Arbeitspapiers in Helsinki,” Neue Zürcher Zeitung, 30 January 1973. See also CSCE DR no. 41 (23 January 1973), PAAA, ZA 100001. CSCE DR no. 74 (13 March 1973), PAAA, ZA 100001. CSCE DR no. 86 (20 March 1973), ibid. UK Embassy Helsinki to FCO, 18 December 1972, UKNA, FCO 28/1709. Statement by Paavo Keisalo, 23 February 2007, Vienna Workshop, p. 5. UK Embassy Helsinki to FCO, 17 November 1972, UKNA, FCO 33/1868; UK Embassy Helsinki to Douglas-Home, 13 June 1973, “CSCE: The First 200 Days,” UKNA, FCO 28/2166. Draft Report of UK Del to the MPT, 9 June 1973, UKNA, FCO 28/2167. Renk, Der Weg, pp. 56f. CSCE DR nos. 100 (30 March 1973), 125 (6 April 1973), both in PAAA, ZA 100002. After Palme’s earlier reluctance to support the Western focus on the human dimension of security, the British were satisfied with Sweden’s “robust line on human contacts and exchange on information” in Dipoli. See Annual Report on Sweden (1973), UKNA, FCO 33/2555. UK Embassy Helsinki to Douglas-Home, 13 June 1973. Tickell to UK Embassy Helsinki, 4 June 1973, UKNA, FCO 41/1343. “Sachstand KSZE,” 15 May 1973, PAAA, ZA 111516. Background Brief for Visit by Secretary of State for FCO to Switzerland, [May 1973], UKNA, FCO 33/2276. UK Embassy Helsinki to Douglas-Home, 13 June 1973. CSCE DR no. 125 (6 April 1973), PAAA, ZA 100002. Minutes of Davignon Committee, 14 May 1975, PAAA, ZA 100027. See also “Sachstand KSZE,” 15 May 1973, PAAA, ZA 111516. Renk insists that Switzerland

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74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98

99 100 101 102 103 104

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“never campaigned for having the conference in Geneva.” Statement by Hans-Jörg Renk, 23 February 2007, Vienna Workshop. Yet, on 26 March 1973, Switzerland announced its interest in hosting the second stage of a CSCE. Clearly, Switzerland was reacting to a similar offer by Austria. FRG Mission Helsinki to AA, 26 March 1973; FRG Mission Helsinki to AA, 23 March 1973; both in AAPD, ZA 111547. UK Embassy Stockholm to Tickell, 26 May 1972; Speaking Notes, Netherlands–Swiss Political Consultations on European Security, 19 June 1972, both in UKNA, FCO 41/1072. FRG Mission Helsinki to AA, 14 May 1973. See also AA to FRG Mission Helsinki, 16 May 1973, both in PAAA, ZA 111547. CSCE DR no. 205 (2 June 1973), PAAA, ZA 100002. See also Renk, Des Weg, p. 68. Statement by Paavo Keisalo, 23 February 2007, Vienna Workshop, p. 5. Statement by Jaakkoo Iloniemi, ibid., pp. 8f. Jacobsen et al., Sicherheit, p. 521. Renk, Des Weg, p. 131. See, e.g., CSCE DR nos. 450 (27 May 1974) and 471 (7 June 1974), PAAA, ZA 100007. Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 97; Renk, Des Weg, pp. 76f. FRG Embassy Berne to AA, 8 July 1974, PAAA, ZA 111518. UK Embassy Berne to FCO, 11 April 1974, UKNA, FCO 41/1587. CSCE DR no. 566 (23 July 1974), PAAA, ZA 100008. See also Renk, Der Weg, pp. 134f. UK Embassy Berne to Tickell, 16 December 1974, UKNA, FCO 41/1587. UK Mission Geneva to Callaghan, 29 July 1974, UKNA, FCO 28/2456. UK Mission Geneva to FCO, 3 September 1973, UKNA, FCO 28/2189. Burns to Laren and Tickell, 22 October 1973, “CSCE: The Swiss Performance,” UKNA, FCO 41/1345. Note for the Record, by Elliott, 5 October 1973, UKNA, FCO 41/1323. CSCE DR no. 615 (29 September 1974), PAAA, ZA 111518. Author’s translation. McLaren to Elliott, 9 October 1974, UKNA, FCO 41/1587. “KSZE-Zwischenbilanz und Sachstand,” 29 January 1974, PAAA, ZA 111520. CSCE DR nos. 271 (19 February 1974), 274 (19 February 1974), 296 (28 February 1974), 297 (28 February 1974), all in PAAA, ZA 100005. FRG Embassy Berne to AA, 18 September 1974, PAAA, ZA 111516. “Sachstand KSZE,” 24 October 1975, PAAA, ZA 111536. On the Finnish plan, see FRG DR no. 155 (14 November 1973), ZA 111536. Tickell to Wiggin/Elliott, 18 January 1974, UKNA, FCO 28/2473. According to Tickell, Denmark and Norway sympathized with the notion of neutral support for some sort of continuing CSCE mechanism. The FRG also saw some advantage in a multilateral forum in which to pursue its Ostpolitik. CSCE DR no. 459 (31 May 1974); CSCE/II/B/4, 28 May 1974. FRG Embassy Berne to AA, 10 June 1974, PAAA, ZA 111518. CSCE DR no. 483 (12 June 1974), PAAA, ZA 111549. Renk, Der Weg, p. 156. CSCE DR no. 361 (5 March 1975), PAAA, ZA 111549. CSCE DR, no. 940 (5 May 1975), PAAA, ZA 100011.

12 Helsinki and Rambouillet US attitudes towards trade and security during the early CSCE process, 1972–75 Duccio Basosi Introduction: Helsinki and Rambouillet1 On 1 August 1975, 35 heads of government from all over Europe, as well as from Canada and the US, gathered in Helsinki’s Finlandia Hall for the signing ceremony of the Final Act that concluded the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), after three years of negotiations and three days of solemn speeches.2 The previous day, four of the most prominent participants in the summit had met for a working lunch in the British Embassy during a pause in the conference works: on that occasion, President Gerald Ford of the US, President Valéry Giscard d’Estaing of France, Chancellor Helmut Schmidt of the Federal Republic of Germany, and Prime Minister Harold Wilson of the United Kingdom had reached a private agreement to convene, later in the year, a restricted meeting aimed at discussing the outstanding economic problems confronting the capitalist world and the international economy.3 Their decision would pave the way to the first “Economic Summit” of the most industrialized countries, which took place five months later, with invitations extended to Japan and Italy, in the French castle of Rambouillet.4 At first glance, the link between the two summits of the second half of 1975 might seem largely accidental.5 In fact, although five of the six participants in the second conference were also participants in the first, important authors have cast Helsinki almost as a “peace treaty” for World War II,6 while Rambouillet has been described as an “embryonic international concert” on capitalist economic governance.7 This variation in the subject-matters is paralleled by further distinguishing elements, from the source of the original proposal – the CSCE had initially been proposed by the Warsaw Pact, while Rambouillet was a strictly intra-Western affair – to the different stances adopted by Washington with regard to the respective conferences. US delegations did attend both summits with high expectations, but while the Rambouillet Summit – under the careful direction of the US secretary of state, Henry Kissinger, and of the former secretary of the treasury, George Shultz – was immediately celebrated in Washington as the result of a long-term US strategy,8 most commentators describe US attitudes toward the CSCE process, from 1972 until the early months of 1975, as “passive” at best.9

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These considerations notwithstanding, Helsinki and Rambouillet are closely linked in the memoirs of both Henry Kissinger and Helmut Schmidt, who recognized that the two occasions were important steps of a single path leading to the restoration of the “unity of the West” after a time of difficulties in the transatlantic relationship.10 Indeed, this approach seems more commensurate to the complexities of international politics in the 1970s, when the distinction between security and economics became increasingly blurred.11 Moreover, it also suggests that unity in the West was the outcome of the events of the second half of 1975, rather than a precondition for the latter. But even when a link between the two events is established, the focus is often entirely on the good personal relationship among the leaders of the Western powers, which the summits were instrumental in bringing about.12 This has usually led to a focus on the summits as individual events, rather than on the processes that led up to them. While we accept the argument that the two summits were fundamental steps in the reconstruction of Western unity, the aim of this chapter is to analyze and discuss, from a US foreign-policy perspective, the complex interconnections that linked the Helsinki process to the changes in the balance of international economic power that were eventually sanctioned at Rambouillet. In particular, the first part of the chapter discusses the early position of the US government toward the CSCE in the light of the changing international economic context. In this perspective, while we acknowledge that the provisions pertaining to economic cooperation – the so-called Basket II – were never at the heart of the CSCE negotiations as such,13 the hypothesis is raised that the issues of East–West trade and related topics were of greater importance for the prospects of European security than is usually recognized. On the one hand, an in-depth study of the subject from Washington’s point of view, which takes into account the papers of the Nixon administration as well as several published document collections, fully justifies Voitech Mastny’s description of Basket II as “the favorite Soviet basket.”14 On the other hand, as discussed in the final two parts of the chapter, on the basis of the archival evidence from the Gerald Ford Library, the way international economic issues were dealt with by the US during the whole 1972–75 period – with Rambouillet being the symbolic end-date – strongly contributed to shaping the context within which Helsinki took place, and to some extent, the agenda of the Helsinki process itself, in a manner that was fully consistent with the goals of the US government.

The CSCE in the context of the “years of upheaval” The Helsinki process began and unfolded in the midst of the worst crisis ever in the history of the Western alliance.15 As described by David Calleo, never since the beginning of the Cold War had the capitalist liberal democracies faced a stronger challenge to their cohesion than in the early 1970s.16 The collapse of the Fordist–Keynesian “regulation mode” was being felt all across the West.17 The strongest partner in the alliance, or in other words, the hegemon – namely, the US – had experienced increasing difficulties during the 1960s in managing

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the balance between its military commitments, its foreign-policy aims, and its economic resources, as shown by the growing deficits of its balance of payments.18 While domestic unrest was growing steadily in all Western countries, the fear of protectionism had come to the forefront of international politics, as the US and the European Community (EC) engaged in a spiral of reciprocal recriminations.19 The postwar faith in economic stability and steady growth was shaken to its foundations on 15 August 1971 by the decision to end the convertibility of the US dollar into gold, with which US President Richard Nixon undermined the monetary order that had lasted since the end of World War II – or rather, since the beginning of the Cold War.20 As the US engaged – or was perceived as engaging – in piloting the world toward a pure dollar standard, thus deliberately passing on its own inflation to Europe, the Europeans reacted angrily, accusing Washington of undermining the international economic system, disrupting the EC’s projected Monetary Union, and threatening the European common market itself.21 In an economic environment dominated by uncertainty and mutual recriminations, the Arab–Israeli war of October 1973 exposed the differences in the allies’ respective positions in terms of dependency from foreign oil supplies and brought about a serious split in the foreign policies of the Western allies: the US supported Israel, while the EC Nine attempted to maintain a somewhat more neutral attitude, with most of them refusing even to let US planes land on their soil on their way to the Middle East.22 East–West relations intersected with this process at several junctures apart from the CSCE, with détente itself implying changes in the ways in which certain issues had traditionally been looked at and dealt with. Suffice it to mention the eternal problem of equitably sharing the defense burden among NATO allies: from the US point of view, even the blunt – and not completely accurate – assumption that US troops were “hostages to European economic good behavior” grew more difficult to translate into consistent policy, as the margins for that “good behavior” quickly diminished.23 Even the leaders who most desired or needed a US presence on their soil could not afford to pay any price – in terms of inflation, unemployment, or electoral gains of national Communist parties – for US military support.24 If allowance is made for this broader picture, the CSCE can be viewed not only as a major issue in East–West relations, but as a major test for intra-Western solidarity as well. US attitudes toward the prospective conference varied from cautious to annoyed: in August 1972, Helmut Sonnenfeldt of the National Security Council (NSC) warned Kissinger about the importance of “alliance management [in the CSCE] rather than East–West bargaining or debating.”25 At the same time, Nixon complained somewhat more strongly to Sir Burke Trend, the British cabinet secretary, that “the US had never wanted the conference.”26 Both views recognized that the US had been, to a certain extent, dragged into the process by the pressures of its allies.27 This does not conceal the importance, in shaping US attitudes, of the overriding line of thought, later summarized by Sonnenfeldt’s catchy formula according to which the conference could be exploited by way of one or more tradeoffs with the USSR.28 But, as also suggested by William

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Bundy, it does imply that the eventual US acquiescence to the CSCE was not perceived as the best option by the US administration, thus confirming a certain loss of control on the events on its part, and the need to follow the Europeans, or even to appease them, rather than opposing their views.29 In the second half of 1972, Nixon promoted US restraint in all fields that were sensitive to the Europeans: in fact, the official opening of the multilateral preliminary CSCE talks (on 22 November) coincided with a momentary withdrawal, under Nixon’s precise instructions, from radical positions on trade matters,30 as well as with a display of openness on monetary issues, marked by the acceptance of US participation in the committee for the multilateral reform of the system (the so-called C-20).31

Hesitations behind the US official posture Economic factors were not only in the background of the US approach to the CSCE and to European security, but were a matter at issue in the conference as well. Although the prospects for possible tradeoffs with the USSR, and a resilient confidence in basic Western solidarity, ultimately oriented the US toward taking a positive stance toward the conference, there is some evidence that the fragility of the international economic situation gave rise to a number of reservations, and sometimes even fears, in US policy-makers. Their major manifestation came directly from Nixon in September 1972, during a meeting of the Council for International Economic Policy (CIEP). The president showed deep concern for the growing ties between Eastern and Western Europe at a time of great economic tensions among the Western states. After a free-wheeling speech, ranging from the 1972 Olympics to the “Finlandization of Europe,” he concluded that the real question was what the Europeans wanted “their position vis-à-vis the US and the Soviet Union to be.”32 According to the president, if the trade disputes caused the Europeans to detach themselves from the US, they would risk “a more subtle form of invasion by the Soviet Union than in the conventional military sense.”33 Nixon’s words were not an isolated expression of pessimism. During 1972, the intelligence community had often made clear that the Soviets did not intend to leave the West alone with its internal contradictions. In April, a National Intelligence Estimate (NIE) paper, considered the proposal for a Conference on European Security as being at the heart of a comprehensive Soviet effort, which fully took account of the ongoing intra-Western strains, so as to promote the achievement of Moscow’s “long standing aims.”34 Only a few months later, in October, a new issue of the NIE series placed the prospective CSCE within the framework of a broader Soviet effort aimed at enhancing the appeal of the USSR in Western Europe, and indicated some European influent economic actors as potential agents of division in the West: For their part, the West Europeans seem to have become much more receptive to the idea of doing political and economic business with the USSR. . . .

