THE UNDERLYING CAUSE

The most constructive American foreign policy since the end of World War II has been the development of Atlantic relationships. Through a series of far-sighted and bold measures starting with the Greek-Turkish aid program and the Marshal Plan, the United States helped Europe recover from the economic dislocations of six years of war. When the Communist coup in Czechoslovakia and the Berlin blockade raised fears about Soviet aggressiveness, the United States organized the Atlantic Alliance to insure the security of Europe. Every administration since then has promoted European recovery, Atlantic cooperation and joint defense. As a result, Europe has become more prosperous than ever and it feels safe from invasion. Significant steps toward European integration have been taken, such as the Coal and Steel Community, EURATOM (an agency for the joint development of the peaceful uses of atomic energy) and, above all, the Common Market. Until President de Gaulle's veto of Britain's entry into the Common Market on January 14, 1963, a form of European political union seemed the logical next step. According to the expectation of most American leaders, an ever more intimate Atlantic association would have followed. This was expressed in President Kennedy's Grand Design for a partnership between a united Europe and the United States.

In recent years this promise has been flawed by increasingly sharp disputes among the Allies. The absence of agreement on major policies is striking. On the Continent, the fear of a bilateral United States-Soviet arrangement is pervasive. The United States-British view with respect to disarmament is rejected by France and greeted with distrust and fear by the Federal Republic. The United States finds little support in Europe for its Asian or Latin American policies. The attempt to establish a common trade policy with the Communist world has been generally ineffective. For over a decade, the Western Allies have been unable to agree on a common attitude toward the former colonial areas. Progress toward European political unity has been slowed. Britain has been excluded from the Common Market. Basic issues of strategic doctrine have gone unresolved. The issue of nuclear control threatens to divide the Alliance.

Of course, in an alliance of sovereign states, a measure of disagreement is to be expected. What makes current disputes so complex is that they really involve basic assumptions about the nature of Atlantic relationships, the future of Europe and the relative influence of the various partners. For the first time since the war there exists an open challenge not just to

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the technical implementation of American plans but to the
validity of American conceptions. Our strategic conceptions
no longer go unquestioned; our preferences concerning the
organization of Europe and the most efficient Atlantic rela-
tionship are being contested.

Many blame this on the somewhat out-of-scale figure of
President de Gaulle. There is no question that the intransi-
gent tactics of the French President have severely strained the
pattern of Allied relationships which emerged after the war.
But no one man could have disrupted the Alliance by himself.
Fundamental changes have been taking place in the relative
weights of Europe and the United States, in the nature of
alliances and in the character of strategy. Allied relationships
would have had to be adapted to new conditions, no matter
who governed in Paris—or in Washington, for that matter.

The Atlantic Alliance has been brought face to face with
two questions not unlike those with which each Western so-
ciety has had to deal in its domestic affairs: How much unity
do we want? How much pluralism can we stand? Too formal-
istic a conception of unity risks destroying the sense of re-
sponsibility of our Allies. Too absolute an insistence on na-
tional particularity must lead to a fragmentation of any com-
mon effort.

The impact of particular statesmen aside, the Atlantic Al-
liance is beset by two kinds of problems: those produced by
structural conditions, with which policymakers must learn to
live, and those caused by acts of policy. This chapter will deal
with the structural problems of the Atlantic Alliance.

THE CHANGED NATURE
OF ATLANTIC RELATIONSHIPS

Perhaps the deepest danger we face is that, as with all
great achievements, nostalgia for the patterns of action that
were appropriate when America was predominant and Eu-
rope impotent may become an obstacle to the creativity
needed to deal with an entirely new situation. Those Ameri-
cans who deserve the greatest credit for promoting the re-
covery of Europe and forging existing Atlantic ties are find-
ing it most difficult to adjust to conditions in which Ameri-
can leadership is no longer unquestioned. The fact of a
challenge to American pre-eminence is almost as irritating to
them as its content. They suffer from the distortion of per-
spective produced when the end of America's isolation coin-
cided with the temporary loss of Europe's ability to play an
effective international role or to protect itself against foreign
danger. They remember a Europe torn by World War II.
Every European country—with the exception of Great
Britain—had known defeat at one time or another during
that conflict. Every country—again with the exception of
Great Britain—had been, at some point, the victim of foreign
occupation. Societies were shattered. Europe was dependent
on the United States for its material well-being, domestic

that conflict. Every country—again with the exception of Great Britain—had been, at some point, the victim of foreign occupation. Societies were shattered. Europe was dependent on the United States for its material well-being, domestic cohesion and safety from invasion.

United States-European relationships took on their present cast during this period. Faced with a ravaged Europe, the United States came to deal with its Allies paternalistically. This has involved a certain self-righteousness and impatience with criticism. American policymakers often act as if disagreement with their views is due to ignorance which must be overcome by extensive briefings and insistent reiteration. They are less inclined to inquire whether there may be some merit in an opposing view than in overwhelming it with floods of emissaries, official and semi-official. As a result, the United States and Europe have too often conducted their dialogue over the technical implementation of a blueprint manufactured in America.

In part, this American attitude was both the cause and the product of some bad habits developed by Europe during the period of unchallengeable American dominance. Throughout much of the postwar period, the policy of our European Allies has consisted essentially in influencing American decisions rather than developing conceptions of their own. This, in turn, produced querulousness and insecurities. At times, our Allies have seemed more eager to extract American reassurance than to encourage a consistent United States policy. Excessive suspicion has been coupled with formal pliancy. For a decade, European statesmen showed their disagreement by stalling on agreed measures rather than by developing alternatives. This has led to a negativism characterized by a greater awareness of risks than of opportunities and by a general fear of any departure from the status quo.

The period of American hegemony came to an end in the late fifties and early sixties under the impact of four events in which United States policy had played a major role: European economic recovery; European integration; decolonization; and the Cuban missile crisis and its aftermath. Each of these events illustrates that results cannot always be judged by the intentions of those whose policies start a historical process, even less by their pronouncements.

The United States promoted European recovery in a constructive and far-sighted spirit. We saw Europe as a potential partner eventually sharing with us the burdens and responsibilities of world leadership. Most pronouncements of American purposes reflected our expectation that after its recovery Europe would no longer require American economic assistance but would continue to pursue parallel, if not identical, policies.

This was, however, always unlikely. With the growth of European economic vigor, Europe's traditional political dynamism was bound to return. The trend was given impetus by the existence of an intact younger generation—the first since the carnage of World War I—eager to assert its own view of the world.

The process of European economic integration magnified Europe's new-found assertiveness. This orthodox American view was that the Common Market should be "outward-

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looking," by which we meant that its economic strength would buttress all free peoples without discrimination. However, it is the essence of a common market that it will maintain some tariff barriers against the outside world, and, as internal barriers are lower than external ones, a measure of discrimination will be unavoidable. Moreover, these external barriers can be reduced only as the result of governmental negotiations. And, obviously, the stronger the economic unit, the more formidable its bargaining power in these negotiations.

The increasing economic strength of the European Common Market was bound to complicate economic negotiations with Europe—a fact not to be eliminated by epithets like "inward-looking," which American policymakers tend to use to oppose policies they consider unfavorable to American interests. The internal logic of the Common Market produces its own necessities. It is no accident that in most economic negotiations—whether they concerned Britain’s entry into the Common Market or the so-called Kennedy Round of negotiations designed to adjust tariffs between the Common Market and the United States—the position of the Common Market Commission has been close to that of France despite profound differences about the political organization of Europe. The economic interests of the Common Market often coincide with the political goal of France to assert a more independent role for Europe.

The process of decolonization has also contributed to Europe's new vigor. Freed from overseas commitments, many European countries for the first time in a generation are able to develop a specifically European role for themselves. Ironically, the end of Europe's colonial empires has led to a reversal of the traditional postwar attitudes of the United States and Europe toward many underdeveloped countries. Some European leaders are now repeating the American argument of the fifties: that the larger interests of the free world are sometimes served by allowing for differing, occasionally even competing, Western approaches to the emerging nations.

This attitude, too, was inevitable, even though it bears the marks of De Gaulle's high-handed tactics. Having shed their colonial possessions, often under American pressure, our European Allies have a psychological block against running major risks on behalf of areas from which they have been so recently ejected. As a result of decolonization, our European Allies have ceased to think of themselves as world powers. They possess neither the resources nor the domestic framework for distant enterprises. No European government, with the possible exception of the United Kingdom, is likely to be convinced that its security is jeopardized by events in another part of the globe.

United States spokesmen often exhort our Allies to play a more active global role with the argument that their resources are now adequate for such a task.¹ But the problem is

¹See, for example, George W. Ball, "NATO and World Responsibility," *The Atlantic Community Quarterly*, Vol. 2, No. 2 (Summer 1964), p. 215.

more complicated. The availability of resources does not guarantee an interest in assuming world-wide responsibilities as is demonstrated by United States policy prior to World War II.

The same is true today for almost all our European Allies.

The same is true today for almost all our European Allies.
Each of them has an interest in preserving the peace. But this
general concern will not produce meaningful support for
such United States policies as the defense of Southeast Asia. If
our Allies give assistance, it will be token in nature, and the
motive will be to obtain a veto over United States actions.
The thrust of their recommendations will be to avoid a direct
showdown and even the semblance of risk. In other words, we
are now the only member of NATO with world-wide interests,
and this produces unavoidable differences in perspective.

Finally, relations with the Communist world have
changed dramatically since the Cuban missile crisis. Most of
our European Allies have reached the conclusion that the
two main nuclear powers will avoid a direct military confron-
tation for an indefinite period. This conviction has been
strengthened by the hope of some, and the suspicion of
others, that bilateral United States-Soviet dealings are under
way. Such an atmosphere of detente removes the previous
urgency for Allied cohesion. As the Soviet threat appears to
recede, the scope for largely national action widens propor-
tionately. As the impression grows that bilateral Soviet-
United States negotiations are proceeding, Third Force tend-
encies in Europe are stimulated. The issue is not whether the
United States would make a "deal" contrary to the interests
of its Allies. It is rather that in an alliance of sovereign states
each country will think that it is a better judge of its own
requirements than any partner, however close. No ally will
be prepared to let another negotiate about what it considers
its vital interests.

As the detente develops, the need to transform the Alli-
ance from its present defensive concept into a political ar-
rangement defining itself by some positive goals will grow
ever more urgent. Defense against a military threat will soon
lose its force as a political bond. Negotiations with the East
will prove corrosive unless they go hand in hand with the
creation of common political purposes and the institutions to
embody them. The need, in short, is to go from alliance to
community.

Thus major changes have occurred in U.S.-European re-
lations that have not been caused by any individual, though
they may have been exploited by willful men. On both sides
of the Atlantic the persistence of old attitudes in new circum-
stances has contributed to the impasse. Adjusting to a loss of
pre-eminence is always a difficult process. Grown accustomed
to finding its views unchallenged, the dominant ally tends to
identify its policies with the general interest. This conviction
is reinforced by a network of connections with individuals
who have helped develop the existing pattern and who con-
sider it natural. The desire of the erstwhile protégés for au-

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onomy appears as distrust; the quest for independence seems indistinguishable from self-will. Why should a country want freedom of action when, by definition, its interests cannot diverge from those of the dominant partner?

By the same token, countries striving to alter a relationship of tutelage will be tempted to emphasize the burdensome aspects of the existing relationship and to neglect its benefits. They will not credit the motives of the senior partner and look for hegemonial designs in sincere efforts to achieve a consensus.

In the process, both sides emphasize form over substance. On one side, the method of integration becomes a good in itself; on the other, a posture of autonomy is sought for its own sake. Wisdom and restraint would be severely tested in the best of circumstances. But the circumstances have not been fortuitous. The change in relationships within the Atlantic area has had to be carried out at a moment when the whole concept of alliances is in a state of transition, and it has been overshadowed by the dread specter of nuclear warfare.

## THE CHANGE IN THE NATURE OF ALLIANCES

During the last decade, an important change has taken place in the nature of alliances. In the past, alliances have been created for three basic reasons: (1) To provide an accretion of power. With conventional weapons, overwhelming power could generally be assembled only by way of coalition. The wider the alliance, the greater its power to resist aggression. (2) To leave no doubt about the alignment of forces. It has often been argued that had Germany known at the beginning of both World Wars that the United States—or even England—would join the war, aggression would have been averted. (3) To transform a tacit interest in mutual assistance into a formal obligation.

To be sure, even before the advent of nuclear weapons, there was some inconsistency among these requirements: The attempt to combine the maximum number of states for joint action occasionally conflicted with the desire to leave no doubt about the collective motivation. The wider the alliance, the more various were the motives animating it and the more intense and direct had to be a threat to produce a united response.

This difficulty has been compounded in the nuclear age. Nuclear war requires tight command of all weapons, which is to some degree inconsistent with a coalition of sovereign states. Moreover, the enormous risks of nuclear warfare affect the credibility of traditional pledges of mutual assistance. In the past, alliances held together because it was believed that the *immediate* risk of conflict was less than the *ultimate* danger of facing a preponderant enemy alone. But when nuclear war hazards the lives of tens of millions, some allies may consider the outbreak of a war the worst contingency and, in times of crisis, act accordingly.

As a result, many of the theories of nuclear control now current within the Western Alliance have a tendency either to turn NATO into a unilateral United States guarantee or to call into question the utility of the Alliance altogether. American strategic thought verges on the first extreme; some

As a result, many of the theories of nuclear control now current within the Western Alliance have a tendency either to turn NATO into a unilateral United States guarantee or to call into question the utility of the Alliance altogether. American strategic thought verges on the first extreme; some French theorists have hinted at the second.

As for the United States, official spokesmen have consistently emphasized that the European contribution to the over-all nuclear strength of the Alliance is negligible. European nuclear forces have been described as "provocative," "prone to obsolescence" and "weak."² For a time during the

²For the classic indictment of Europe's national nuclear forces, see Secretary McNamara's speech at Ann Arbor, Michigan, June 16, 1962, *Department of State Bulletin* (hereafter referred to as *DOSB*), Vol. XLVII, No. 1202 (July 9, 1962), pp. 64-69.

Kennedy Administration, some high officials held the view that the Allies might be induced to ask the President to serve as the Executive Agent of the Alliance on nuclear matters. Since then, the United States has made various proposals for nuclear sharing; the common feature of these has been the retention of the United States veto over the use of nuclear weapons.

However sensible such schemes may appear from the point of view of division of labor, they would perpetuate American hegemony in nuclear matters. Allies seem to be considered necessary not so much to increase over-all strength as to provide the ability to apply power discriminately. Allies are useful because they permit resistance to aggression by means less cataclysmic than all-out war.³ In such a structure,

³For a discussion of American strategic doctrine, see Chapter 4.

American decisions must continue to be paramount. The nuclear weapons of the Alliance have to remain under central control, which in effect means American control. The predominant United States theory is a sophisticated elaboration of the situation of the late forties and early fifties. It is designed to make our hegemony more bearable, not to alter it.

According to the opposing view, alliances have lost their significance altogether. A French theorist, General Gallois, has argued, for example, that nuclear weapons have made alliances obsolete.⁴ Faced with the risk of total destruction,

⁴Pierre M. Gallois, "U.S. Strategy and the Defense of Europe," *Orbis*, Vol. VII, No. 2 (Summer 1963), pp. 226-249.

no nation will jeopardize its survival for another. Hence, he maintains, each country must have its own nuclear arsenal to defend itself against direct attack, while leaving all other countries to their fate.

This formula would mark the end of collective security and would likely lead to international chaos. In the face of the growing nuclear arsenals of the major protagonists, it would be idle to deny that the threat of nuclear retaliation has lost some of its credibility. The Gallois theory would, however, transform a degree of uncertainty into a guarantee that the United States would *not* come to the assistance of its Allies, thus greatly simplifying an aggressor's calculation.

Moreover, in order to protect itself in this new situation, each country would need to develop not only a nuclear ar-

сенал of its own but also foolproof procedures for assuring the Soviets that a given nuclear blow did not originate from its territory. If Gallois is right, and no ally is willing to risk nuclear devastation for another, it will also want to avoid being forced into nuclear war by its partners. Thus it will have a high incentive to devise methods to protect itself against attacks based on misinformation. The Gallois theory would lead to a multiplication of national nuclear forces side by side with the development of methods of surrender or guarantees of non-involvement.

When views such as these carry influence on both sides of the Atlantic, it is no accident that much of the debate on nuclear matters within NATO turns on the issue of confidence. The United States tends to ask those of its allies possessing nuclear arsenals: If you trust us, why do you need nuclear weapons of your own? The allies reply: If you trust us, why are you so concerned about our possession of nuclear weapons? Since the answer must inevitably emphasize contingencies in which either the goals of the Allies or their strategy would be incompatible, the debate on nuclear control within NATO has been inherently divisive.

The preponderance of nuclear power in the hands of the United States poses one set of problems; the range of modern weapons raises another. In the past, a threatened country had the choice either of resisting or of surrendering. If it resisted, it had to be prepared to accept the consequences in terms of physical damage and loss of life. A distant ally could generally be helpful only if it was able to bring its strength to bear in the area of conflict.