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D. Basosi And such interests, which are not without influence in Paris, Bonn, Rome, and elsewhere, are perhaps more disposed to see the US as a day to day commercial rival than as the ultimate protector of the western sovereignty.35

Echoing these or similar analyses, in June 1972, Nixon’s chief economic aide, Peter Flanigan, asked the British chancellor of the exchequer whether “the EC countries might move toward a more neutral or even pro-USSR policy,” due to the economic confrontation with the US.36 Was the CIA over-alarmist? Was Flanigan exaggerating his fears only to impress them better on the British government? Most probably, this was the case. Not only was the transatlantic loyalty of the political leaders in the old continent out of question, but also, the assertiveness of the European business community in East–West economic relations was probably being largely overstated. And while it was not a mystery that the CSCE proposal did receive a warm welcome in Europe, the NIE papers were, after all, quite skeptical on Moscow’s ultimate chances of success in exploiting Western economic turmoil to the point of breaking Western solidarity.37 But the issue can be looked at from a different, and less subjective, point of view, which may give us a better idea of the kind of scenario the CIA was focusing on, and help us understand the caution that inspired US moves. As Arthur Burns, the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, often reminded Nixon, the ghost of the 1930s was still just around the corner: finance would not always respond rationally to rational inputs, nor was a widespread anti-protectionist feeling among the political elites sufficient to avoid the actual spreading of protectionism worldwide at a time of severe recession.38 Should another stock market crash occur like the one in 1929, the CSCE could prove uncontrollable, and there was a risk that the entire process might get out of hand and possibly open new fields for confrontation with the West Europeans.39 These ideas did not apply solely to the CSCE, but apparently the conference had some aspects that were particularly disturbing to Nixon when viewed in connection with the ongoing intra-Western economic strains. In the first place, the umbrella provided by the CSCE for the enhancement of East–West cooperation on economic, scientific, and technological matters added a pan-European flavor to the economic links that most Western European countries, and the EC itself, were already developing bilaterally with their neighbors in the East. In particular, the multilateral context gave the Soviets a favorable position from which to launch their demands for the abolition of Western restrictions on sensitive technological exports.40 This was expected to occur in a context in which the traditional disputes among the Western allies concerning the regulations of the Coordinating Committee on Export Controls (COCOM) had already been brought to tense levels by the dynamics of détente: on 20 November 1972, a US inter-agency group charged with reviewing the system clearly stated that COCOM members were rendering “lip service” to the principles of the embargo, while their major emphasis was “on its reduction and on obtaining exceptional treatment for the sale of their manufactures and technology.”41

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Furthermore, although the conference was not supposed to be an occasion for trade deals, discussions aimed at facilitating business contacts obviously brought about the opportunity for the USSR to display its political stability and its reserves of raw materials: while, in general, it could be expected that Moscow would be the demandeur in the economic basket, the gloomy European economic picture could potentially invert the roles.42 In particular, as oil prices were steadily rising (well before the October 1973 embargo), Soviet offers for technical and financial cooperation in the energy field could lure the Europeans with prospects of lower prices and stability of supply.43 In the context of growing (Western) “European economic nationalism,” Nixon judged the Soviet propaganda campaign on a “single Europe” to be particularly dangerous, and was definitely uncomfortable with the activism of “the jackass of the European Commission,” which he deemed unable to understand the political and security stakes behind trade negotiations.44 The display of multilateral goodwill of late 1972 proved useful indeed for easing tensions with the Europeans after months of rising heat, but none of Nixon’s dilemmas, in the security as well as in the economic field, could disappear simply by virtue of US participation in multilateral fora.45 When, in March 1973, the fragile monetary truce ended and the Bretton Woods system was ultimately dismissed, a regime based on flexible rates took its place, where the US dollar would still play the pivotal role as the reserve currency.46 Once again, the Europeans were badly hit by the event, both in terms of their immediate economic concerns, and as far as their prospects for further economic integration were concerned. Since these events were largely due to US inputs, Nixon again expressed his concern that, as a reaction to economic panic, the link between European economic nationalism and security in Europe might prove unmanageable.47 In mid-1973, the apparent paradox was that a new concept of security, encompassing economic aspects and provisions, was quietly emerging from the CSCE negotiations in Helsinki and Geneva, while a similar – although obviously not identical – linkage seemed unattainable in the painstaking intraWestern quarrels around Kissinger’s proposed “Year of Europe.”48 In June 1973, Kissinger summarized the issues at stake in East–West economic relations in clear terms for Nixon (who underlined the paragraph) when he told the president that “the major, longer-term question” was whether the Soviets could “hold their own bloc together while waiting the West to succumb to a long period of relaxation and to the temptations of economic competition.”49 There was a certain optimism in Kissinger’s conclusion – “certainly,” he wrote, “our chances are good as Brezhnev’s, given the history of dissent in East Europe” – but the possibility that Basket II might reveal itself a Trojan horse for the West – before Basket III did the same for the Soviets – was still not completely ruled out.

The CSCE and the recovery of US economic power Kissinger’s words were written at a time when transatlantic relations were in bad shape, but had not touched their low point yet. In the last months of 1973, the

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general outlook for US–European relations deteriorated further with the eventual failure of the Year of Europe, the asymmetric unfolding of the energy crisis, and the aforementioned policy split over the Middle East. Yet, those words were apparently the last occasion on which high-level US officials expressed any form of apprehension over the very nature of East–West economic cooperation. In the following weeks, and until the early months of 1975, sharp differences would often emerge in the interpretation of the CSCE negotiations, but Washington’s reactions would never be inspired by alarm as to the possible consequences of the conference, as such, on the Atlantic alliance.50 During the actual CSCE negotiations, Basket II contributed toward providing greater opportunities for cooperation in the economic field across the Iron Curtain, and was regarded in retrospect as the only “relatively uncontroversial area” of the conference.51 But, as matter of fact, NATO was never confronted with any of the potentially disruptive aspects of Basket II. According to one British diplomat, Basket II negotiations could be regarded as accomplished as soon as July 1974, without damage for the West.52 US officials waited longer to express this assessment, but concurred in the view that Basket II had been the easiest to deal with.53 Moreover, in line with the general trend of the conference that saw the West – when acting in concert – slowly attaining the upper hand, not only did the Soviets eventually fail to achieve their disruptive aims, but Basket II even yielded results such as the official recognition of the EC without reciprocal recognition of the Eastern bloc’s Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (CMEA).54 Indeed, economic rivalries between Western Europe and the US concerning Eastern Europe had not disappeared completely. But one only has to read the relaxed – even ironic – words with which Kissinger briefed Ford, in September 1974, to understand how the subject had completely lost its political weight: The Europeans want a free ride. Take CSCE: we opposed it, now they are being miserable about meaningless Basket III. . . . On credit too, anything we don’t give the Soviets on credits, they will get from the Europeans. . . . The tendencies are for them to kick us around a bit.55 When the conference came to an end in 1975, Kissinger could even speak about it as a major occasion for expressing a “Western view,” an expression that was mainly aimed at Baskets I and III, but that could well represent the basic solidarity upheld by the Western countries throughout the negotiations.56 It would be difficult to explain this smooth unfolding of events with the accomplishments of the US delegations at the CSCE. On the contrary, until the very last phase – when Kissinger’s own attitude towards the CSCE changed radically – the US delegation was guided more by “old Yankee good sense” than by explicit instructions from the White House or from the State Department.57 Nor did Basket II deserve any better treatment by virtue of its potential risks: in summarizing the history of the CSCE for Ford, the briefing book for the Helsinki ceremony plainly explained that, in Basket II, the only concern of the

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US delegation had been to make sure that its provisions did not conflict with the Trade Act of 1974.58 The “free movement” issues discussed in Basket III had proven potentially useful for putting Moscow on the spot, but – at least throughout 1973 and 1974 – this aspect could not fully explain the apparent inability of the Soviets to exploit the tensions in the West. When considering why none of the anticipated outcomes occurred, one might obviously think that the conditions were simply not right yet. Kissinger has suggested that the problems of the early 1970s in transatlantic relations were but misunderstandings due to personal differences among Western leaders: as those leaders (Nixon, Pompidou, Brandt, and Heath) were all replaced during 1974, prospects turned brighter again and the CSCE, among other things, developed along the best possible lines for the West.59 These observations can hardly be refuted if the focus is on Helsinki and Geneva alone. But the view is taken here that, as relevant as these motives might be, the unfolding and outcomes of the CSCE cannot be fully explained without making reference to the overall context in which the negotiations took place.60 The main element of the picture was the restoration of US economic power following the unilateral moves made in the two previous years in the international economic field.61 A first aspect, too often underestimated, of the changed international role of the dollar after 1973 was that flexible rates and dollar centrality provided the US with a long-desired flexibility in foreign spending that greatly reduced neo-isolationist tendencies in Congress – even though the MBFR negotiations in Vienna proceeded at a far slower pace than the original tradeoff with the CSCE would have required.62 Under the new conditions, the renewal of the US military commitment to Europe became far less problematic, and at least it did not explicitly require the Europeans to sign onto a humiliating tradeoff between military and economic aspects. While indeed raising a whole new set of problems, the energy crisis itself was in the end the best showcase of the newfound status of the US: with the dollar serving as the pivotal international currency, the US was in fact the only country that was able to increase its energy consumption throughout 1973–77.63 Besides the evident economic aspects, the self-confidence of the US grew apace, and a new willingness to lead clearly emerged: at first, this was done in a low-key fashion, in the form of US Secretary of the Treasury George Shultz’s “Library Group” meetings with the finance ministers of France, Germany, Japan, and Great Britain, which would later serve as a model for the Rambouillet summit.64 But in early 1974, the newfound US self-confidence was fundamental in the launching of the International Energy Agency (IEA), a major international event and a striking personal success for Kissinger.65 Moreover, it must be recognized that the regaining of US economic centrality left the West Europeans with little space to maneuver outside the parameters that were agreeable to Washington. At the very moment when they were claiming to be “equal partners” with the US, the Europeans discovered that the effectiveness of their own policy tools had been severely limited.66 The declaration on European identity of 15 December 1973, explicitly polemical towards Washington, could

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perhaps boost some leaders’ pride, but could neither revitalize the monetary union, nor lower oil prices, nor even give the Europeans any effective leverage in dealing with the oil producers – while the US were setting up their successful recycling mechanism for the excess revenue accumulated by the OPEC cartel.67 These elements were not directly linked to the CSCE negotiations in Geneva, but they were fundamental in determining the general attitudes of the Western European leaders toward the US. The strength of the US did not imply the strength of the whole West, and allegations from Western Europeans that the US was in part responsible for their disarray did not disappear overnight.68 But during 1974, the readdressing of the intra-Western balance of power strongly cemented the transatlantic relationship, as European leaders visited Washington to beg explicitly for some “American leadership.”69 Eventually, just like Nixon had been worried in 1972 that economic upheaval could alienate the European support for the US, the changing of the overall context caused a reversal of Washington’s judgment in 1975: only three weeks before Helsinki, Kissinger was told by US Ambassador Kenneth Rush that Giscard’s desperation over domestic economic instability was driving even France – which had in part maintained an autonomous posture during 1974 – back into the arms of the US.70 As the preparation of Ford’s speech underscored, after the first step at the NATO summit in Brussels in May 1975, Helsinki was the most significant occasion on which the US could display its regained leadership, which was not however a purely ideological or military affair, but also the result of structural tendencies within the Western bloc.71

From Helsinki to Rambouillet The Rambouillet summit, at which the leaders of the six largest Western economies met face-to-face from 15–17 November 1975, marked the close of more than five years of intra-Western economic disputes, with the eventual French acceptance of the dollar standard that had been in place de facto since 1971.72 This move formally sealed the US’s regained leadership of a newly united West. However, characteristically, just as in Helsinki’s aftermath Kissinger had stressed the symbolic importance of Ford’s speech rather than the tangible results of the CSCE, the beauty of Rambouillet in the mind of the US secretary of state was that it had almost been conceived as a necessary complement to Helsinki: whereas the CSCE had demonstrated that the US was “back in business,”73 Rambouillet should now demonstrate that Washington was ready to show “sensitivity to the problems of others and to exercise constructive American leadership.”74 In this context, monetary, trade, and energy matters were naturally the most important ones, but it is noteworthy that Ford’s leadership during the summit was also – or even particularly – felt in connection with East–West economic cooperation, once regarded with suspicion. In fact, whereas the US delegation had left the center stage to the Europeans in the CSCE Basket II negotiations, in the same period, the new economic assertiveness of the country had easily reached the East through different channels. While Moscow’s internal propa-

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ganda had portrayed the end of the Bretton Woods system as a symptom of the imminent collapse of capitalism,75 Brezhnev had been quick to adapt to a different reality and, as détente progressed during 1972, had identified the US as the only possible strategic partner for the enormous technological and financial projects with which the Soviet leadership planned to modernize the Soviet Union’s industrial sector.76 After some initial difficulties, the evident Soviet “strategic weakness” represented by “Brezhnev’s eagerness for economic deals” had supplied Kissinger – particularly after 1973 – with a true “economic leverage” in détente that the secretary of state could handle with relative ease, given the de facto complete freedom of action enjoyed by the US in the post-Bretton Woods financial system.77 Notwithstanding the complication represented by the protectionist Jackson–Vanik amendment passed by the Congress in 1974,78 only two months after the conclusion of the CSCE a new NIE issue acknowledged that Moscow had voluntarily chosen a moderate stance on those issues that were potentially divisive for the West. According to this detailed analysis, the Soviet leaders had “undoubtedly asked themselves” whether they should “seize the tactical opportunities” and “seek to exploit current US and western economic difficulties,” but their high expectations “from the expansion of US–Soviet economic relations” had prevailed in determining their restrained posture.79 Obviously, this had not undercut the Soviet Union’s ability to bring about parallel trade deals with the Western Europeans as well, and the Soviets had even managed to adapt to the existence of the European Community, which was one of the remarkable innovations brought about by the CSCE.80 But, as the USSR’s economic partnership with the US consolidated, Moscow’s efforts to split NATO by using economic leverages had obviously fallen significantly short of what might have been expected in 1972. Accordingly, in Rambouillet, after listening to a low-key introduction by the Italian prime minister, Ford could adorn his statement on East–West cooperation with the announcement that an impressive agreement had almost been reached on the exchange of US grain and Soviet oil, immediately thereafter assuring his audience – in a truly hegemonic fashion – that the Soviet supply would represent a “net addition to the petroleum resources of the West.”81 Although only one side of the deal, the grain sale, would actually be implemented during 1976, for the European leaders present in Rambouillet the mere prospect of new oil for a thirsty market, thanks to a US–Soviet bilateral deal, was an impressive display of newly found “benign” US power. This was, in a certain sense, a confirmation that the restoration of Western unity, from Helsinki to Rambouillet, was also the restoration of a hierarchical structure that had been shaken in previous years. It is worth mentioning that in securing a reference to economic cooperation with the Socialist countries in the final communiqué of the summit, Ford was also demonstrating to Moscow that the Western countries were now unified even on this formerly problematic issue.82 This Western unity was not the least of the resources that could be used, in the post-Helsinki phase, to “foster restraint and cooperation in the behavior of Communist countries.”83

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Notes 1 The author acknowledges the financial assistance of the Gerald Ford Foundation, whose Research Travel Grant Program facilitated travel and residence in Ann Arbor while visiting the Gerald Ford Presidential Library. 2 Jussi Hanhimaki, “Ironies and Turning Points: Détente in Perspective,” in Reviewing the Cold War, Odd Arne Westad (ed.) (London: Cass, 2000), pp. 326–42; John Maresca, To Helsinki. The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–1975 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1985); Voitech Mastny, Helsinki, Human Rights and European Security (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1986); Luigi Vittorio Ferraris, Report on a Negotiation, Helsinki–Geneva–Helsinki, 1972–1975 (Alphen a.d. Rijn: Sijthoff & Noordhoff, 1979). 3 Memorandum of Conversation (MemCon) (Ford, Schmidt, Giscard, Wilson), 31 July 1975, Gerald Ford Presidential Library (GFL), Ann Arbor (MI); National Security Archive (NSA), Memoranda of Conversation 1973–77 (Memcons), box 14; see also Kissinger to Ford, “Four Powers Meeting,” 31 July 1975, National Archives of the United States (NA), College Park (MD); Department of State, RG 59, Lot Files/Office Files, Files of Henry Kissinger 1973–77 (HAK Files), box 15, Miscellaneous docs. 1975. 4 Peter Hajnal, The G7/G8 System: Evolution, Role and Documentation (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1999); Nicholas Bayne, “Creating the Economic Summits,” in The New Economic Diplomacy, Nicholas Bayne and Stephen Woolcock (eds.) (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), pp. 121–37; Robert Putnam and Nicholas Bayne, Hanging Together: Cooperation and Conflict in the Seven-Power Summits (London: Sage, 1987); Harold James, Rambouillet, 15 November 1975: Die Globalisierung der Wirtschaft (Munich: Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag, 1997). 5 Putnam and Bayne, Hanging Together, p. 25. 6 William Griffith, “Preface,” in Maresca, To Helsinki, p. i. 7 John Kirton, “The Seven Power Summit as a New Security Institution,” online, available at: www.g8.utoronto.ca/scholar/kirton199301/kir2.htm (accessed 18 January 2008). 8 Kissinger to Ford, “Meeting with French Minister Sauvagnargues,” 27 September 1975, GFL, NSA, Presidential Country Files for Europe and Canada, France 6, box 3. 9 Jussi Hanhimaki, “ ‘They Can Write It In Swahili’: Kissinger, the Soviets, and the Helsinki Accords, 1973–75,” in Journal of Transatlantic Studies 1, no. 1 (2003), pp. 37–59; Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 45. 10 Henry Kissinger, Years of Renewal (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1999), p. 626; Helmut Schmidt, Men and Powers (New York: Random House, 1989), p. 173. 11 Robert Keohane and Joseph Nye, Power and Interdependence: World Politics in Transition (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1977). 12 In addition to Kissinger’s and Schmidt’s memoirs: Yanek Miezkowski, Gerald Ford and the Challenges of the 1970s (Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky, 2005), pp. 297–304; Gerald Ford, A Time to Heal (New York: Harper & Row, 1979), p. 331. 13 According to Swiss Ambassador Edouard Brunner, who participated in the negotiations, Basket II had been established basically as a buffer between Basket I and III. See: Tapescripts of the Oral History Roundtable “The Road to Helsinki. The Early Steps of the CSCE and the Problem of Human Rights,” organized by the Machiavelli Center for Cold War Studies (CIMA), Florence, 29–30 September 2003. 14 Mastny, Helsinki, p. 123. 15 Henry Kissinger, Years of Upheaval (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1982), pp. 119–60. 16 David Calleo, The Imperious Economy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982), pp. 118–30.

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17 Michel Aglietta, Regulation et crise du capitalisme (Paris: Calmann-Levy, 1976). 18 Calleo, The Imperious Economy, p. 5. 19 William Scheuerman, The Steel Crisis: The Economics and Politics of a Declining Industry (New York: Praeger, 1986). 20 Alan Milward, The Reconstruction of Western Europe, 1945–1951 (London: Methuen, 1984), pp. 1–23. 21 John Odell, The United States International Monetary Policy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1982); Duccio Basosi, Il governo del dollaro: interdipendenza economica e potere statunitense negli anni di Richard Nixon, 1969–1973 (Florence: Polistampa, 2006). 22 Pierre Melandri, Une difficile alliance: Europe-Etats Unis 1973–1983 (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1988), p. 110. 23 During a congressional hearing, Under Secretary of State Martin Hillenbrand had said: “I don’t like to imply that our troops are in effect hostage to European good behavior in the economic area, but obviously it would be foolish to deny at a psychological level that there is a certain relationship here,” quoted in Hubert Zimmermann, Money and Security: Troops, Monetary Policy and West Germany’s Relations with the United States and Britain 1959–1971 (Washington, D.C.: German Historical Institute, 2002), p. 2. 24 See, e.g.: Bureau of Intelligence and Research, “Western Europe and the New Economic Policy,” 8 November 1971, NA, Nixon Presidential Materials (NPM), NSC Files, Subject Files, box 376, The President’s Economic Program. 25 Mircea Munteanu, Hedwig Giusto and Christian Ostermann (eds.), The Rise of Détente, vol. II, document reader compiled for the International Conference “NATO, the Warsaw Pact, and the Rise of Détente, 1965–1972,” organized by CIMA, Dobbiaco, 26–28 September 2002, doc. 20, section IV, Sonnenfeldt to Kissinger, “Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe,” n.d., attached to Sonnenfeldt to Kissinger, “Papers for Moscow Trip,” 19 August 1972. 26 Keith Hamilton (ed.), Documents on British Policy Overseas (DBPO), series III, vol. 2 (London: The Stationery Office, 1998), doc. 12. 27 Kissinger would brief Ford in even stronger terms on the CSCE the week after he was sworn in: “We never wanted it but we went along with the Europeans.” MemCon (Ford, Kissinger, Scowcroft), 15 August 1974, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 5. 28 In Sonnenfeldt’s words: “We sold it for the German–Soviet treaty, we sold it for Berlin Agreement, we sold it again for the opening of the MBFR,” quoted in Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy (New York: Touchstone, 1994), p. 758. 29 William Bundy, A Tangled Web: The Making of Foreign Policy in the Nixon Presidency (New York: Hill & Wang, 1998), p. 482 30 Flanigan to Eberle, “CIEP Decision Memorandum no. 14: Trade Negotiations with the European Community,” 23 September 1972, NA, NPM, NSC Files, FRUS Parallel File, Agency Files, box 1. 31 The first meeting of the C-20 was held on 27 November 1972. Robert Solomon, The International Monetary System: 1945–1976 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1977), pp. 253–8. 32 Nixon had been deeply struck by the remarks of the Soviet winner of the 100m race, Valery Borzov, who had said that the “race marked the end of an era and now the Europeans are the best.” Peter Flanigan for the President’s File, “CIEP Meeting, September 11, 1972,” NA, NPM, White House Subject Files (WHSF), Office Files, President’s Office Files (POF), memos for the President, box 87. 33 Ibid. 34 NIE 11–72, “Soviet Foreign Policies and the Outlook for Soviet–American Relations,” 20 April 1972, reproduced on microfiche in The Soviet Estimate: US Analysis of the Soviet Union, National Security Archive (ed.) (Alexandria, VA: ChedwickHealey, 1995) (Soviet Estimate).

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35 NIE 12–72, “The USSR and the Changing Scene in Europe,” 26 October 1972, in Soviet Estimate. During the aforementioned CIEP meeting of 11 September 1972, Nixon reasoned along similar lines when he said that: “European leaders are ‘terrified’ at the prospect [of a divided West]. However, the economic guys over there just want to screw us and our economic guys should want to do the same,” Peter Flanigan for the President’s File, “CIEP Meeting, September 11, 1972,” NA, NPM, WHSF, Office Files, POF, memos for the President, box 87. 36 MemCon, “Notes on Meeting on 5 June 1972 in London,” 13 June 1972, NA, Department of the Treasury, RG 56, General Records of the Department of the Treasury, Central Files of the Secretary of the Treasury, 1957–65, S-13, Records of the Under Secretary for Monetary Affairs Paul Volcker, 1969–74 (Volcker Files), FRC 5, UK. 37 NIE 12–72, 26 October 1972, in Soviet Estimate. 38 See, e.g.: Federal Reserve Board, “Minutes of the Meeting of the FOMC,” 24 August 1971, NA, RG 82, Records of the Federal Reserve System, Minutes of the Federal Open Market Committee, Roll 38, p. 795. 39 It was not only US officials who still remembered the ghost of the Great Depression. In his memoirs, Schmidt judged that the major result of the Rambouillet meeting consisted in giving the participants the certainty that they would not make war with each other “as in the 1930s” over economic problems. Schmidt, Men and Powers, p. 173. 40 Mastny, Helsinki, p. 7. 41 US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969–1976 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 2001), vol. IV, doc. 383. 42 In the European OECD countries, inflation reached an average value of 8.7 percent in 1973 (from less than 3 percent at the beginning of the decade), and skyrocketed to 13 percent during 1974–75. Unemployment grew in the same period from below 3.5 percent to over 5 percent. US data showed a much more limited impact of the economic crisis (inflation was 6.2 percent in 1973, the unemployment rate was 4.9 percent). OECD, Economic Outlook: June 1989 (Paris: OECD, 1989). 43 IE 11–72, 20 April 1972, in Soviet Estimate; see also: Mastny, Helsinki, p. 7. 44 Peter Flanigan for the President’s File, “CIEP Meeting, September 11, 1972,” NA, NPM, WHSF, Office Files, POF, memos for the President, box 87. 45 Kissinger’s position towards CSCE in this phase was that it was simply “not serious.” See DBPO, doc. 25. In a similar fashion, US officials recognized that the US was “dragging its heels” on the C-20. Robert Hormats to Henry Kissinger, “Report on Monetary Situation,” 27 June 1972, NA, NPM, NSC Files, Subject Files, box 322, European Common Market. 46 Peter Gowan, “The 1970s: Origins of a New Cycle of US Hegemony or Beginning of American Decline?” paper presented at the conference “Re-thinking the 1970s,” Bologna, 28–29 April 2004, p. 2; Susan Strange, Casino Capitalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), pp. 39–42. 47 MemCon (Nixon, Ehrlichman, Sonnenfeldt), 30 March 1973, reproduced on microfiche in Papers of the Nixon White House, vol. 3: John Ehrlichman: Notes of Meetings with the President, Joan Hoff (ed.) (Frederick, MD: UPA, 1988). 48 Geir Lundestad, The United States and Western Europe since 1945 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), p. 183. In his “Year of Europe” speech of 23 April 1973, Kissinger had emphasized the linkage between the US security commitment and European economic restraint. 49 Munteanu et al., Rise of Détente, vol. 1, section 4, doc. 1, Kissinger to Nixon, “Your Meeting with Brezhnev,” June 1973. 50 On the basic differences in the interpretation of the conference (and on the subsequent clashes over Kissinger’s haste – throughout 1973 and 1974 – in coming to a close), see Maresca, To Helsinki, pp. 64–9; Angela Romano, Gli occidentali e la conferenza di Helsinki, 1969–1975 (Florence: University of Florence, Ph.D. dissertation, 2006), pp. 276–92.

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51 DBPO, “Mr Elliot (Helsinki) to Mr Callaghan,” 29 July 1974. 52 DBPO, “Minute from Mr. Cloake to Mr Marshall,” 4 July 1974. 53 Clift to Kissinger, “Geneva Trip Report,” 19 April 1975, confidential, GFL, NSA, NSC: Europe, Canada and Ocean Affairs Staff Files, General Subject File: CSCE, 1975 (1), WH, box 44. 54 Angela Romano, “Behind Closed Doors: Contacts between EEC and CMEA in the Early 70s,” in The Helsinki Process: A Historical Reappraisal, Carla Meneguzzi Rostagni (eds.) (Padova, Italy: CEDAM, 2005), pp. 107–22. 55 MemCon (Ford, Kissinger, Scowcroft), 10 September 1974, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 5. 56 Department of State Briefing Paper, “Talking Points for the Secretary at the Cabinet Meeting,” 6 August 1975, NA, RG 59, HAK Files, box 4; Kissinger to Ford, “Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe,” 29 July 1975, GFL, NSA, Temporary Parallel File, Box A1, Presidential Trip Memos, Helsinki. 57 Maresca, To Helsinki, p. 46. 58 “Briefing Paper (CSCE),” 23 July 1975, GFL, Hartmann Papers, President Trips, CSCE, box 155. 59 Kissinger, Years of Renewal, p. 598. 60 In other words, Helsinki too was affected by the bouleversement that the Nixon administration had wrought upon international relations through its ability to act on a truly global stage. See Georges-Henri Soutou, La guerre de cinquante ans (Paris: Fayard, 2001), p. 495. It is understood that the economic moves were only a part of Nixon’s and Kissinger’s “global diplomacy.” For a comprehensive approach, see Ennio Di Nolfo, Dagli imperi militari agli imperi tecnologici (Rome and Bari: Laterza, 2002), pp. 401–5. 61 Calleo, Imperious Economy, p. 115; Susan Strange, The Retreat of the State: The Diffusion of Power in the World Economy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), pp. 2–18. 62 MemCon (Ford, Kissinger, Sauvagnargues), 28 September 1974, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 6. More generally, as Parboni writes, “The system of floating exchange rates also eliminated any need for the United States to control its own balance-of-payments deficit, because it was now possible to release unlimited quantities of non-convertible dollars into international circulation.” Riccardo Parboni, The Dollar and Its Rivals: Recession, Inflation, and International Finance (London: NLB, 1981), p. 89. 63 Domenico Preti, “La cesura degli anni Settanta,” in Le radici della crisi: L’Italia tra gli anni Sessanta e Settanta, Luca Baldissara (ed.) (Rome: Carocci, 2001), pp. 103–33, at p. 111. 64 See, e.g., Shultz to Nixon, “Group of Five meeting,” 18 October 1973, NA, Department of the Treasury, RG 56, Volcker Files, FRC3, International Financial Institutions. More generally on the “Library Group”: Bayne, “Creating the Economic Summits,” p. 121; Schmidt, Men and Powers, p. 155. 65 See Lundestad, The United States and Western Europe, p. 185. 66 Ibid., pp. 180f. 67 Eric Helleiner, States and the Reemergence of Global Finance: From Bretton Woods to the 1990s (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1994), p. 113. 68 Kissinger bluntly stated that “only the US [was] strong, the West [was] not.” MemCon (Ford, Kissinger), 29 September 1974, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 6. 69 See, e.g.: MemCon (Ford, Kissinger, British Foreign Minister Callaghan), 24 September 1974, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 6; MemCon (Ford, Kissinger), “Schmidt Meeting,” 6 December 1974, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 7. 70 Secretary of State to US Embassy in Paris, “Giscard Possible Proposals to the US about Worsening Economic Situation,” 8 July 1975, GFL, NSA, Presidential Country Files for Europe and Canada, France, box 4.