Modern weapons have changed this. What each member country wants from the Atlantic Alliance is the assurance that an attack on it will be considered a *casus belli*. It strives for deterrence by adding the strength of a distant ally to its power. But, equally, each state has an incentive to reduce damage to itself to a minimum should deterrence fail. For the first time the range of modern weapons provides the technical possibility of combining these objectives. In 1914 Belgium could not base its defense on a strategy that transferred to Britain the primary risks of devastation. In the age of intercontinental rockets this is technically feasible.

Part of the strategic dispute within the Alliance, therefore, involves jockeying to determine which geographic area will be the theater of war if deterrence fails (though this obviously cannot be made explicit). A conventional war confined to Europe must appear in a different light to Americans than to Europeans, on whose territory such a war would be fought. A nuclear exchange which spares their territory may seem to Europeans a more attractive strategy and the threat of nuclear retaliation a more effective deterrent. Although the interests of the Alliance may be indivisible in an ultimate sense, this does not guarantee that there will not be sharply clashing perceptions about methods to reach common objectives.

Thus the deepest problem before the Alliance is that the pressures of the new technology run counter to traditional notions of national sovereignty. The risks of nuclear warfare

tives.

Thus the deepest problem before the Alliance is that the pressures of the new technology run counter to traditional notions of national sovereignty. The risks of nuclear warfare may be too great to be combined reliably with what has here-tofore been considered a key attribute of sovereignty: the unilateral right of a sovereign state to alter its strategic or political views. The destructiveness and range of modern weapons have a tendency to produce both extreme national-ism and neutralism. A wise alliance policy must take care that in dealing with one of these dangers it does not produce the other.

The nature of alliances has changed in yet another way. In the past, one of the reasons for joining an alliance was to impose an additional obligation for assistance in time of need. Were each country's national interests completely un-ambiguous, it would know precisely on whose assistance it could count; a formal commitment would be unnecessary. Both the aggressor and the defender would understand what they would confront and could act accordingly. Wars could not be caused by a misunderstanding of intentions. They would occur only if the protagonists calculated the existing power relationships differently.

Traditionally, however, the national interest has not been unambiguous. Often the aggressor did not know which countries would ultimately be lined up against it; Germany in 1914 was genuinely surprised by the British reaction to the invasion of Belgium. Occasionally the defenders could not be certain of their potential support—for example, Great Britain and France had no assurance of U.S. assistance at the beginning of both world wars. A formal understanding, tacit or explicit, has often been the determining factor in the decision to go to war. In the decade prior to World War I, the staff talks between Britain and France which led to the transfer of the French fleet to the Mediterranean were one of the key factors in Britain's decision to enter the conflict in August 1914. (Thus the talks achieved one objective of traditional alliances: to commit Britain to the defense of France. They failed in another: to make the opposing alignment clear to the potential aggressor.)

In the contemporary period, ideology and technology have combined to produce a global confrontation. This, in turn, has rendered the national interest of the major antagonists less ambiguous. Neither the United States nor the Soviet Union can permit a major advance by its opponent whether the area in which it occurs is formally protected by an alliance or not. Neutral India was no less assured of American assistance when Communist China attacked than allied Pakistan would have been in similar circumstances. In these conditions, the distinction between allies and neutrals is likely to diminish. A country gains little from being allied and risks little by being neutral.

This inevitably results in the weakening of allied cohesion, producing what some have described as polycentrism. But polycentrism does not reflect so much the emergence of

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new centers of physical power as the attempt by allies to
establish new centers of decision.

The gap in military strength between the United States
and its European Allies has in fact widened, not narrowed, in
the past decade. What *has* changed is the use to which the
power can be put. On the one hand, the enormous risks of
nuclear warfare call into question traditional pledges of for-
mal assistance. On the other hand, those issues with respect to
which nuclear threats *are* credible are so clear-cut as not to
seem to require formal reinforcement. Polycentrism is on the
rise not because the world has ceased to be bipolar, but be-
cause with respect to nuclear weapons it essentially remains
so. President de Gaulle is convinced that those circumstances
in which the United States might be prepared to resort to its
nuclear weapons cannot be fundamentally affected by his ac-
tions. In other words, the United States commitment need
not be purchased by being conciliatory and cannot be jeop-
ardized by intransigence—within very wide limits at least.

Thus President de Gaulle sees little risk and considerable
potential gain in political independence. In a curious way, it
is possible for him to add American power to his own. Meas-
ures contradictory to those of the United States are thus in a
sense supported by the American nuclear umbrella—a fact
that adds to the irony of the situation and to the annoyance
of some American policymakers. Although traditionally a
state's diplomatic influence corresponded roughly to its mili-
tary strength, this is no longer inevitably the case. Influence
can now be achieved by using another country's protection
even for policies not in accord with the ally's preferences.

The frequent insistence of United States officials and
commentators that in the nuclear age an isolated strategy is
no longer possible misses the central point: Precisely because
an isolated strategy is indeed impossible allies have unprece-
dented scope for the pursuit of their own objectives. And the
more the detente—real or imaginary—proceeds, the more mo-
mentum these tendencies will gather. We live in a curious
world where neutrals enjoy most of the protection of allies
and allies aspire to have the same freedom of action as do
neutrals.

THE NATURE OF THE
STRATEGIC DEBATE

The nature of power has never been easy to assess. But in
the nuclear age this problem is complicated by the enormous
destructiveness of weapons and the rapid change of tech-
nology. A basic discontinuity has developed when a statesman
is compelled to risk millions of lives instead of thousands,
when his decision no longer involves the loss of a province
but the survival of society itself. Even if the classic principles
of strategy are not entirely outmoded, the statesman will in-
evitably be reluctant to put them to the test.

This situation reflects the basic paradox of the nuclear
age: Power has never been greater; it has also never been less
useful. In the past, the major problem for strategists was to
assemble superior strength; in the contemporary period the
problem more frequently is how to make the available power
relevant to objectives likely to be in dispute. Yet no matter

age. Power has never been greater; it has also never been less
useful. In the past, the major problem for strategists was to
assemble superior strength; in the contemporary period the
problem more frequently is how to make the available power
relevant to objectives likely to be in dispute. Yet no matter
what spectrum of power the major contenders may have at
their disposal, the fear of escalation is inescapable. Though
states have an unprecedented capacity to devastate their op-
ponent, their threats to do so have only a limited credibility.
This is because the ability to destroy is not related to the
ability to disarm—so that using one’s nuclear arsenal indis-
criminately against a major opponent guarantees only self-
destruction.

The dilemma creates potent pressures against the very
concept of strategy. War, it is said, has become unthinkable,
and diplomacy is therefore asked to take over. But if nuclear
war has become the last resort of desperate men, this has not
made the conduct of diplomacy any easier. In the past, un-
successful negotiations never returned matters to their start-
ing point; they called other pressures into play. But many of
these pressures are no longer available, and thus diplomacy,
too, has become less flexible. Where no penalty for noncom-
pliance exists—no ultima ratio—there is no incentive to reach
agreement. As statesmen have become increasingly reluctant
to resort to war, negotiations have become more and more
ritualistic. Even when tension persists, the Alliance may well
remain uncertain and divided about the conclusions to be
drawn from this situation. Though pacifism is not a novel
attitude, the pressures within the Alliance against the need
for any effective military policy are likely to mount.

This problem is made more acute because the primary
purpose of modern weapons is deterrence. But deterrence is
as much a psychological as a military problem. It depends on
the aggressor's assessment of risks, not the defender's. A
threat meant as a bluff but taken seriously is more useful for
purposes of deterrence than a "genuine" threat interpreted as
a bluff.

Moreover, if deterrence is successful, aggression does not
take place. It is impossible, however, to demonstrate why
something has not occurred. It can never be proved, for ex-
ample, whether peace has been maintained because NATO
pursues an optimum strategy or a marginally effective one.
Finally, the more effective deterrence is, the more credible
becomes the argument that perhaps the Communists never
intended to attack in the first place. An effective NATO deter-
rent strategy may thus have built-in pressures to strengthen
the arguments of the quasi-neutralists.

Even when the necessity for a military policy is not chal-
lenged, serious disputes are produced by the novelty of
modern weapons. Never before in history has so much de-
pended on weapons so new, so untested, so "abstract." Nu-
clear weapons have been used in wartime only against Japan,
which did not possess means of retaliation. No one knows
how governments or people will react to a nuclear explosion
under conditions where both sides possess vast arsenals.

7

Then, too, modern weapons systems are relatively untested. During the debate over the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, a great deal of attention was focused on the adequacy of nuclear warheads. In fact, the other components of modern weapons systems contain many more factors of uncertainty. The estimated "hardness" of Minuteman silos depends entirely on theoretical studies. Of the thousands of missiles in our arsenal, relatively few of each category have been tested under operational conditions. There is little experience with salvo firing. Air-defense systems are designed without any definite knowledge of the nature of the offense. A high proportion of the phenomena discovered in nuclear testing has been unexpected.