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71 Kissinger to Ford, “Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe,” 29 July 1975, GFL, NSA, Temporary Parallel File, Box A1, Presidential Trip Memos, Helsinki. 72 Robert Hormats, “Notes on the Economic Summit, Second Session, 16 November 1975,” n.d., GFL, NSA, Memcons, Rambouillet, box 16. 73 Department of State Briefing Paper, “Talking Points for the Secretary at the Cabinet Meeting,” 6 August 1975, NA, RG 59, HAK Files, box 4. 74 Kissinger, Simon, Scowcroft, and Seidman to Ford, “International Economic Summit Overview,” 12 November 1975, GFL, Presidential Handwriting File, Trips – Foreign, Economic Summit 1975, box 49. 75 Hormats to Kissinger, “Foreign Reactions to the President’s New Economic Program,” NA, NPM, NSC Files, Subject Files, box 376, President’s Economic Program, 19 August 1971. 76 See, e.g., the meetings of the Soviet leader with Nixon’s secretary of commerce in July 1972: Munteanu et al., The Rise of Détente, vol. 1, section 3, doc. 4, “Notes on Brezhnev–Peterson meeting in Crimea,” 30 July 1972. 77 The Nixon–Brezhnev summit of June 1973 actually brought an abundance of economic deals, ranging from agricultural research to transport and raw materials. See: Munteanu et al., The Rise of Détente, vol. 1, section 4, doc. 1, Kissinger to Nixon, “Your Meeting with Brezhnev,” June 1973. Also see Memorandum of Conversation (Ford, Brezhnev, Kissinger, Gromyko), 24 November 1974, GFL, NSA, Kissinger reports on USSR, China, and Middle East Discussions, USSR memcons and reports, Vladivostok summit, box I. In general, on Kissinger’s economic leverage: Jussi Hannimäki, Flawed Architect: Henry Kissinger and American Foreign Policy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), p. 379. 78 The Jackson–Vanik amendment made credit extensions to the USSR subject to Soviet relaxation on Jewish emigration policy. Brezhnev initially reacted by repealing the trade agreement of 1972, but bilateral economic cooperation recovered quickly during 1975 under the active leadership of David Kendall, CEO of Pepsico, before falling apart in the second half of the decade, together with détente as a whole: MemCon (Ford, US–USSR Trade Council), 7 October 1975, administratively confidential, GFL, NSA, Memcons, box 15. 79 NIE 11–5-75, “The Soviet Assessment of the US,” 9 October 1975, secret, in Soviet Estimate. 80 Angela Romano, “The EC Nine at the Conference of Helsinki, 1972–1975: A Challenging Game with the Soviets,” in Beyond the Customs Union: The European Community’s Quest for Completion, Deepening and Enlargement, 1969–1975, Jan van der Harst (ed.) (Brussels: Bruylant, 2007, pp. 83–105). 81 Robert Hormats, “Notes on the Economic Summit, Fourth Session, 17 November 1975,” secret/NODIS, attached to Hormats to Scowcroft, “Copy of the Notes,” 2 December 1975, GFL, NSA, Memcons, Rambouillet, box 16; an early assessment of the Soviets’ grain needs is given in NIE 11–5–75, 10 September 1975, in Soviet Estimate. Also see: Roger Porter, The US–USSR Grain Agreement (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984). 82 This would in fact become point 10 of the final communiqué: “Declaration of Rambouillet,” 17 November 1975, G8 Information Centre, online, available at: www.g8.utoronto.ca/summit/1975rambouillet/communique.html (accessed 18 January 2008). 83 Robert Hormats, “Notes on the Economic Summit, Fourth Session, 17 November 1975,” n.d., GFL, NSA, Memcons, Rambouillet, box 16.

13 The link between CSCE and MBFR Two sprouts from one bulb Helga Haftendorn

Introduction This chapter will explore the relationship between the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE)1 and the Mutual and Balanced Force Reduction Talks (MBFR),2 two major projects of European détente in the late 1960s and 1970s, and the unlinking of the two projects. The first plans to reduce military forces in Central Europe date back to the 1950s, when the Cold War rivals began to build up their capabilities on both sides of the dividing line. Most Western arms control proposals, unless they were launched merely for propagandistic purposes, were either intended to facilitate German reunification or to reduce the possibility of accidental escalation of the confrontation, while the Eastern plans had the goal to prevent the military rearmament of West Germany or to reduce the number of NATO troops. The idea of holding a European security conference also originated in the political situation of Europe and was aimed at sanctioning of the status quo. Arms control and disarmament, if they were mentioned at all, were agenda items among others without any specific reference to the conventional forces in Europe.3 NATO’s 1968 Reykjavik Signal, calling for negotiations on mutual and balanced troop reductions in Europe,4 was a reaction to the Warsaw Pact’s call for a European security conference. It put the troop issue back on the agenda and established a link between the two projects, though initially only in procedural terms. When agreement had been reached in the early 1970s on holding a European security conference, the question was whether the troop issue was to be an item on the agenda of this conference, or whether it was to be the subject of separate East–West negotiations. The enduring uncertainties on the substantive and procedural aspects of both projects were the result of the widely diverging interests of the NATO members associated with them. Was MBFR, together with a CSCE, an opportunity for a gesture of détente to overcome the Cold War confrontation, or was MBFR to be used as an instrument of arms control so as to reduce the military standoff in Europe, and thus the dangers of an armed confrontation? Or was MBFR to serve as a damage limitation measure to ward off unilateral US force withdrawals? All three views can be found in the West German position. Their emphasis changed

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according to the progress of Bonn’s Ostpolitik and as political actors better understood the intricacies of troop reductions.5 Among the other European NATO members, motivations varied from embracing MBFR as evidence of a country’s dedication to détente (as on the part of the British Labour Party government), to stark opposition out of concern about the emergence of a military vacuum in the center of Europe (as displayed by the French government). Because there was no consensus on the objectives of MBFR, it was difficult to reach agreement on how to proceed. Much to the allies’ surprise, the issue was settled by a deal struck between Henry Kissinger, US President Richard Nixon’s national security adviser, and Soviet Party Leader Leonid Brezhnev.6 In exchange for Washington’s endorsement of Moscow’s pet project of a European security conference, the Soviet leader consented to exploratory talks on MBFR and agreed to negotiate on both projects separately. At the 1972 Bonn Summit a few days later, NATO members had to accept the US–Soviet fiat that the two issues were to be dealt with separately.7 NATO’s original position had been that there could be no security conference without negotiations on a reduction of conventional forces in Europe. But the US, which had only warmed up to MBFR after Congressional pressure for unilateral troop reductions had grown, now seized the controls and set the stage for 15 years of cumbersome negotiations. In detailing the history of the relationship between CSCE and MBFR, this chapter aims at complementing the other chapters of the book. The emphasis will be on the genesis of MBFR and its link with the CSCE until the convention of the main MBFR conference in Vienna in October 1973. For source materials, this author uses as her point of departure the abundantly available German official and private documents, adding other sources, especially British documents, when appropriate. Unfortunately, the relevant Foreign Relations of the United States (FRUS) series are not yet available, nor are French sources accessible. Due to France’s opposition to the project, there are not many French secondary sources either. As the author is no expert on Soviet policies, she will limit herself to describing Moscow’s most important reactions to Western decisions.

The long story of European disarmament proposals As soon as NATO and the Warsaw Pact had been established by the middle of the 1950s, many proposals for European disarmament sprang up.8 Because Germany was divided by the Iron Curtain, all proposals had either a deliberate or an accidental political impact on the German question. Almost all plans – and in particular all Warsaw Pact proposals – took the division of the continent as their starting point; they intended to consolidate the status quo in Europe and to endorse the division of Germany. The Adenauer government in Bonn considered these plans to be extremely dangerous and detrimental to its desire to keep the German question open for eventual reunification. No West German government of the time could accept the status quo without serious domestic repercussions.9 But because the presence of military forces in Europe was closely linked to the

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division of Germany, all plans – including the 1955 Eden Plan and the 1959 Herter Plan – focused on the dividing line in order to overcome it by inventing new zonal arrangements. They came to naught. The Soviets were not prepared to relinquish control of the GDR, and the West Germans regularly vetoed all of the more accommodating Anglo-Saxon proposals for regional arms control that were not linked to concrete steps toward reunification. After construction of the Berlin Wall had begun on 13 August 1961, Moscow shifted gears and concentrated on the consolidation of the GDR. Previous Soviet and Polish proposals, which had called for a security conference where the troop issue would be discussed together with the German question and other issues of common concern, were shelved. Instead, the Warsaw Pact countries initiated a heavily publicized campaign arguing for an East–West conference.10 Instead of replying to the call for a European security conference, the NATO countries prepared an initiative for negotiations on mutual and balanced force reductions. In 1967, NATO adopted the Harmel Report on the future tasks of the alliance.11 Its message was that maintaining security and initiating a policy of détente were two sides of the same coin. The proposal for talks on troop reductions responded to the need to give substance to NATO’s ideas on détente. A reduction of conventional forces suggested itself as a possible subject, as scant progress was being made on the German question. Such a proposal served both those who wanted to send a strong signal that the West was serious about détente, and the US administration, which wanted to withdraw some of its forces from Europe, as they were urgently needed in Vietnam. This mélange of motives produced the Reykjavik Signal, which was adopted by the foreign ministers and representatives of the countries participating in the NATO defense program at their meeting in the Icelandic capital in June of 1968.12 The ministers suggested the initiation of negotiations on troop reductions, for which they spelled out several criteria: the reductions were to be reciprocal and balanced in terms of scope and timing, significant without destabilizing the situation in Europe, and in accord with the aim of creating greater confidence in Europe. While there was general consensus on the need for NATO to maintain the momentum of détente, there was no agreement on the substance of the negotiations or on a possible forum for such talks. Furthermore, there was no indication that the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact members might be interested.

Defining the aims of MBFR The Warsaw Pact intervention in Czechoslovakia in August 1968 dampened the hope that East–West détente could be furthered with a program of mutual force reductions. This situation, however, allowed NATO to continue its search for a joint negotiating position which was not at hand when it had launched the Reykjavik Signal. But the Cˇ SSR invasion had also changed the correlation of forces and required further military studies. In the spring of 1969, both sides again warmed to the idea of an East–West

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dialog, though their motives for doing so differed. Most West European countries wished to reap the fruits of détente and cut down on defense spending. For the US, a face-saving exit from Vietnam was the top priority; détente in Europe might be helpful to achieve this goal. The Warsaw Pact, wishing to regain interˇ national esteem after the CSSR intervention, reenergized its campaign for a European security conference with its Budapest Appeal of 17 March 1969.13 While the Soviet Union had so far shown little interest in separate troop reductions talks, the Budapest Appeal now mentioned arms control and disarmament as items that could be discussed at a pan-European conference. But most Western countries were still at best lukewarm toward such a conference, as its main aim was the recognition of the political and territorial situation in Europe. In 1969, the NATO members were neither prepared to negotiate on the status quo, nor were they ready to put forward concrete proposals for negotiating along the lines of the Reykjavik Signal. To gain time, they instructed the council “to explore with the Soviet Union and the other countries of Eastern Europe which concrete issues best lend themselves to fruitful negotiation and an early resolution.”14 They asked NATO staff to draft a list of potential issues and study how a useful process of negotiation could best be initiated. Such a list was presented to the ministers in November 1969. It recommended focusing negotiations on mutual and balanced force reductions, while reserving confidence-building measures for a later stage. The NATO Council also adopted general guidelines for the development of a joint Western position on MBFR without, however, being able to overcome the existing disagreements on the aim, procedure, and substance of negotiations.15 Should the purpose be to establish lower levels of conventional forces in Europe, foreign and indigenous, as the original proposal seemed to indicate, or should only Soviet and US troops be reduced? Was the goal stability at lower levels, and how could it be attained without risking the security of the West? Or should MBFR be considered a political exercise where symbolic acts might suffice to please the proponents of détente at home and prevent US unilateral withdrawals? On procedure, the question was whether NATO should repeat the Reykjavik Signal or put forward concrete proposals for East–West negotiations not knowing whether the other side would be willing to come to the conference table. Without explicitly referring to the proposed security conference, the NATO ministers stated that the achievement of a peaceful European settlement presupposed progress toward eliminating the existing sources of tension in the center of Europe. To get a clearer view on the substance of MBFR, the NATO foreign and defense ministers in December 1969 set up a special MBFR working group charged with drawing up a series of models for either symmetrical or asymmetric troop reductions.16 The US representatives urged for a speedy completion of this study and indicated that the US would also submit its own studies. The proposals were presented to the NATO ministers at their meeting in Rome in May 1970. The problem, however, was that the models that best met

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NATO’s security interests were non-negotiable, while those that were negotiable did not meet the West’s minimum requirements and were thus rejected by SACEUR (Supreme Allied Commander Europe, i.e., NATO Supreme Commander).17 Many within NATO, however, wanted to await the results of further studies before the alliance went ahead with new proposals. How, then, could the alliance avoid being bogged down by details and regain the political initiative?