The novelty of modern weapons is compounded by the difficulty of forming a plausible conception for their use. How does one threaten with solid-fuel missiles? As these are always in an extreme state of readiness, how does one demonstrate an increase in preparedness which has historically served as a warning? From a technical point of view, it is highly probable that missiles can perform most of the functions heretofore assigned to airplanes. The shift from airplanes to missiles described by former Deputy Secretary of Defense Roswell Gilpatrick makes a great deal of sense technically.⁵ But has adequate attention been given to the

⁵ Roswell Gilpatrick, "Our Defense Needs: The Long View," *Foreign Affairs*, Vol. 42, No. 3 (April 1964), p. 373.

kind of diplomacy which results—particularly in crisis situations—when the retaliatory threat depends entirely on solid-fuel missiles in underground silos? During the Cuban missile crisis, dispersing SAC planes to civilian airports proved an effective warning. What will be an equivalent move when our strategic forces are composed entirely of missiles?

The intricacy of these problems has had a demoralizing effect on Allied relationships. An ever-widening gap has appeared between the sophistication of United States technical studies and the capacity of Allied leaders to absorb them—a gap that makes meaningful consultation increasingly difficult. It is unlikely that even the most conscientious Allied leader can devote as many hours to a given problem as the American experts have had years to study it. And few of our Allies have the technical possibility to develop expertise of their own. Thus, side by side with the restoration of European economic and political vigor, the military predominance of the United States continues. Differences in perspective are unavoidable when one partner possesses not only an effective monopoly of power but also a monopoly of expertise. The American tendency to treat psychological and political problems as if they were primarily technical compounds the difficulty. As leader of the Alliance, the United States cannot rest on the theoretical adequacy of its views. It is also responsible for the answer to questions as these: Do the Allies understand American strategic doctrine? Do they believe it? Does it encourage confidence or a sense of impotence? A too complicated strategy can lead to the paralysis of will of those who may ultimately have to implement it.

Moreover, the United States has been slow to admit to itself that a real difference of interests is involved here. One penchant for treating the Atlantic area as if it were a single unit runs counter to the fact that it is still composed of

Moreover, the United States has been slow to admit to itself that a real difference of interests is involved here. One penchant for treating the Atlantic area as if it were a single unit runs counter to the fact that it is still composed of sovereign states. If NATO were, in fact, one political entity, strategy could concentrate on the practical problem of the most efficient form of over-all defense. In such a contest, exposing a part of the Alliance's territory to the flucuations of a local conflict can appear as a small price to pay to avoid the devasation of general war.

But as long as the Alliance is based on sovereign states, they will not acquiesce in a strategy which seems to them to spell the end of their national existence. If NATO forces withdraw as little as 100 miles on the central front, the Federal Republic would have lost the greater part of its territory. What might be tolerable for a single state becomes unacceptable to a coalition. It is therefore not enough to say that the United States will take the defense of Europe as seriously as that of Alaska. Precisely because Alaska is not sovereign, it can be defended by a strategy which might prove unacceptable to our European Allies.

The reluctance to face this conflict of interests has produced what the French call a "dialogue among the deaf." The United States is concerned primarily with the most efficient organization of the common resources for defense against attack from the East. For many Europeans, assembling an adequate defensive force is not enough if, in the process, their historical position is destroyed. American proposals tend toward a rationalization of efforts for an objective so much taken for granted that it requires no debate. Many Europeans opposing American conceptions are not content with acting simply as advisors in an American decision-making process; instead, they strive for a structure in which they have autonomous responsibility. They want their agreement to represent an act of will, not an organizational necessity.

This is why in many countries the leaders and groups traditionally most committed to national defense have developed views on strategy that challenge American concepts, while some of the most ready to accept U.S. strategic hegemony have in the past been the least interested in making a serious defense effort. Acquiescence in American strategic hegemony can have two meanings: It can either represent a sincere commitment to Atlantic partnership or disguise a neutralist wish to abdicate responsibility. Many who applaud our views may do so for reasons that will not prove very comforting in the long run. The American nuclear umbrella, now sometimes exploited by President de Gaulle for his own purposes, can also be used—and more dangerously for the West—to support policies amounting to neutralism.

The United States may, therefore, have to make a choice between the technical and the political side of Atlantic policy, between the requirements of conducting a nuclear

8

war and the imperatives of a vital Alliance diplomacy. From a technical point of view, there is undoubtedly great merit to the American insistence on central command and control of military operations. But, from a psychological point of view, unless centralization of strategy is coupled with an effective sharing of political decisions—far beyond anything so far envisaged—the practical consequence could be a growing sense of irresponsibility among our Allies.

## DIFFERENCES IN HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE AND ACTUAL STRENGTH

Some of the strains on Atlantic relationships have resulted from factors outside anybody's control. Many reflect the growth in Europe of the very strength and self-confidence which American policy has attempted to promote since the end of World War II. Others have been caused by the nature of modern weapons whose destructiveness is not really compatible with insistence and undiluted sovereignty.

But perhaps the deepest cause of misunderstandings—and the reason that structural problems have proved so intense—is a difference in historical perspective. Americans live in an environment uniquely suited to a technological approach to the policymaking. As a result, our society has been characterized by a conviction that any problem will yield if subjected to a sufficient dose of expertise. With such an approach, problems tend to appear as discrete issues without any inner relationship. It is thought that they can be solved “on their merits” as they arise. It is rarely understood that a “solution” to a problem may mortgage the future—especially as there is sufficient optimism to assume that, even should this prove to be the case, it will still be possible to overcome the new problem when it materializes.

When applied to foreign policy, such an approach tends to treat division of labor as its own justification. Allies are considered factors in a security arrangement. Their utility is measured in terms of their contribution to a common effort. Criteria are often determined abstractly with each nation assigned a specific role with little regard to its history or domestic structure. There is a great proclivity toward abstract models. Means sometimes become exalted as ends.

But Europeans live on a continent covered with ruins testifying to the fallibility of human foresight. In European history, the recognition of a problem has often defined a dilemma rather than pointed to a solution. The margin of survival of European countries has been more precarious than that of the United States. Each country—with the possible exception of Great Britain—has known national catastrophe as America has not. European reasoning is thus likely to be more complicated and less confident that ours. Our European Allies think of themselves not simply as components of security schemes but as expressions of a historical experience. Policies that neglect their sense of identity may destroy the psychological basis of any common effort.

This difference in perspective is crucial to understanding some of the strains in Atlantic relationships. Americans tend to be impatient with what seems to them Europe's almost morbid obsession with the past, while Europeans sometimes complain about a lack of sensitivity and compassion on the

This difference in perspective is crucial to understanding some of the strains in Atlantic relationships. Americans tend to be impatient with what seems to them Europe's almost morbid obsession with the past, while Europeans sometimes complain about a lack of sensitivity and compassion on the part of Americans. In the fall of 1963, our newspapers were filled with derisive comments about French maneuvers then taking place. These maneuvers were based on the assumption that an aggressor was attacking through Germany. France's allies had surrendered. As the aggressor's armies were approaching her borders, France resorted to her nuclear weapons.

It is, of course, easy to ridicule this scenario by contrasting the small size of the French bomber force with the magnitude of the disaster envisaged. But the crucial issue is not technical. It arises from the fact that France has undergone shattering historical experiences with which Americans find it difficult to identify. The French maneuvers recalled importantly —though perhaps too rigidly—France's traumatic experience of 1940, when foreign armies attacked all along the Western front and France's Allies collapsed. The British Fighter Command remained in England. The fact that this critical decision was wise does not effect the basic psychological point.

Moreover, the French disaster came at the end of two decades in which France almost single-handedly shouldered the responsibility for the defense of Europe while her erstwhile Allies withdrew into isolation or offered strictures about France's obsession with security. The nightmare that some day France might again stand alone goes far deeper than the obstinate ill-will of a single individual.

A comparable problem exists in Germany. Washington has at times shown signs of impatience toward the German leaders and their frequent need for reassurance. Secretary Rusk has been reported more than once to be restless with what he has called the "pledging sessions" which the Germans seem so often to demand. However, insecurity is endemic in the German situation. A divided country with frontiers that correspond to no historical experience, a society that has lived through two disastrous defeats and four domestic upheavals in forty years cannot know inward security. The need to belong to something, to rescue some predictability out of chaos, is overwhelming. To subject such a country to constant changes of policy—as we have done—is to undermine its stability. The memories of our Allies should be factors as real in the discussions of our policymakers as the analysis of weapons systems.

The importance of this difference in historical perspective is compounded by the continuing disparity in strength between the two sides of the Atlantic. While Europe has recovered remarkably, it is important not to draw too sweeping conclusions from its new-found vigor. Europe *has* gained in economic strength over the past decade and a half. It can and should play an increasingly responsible role. But for the foreseeable future we are likely to be by far the stronger partner.

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It is important to be clear about this because it requires that the United States show unusual tact and steadiness. Many of our Allies have been guilty of unilateral actions far more flagrant than ours. But when we act unilaterally, disarray in the Alliance is almost inevitable. Sudden, drastic and, above all, unilateral changes in United States strategic doctrine—whatever their merit—create a sense of impotence and are resisted as much for symbolic as for substantive reasons. Actions without adequate consultation, either in diplomacy or in troop deployment, increase European pressures for more autonomy. Bilateral dealings with the Soviets, from which our Allies are excluded or about which they are informed only at the last moment, are bound to magnify Third Force tendencies. When our Allies oppose such practices, it is not necessarily because they disagree with our view but because they are afraid of creating a precedent for unilateral changes in other policies. (Even statements of substantive disagreement may be a smoke screen for deeper concerns.) Moreover, many Allied leaders who have staked their position on United States policies can suffer serious domestic setbacks if we change them unilaterally.

All of this causes the voice of Europe to reach us in ex-
tremely distorted form. President de Gaulle sharpens all dis-
putes and even creates them in pursuit of his policy of inde-
pendence. But some other leaders do not give full expression
to their disquiet because they do not want to undermine
further the solidarity on which their security is thought to
depend. Whereas France exaggerates her disagreements, some
other countries obsecure theirs. Thus the dialogue with Eu-
rope is often conducted on false issues, while real issues—such
as the future of Germany, or arms control, or the role of
tactical nuclear weapons—are swept under the rug in order
not to magnify the existing discord.

American policy toward Europe must therefore take
account of two contradictory trends: Europe's economic and
psychological recovery and the tenuousness of this assertive-
ness. Many United States policies are geared only to the first
of these tendencies. The assumption seems to be that Euro-
pean vitality will be permanent and that the only obstacle to
Atlantic cohesion is an excessive estimate by the Europeans of
their power.

However, De Gaulle's policy may have produced an illu-
sion of European strength and self-confidence which is more
a reflection of his personality than of underlying factors. If
one moves from Europe in the abstract to an examination of
the individual European countries, it becomes apparent how
precarious Europe's stability really is. On the Iberian penin-
sula, stability may not survive two aged dictators. Italy's
center-left coalition is tenuous; its capacity for major policy
initiatives is limited. A post-De Gaulle France may be rent by
internal schisms. Germany suffers from the absence of tradi-
tions and the pressures produced by a divided country. The
vigor so noticeable in Europe today is very close in time to
nihilism; European self-confidence is still precarious. Little
would be gained by replacing a nationalism of insufficient
strength by a neutralism which exalts impotence. To avoid
both dangers and to create a new and more vital structure is

nihilism; European self-confidence is still precarious. Little
would be gained by replacing a nationalism of insufficient
strength by a neutralism which exalts impotence. To avoid
both dangers and to create a new and more vital structure is
the challenge before the Atlantic Alliance.

In the redefinition of Allied relationships a great deal
depends on America's sense of proportion. Any new act of
construction involves stress. The danger is that an attempt
may be made to solve new problems by applying outmoded
concepts. There is a great deal of talk about "unity," "com-
munity" or "indivisible interests." But the issue before the
West is precisely to give these terms a new meaning. Invok-
ing the need for unity will not change the fact that American
and European interests outside of Europe are not identical.
Disparagement of national sovereignty emphasizes a contra-
diction in United States policy which exalts nationalism
as the most reliable bulwark against Communist domination
everywhere except in Western Europe, where the concept
originated. Proclaiming indivisible interests does not explain
how Allied cohesion can be maintained in negotiations with
a suddenly multifaceted Communism. Slogans about integra-
tion do not answer the question of how national sovereignty
can be related to the need for community in the era of nu-
clear weapons. In moving from alliance to community the
United States will not long be able to evade the issue of how
much of its own freedom of action it is prepared to give
up.

All the realities of human aspirations and of a technology
of global impact require a close association of the nations
bordering the North Atlantic. But Western history is full of
tragedies, where a basic community of interests has been sub-
merged by subsidiary rivalries or insufficient understanding.
Ancient Greece foundered on this dilemma. Western Europe
nearly tore itself apart before it discovered its underlying
unity. And now the nations bordering the North Atlantic
face the perennial problem of the West: Whether they can
generate sufficient purpose to achieve community without
first experiencing disaster.

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# PART TWO

## The Political Issues

### CHAPTER TWO

#### The Protagonists: The United States and France

##### THE UNITED STATES VIEW
OF THE ATLANTIC COMMUNITY:
THE GRAND DESIGN

Problems that may be structural in origin ultimately emerge as policy issues. Thus within the Atlantic Alliance disagreements about the future organization of NATO and the relative roles of its members have multiplied. The chief protagonists have been the United States and France. Now debating the wisdom of negotiating with the Soviets, now contesting the role of nuclear weapons, always disputing the future organization of Europe and the structure of the Alliance, the two countries have sometimes acted as if each had a psychological need to use the other as a foil.

Each side has developed elaborate theories concerning the evil designs of its opponent. French spokesmen have charged that a primary goal of the United States policy is to keep its hands free for some super-Yalta—a strictly bilateral settlement between the United States and the Soviet Union. American commentators have dismissed French policy as reflecting nothing but outdated nationalism and the illusion of grandeur of a bitter man who cannot forget past slights, real or fancied. French critics have accused the United States of seeking to maintain its dominant position by disguising its aspirations behind high-sounding words about an Atlantic community whose practical consequence will be to dissolve

or fancied. French critics have accused the United States of seeking to maintain its dominant position by disguising its aspirations behind high-sounding words about an Atlantic community whose practical consequence will be to dissolve Europe's identity. Leading Americans have replied by emphasizing the futility of seeking to base policy on past glory, and they have accused De Gaulle of trying to identify European unity with French hegemony.

The ironical aspect of the dispute is that both protaganists prefess the same objectives. France and the United States avow the goal of European unity. Both insist that their policy will lead to closer Atlantic cooperation. Each side argues that its policy will cause the Communist dictatorships to become more tractable in the long run and thus return the Soviet Union to the community of nations.

It could be thought, then, that the dispute is primarily one of tactics. In fact, the controversy goes deeper. At issue are two conflicting conceptions of international order, two different views of the historical process, two variant visions of the future. What gives the controversy its tragic quality is that each approach might have succeeded but for the existence of the other. Each side has the power to prevent the other from realizing its objective. Neither can achieve its own without the cooperation of its opponent—France even less than the United States. Any discussion of Atlantic policy must therefore begin by tracing the conflicting views of the United States and France.

American policy toward Europe in the postwar period has been remarkably consistent. Greatly influenced by such wise Europeans as Jean Monnet and Robert Schuman, in fact often following their lead, four postwar American administrations have supported movements toward European integration. In the early days of the Marshall Plan, the United States urged that a European organization allocate American economic aid among the individual European countries. It strongly pressed for the European Defense Community which would have brought about an integrated European army. When the French Parliament hesitated to ratify that treaty—to which, of course, the United States was not a party—Secretary Dulles threatened an "agonizing reappraisal" of American foreign policy.

In the end the treaty was not ratified; yet, American policy did not change. The United States welcomed the formation of the Common Market as a step toward European political union. It threw its considerable prestige against British efforts to dilute the Common Market by turning it into a free trade area. As late as 1962, Under Secretary of State Ball warned against the danger of treating the Common Market simply as an economic enterprise and opposed the efforts of the Scandinavian countries and Austria to enter it without making a commitment to political unity. The United States strongly supported the view that Britain could be induced to join Europe only if European economic integration grew so successful that Britain would have no alternative.

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European political unity was considered by American policymakers as a prerequisite to the formation of an Atlantic community. On July 4, 1962, President Kennedy proclaimed his Declaration of Interdependence between the United States and a united Europe. A politically and economically integrated Europe would become an equal partner with the United States and share with us the burdens and obligations of world leadership.¹ To its fervent enthusiasts, in Europe as

¹ John F. Kennedy, "The Goal of an Atlantic Partnership," July 4, 1962, DOSB, Vol. XLVII, No. 1204 (July 23, 1962), pp. 131-333.

well as in the United States, such a partnership seemed real-
izable by only one method: a politically unified Europe in
close association with the United States. Similarly, a single
solution was offered for the achievement of European unity:
supranational federal institutions controlled by a European
Parliament.