The Federal Republic of Germany as an engine of MBFR For three reasons the Federal Republic was most interested in MBFR. It was keen to achieve a relaxation of tensions in order to improve life for both West and East Germans. Together with proposals for renunciation of force and nonproliferation declarations, agreements on troop reductions became an integral part of the West German program on détente.18 The German government wished to stabilize the détente process through concrete arms control measures aimed at reducing the military imbalances in Central Europe and forestalling unilateral US troop withdrawals. As its bilateral Ostpolitik developed in the 1970s, Bonn hoped to anchor it in a multilateral setting.19 It reacted positively when Finland signed on to the proposal for a European security conference, but made clear that it would only participate after a satisfactory agreement on Berlin was achieved and intra-German relations had been put on a new footing. Otherwise, the querelles allemandes might burden this first East–West conference after the Second World War. It also wanted to include substantive security issues in the conference agenda.20 Since early 1968, the Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (“Foundation for Science and Politics,” SWP), a German government think-tank, had been working on various aspects of European security, military balance, and regional arms control.21 One of the studies it elaborated was the “Model 75,” which sought to avoid the weakness of other models that were either not negotiable or disadvantageous to Western security. Instead, it proposed symmetrical force reductions of 75 percent, which would substantially limit the Soviet Union’s offensive capabilities and facilitate a lower NATO posture.22 But this radical model met with strong opposition from the military establishment and in Bonn,23 and was therefore not officially introduced into the NATO deliberations on MBFR. During 1966–69, the CDU/CSU–SPD government led by Kurt-Georg Kiesinger – the so-called “Grand Coalition” – included both proponents and foes of détente. Foreign minister and SPD chairman Willy Brandt faced problems in convincing his Foreign Office and cabinet of the idea of a “European order of peace.”24 Opponents of Brandt’s policies included defense minister and former CDU foreign minister Gerhard Schröder, as well as the military establishment. This changed when an SPD–FDP coalition government was formed in October 1969 with Willy Brandt as chancellor and Walter Scheel as foreign minister. But Scheel found it hard to bring the Foreign Office in line with government policies. Ostpolitik was therefore handled by the chancellor himself

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and his loyal aide, Egon Bahr, now the head of the chancellery. Defense minister Helmut Schmidt also needed more time to convince the military of the need for arms control. All of these factors contributed to the German government’s inability to make innovative proposals quickly – in spite of the substantial work that had been done on MBFR. At the behest of Schmidt, various government departments – mainly the NATO desk in the Auswärtige Amt and the planning staff of the Defense Ministry – began in early 1970 to work on criteria for negotiations on MBFR. Mutual and balanced force reductions were to focus on Central Europe, apply to stationed and indigenous forces, and include conventional and nuclear weapons. Any agreement should be verifiable, and constraints and other collateral measures were to obviate the option of a surprise attack.25 After a paper elaborating these criteria had been approved by the Bundessicherheitsrat (Federal Security Council) in March 1970, they were first discussed bilaterally with Bonn’s most important allies and then formally presented to NATO. The German government, supported by Britain and Italy, recommended that NATO launch another appeal for negotiations on mutual and balanced force reductions. The British were skeptical about MBFR, but supported this move in response to popular support for détente at home and in the hope that they could thereby assist the US administration in warding off unilateral deployments.26 The Italians had no immediate interest in MBFR, but wanted to make the Rome summit a noteworthy success. The US representatives would have preferred to wait for the completion of their own studies, but went along with the initiative of their European allies, though they saw to it that their hands would not be tied by the language used.27 At their Rome meeting in May 1970, the 14 countries participating in NATO’s integrated defense program invited the Soviet Union and other countries of Eastern Europe to start exploratory talks on mutual and balanced force reductions focusing on Central Europe. These talks were to be guided by the following principles: • Mutual force reductions should be compatible with the vital security interests of the Alliance and should not operate to the military disadvantage of either side having regard for the differences arising from geographical and other considerations. • Reductions should be on the basis of reciprocity, and phased and balanced as to their scope and timing. • Reductions should include stationed and indigenous forces and their weapons systems in the area concerned. • There must be adequate verification and controls to ensure the observance of agreements on mutual and balanced force reductions.28 With its Rome guidelines, NATO committed itself to a number of principles which, however, had not been spelled out in detail before. What did “mutual,” “balanced,” and “reciprocal” really mean? Who should participate in the talks,

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in which area should reductions take place, and what should the phases entail? Because there was no consensus yet on the aims and methods of MBFR, the principles were necessarily very vague. In order to clarify the Rome criteria, the German interministerial MBFR working group continued to work in close contact with its counterparts in NATO on a German proposal for a negotiating concept. Above all, it tried to sharpen the parameters of the Rome guidelines.29 In March 1971, the Germans officially introduced their building-block concept into the NATO MBFR process. In a phased approach, depending on concrete results in the negotiations, it proposed five steps: • • • • •

agreement on principles constraints on military deployments quantitative limitations phased reductions agreement on a common ceiling.30

In the course of 1971–72, Bonn introduced further proposals, such as a declaration on intent and draft agreements on constraints and on force reductions. In mid-1972, a full treaty outline was submitted. After having studied the implications of troop reductions in Central Europe, the West German approach became much more cautious. Bonn noted the risky implications for the military capabilities and the cohesion of the alliance, as well as the exposed position of the Federal Republic. Troop reductions were embedded in a set of collateral measures that were intended to make up for the numerical and geographical asymmetries; above all, they were to constrain Soviet intervention and reinforcement capabilities. The West German MBFR proposals were considered by many NATO partners as a major step forwards in developing a joint NATO negotiating position. The British in particular liked the West German integral, phased approach. London distrusted MBFR almost as much as Paris did, but the tactics of those two states were entirely different. Instead of abstaining from the debate on troop reductions as the French did, the British supported the West German paper because concrete reductions would depend on the successful prior implementation of collateral measures. This approach bought them time, which could be used for further scrutiny of available options.31 The US had serious doubts about the West German concept. Washington had no strategic interest in MBFR, but regarded it as a mechanism to contain domestic demands for US force reductions and to discourage unilateral reductions by other allies. For the time being, US officials wanted to be able to assess better Soviet attitudes and “to keep their options open and the MBFR pot on the simmer both within NATO and with Moscow.”32 When in May 1971 Senator Mike Mansfield changed his tactics, the US wanted to see speedy results to ward off this threat. But speedy results were not what the West German phased approach, which Washington in turn called “a dignified way of doing nothing,”

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aimed to achieve.33 For some time, the administration toyed with the idea of quickly negotiating a bilateral agreement on US and Soviet reductions. When it could not entice Moscow to this idea, it decided to deflect the West German initiative by supporting a Canadian set of general MBFR principles “of inspired vagueness”34 with no other purpose than buying time. The strongest objections to the West German phased approach came from NATO’s military community. Officers at the Supreme Headquarters, Allied Powers, Europe (SHAPE) and at the NATO staffs pointed to the great imbalances between the forces of both alliances and expressed their concern that reductions in Central Europe might lead to increased pressures at the flanks. Other members doubted whether the Soviet Union and its bloc partners would find the West German program attractive and could be enticed to negotiations at all. While there was no agreement on NATO’s course, most members saw no compelling reasons to push for an issue that promised complicated negotiations at most.

Diverging interests on MBFR and CSCE among NATO members Achieving agreement on a negotiating concept was so difficult because members associated very different aims with MBFR. Among the supporters of MBFR, besides West Germany, were Belgium, the Netherlands, and Italy. But the Belgians had already spent most of their diplomatic currency on the Harmel Report. They did not want to stick out their necks again, but would have liked to increase the proportion of home-based troops by withdrawing some of their forces from West Germany to relieve pressure on defense expenditures. The Netherlands were also under domestic demands to reduce defense outlays and hoped to see Dutch troop reductions though the government in The Hague took a rather tough look at the military risks of MBFR. The Italians, like other NATO members without troops or territory along the Iron Curtain, wanted above all to safeguard their interests by establishing a clear link between MBFR and the CSCE in order to ensure that they had some say in the outcome of the former.35 But what effect would conventional reductions have on NATO’s nuclear posture and on the US nuclear guarantee? Should the forward-based nuclear systems also be included, as the US recommended? The Germans were vehemently opposed to such a move, as they feared a nuclear decoupling of Europe from the US.36 Could troop reductions in Central Europe negatively affect the peripheral areas? In Norway and Sweden, the potential impact of MBFR on NATO’s northern flank was carefully studied.37 The strongest and most unwavering objections came from France, which refused to participate in the internal deliberations on MBFR, due to considerations of status combined with security concerns. Paris objected to the project’s bloc-to-bloc approach, which contravened its idea of greater political flexibility in Europe. It was also afraid that participating in MBFR exercises might give a

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wrong impression that France was pushing for rapprochement with the alliance and for a reversal of its 1966 decision to withdraw its forces from NATO integration.38 The CSCE was much more to the French liking, because it promised a relaxation of intra-bloc ties. Nevertheless, when West Germany’s Ostpolitik gained speed, Paris changed its position. While President Charles de Gaulle had argued for overcoming the existing bloc structures, the government of Georges Pompidou regarded the existing military situation in Europe to be a stabilizing factor that ought to be maintained.39 Given the unsettling dynamic emanating from Bonn, Paris was opposed to any kind of US withdrawal, nor did Pompidou have any plans to reduce French forces in Germany. The French stated frankly that MBFR was a trap. They feared it might produce a military vacuum at the heart of Europe and refused to have anything to do with the various proposals and studies at all. The British maneuvered to bridge the positions of MBFR proponents and opponents. By playing a reasonably constructive part in the debate we have been able to retain some control over a muddled and reasonably fast-moving situation. The cautiousness of our approach, coupled with the lack of any apparent enthusiasm on the part of the Russians, has had its effect in NATO and is probably at least partially responsible for the more sophisticated and realistic approach reflected in current NATO studies.40 In the British view, it would be very difficult to arrive at reduction models and collateral measures that would meet NATO interests and still be negotiable. For domestic reasons, London supported MBFR, but was concerned that the alliance would go to the negotiating table bargaining a known military risk against the mere prospect of détente. To understand the intricacies of troop reductions, the British government submitted a paper containing a military analysis of operations in the central region, illuminating the problems of the force-to-task ratio, i.e., the effect MBFR would have on the ability of NATO forces to provide a meaningful defense over the whole front, irrespective of comparable reductions on the Warsaw Pact side.41 The US was very skeptical of MBFR; the White House was concerned that troop reductions might endanger Western security. For US policy-makers, the project was a useful device to counter the Warsaw Pact’s proposal for a European security conference.42 The administration of Lyndon B. Johnson considered East–West relations primarily from a domestic vantage point, evaluating each measure according to how much it served the Vietnam campaign and the president’s plans for domestic reform.43 This changed in 1969 after the election of Richard M. Nixon as president. He and his national security adviser, Henry Kissinger, adopted a more strategic view of the world. Above all, they wanted to lay the international groundwork for a scenario incorporating a solution to the Vietnam War. To balance Soviet power, the US established relations with China. Vis-à-vis Moscow, it pursued its interests through a policy of

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containment (aiming primarily at strategic constraints) and of engagement (involving Moscow in a dialog on arms control and trade). A primary US goal was to negotiate with the Soviet Union on limitations of strategic missiles and anti-ballistic missile systems. In no way were negotiations on force reductions intended to interfere with or distract from the far more important Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT). When Senate majority leader Michael Mansfield stepped up his calls for unilateral troop withdrawals from Europe, the administration began to warm to the idea of MBFR. It then realized that MBFR could be a useful tactical device to outmaneuver Mansfield, at least for a while and provided that quick results could be reached. But because MBFR was a mere mechanism for other goals, the US position lacked consistency. Over the years, it oscillated between advocating a “quick-fix strategy,” satisfying domestic demands through US and Soviet force reductions of 5–10 percent, and a calculated “protracted parley position,” aiming to alter security relationships and gradually loosen the Soviet Union’s hold in Eastern Europe.44 The CSCE was anathema to the US administration; Kissinger abhorred the prospect of the US having to discuss security on equal terms with Portugal, Finland, and Romania.45

The struggle for a common negotiating concept The Soviets reacted with some time lag to the reiterated Rome signal. In his report to the XXIV Party Congress of the CPSU (Communist Party of the Soviet Union) in Moscow in March 1971, and more explicitly in a speech in Tbilisi in May 1971, Secretary-General Leonid Brezhnev declared that the Soviet Union was prepared to enter negotiations on troop reductions.46 The Soviet leader also conceded that, besides the Europeans, the US and Canada might participate at these talks, which should refer to foreign troops stationed in Europe as well as the indigenous forces of the host countries. Most Western proponents of MBFR considered this a big step forward. From earlier statements, they had concluded that Moscow preferred a bilateral Soviet–US agreement with Washington that would have left the Europeans out in the cold – as they had been in SALT, which led to the SALT I Treaty in May 1972. But Moscow priority was still a European security conference. When the NATO ministers met in Lisbon in June 1971, they announced that they would continue bilateral contacts to find out whether Moscow was serious on MBFR or whether Brezhnev’s remarks were just another ploy to get his security conference. As NATO had not yet sorted out its preferences on the relationship between MBFR and a CSCE, the ministers left this issue open in their communiqué.47 The British saw three possibilities for linking the two: the CSCE could be the prelude to an MBFR negotiation, it could provide the forum for exploratory talks, or it could establish the machinery for negotiation. But in the view of the UK and of most of NATO it is not an appropriate forum for actual negotiation.48 The Federal Republic did not push this issue, as it did not wish to risk its own