Four arguments were generally advanced on behalf of a federal Europe: to end Europe's internecine wars, to provide a counterweight to the U.S.S.R., to bind Germany indissolubly to the West and to provide an adequate partner for the United States.² American pronouncements always equated a

² See for example, Douglas MacArthur II. Ambassador to Belgium, "The New Europe—Its Challenge and Its Opportunities for the United States," address to Young Presidents' Organization, Inc., Phoenix, Arizona, April 9, 1962, DOSB, Vol. XLVI, No. 1192 (April 30, 1962), p. 711.

united Europe with supranational institutions. Anything less
was not considered to be unity.

Prominent among the factors producing the preference for supranational institutions was the conviction that the American experience was directly applicable to Europe. "The United States of America, with its balance of power and Federal-State division, is the unique political experiment in federation, about which we are proud and self-conscious," said Deputy Assistant Secretary of State J. Robert Schaetzel. "We believe that our systems works. It is natural human reaction to believe that it might also work for other people."³ A similar note was struck by President Kennedy in

³ J. Robert Schaetzel, "The United States and the Common Market," speech to 1962 Summer Institute of the Mount Allison University, Sackville, New Brunswick, Canada, August 18, 1962, DOSB, Vol. XLVII, No. 1210 (September 3, 1962), p. 351. See also Christian Herter, *Toward an Atlantic Community*, (Harper & Row for the Council on Foreign Relations, N.Y. & Evans-ton: 1963), pp. 55-56.

1962:

The debate now raging in Europe echoes on a grand scale the de-
bates which took place in this country between 1783 and 1789.
Small states are sometimes fearful of big ones. Big states are sus-
picious for historical reasons of one another. Some statesmen cling
to traditional forms—others clamor for new ones. And every eye
is on the hostile powers who are never far away. All this reminds
us of our own organic deliberations.⁴

⁴ John F. Kennedy, "Trade and the Atlantic Partnership," remarks to Conference on Trade Policy at Washington, D.C., May 17, 1962, DOSB, Vol. XLVI, No. 1197 (June 4, 1962), p. 907.

The incentive to urge the American model was especially great because the nation-state, according to American spokesmen, had become obsolete. Walt Rostow, Chairman of the Policy Planning Council of the State Department, argued:

... the major historic lesson of the Second World War; namely, that in the world of the second half of the 20th century the individual nation-states of Europe could only execute effectively a major role on the world scene if they were to unite. The arena of

... the major historic lesson of the Second World War; namely, that in the world of the second half of the 20th century the individual nation-states of Europe could only execute effectively a major role on the world scene if they were to unite. The arena of world affairs had widened out to embrace the whole of the planet; and the technology of effective power had outstripped the scale of the old states in Europe.⁵

⁵ W. W. Rostow, "The Atlantic Community: An American View." speech to Belgo-American Association, Brussels, May 9, 1963, DOSB, Vol. XLVIII, No. 1249 (June 3, 1963), p. 856.

There is no evidence that any serious consideration was given to whether a partnership among equals was really likely to operate as smoothly or mechanically as official pronouncements suggested. Occasionally the question was posed hypothetically only to be rejected. McGeorge Bundy explained the dominant view as follows: "... in the end our confidence in Europe rests on deeper and more solid political grounds. These peoples are our cousins by history and culture, by language and religion." ⁶ Unfortunately, Europe's

⁶ McGeorge Bundy, "Policy for the Western Alliance—Berlin and After," speech to Economic Club of Chicago, December 6, 1961, DOSB, Vol. XLVI, No. 1185 (March 12, 1962), p. 423.

record of internecine wars suggests that cultural affinity does not guarantee the absence of political rivalry.

The notion that there was a harmony of interests between the United States and Europe remained unquestioned. Dean Rusk was expressing the conviction of three postwar administrations when he said:

> In 1947 the American Government decided that it would link the recovery of Europe to efforts at European unification. We chose quite consciously not to play a balance-of-power game with the nations of Europe but to build toward a strong partnership in the affairs of the West.⁷

⁷ Dean Rusk, "Some Issues of Contemporary History," speech to the American Historical Association, Washington, D.C., December 30, 1961, DOSB, Vol. XLVI, No. 1177 (January 15, 1962), p. 86.

As the years went by one particular form of European organization came to be identified with the substantive policy which a united Europe was likely to carry out. In the American view, an "integrated" Europe would be "outward-looking"; a less cohesive Europe would be parochial. A supranational Europe would become a partner to the United States; a Europe organized differently would remain a burden or perhaps turn into a rival. In short, an integrated Europe was essential to complete the Grand Design. This was expressed by Under Secretary of State Ball:

> As we have felt the increasing weight of the burdens and responsibilities of leadership—increased geometrically by the existence of a real and present danger from Communist ambitions—we have wished, sometimes wistfully, for a closer and stronger Atlantic partnership. Yet a strong partnership must almost by definition mean a collaboration of equals. When one partner possesses over 50 percent of the resources of an enterprise and the balance is distributed among 16 or 17 others, the relationship is unlikely to work very well. And so long as Europe remained fragmented, so long as it consisted merely of nations small by modern standards, the potentials for true partnership were always limited.⁸

⁸ George Ball, "Toward an Atlantic Partnership." speech to the World Affairs Council of Philadelphia, February 6, 1962, DOSB, Vol. XLVI, No. 1184 (March 5, 1962), p. 366.

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This too was the theme of President Kennedy in his speech at the Paulskirche in Frankfurt in 1963:

> It is only a fully cohesive Europe that can protect us all against fragmentation of the alliance. Only such a Europe will permit full reciprocity of treatment across the ocean, in facing the Atlantic agenda. With only such a Europe can we have a full give-and-take between equals, an equal sharing of responsibilities, and an equal level of sacrifice.⁹

⁹ John F. Kennedy, address at the Paulskirche, Frankfurt, Germany, June 25, 1963, *DOSB*, Vol. XLIX, No. 1256 (July 22, 1963), p. 122.

Partnership presupposed equality of strength; the United States would concede to a strong and integrated Europe responsibilities which it was withholding from a coalition of nation-states. Thus Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, as well as Secretary Rusk, have hinted that the United States was prepared to grant to a united Europe the nuclear autonomy which it had resisted conceding to individual allies—even though many of the arguments made against the national nuclear forceses would seem to apply as strongly to a European nuclear force.

Although United States spokesmen extolled the virtues of partnership with a united Europe, they were rather vague about its nature. George McGhee, then Under Secretary of State, spoke of a “tightly integrated Europe” and a “some-what looser Atlantic association.” He described common tasks in aiding underdeveloped nations and in defending the frontiers of freedom, but he did not spell out the content of these objectives or how the partnership was going to function in practice. There was an implication that the partnership would apply to a sharing of the burdens but that the goals would remain those set by the United States during its period of dominance—not, indeed, because we wished to perpetuate our hegemony but because a decade and a half of unchallenged leadership had accustomed American leaders to believe that their views inevitably reflected the general interest.

The American view, for all its idealism, contained some inconsistencies. In the emerging areas the nation-state was treated as natural, and in Eastern Europe great hope was placed in nationalism as a counterweight to Communism. But in Western Europe, where the concept of nationalism had originated, American policy decried the nation-state as backward.

Moreover, American claims regarding the general applicability of our federal institutions have ignored those factors which made the American experience unique. The American federal union was formed on a new continent by states sharing a common historical experience. The American colonies had fought together to achieve their freedom. They were roughly of the same size. They had no tradition of sovereignty in the conduct of foreign relations. Their peoples were of similar cultural background and spoke the same language.

The situation in Europe differs fundamentally. Every European state is the product of many centuries of a history in which a sense of national identity was often linked to what distinguished a nation from its neighbors. Independence for many countries required a long process of struggle against the

The situation in Europe differs fundamentally. Every European state is the product of many centuries of a history in which a sense of national identity was often linked to what distinguished a nation from its neighbors. Independence for many countries required a long process of struggle against the domination of other European states. In other words, the nations of Europe were formed in a manner which emphasized their uniqueness. In Europe, moreover, the conduct of foreign policy and the assumption of responsibility for national defense have been considered among the key attributes of sovereignty. An attempt to abolish the European states, or to reduce their role drastically, represents a much more profound wrench with the past than the establishment of the United States of America did two centuries earlier.

The present-day attitudes of the European states toward the supranational forms of unity are as different as their histories. Smaller countries with a habit of dependence find supranational institutions easier to accept than do those which were once major powers. Italy, where the nation-state was never really consolidated, and the Federal Republic of Germany, whose sense of identity was smashed in the war, are less reluctant to be amalgamated in a supranational entity than France or Britain, the countries in Europe with the longest history as great powers.

The relative weakness of the nation-state in Europe in the postwar period was due partly to Europe's economic weakness and its fear of invasion from the East. But economic recovery has tended to reduce Europe's receptivity to America's political maxims. This has coincided with the belief that the Soviet threat was ending—a development also fostered by American policy.

These factors might have been counterbalanced had Europe wished to play the global role envisaged for it by the Grand Design. But the process of decolonization has sharply reduced Europe's interest in extra-European affairs. And for a European role, the nation-state is not so obsolete as is sometimes alleged. If European countries are willing to confine their foreign policy to Europe, those joint efforts required by modern conditions are mostly technical or economic in nature. These may be left to experts—perhaps even supranational commissions of experts. But they do not require the supranational political institutions favored by the United States.

Finally, the assumption that economic integration would inevitably lead to political unity and that institutions in the economic field could be transplanted into the political arena has been proved overoptimistic. In the economic field, problems are primarily technical. Within each European government, there has been a well-established tradition of entrusting these matters either to the automatic operation of a market economy or to a group of experts. On the other hand, foreign policy by its very nature involves issues of prestige and power, which are much less suitable for compromise.¹⁰

¹⁰ For an elaboration of these points, see Chapter 8.

But whatever the structure, origin or degree of European integration—whether it was the Europe of De Gaulle or the Europe of Monnet—one question could not be postponed in-

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definitely: What kind of policy would a united Europe pursue? The assumption that a united Europe and the United States would inevitably conduct parallel policies and have similar views about appropriate tactics runs counter to historical experience. A separate identity has usually been established by opposition to a dominant power: The European sense of identity is unlikely to be an exception to this general rule—its motive could well be to insist on a specifically European view of the world.

This is all the more true because a *European* sense of identity can no longer be nourished by fear of the U.S.S.R. Even if the reality of a military threat were accepted—as it is not—it would provide an incentive for American military protection and thus lead to pressures for Atlantic, not European, integration. In short, a united Europe is likely to insist on a specifically European view of world affairs—which is another way of saying that it will challenge American hegemony in Atlantic policy. This may well be a price worth paying for European unity; but American policy has suffered from an unwillingness to recognize that there is a price to be paid.

Had it not been for General de Gaulle, these problems might have remained dormant for many years. But his emergence as president of France precipitated a fundamental change in the United States-European dialogue. Deliberately, often cynically, exploiting the ambiguities and ambivalences of the American conception, President de Gaulle has proclaimed a completely different view of Atlantic partnership and European unity. This has produced a bitter, often personal, reaction among those who had considered the previous formula as the only possible one. But outraged pride is not a good guide to policymaking. European-American relations will never again be the same as they were before De Gaulle's press conference of January 14, 1963, which excluded Britain from the Common Market and marked a watershed in European-American relations. Waiting for his disappearance is not a policy but an evasion. It is therefore essential to assess his policies without rancor.

## THE ILLUSIONIST: DE GAULLE'S CHALLENGE TO THE GRAND DESIGN

If an international system could be designed with geometrical symmetry, the primary concern of allies would be the requirements of the common undertaking. Their efforts would be regulated by criteria of over-all efficiency and on the basis of a division of labor. But such a perfect symmetry is the illusion of utopians—or of island powers. Historically aloof and geographically isolated, such nations consider that the main function of foreign policy is to remedy the peril that has caused them to commit themselves to a joint enterprise. Secure in their identity, they expect their allies to find fulfillment in being components of an over-all design. Such was the attitude of Great Britain toward the Continent during the Napoleonic wars.

This, too, has been the tendency of the United States since it assumed major international responsibilities after

fulfillment in being components of an over-all design. Such
was the attitude of Great Britain toward the Continent dur-
ing the Napoleonic wars.

This, too, has been the tendency of the United States
since it assumed major international responsibilities after
World War II. Security for the United States has involved
the defense of geographically remote areas based on coordi-
nating the efforts of many threatened countries. We therefore
have expected our Allies to fit themselves into an over-all
strategy essentially devised in Washington. States have been
judged according to their contribution to a Grand Design,
with relatively little concern for their history or tradition.
Attempts by our Allies to adjust their positions relative to
each other have been considered out-dated nationalism.

However, a society rarely draws its inspiration from serv-
ing as a contributor to an over-all division of labor; more
usually its cohesiveness reflects a sense of shared historical
experience and the conviction that it represents a more or
less unique set of values. An alliance cannot be vital unless it
conforms, at least to some extent, to the image which the
states composing it have of themselves. The test of any coali-
tion is its ability to relate the common effort to the values,
aspirations and national peculiarities of the individual allies.

This is a particular problem for a country which, like
France, has experienced almost uninterrupted dislocations
for decades. A society which has suffered severe shocks cannot
find fulfillment in the Grand Design of others without risk-
ing its identity. Before it can decide what it wishes to be-
come, it has to rediscover what it is. Far from being based on
an excessive estimate of France's strength, De Gaulle's policy
reflects, above all, a deep awareness of the suffering of his
country over the span of more than a generation.

Few countries have known the travail which France has
suffered since it lost much of its young generation in World
War I. Victorious in 1918, France knew better than any of its
allies how close to defeat it had been. Inchoately, the sur-
vivors of that catastrophe realized that France could not stand
another trial like the one just surmounted. Deprived of its
youth, fearful of its defeated antagonist, feeling misunder-
stood by its allies, France experienced in the interwar period
an almost uninterrupted succession of frustrations. Domesti-
cally, the Third Republic witnessed mounting governmental
instability. In foreign policy, France was torn between its
premonitions and its sense of impotence. Nothing could have
expressed France's feeling of insecurity better than the fact
that it began to build the Maginot Line at a moment when
its army was the largest in Europe and Germany's was limited
by treaty to 100,000 men. What made the action all the more
poignant was that the Treaty of Versailles had specifically
prohibited Germany from stationing military forces in the
Rhineland—the territory which had to be crossed before an
attack on France could be launched. In other words, at the
height of its victory France felt so unsure of itself that it did
not think itself able to prevent a flagrant breach of the peace
treaty by its disarmed enemy and constructed a defensive line
inside its borders for that contingency.

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Troubled—Kissinger—9731—11 Bask. 24-13 E-1

As if paralyzed by seeing her fears come true, France stood by while Germany rearmed and proceeded to abrogate one after another of the restrictions put on it by the Treaty of Versailles. The French collapse of 1940 was as much moral as military. Even though France emerged among the victors of World War II, its leaders were aware, despite all the rhetoric and perhaps because of it, that France had been saved largely through the efforts of others.

Once more, peace brought no respite. Instead, the Fourth Republic experienced the same governmental instability as the Third, and in addition it had to go through the searing process of decolonization. Humiliated in 1940, the French army had barely been reconstituted when it was obliged to engage in nearly two decades of frustrating colonial wars each of which ended in defeat.

President de Gaulle's brutal tactics sometimes give the impression that a powerful, self-confident France has been a permanent feature of the postwar landscape. It is all but forgotten that between 1958 and 1962 France was on the verge of civil war three times. So well has De Gaulle succeeded in his tour de force that even his critics act as if the only problem for Europe were to moderate excesses of French assertiveness—a notion which would have been inconceivable five years ago. But less than a decade has passed since a wise French author could write:

> ... the pretension to indifference ... is never completely absent. It attracts like nostalgia... At the very moment when we are torn out of our solitude, we go on dreaming of it; ... we want to stand by the wayside and watch the traffic go by... Our victory in 1918 cost us too dearly. Since then we have wanted to recoup the result is we have lost everything. Strictly speaking the French nation no longer exists. She is disintegrating at this moment. She proved unable to secure her lands against invasion because she was no longer strong enough to do so alone, and because her allies were not able to come to her aid quickly enough to prevent occupations. This is why France has had such a strong inclination to declare herself neutral. Then no one would have had the right to enter her... We are living like a ruined landlord unwilling to seem bankrupt... We have not been so unhappy in France for a hundred years; our literature has not been so sad; and only because during this time we have experienced hardly anything but deceptions: the Republic in difficulties, socialism bankrupt, our wealth gone, our wars badly conducted.¹¹

¹¹ Brice Parain, "Against the Spirit of Neutrality," *Confluence*, Vol. 4, No. 4 (January 1956), pp. 370-379.

This spiritual malaise must be understood as the essential background for President de Gaulle's policy. A certain ego-centricity on our part causes us to see many of his actions as being motivated primarily by a desire to annoy or to humiliate us. In fact, his central concern is likely to be quite different. For the greater part of his career, he has had to be an illusionist. In the face of all evidence to the contrary, he has striven to restore France's greatness by his passionate belief in it. At first he was the leader of an insignificant faction of Frenchmen casting their lot with the Allies. His primary task, as he saw it, was to re-establish the identity and the integrity of France. Churchill and Roosevelt could concentrate on the tangible goal of military victory. To De Gaulle, the war had an intangible purpose. Victory was empty if it did not also restore the position, indeed the soul, of France. Churchill and Roosevelt understandably considered this quest peripheral to

tangible goal of military victory. To De Gaulle, the war had an intangible purpose. Victory was empty if it did not also restore the position, indeed the soul, of France. Churchill and Roosevelt understandably considered this quest peripheral to their central objective and treated De Gaulle's insistence as an irritating interruption of more important problems.