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linkage between a European security conference and a successful conclusion of the quadripartite negotiations on Berlin. The German building-block model was accepted merely as a guideline for further discussion in NATO, as other countries – especially the US – announced they would reserve their position until they had completed their own studies. In the course of 1971, the US administration introduced into the NATO bodies a series of studies on MBFR that explored the military and political implications of troop reductions in Europe. In a first paper, “MBFR – Some Assumptions, Models and Implications,” various symmetrical and asymmetrical models with reduction quotas between 10 and 30 percent – combined with packages on reductions of tactical nuclear weapons and aircraft – were examined. Other measures related to the geographical asymmetries and the different reinforcement capabilities of both sides. The document indicated, though, that the US administration was split between those who, for political reasons, favored a quick 10 percent reduction of stationed and indigenous forces and those who wanted to preserve the postwar military balance in Europe, fearing that substantial reductions would have a negative impact on the NATO strategy of flexible response. In a second paper, “Further MBFR Analyses,” 14 reduction models were scrutinized and their risks examined. This paper also gave a list of potential goals that might be realized through MBFR, without, however, prioritizing them. A third study, “MBFR Issues and Approaches to Reductions,” brought still more details on reduction packages and their merits, on linking reductions with constraints and verification measures. The problem was, though, that the US neither indicated its preferences nor its baseline essentials for MBFR negotiations. Instead, Washington offered an exchange of views and information to enable its allies to evaluate the military implications of the various models. It was obvious that the US considered other issues to be more urgent – the SALT talks, establishing diplomatic relations with China, and a withdrawal from Vietnam.49 The US studies were much criticized by the other members of the alliance. They objected most strongly to the American tendency to discuss questions of troop reductions bilaterally with the Soviet Union and to emphasize reductions in foreign stationed forces. Most other European members also wished to see reductions in indigenous forces. Military experts further objected to the second study on the grounds that it was based on assumptions and technical data that had not been agreed within NATO before. The West German representatives also criticized that the scenarios were not based on the strategy of forward defense, which was axiomatic to Bonn’s defense policy. They tried to reintroduce into the debate elements of their building-block concept. But Washington was skeptical about the latter’s usefulness and resisted these German demands. It also declined the requests for conceptual clarifications of their models.50 When the West German government realized that it could not push through its comprehensive concept, it gradually abandoned it and instead argued for

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small steps – much to the annoyance of those in Bonn who had developed the concept and had hoped to see it implemented in its integral form. But MBFR remained high on the West German agenda. Chancellor Brandt used his talks with Brezhnev on the Crimea in September 1971 to warm the Soviets up to the Western position. In spite of conflicting views on the subject matter, both sides agreed that negotiations on MBFR should neither be confined to the superpowers, nor restricted to the territory of the FRG and the GDR, nor limited to stationed forces. Their bottom line was that the overall balance of forces should be maintained. In exchange for this flexibility, the West German side indicated that it would no longer block the convention of a CSCE. Brandt also accepted a Soviet suggestion that the negotiations should not disfavor any side – the contentious “Oreanda formula” – which left much room for interpretations.51 Although NATO still lacked a common negotiating approach, the US now weighed in heavily to start negotiations soon. In October 1971, the NATO ministers appointed NATO Secretary-General Manlio Brosio as their official representative. They asked him to start exploratory talks with the Soviet Union and other interested East European countries. Referring to Brezhnev’s remark that the West should taste the wine and not simply judge from its appearance, Brosio was to determine whether the cellars of the Kremlin held only Crimean champagne or also Rhine wine.52 He was to explain NATO’s basic principles for MBFR to his Soviet interlocutors: • •

• • • •

undiminished security for all participants; mutual and balanced force reductions complemented by stabilizing measures to take care of geographic differences and asymmetrical military capabilities; adequate verification of all measures; inclusion of both foreign and indigenous forces, though a first step might apply only to foreign forces stationed in Europe; as a first step, an agreement on a freeze on existing force levels; reductions focusing on Central Europe, with the reduction area being broader than the territory of two German states.53

At their regular December meeting, the NATO ministers reiterated the appointment of Brosio. They also accepted a Finnish invitation to begin multilateral conversations on a Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) without, however, constructing an explicit linkage between the two complexes.54 They further took note of a report from the Permanent Council concerning potential areas of discussion at such a conference. They consented to the view that at a CSCE, steps should be discussed on how the dangers of a military confrontation in Europe could be reduced and European security improved. Germany as well as the Benelux countries wanted to construct a tight substantive and procedural linkage between both projects,55 while the US preferred to have a separate body with selected participants and a limited mandate to negotiate on troop reductions. Washington expected earlier and more sweeping results

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from a separate negotiating forum. It was also anxious that MBFR negotiations should not negatively impinge on the SALT talks. The big question was, however, whether the NATO secretary-general would be received in Moscow, and what the result of his exploratory mission would be. Though the Soviet leadership had on various occasions commented on elements of troop reductions, an invitation to Brosio was not forthcoming. Moscow preferred to negotiate individually with the Western countries, and its priority was to convene a European security conference, which promised greater political results. But having been a long-time champion of disarmament and arms control, the Soviet Union could not completely negate the force issue. Instead, it proposed that a special CSCE committee deal with MBFR.56

The unlinking of MBFR and CSCE in May 1972 After having carefully studied the merits and risks of the different negotiating packages, West Germany’s original enthusiasm for MBFR was dampened. Bonn was now more interested in reducing the Soviet Union’s offensive capabilities than in overall cutbacks of conventional forces in Europe – certainly, it did not strive for reductions in the Bundeswehr’s force levels. After the conclusion of the Moscow and Warsaw treaties, though, MBFR remained a useful device for anchoring German bilateral Ostpolitik into a multilateral setting.57 The West German government therefore continued to argue for a close relationship between MBFR and CSCE, as both related to the future security of Europe, though it did not formally link them, nor did it use MBFR as a bargaining chip for other issues under negotiation. But it could not perceive of a security conference at which no hard security issues were discussed, and it did not wish to sacrifice multilateral negotiations on troop reductions for a conference that had mainly symbolic value. The West German position could thus be summarized as “MBFR and CSCE: yes”; “MBFR without CSCE: yes”; “CSCE without MBFR: no.” With its insistence on a procedural connection between the two projects, the West German government wanted to ensure that MBFR would become a reality. But it no longer insisted that force reductions be discussed in detail at the security conference, as it had concluded that negotiations in a more restricted forum might yield better results. Still, security issues should remain an integral part of a security conference, and should be dealt with in a declaration on principles, or by agreeing on confidence-building and stabilizing measures within the framework of CSCE. MBRF explorations should start at or during the CSCE multilateral preparatory talks. These ideas were embodied in the CSCE guidelines for the NATO meeting that the cabinet in Bonn approved in May 1972.58 To emphasize the link, the West German Ministry of Defense managed at the very last minute to include its phased approach of June 1971 in the CSCE guidelines.59 The procedural connection between the two projects was supported by those members of the alliance who did not have troops or territory on NATO’s central front and whose claim to participate directly in the negotiation of MBFR was

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small, but who were nevertheless concerned that these negotiations would affect their interests. They felt that a clear link between MBFR and the CSCE would help ensure that they could play some direct role in the debate on force reductions. The strongest objections against a linkage between MBFR and CSCE came from Washington and Paris. The US government for domestic political reasons did not want progress toward negotiations on troop reductions to be impeded by any procedural complication resulting from a link between MBFR and the CSCE. The French supported the CSCE for its own sake, but rejected MBFR. However, it was expected that the French resistance could be overcome by suitable diplomatic language. The British, who disliked MBFR also because of the military disadvantages, were looking for devices that might meet the political pressures of the US and the flank countries without accelerating the move toward MBFR negotiations. They were thinking of either a proposal that would give the discussion at a security conference some real substance with a discussion of aspects of military security, or of a procedural arrangement that would provide some link between the two projects, such as setting up a special security commission at the CSCE.60 To take account of the opposition against establishing a linkage between the CSCE and MBFR, NATO moved from speaking about a link to referring to confidence-building measures and general principles relating to force levels in Europe without regard to any particular geographical area as agenda items of a security conference.61 To save its integrated concept for European security, the West German government as well as some of the smaller allies hoped that a connection could be established between the two conferences at the NATO Ministerial Meeting in Bonn in May 1972. But at the end of April 1972, a few weeks before the Bonn meeting, President Nixon’s national security adviser on a secret trip to Moscow reached an understanding with the Soviets according to which they agreed to start exploratory talks on MBFR soon in return for US willingness to begin preparations for a CSCE at the same time. Kissinger managed to win agreement to a special MBFR forum, though the specific format of the negotiations on troop reductions should be decided by the countries concerned.62 This arrangement was confirmed when President Nixon met Secretary-General Brezhnev in Moscow at the end of May.63 The allies, however, were left in the dark. At the Defense Planning Committee meeting on 24 May 1972, US Secretary of State William Rogers argued in favor of convening two separate, parallel conferences meeting at different places: one on European cooperation and the other on troop reductions. To make this proposal acceptable to the partners of the US, he proposed that NATO pursue flexible, joint planning processes for both the substance and the procedure of the two conferences. But Rogers did not brief the allies on the Kissinger–Brezhnev arrangement. It was not until the communiqué on the US president’s visit to the Soviet Union was published on the day that the NATO meeting started in Bonn that the partners were informed on the deal struck in Moscow. Most reacted with anger on this Soviet–US fait accompli.

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The West German government emphasized the close connection between security and détente and continued to urge for a procedural link, arguing that otherwise the allies might disagree on the troop issue because of their different security interests.64 Because of the failure of the European NATO members to arrive at a common position on MBFR, Washington was able to carry the day. Accordingly, NATO resolved that European cooperation and troop reductions should be dealt with separately. To meet the widespread wish for procedural connection between the two, the ministers emphasized that multilateral explorations on MBFR should start as soon as possible, either before or in parallel with the preparatory talks for a CSCE. Bonn requested that the states concerned should have an opportunity to discuss troop reductions and confidence-building measures at the CSCE; it made its participation at the security conference contingent on the realization of this condition.65 To assuage French concerns, the NATO partners used the very loose formulation “that, in the interest of security, the examination at the CSCE of appropriate measures, including certain military measures, aimed at strengthening confidence and increasing stability, would contribute to the process of reducing the dangers of military confrontation.”66 Though NATO still adhered to the parallel timing of MBFR and CSCE, it had agreed on a substantive and procedural separation of the two complexes. In the fall of 1972, Kissinger agreed with the Soviets that exploratory talks on MBFR should begin in a neutral country in January 1973. The main conference was planned for October 1973. Accordingly, seven NATO countries – the Benelux countries, the UK, Canada, West Germany, and the US – issued invitations to five countries of the Warsaw Pact – Czechoslovakia, East Germany, Hungary, Poland, and the Soviet Union – to initiate preparatory talks in Geneva in January 1973. This invitation was repeated by the NATO Council in Brussels in December 1972, with delegates expressing the hope that progress in one area would have positive effects on other areas.67 It was more difficult to reach an agreement on a common position for the exploratory talks. The issue was whether the NATO countries should take the principles of the Brosio mandate as their point of departure, or whether the preparatory talks should be limited to the organizational details of a later conference. Most other European states preferred the first course. They thought that otherwise the link between the two complexes would be lost altogether, as it seemed improbable that troop reductions and collateral measures would be taken up in a joint CSCE declaration, as initially agreed. Accordingly, London submitted a paper on guidelines and procedures for MBFR. But Washington was adamant that negotiations should not be delayed by substantive questions. After several weeks of more haggling about NATO’s course, Bonn switched sides and supported the US procedural approach. Finally, a British–American compromise evolved that proposed an agenda as well as guidelines regarding MBFR principles, area of reduction, and forces affected.68 The Warsaw Pact countries took their time and only responded to NATO’s invitation on 18 January 1973, suggesting Vienna instead of Geneva as a

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possible meeting place.69 It turned out to be easier to find agreement on the venue than on participants. The Soviets objected to the participation of Hungary and suggested that other countries, in addition to those states that had deployed troops in the central region and that had already been invited, should be allowed to participate. While NATO thought that the participation of Hungary was essential, the Soviets argued that Hungary was not a Central European country, and instead wanted the conference to be opened up to all interested parties. After further haggling, on 31 January 1973, 19 delegations met for a multilateral MBFR preparatory meeting at the International Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna70 without, however, having reached a consensus on the name of the conference, its participants, the chair, or the agenda.71 The meeting was closed after 32 minutes after disagreement evolved on how to proceed. But in a very superficial way, the principle of parallel negotiations had been observed. The conflict between the agreed timetable and the lack of consensus on procedure between East and West led to 14 weeks of exasperating multilateral bilaterals while the representatives of both sides sought a compromise on procedure. It was only after the West had given in and a formula on the issue of Hungarian participation had been found72 that the preparatory talks could be formally opened and negotiations on the agenda started. The final communiqué, issued June 1973, did greater justice to Western than Eastern interests and referred to “associated measures” (i.e., constraints and verification) as a conference topic; it also mentioned that all measures should be implemented “step by step” and should be “balanced.”73

Conclusion: le congrès ne marche pas, il chante74 – 13 years of cumbersome negotiations To cut a long story short: 75 after the conclusion of the preparatory talks by midsummer of 1973, MBFR negotiations began in Vienna’s former imperial palace on 30 October 1973. To end the impasse on a common negotiating strategy, the US had submitted a position paper in April 1973 entitled “The United States approach to MBFR.”76 It was based on the premise that the primary objective of the negotiations was to achieve a reduction of Soviet forces. Therefore, in a first phase, only Soviet and US forces should be withdrawn. According to US assessments, the Soviet army was the most offensive element, while the other Warsaw Pact forces were of lesser quality, especially when compared to the high quality of NATO forces. The US paper proposed three negotiating options: Option I was the establishment of a reasonable balance of forces in the European theater by way of bilateral US and Soviet reductions only. Option II envisaged multilateral reductions of foreign and indigenous forces in various phases, and the institution of various associated measures, such as giving prior notice of troop movements, limits on the scale of maneuvers and the exchange of observers at exercises. Reductions would amount to about 10 percent of foreign troops and indigenous troops. The goal was to establish a common collective ceiling for foreign and indigenous troops on both sides. As a complementary package to

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either of these options, Option III proposed the reduction of various offensive elements of Soviet and American forces. The Soviet Union was to withdraw a complete tank army in return for the withdrawal of 1,000 US tactical nuclear warheads and their delivery platforms. The US clearly preferred Option I to the other options, while Option II was more suitable for meeting the European allies’ interests. To overcome their doubts, Washington submitted another paper entitled “MBFR Negotiating Approach” to the NATO council. It basically followed the options’ approach, but used NATO data and therefore aroused fewer objections than the previous studies. It also made brief reference to the West German comprehensive concept and integrated elements of the position papers submitted by Britain and Belgium. The final objective of reductions to be achieved by MBFR was to be a common collective ceiling of 700,000 troops for both NATO and Warsaw Pact forces respectively in the reduction area. This was to be achieved in two phases. In the first phase, 15 percent of Soviet and US land forces would be withdrawn, involving about 68,000 Soviet and 29,000 US troops. While Moscow was expected to withdraw a complete tank army; the US forces (in consideration of the geographical asymmetries) would be permitted to store the equipment of withdrawn units in Western Europe. Before the actual force reductions could take place, various confidence-building measures were to be implemented. In the second phase, European indigenous forces were to be reduced and further associated measures and verification procedures implemented.77 The MBFR negotiations made a rapid start, with both sides submitting their proposals within the first three weeks of the conference. The West presented its scheme for a common collective ceiling on 22 November 1973, after the Warsaw Pact members had already submitted their request for equal percentages in reductions of all NATO and Pact forces on 8 November 1973.78 But the negotiations tapered off slowly, bogged down by fruitless bean-counting exercises in the mid-1980s. It was impossible to reach a consensus on the existing number of troops in Central Europe, which was a precondition for tailoring reductions in a way that would result in an approximate balance of forces. The one issue in NATO’s negotiating package that the Soviets were really interested in was “Option III”79 – namely, reductions of intermediate and tactical nuclear weapons. As the negotiations dragged on, this proposal was, however, consumed by the NATO double-track decision of 1979 and the Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty of 1987. To end mutual frustrations, the West proposed in December 1986 to replace MBFR by a new conference on European force limitations. These negotiations started in March 1989 and resulted in a Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE) that was signed in November 1990 and entered into force two years later in November 1992.80 By this date, though, Germany and Europe had been reunified, the Soviet Union had collapsed, and the Warsaw Pact had been disbanded. The European political map had changed fundamentally, requiring a revision of the CFE Treaty and its full-scale adaptation and modification in November 1999.81

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In the 1970s, in the heyday of détente, MBFR and CSCE were but two sides of one coin, both relating to the future security environment in Europe. The political and military aspects of the two frameworks should therefore have been discussed in a common context or at least simultaneously. But why was this not possible, and why was the procedural link deliberately cut? Because NATO members had very different views on the future of European security, they found it very difficult to arrive at a common position on the substance and procedure of MBFR negotiations. After Washington had taken an interest in the project, it controlled its process. The US benefited from its hegemonial position within the alliance and from its wealth of resources – including direct contacts with the USSR. Washington thus shaped the MBFR process and severely limited its allies’ room of maneuver. As a central element of the European security environment, conventional forces were only negotiable after the East–West conflict had ended. Reductions and constraints now served as confidence-building measures to allay fears on the part of the smaller and newly independent states in Central and Eastern Europe of an overwhelming Soviet Union/Russia or – to a much lesser degree – an aggressive US-led NATO. Though the West had prepared sophisticated negotiating proposals and expended significant efforts on the issue, nothing came from the Vienna talks, except a better understanding of the other side’s operating procedures and a strong sense of camaraderie. The congress sang but did not march, as evidenced by the MBFR songbook.82

Notes 1 Until the conference began in 1973, it was referred to as the European Security Conference (ESC). 2 The term MBFR stuck, but the Soviets never consented to this label, as it stood for the concept embodied in the “Reykjavik Signal.” The official name and acronym agreed upon during the preparatory talks was “Mutual Reduction of Forces and Armaments and Associated Measures in Central Europe” (MURFAAMCE). As this was much too clumsy, the West continued to use “MBFR” and the East “MFR,” dropping the controversial “B” for “balanced.” 3 For an overview over the various proposals, see Hanns-Adolf Jacobsen, Wolfgang Mallmann, and Christian Meier (eds.), Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa (KSZE): Analyse und Dokumentation, 2 vols. (Cologne: Wissenschaft und Politik, 1973 and 1978); Friedrich-Karl Schramm, Wolfram Riggert, and Alois Friedel (eds.), Sicherheitskonferenz in Europa: Dokumentation 1954–1972 (Frankfurt am Main: Metzner, 1972); Documents on Disarmament, US Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, later the US Department of State (ed.) (Washington, D.C.: GPO, annually from 1960–80). 4 NATO Final Communiqués, NATO (ed.) (Brussels: NATO Office of Information and Press, 1975), pp. 209f. 5 Helga Haftendorn, Sicherheit und Entspannung: Zur Außenpolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1955–1982, 2nd edn. (Baden-Baden: Nomos 1996), chapter VI, pp. 517–611. 6 See Henry Kissinger, White House Years (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1979), p. 1,153. 7 North Atlantic Council Meeting, Bonn, 30–31 May 1972, NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 276–9.

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8 Charles E. Planck, Sicherheit in Europa: Die Vorschläge für Rüstungsbeschränkung und Abrüstung 1955–1965 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1968). 9 See Helga Haftendorn, Security and Détente: Conflicting Priorities in German Foreign Policy (New York: Praeger, 1985), pp. 44–7. 10 See Marshall D. Shulman’s analysis of the Soviet proposals in his “Sowjetische Vorschläge für eine europäische Sicherheitskonferenz (1966–1969),” Europa-Archiv 24, no. 19 (1969), pp. 671–84. 11 NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 198–202. 12 Ibid., pp. 209f. 13 “Appell der Budapester Konferenz der Staaten des Warschauer vertrags an alle europäischen Länder vom 17 März 1969”, Europa-Archiv 24, no. 7 (1969), pp. D 151ff. 14 NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 218–21. 15 Ibid. 16 Akten zur Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (AAPD), 1970, Institut für Zeitgeschichte (ed.) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2000), pp. 23–5. 17 Documents on British Foreign Policy Overseas (DBPO), Series III, vol. 3 (III/3), Détente in Europe, 1972–76, G. Bennet and K. A. Hamilton (eds.) (London: Whitehall History Publishing, 2001), pp. 1–10. 18 See Vorstand der SPD (ed.), Acht-Punkte-Programm der SPD. Y 1: Grundsätze Sozialdemokratischer Wehrpolitik (Bonn: SPD, 1966). The three items became a plank of the Grand Coalition’s government program. 19 AAPD 1970, pp. 1,137–41. 20 AAPD 1970, pp. 326–9. 21 Uwe Nerlich, Europäische Sicherheit der 70er Jahre: Politische Zielsetzungen und Prioritäten im Prozeß gesamteuropäischer Annäherung, SWP-AZ 147, 28 July 1968; Dieter Kalix, Militärische Kriterien für Verdünnungsmaßnahmen in Zentraleuropa, SWP-AZ 146, 14 August 1968; Dieter Kalix, Beiderseitige, ausgewogene Truppenreduzierungen in Mitteleuropa, SWP-AZ 1005, May 1969 (1st version), July 1969 (2nd version). 22 Dieter Kalix, Beiderseitige, ausgewogene Truppenreduzierungen in Mitteleuropa. “Modell 75,” SWP-AZ 1005/E3, October 1969 (3rd version). 23 Martin Müller, Politik und Bürokratie: Die MBFR-Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland zwischen 1967 und 1973 (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1988); see also Christoph Bluth, “Détente and Conventional Arms Control: West German Policy Priorities and the Origins of MBFR,” German Politics 8, no. 1, 1999, pp. 181–206. 24 “Für ein geregeltes Nebeneinander,” interview with Deutschlandfunk, 2 July 1967, in Willy Brandt, Außenpolitik, Deutschlandpolitik, Europapolitik (Berlin: Berlin Verlag, 1968), p. 85. 25 AAPD 1970, pp. 611–14. 26 Cooperation between the British and the Germans was extremely close. Both parties were very much aware of the military risks of MBFR; see DBPO, III/3, pp. 1–10. 27 John Yochelson, “MBFR: The Search for an American Approach,” Orbis 17, no. 1 (1973), pp. 155–75. 28 NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 237f. The German documents, such as those printed in AAPD, give Bonn strong credit for NATO actions, while the Documents on British Policy Overseas see MBFR as a “very much American sponsored idea” though they acknowledge the German activities as positive. See Preface, DBPO III/3, p. 6. 29 AAPD 1970, pp. 1,682–90; Doc. 484, Ministerialdirektor von Staden an die Ständige Vertretung bei der NATO in Brüssel, 20 October 1970, in AAPD 1970, pp. 1,812ff. 30 AAPD 1971, pp. 447–64; see also Müller, Politik und Bürokratie, pp. 95–100. 31 On the British position on MBFR, see Détente, Diplomacy and MBFR, 1972–1976, FCO Historians, Occasional Paper no. 17 (ed.) (London: Library & Records Department, 2002). 32 DBPO III/3, p. 6.

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33 AAPD 1970, pp. 1,604–7; Uwe-Karsten Heye, “Katalog der Risiken bei Projekt Truppenreduzierung,” Süddeutsche Zeitung, 19 October 1971. 34 Kissinger, White House Years, p. 534. No details are available on the Canadian proposal. 35 DBPO III/3, pp. 12–18; Preface, DBPO III/2, p. ix. 36 Both the US position and the German opposition to it replayed a debate that had accompanied the introduction of the strategy of flexible response in NATO; see Helga Haftendorn, NATO and the Nuclear Revolution: A Crisis of Credibility, 1966–1967 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), pp. 25–110. 37 Johan Jørgen Holst, Nordflanken i europeisk sikkerhetspolitik [The Northern Flank in European Security] (Oslo: Den Norske Aatlanterhavskomité, 1972); Anders Sandstrøm, Prospects of Mutual Force Reductions in Europe (Stockholm: Ministry of Defense, Sweden, 1976). 38 DBPO III/3, p. 5; AAPD 1971, pp. 1,731f.; Fréderick Bozo, Deux Stratégies pour l’Europe: De Gaulle, Les Etats-Unis et l’Alliance Atlantique 1958–1969 (Paris: Plon & Fondation Charles de Gaulle, 1996), pp. 195f.; Georges-Henri Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996), pp. 333–8. 39 Walther Schütze, “Frankreich und das Problem einer ausgewogenen Truppenverminderung in Ost und West,” Europa-Archiv 25, no. 13 (1970), pp. 469–78; Jean Klein, “Continuité et ouverture dans la politique française en matière de désarmement,” Politique Étrangère 44, no. 2 (1979), pp. 215–47, emphasizes French opposition to a bloc-to-bloc approach and to the US concept of arms control. 40 DBPO III/3, p. 7. 41 Ibid, p. 4. 42 Kissinger, White House Years, p. 947ff. 43 Thomas Allan Schwartz, Lyndon Johnson and Europe: In the Shadow of Vietnam (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003), pp. 26–33. 44 John Yochelson, “Mutual Force Reductions: The Search for an American Approach,” Survival 15, no. 6 (1973), pp. 275–83. 45 Helmut Sonnenfeld, then Counselor of State, in a conversation with the author in Washington in 1973. On Kissinger’s position on the CSCE, see also John Maresca, To Helsinki: The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1973–1975 (Durham, NC: North Carolina University Press, 1985); Jussi M. Hanhimaki, “ ‘They can write it in Swahili’: Kissinger, the Soviets, and the Helsinki Accords, 1973–1975,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies 1, no. 1 (2003), pp. 37–58. 46 “Rechenschaftsbericht des Zentralkomitees der Kommunistischen Partei der Sowjetunion, dem XXIV. Parteitag der KPdSU durch den Generalsekretär des ZK, Leonid Breshnjew, am 30. März 1971 unterbreitet (Auszüge),” Europa-Archiv 26, no. 10 (1971), pp. D 232–48; “Rede des Generalsekretärs des ZK der Kommunistischen Partei der Sowjetunion, Leonid Breshnjew, in Riflis am 14. Mai 1971 zum 50. Jahrestag der Georgischen Sowjetrepublik.” Europa-Archiv 26, no. 14 (1971), p. D 348. 47 NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 258–64. 48 DBPO III/3, p. 2; DBPO, Series III, vol. 2 (III/2), The Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe, 1972–75, G. Bennet and K. A. Hamilton (eds.) (London: The Stationery Office, 1997), pp. 43ff. 49 Müller, Politik und Bürokratie, pp. 120–40. 50 Christoph Bluth, The Two Germanys and Military Security in Europe (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), pp. 133f. 51 “Die Gespräche zwischen Brandt und Breshnjew auf der Krim.” Europa-Archiv 26, no. 20 (1971), pp. D 471–14. 52 Haftendorn, Sicherheit und Entspannung, p. 554. 53 Lothar Rühl, “NATO sucht Maßstäbe für Truppenabbau,” Die Welt, 28 September

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76 77 78 79

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1971; Hans-Georg Wieck, “Perspektiven für MBFR in Europa,” Außenpolitik 22, Heft 11 (1971), pp. 641–5. NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 266–72. AAPD 1971, pp. 690–2; also AAPD 1972, pp. 653–63. “Deklaration über Frieden, Sicherheit und Zusammenarbeit in Europa, verabschiedet vom Politischen Beratenden Ausschuss der Staaten Des Warschauer Vertrags auf einer Tagung in Prag am 25. und 26. Januar 1972,” Europa-Archiv 27, no. 4 (1972), pp. D 106–10. AAPD 1970, pp. 1,137–41. AAPD 1972, pp. 578–84; also AAPD 1972, pp. 1,011–18. AAPD 1971, pp. 447–64; also Müller, Politik und Bürokratie, pp. 95–100. DBPO III/2, pp. 43ff. DBPO III/3, pp. 37–40. Kissinger, White House Years, pp. 1,124–64. “Kommuniqué über den Besuch des Präsidenten der Vereinigten Staaten, Richard M. Nixon, in der Sowjetunion (22.–30.5.72).” Europa-Archiv 27, no. 12 (1972), pp. D 292–8; also Kissinger, White House Years, pp. 1,249f. AAPD 1972, pp. 653–63. Bulletin der Bundesregierung, no. 81 (3 June 1972), p. 1,119. NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 276–9. NATO Final Communiqués, pp. 282–7; see also AAPD 1972, pp. 1,801–10. DBPO III/3, pp. 12–18; Müller, Politik und Bürokratie, pp. 194f. The British had favored Vienna over Helsinki as a possible venue for the CSCE, see DBPO III/2, pp. 70ff. Besides the original five Warsaw Pact and seven NATO countries as direct participants, a number of “flank states” – Denmark, Greece, Italy, Norway, and Turkey from the West, and Bulgaria and Romania from the East – took part. Another venue of the preparatory meetings was the old Court Library Building in the Hofburg, now used by the Austrian National Library. On these disagreements see AAPD 1973, pp. 14–17. The Soviet Union was only prepared to allow Hungary to participate together with other countries as a “flank country” with lesser rights and obligations, see DBPO III/3, pp. 22–31. Abschlußkommuniqué der vorbereitenden Konsultationen über die gegenseitige Verminderung von Streitkräften und Rüstungen in Mitteleuropa in Wien, 31 January–28 June 1973, in Europa-Archiv 28, no. 18 (1973), p. D 514; see also AAPD 1973, pp. 1,080–4, and DBPO III/3, pp. 37–43. The original proverbial saying is: “Le congrès ne marche pas, il danse.” It is taken from Georg Büchmann, Geflügelte Worte, 32nd edn. (Berlin: Haude & Spenersche Verlags-Buchhandlung, 1972), p. 703, who cites a reference by Jacob Grimm to the Congress of Vienna, 1814–15. See Conventional Armed Forces, USIA, Arms Control and Disarmament – the US Commitment, No. 10, online, available at: usinfo.state.gov/products/pubs/ archive/armsctrl/pt10.htm (accessed 18 January 2008). Useful chronologies are also given by Reinhard Mutz (ed.), Die Wiener Verhandlungen über Truppenreduzierungen in Mitteleuropa (MBFR) (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 1983), pp. 17–69, and Bluth, The Two Germanys and Military Security in Europe, pp. 169–89. Bluth, The Two Germanys and Military Security in Europe, p. 153. John G. Keliher, The Negotiations on Mutual and Balanced Force Reductions: The Search for Arms Control in Central Europe (New York: Pergamon, 1980), pp. 69–80; Bluth, The Two Germanys and Military Security in Europe, pp. 153–67. Mutz, Die Wiener Verhandlungen über Truppenreduzierungen in Mitteleuropa, pp. 30f. See above; also AAPD 1973, pp. 1,591–5; AAPD 1973, pp. 1,183ff.

258

H. Haftendorn

80 Treaty on Conventional Armed Forces in Europe (CFE Treaty), in Inventory of International Nonproliferation Organizations and Regimes, edited by Center for Nonproliferation Studies, online, available at: cns.miis.edu/pubs/inven/pdfs/cfe.pdf (accessed 18 January 2008). 81 Bluth, The Two Germanys and Military Security in Europe, pp. 211–32. 82 Online, available at: www.fco.gov.uk/servlet/Front?pagename=OpenMarket/Xcelerate/ShowPage&c=Page&cid=1007029395654 (accessed 18 January 2008).

Index

Abrassimov, Pyotr 92 Agreement on Basic Principles 51–2, 60 allies of superpowers, self-interest of 6–7 Andropov, Yury 75 anti-Communism of the Netherlands 192–3 Asian Collective Security System 125–6 Atlanticism 25, 55–8 Austria, preparation for CSCE 203–4 Bahr, Egon 167, 168, 171, 242 Basic Principles of Relations Between the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics 51–2, 60 Basic Treaty 113 Basket II 228–9 Basket III 158–9, 191–2 baskets, origin of term 209 Beijing see People’s Republic of China Belgium and changes in European Security agenda 53 Bindschedler Report 205 Bindschedler, Rudolf 212–13 Bonn Group 166–7 books and literature, access to 191–2 Brandt, Willy 167, 168, 241 Brezhnev, Leonid 13, 70, 246 Brezhnev Doctrine 91–3, 111–12, 186–90 Britain: and agreement between FRG and GDR 168–9; aims for the CSCE 148; opinion of FRG’s MBFR proposals 243; position on MBFR 245 Broek, Hans van den 195 Brosio, Manilo 248 Bucharest Declaration of the Warsaw Pact 87, 89, 108 Budapest Appeal 93–4, 109 Bundy, William 224–5 Burns, Arthur 226

Calleo, David 223 Campiche, Samuel 209 Canada: ambitions for CSCE 36–8; approach to détente 42; attitude compared to US’s 35–6; attitude to CSCE 25–6; early enthusiasm for CSCE 34–6; patience and success of, 1973–75 38–40; policy formation 41; role in pushing for multilateral negotiations 56 Ceausescu, Nicolae 70 Challenge and Response: A Program for Europe (Strauss) 130–1 Chernyaev, Anatoly 73–4 China see People’s Republic of China Christian Democratic Union/Christian Social Union, rejection of Helsinki Final Act 124–5, 135–6 Christmas break issue 209 Collective Security System in Asia 125–6 confidence-building measures (CBMs) 190, 214–15 consensus rule 193 Czechoslovakia, invasion of 92 Davignon, Etienne 54 Davignon Report 53–4 détente: Dutch attitude to 184; and European unification 146–7; between the superpowers 6–10; US and Canadian ideas of 42 Dipoli A–Z seating arrangements 164–5 disarmament proposals in Europe 238–9 East Germany see German Democratic Republic (GDR) EC Nine: and Basket III 158–9; CSCE as opportunity for 147–9; and expansion of concept of security 157–8; and the Final Act 158; and the idiosyncrasies of the

260

Index

EC Nine continued CSCE 153–4; impact of CSCE on 149–54; impact of on the CSCE 154–9; performance of at CSCE 152–3; US support of 150–1 EC Six 53–5 Elliot, T.A.K. 210 European Economic Community (EEC), Soviet Union’s attitude to 70 European Nine see EC Nine European Political Community (EPC) 166; and Basket III 158–9; CSCE as opportunity for 147–9; and expansion of concept of security 157–8; and the Final Act 158; and the idiosyncrasies of the CSCE 153–4; impact of CSCE on 149–54; impact of on the CSCE 154–9; performance of at CSCE 152–3; US support of 150–1 European Six 53–5, 56 European unification and détente 146–7 family reunification 54 Federal Republic of Germany (FRG): agreement with GDR and CSCE participation 167–72; aims for the CSCE 148; CDU/CSU rejection of Helsinki Final Act 124–5, 135–6; diplomatic relations with Beijing 131–2; Dipoli A–Z seating arrangements 164–5; as engine of MBFR 241–4; and freer movement issue 172–7; political relations with GDR 112–13; Strauss’s Chinese visit and party politics 135 Final Act 60, 119, 158, 189–90, 194–5 Finland: election of Tötterman as chairman 208–9; preparation for CSCE as impartial host 202–3; separate roles as host and participant 210 Finlandization 134–5 Flanigan, Peter 226 follow-up meetings 195, 215–16 France: and agreement between FRG and GDR 168–9; aims for the CSCE 148; objections to MBFR 244–5; and preparatory work for CSCE 29 freedom of expression 77–8 freer movement issue 172–7 Garton Ash, Timothy 93 Gaulle, Charles de 9 German Democratic Republic (GDR): agreement with FRG and CSCE participation 167–72; attitude to CSCE

90–1; initial objection to CSCE 11; internal political developments, early 1970s 111–12; main goals for the CSCE 114–20; political relations with FRG 112–13; see also Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) Germany see Federal Republic of Germany (FRG); German Democratic Republic (GDR) Gomulka, Wladyslaw 86, 88, 89–90, 91 Graber, Pierre 205 Great Britain see Britain Groll, Götz von 173, 174, 176–7 Gromyko, Andrei 30–1, 72, 94–5, 110, 116–17 Grundlagenvertrag 113 Hanhimäki, Jussi 47 Hartling, Poul 127–8 Helsinki Effect, The (Thomas) 183–4 Helsinki Final Act see Final Act Herausforderung und Antwort: Ein Programm für Europa (Challenge and Response: A Program for Europe) (Strauss) 130–1 Honecker, Erich 111 human contacts issue 37–8 human rights concerns 54–5, 77–8, 148, 157–8 Hungary 11 Huydecoper van Nigtevecht, Rein 187 idiosyncrasies of the CSCE 153–4 Iloniemi, Jaako 208–9 Institute for the United States and Canada 73 Institute of World Economy and International Relations (IMEMO) 73 International Committee for Security and Cooperation in Europe (ICSCE) 67 intransigence of the Netherlands 193 Je¸drychowski, Stefan 96, 98, 99 Keisalo, Paavo 212 Khrushchev, Nikita 88 Kiep, Walther Leisler 136 Kiesinger, Kurt-Georg 241 Kissinger, Henry 128, 190, 228; and the Agreement on Basic Principles 52; change in attitude of 32–3; and changes in security doctrine in Western Europe 53–5; changing attitudes of 57–8; and cooperation on specific interests 49–51;

Index 261 CSCE as process of education for 59; and the EC Nine 151–2; meeting with Brezhnev, March 1974 31; and the redefinition of European security after 1962 47–51; on relationship between US and transatlantic allies 46–7; on US strategy for CSCE 56 Kooijmans, Pieter 189 Kovalev, Anatoly 68, 69, 77, 78 Kreisky, Bruno 204 Lin Biao 126 London see Britain Mao Zedong 127–8 media response to CSCE 183 Michalowski, Jerzy 99 Moscow see Soviet Union Moscow Treaty 111 Multilateral Preparatory Talks (MPT) 14–17, 30, 38, 208–12 Mutual and Balanced Force Reduction Talks (MBFR) 14–15; defining the aims of 239–41; disarmament proposals in Europe 238–9; diverging interests in NATO 244–6; events following 253; FRG as engine of 241–4; position paper – “MBFR Negotiating Approach” (US) 253; position paper – “The United States approach to MBFR” 252–3; struggle for a common negotiating concept 246–9; tapering off of negotiations 253; unlinking from CSCE 249–52 NATO: and agreement between FRG and GDR 168; and Canada’s attitude to CSCE 34–40; compromise on political leadership 8–10; concern over integrity of 12; defining the aims of MBFR 239–41; diverging interests on MBFR and CSCE 244–6; and the EC Nine 149–50; as forum for Western CSCE deliberations 166; freer movement issue 176; negotiations within prior to CSCE 28–30; opinion of FRG’s MBFR proposals 243; Rome Communiqué 55 Netherlands: anti-Communism of 192–3; attitude to CSCE 184–6; and Basket III issues 191–2; books and literature, proposal concerning access to 191–2; fighting the Brezhnev Doctrine 186–90; at follow-up meetings 195; interest in confidence-building measures (CBMs)

190; intransigence of 193; negotiating tactics 186–7; personal correspondence proposal 191; and the potential of the Final Act 194–5; relations with East European countries 194; and self determination 187–90; use of consensus rule 193 neutral countries: compromise concerning Baskets III and I 213; and confidencebuilding measures 214–15; CSCE move to Geneva from Helsinki 211–12; and the follow-up process 215–16; frustration over lack of progress 212–13; as intermediaries at MPT 208–10; organization of informal meetings of delegations 212; origins of cooperation between 206–8; and preparation for CSCE 202–8; proposals to change European security 210–11 Nilsson, Torsten 206 Nixon, Richard 30–1, 50, 150, 225, 227 North Atlantic Treaty Organization see NATO Ostpolitik 11–14, 54 Ottawa see Canada Palme, Olof 206 Pauls, Rolf 134 People’s Republic of China 88, 110; diplomatic relations with FRG 131–2; discussion on CSCE with Strauss 133–4; policy of Franz Strauss towards 129–32; position on ESC/CSCE 125–9; visit of Franz Strauss 132–4 personal correspondence issue 191 Poland: border recognition of Oder–Neisse Line 100; concern over Moscow’s stance on CSCE 88; European security and the West German threat 86–8; postponement of ESC 96–100; victory of bilateralism 96–100 Polianski, Nikolai 71, 74 Pompidou, Georges 128, 148 Ponomarev, Boris 73–4 Qiao Guanhua 133 Rambouillet economic summit: and the CSCE 222–3; impact of 230; origin of 222 Rapacki, Adam 86 Renk, Hans-Jörg 201, 204, 206 Rogers, William P. 28, 29, 250

262

Index

Romania 70–1; European security and the West German threat 86–8; initial objection to CSCE 11 Scheel, Walter 164, 241 Schmelzer, Norbert 186 Schmidt, Helmut 242 Schröder, Gerhard 131, 241 Schumann, Maurice 168, 169 self determination 187–90 self-interest of superpower allies 6–7 Semenov, Vladimir 95, 97–8 Sharp, Mitchell 34, 37 Sonnenfeldt, Helmut 224 Soviet Union: changing attitudes to EEC 70; distrust in concerning CSCE 74–5; economy of 69–70; freedom of expression and human rights 77–8; as honest broker 88–90; new approach to an ESC 94–6; objectives for CSCE 68–70; preparation for CSCE 66–8; repression in prior to CSCE 75–7; risks to of CSCE 70–1; strategies to defuse risks of CSCE 75–8; superpower détente 6–7; support for MID position on CSCE 73–4; support of MID for CSCE 71–3; trade with United States 231 Springsteen, George 189 Staden, Berndt von 172 Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (SWP) (Foundation for Science and Politics) 241 Stoel, Max van der 186, 188 Strauss, Franz Josef: China policy of 129–32; visit to the PRC 132–4 superpower détente 6–10 Surkov, Aleksei 67 Sweden, preparation for CSCE 206 Switzerland: change from skepticism to activism 204–6; western concerns over role in Geneva 213–14 Thomas, Daniel 183–4 Tötterman, Richard 208–9 Trachtenburg, Marc 49

trade between US and the Soviet Union 231 Trudeau, Pierre 34 Ulbricht, Walter 88, 92, 108, 111–12 unification, European, and détente 146–7 Union of Socialist Soviet Republics (USSR) see Soviet Union United States: approach to détente 42; attitude compared to Canada’s 35–6; attitude to CSCE 25–6, 150–2, 224–5; change in attitude to CSCE 1973–75 20–4; early 1970s as upheaval years for 223–4; early attitudes to CSCE (1966–70) 27–8; fears around the international economic situation 225–7; lack of interest in human contacts issue 37–8; negotiations within NATO prior to CSCE 28–30; opinion of FRG’s MBFR proposals 243–4; papers on MBFR 247; policy formation 41; position paper – “MBFR Negotiating Approach” 253; position paper – “The United States approach to MBFR” 252–3; reaffirmation of leadership of 17–18; recovery of economic power and the CSCE 227–30; skepticism concerning MBFR 245–6; superpower détente 6–7; support of EC Nine 150–2; trade with Soviet Union 231 USSR see Soviet Union Valck Lucasson, T. 186 Voss, Friedrich 133 Warsaw Pact: Bucharest Declaration 87, 89, 108; Budapest Appeal 109; and détente 7–8; European security and the West German threat 86–8; initiatives to promote ESC 108–11 Washington see United States Winzer, Otto 94–5 Wolniak, Zygfryd 97 Zhou Enlai 127