The conflict between the pragmatic and the intangible that started during the war has continued to this day. The United States, blessed with stable government, its sense of identity enhanced by its war experience, could pursue single-mindedly whatever technical schemes its bureaucracy thought up at any given moment. To De Gaulle, governing a country cracked by a generation of conflict and decades of frustration, the mode of reaching a goal has been as important as the objective itself. He judges the merit of a policy not only by technical criteria but also by its contribution to France's sense of identity.

Though De Gaulle often acts as if opposition to United States policy were a goal in itself, his deeper objective is pedagogical: to teach his people and perhaps his continent attitudes of independence and self-reliance. The "folie de grandeur" of which De Gaulle is so often accused is a peculiar kind, for it is tied to a profound awareness of the suffering and disappointments of his country. In 1960 this caused him to speak as follows:

> Once upon a time there was an old country all hemmed in by habits and circumspection. At one time the richest, the mightiest people among those in the center of the world stage, after great misfortunes it came, as it were, to withdraw within itself. While other peoples were growing around it, it remained immobile. In an era when the power of States depended upon their industrial might, the great sources of power were stingily meted out to it. It had little coal. It had no petroleum. Furthermore, its population was no longer growing as, in some years, it numbered fewer births than deaths. In the doubt and the bitterness which it came to have about itself as a result of this situation, political, social and religious struggles did not cease to divide it. Finally, after two world wars had decimated, ruined and torn it, many in the world were wondering whether it would succeed in getting back on its feet.¹²

¹² Charles de Gaulle, address on June 14, 1960, *Major Addresses, Statements, and Press Conferences of General Charles de Gaulle, May 19, 1958—January 31, 1961* (Hereafter referred to as *Major Addresses*), French Embassy, Press and Information Division, New York, 1964, p. 79.

De Gaulle has chosen to revitalize France by an act of faith powerful enough to override a seemingly contrary reality. In his view, an almost mystical communion has existed since the war between himself as the embodiment of the general interest and the French people. Thus, during the revolt in Algiers in 1960, De Gaulle could say: "Finally, I speak to France. Well, my dear country, my old country, here we are together, once again, facing a harsh test." ¹³ The effort

¹³ Address on January 29, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 74.

to achieve greatness required that France regain—wherever possible—the right of independent decision. France could

15

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agree with the decisions of others: but it had to make clear
that this represented a voluntary act and not the abdication of
the impotent.

This is why De Gaulle never tires of insisting on his im-
perturbability in the face of Soviet threats or American criti-
cisms. During the height of the Berlin crisis of 1960, he spoke
as follows:

But however resounding these commotions may be, obviously
they could not succeed in upsetting or intimidating France. We
are today strong enough, stable enough, sufficiently self-assured
not to allow ourselves to be impressed by word battle or gestic-
ulation.¹⁴

¹⁴ Press Conference on September 5, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 84.

In De Gaulle's concept, a great nation moves at its own
pace; its objectives are dictated by its interests. Its sense of
purpose enables it to become the master of events instead of
their prisoner.

Consequently the dispute between France and the United
States centers, in part, around the philosophical issue of how
nations cooperate. Washington urges a structure which makes
separate action physically impossible by assigning each part-
ner a portion of the over-all task. Paris insists that a consensus
is meaningful only if each partner has a real choice. There-
fore, each ally must—at least theoretically—be able to act
autonomously. Washington, postulating a community of in-
terests, relies on consultation as the principal means for solv-
ing disagreements. In its view, influence is proportionate to a
nation's contribution to a common effort, somewhat like
share-owning in a stock company. Paris insists that influence
depends not only on the existence of consultative machinery
but also on what options are available in case of disagree-
ment.

Where United States spokesmen stress the concept of
partnership, De Gaulle tends to emphasize the idea of equi-
librium. Many United States officials assert that all disputes
can be settled by talking things over in a "community spirit."
To De Gaulle, sound relationships depend less on a personal
attitude than on a balance of pressures and the understand-
ing of historical trends. If these are correctly calculated, an
arrangement is always possible. If not, goodwill cannot serve
as a substitute. Philosophic convictions thus combine with
personality to produce De Gaulle's aloof and uncompromis-
ing diplomatic style:

Man "limited by his nature" is "infinite in his desires." The world
is thus full of opposing forces. Of course, human wisdom has often
succeeded in preventing these rivalries from degenerating into
murderous conflicts. But the competition of efforts is the condi-
tion of life. Our country finds itself confronted today with this
law of the species, as it has been for two thousand years.¹⁵

¹⁵ Address on May 31, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 75.

The art of statesmanship is to understand the nature of
the world and the trend of history. A great leader is not so
much clever as lucid and clear-sighted. Grandeur is not
simply physical power but strength reinforced by moral pur-
pose. Nor does competition inevitably involve physical con-
flict. On the contrary, a wise assessment of mutual interests

the world and the trend of history. A great leader is not so
much clever as lucid and clear-sighted. Grandeur is not
simply physical power but strength reinforced by moral pur-
pose. Nor does competition inevitably involve physical con-
flict. On the contrary, a wise assessment of mutual interests
should produce harmony:

Yes, international life, like life in general, is a battle. The battle
which our country is waging tends to unite and not to divide, to
honor and not to debase, to liberate and not to dominate. Thus
it is faithful to its mission, which always was and which remains
human and universal.¹⁶

¹⁶ *Ibid*., p. 78.

De Gaulle's nationalism is in the tradition of Mazzini,
who thought that nations which achieved their independence
would respect the dignity of others. His diplomacy is in the
style of Bismarck, who strove ruthlessly to achieve what he
considered Prussia's rightful place, but who then tried to pre-
serve the new equilibrium through prudence, restraint and
moderation. His policy is bound to clash with ours because he
is operating in a different time-frame.

The United States as the leader of the Alliance inevitably
concentrates on solving immediate problems. De Gaulle is
more concerned with the period ten or fifteen years hence.
Precisely because he is sure that the United States will pro-
tect Europe in the immediate future, he wants to use this
respite to establish insurance for the far future. He is looking
ahead to a time when present leaders will have disappeared
and American attention may be focused on other continents.
Protestations of American good faith are therefore in a sense
beside the point as is the rhetorical challenge that De Gaulle
describe the circumstances in which the American guarantee
might fail. De Gaulle need not be able to describe the cir-
cumstances which might arise when the convictions of exist-
ing leaders are no longer relevant in order to wish to reserve
some measure of control over the destiny of his country or his
continent. However arrogant his style, De Gaulle's approach
to history is relatively humble. He is the leader of a country
grown cautious by many enthusiasms shattered; turned
skeptical from many dreams proved fragile; a country to
whom the unforeseen is the most elemental fact of history.
American leaders while personally humble are much more
confident that they can chart the future. What cannot be
described concretely has little reality for them. Involved,
ultimately, are differing conceptions of truth. The United
States, with its technical, pragmatic approach, often has ana-
lytical truth on its side. De Gaulle, with his consciousness of
the trials of France for the past generation, is frequently
closer to the historical truth.

Though most American leaders tend to ascribe Allied
tensions to the obstinancy of one man, the structure of pres-
ent disputes is not novel. During World War II, many senior
American leaders committed to assumptions about Soviet
good faith and a world-wide system of collective security re-
acted with considerable hostility to Churchill's attempt to
insure the future by some physical safeguards. Churchill's
views about the postwar European balance of power were
then considered short-sighted and a symptom of old-fashioned

16

nationalism. However, a subtler style, the prestige of Great Britain's heroic wartime effort and a common language prevented the conflict from being so explicit. In our impatience to realize Grand Designs we are often reluctant to admit that a statesman must concern himself with the worst—and not only the best—foreseeable contingency.

Whatever the deeper reasons for the disagreements, De Gaulle's belief in the continued role of the nation-state was bound to come into conflict with the American conviction of its obsolescence. The problem is not that he wishes to reactivate Europe's traditional national rivalries as so many of his American critics allege. On the contrary, he affirms the goal of unity for Europe as passionately as his detractors. But where the American and European "integrationists" insist that European unity requires that the role of the nation-state be diminished, De Gaulle argues that unity depends on the vitality of the traditional European states. To De Gaulle, the states are the only legitimate source of power; only they can act responsibly:

> ... it is true that the nation is a human and sentimental element, whereas Europe can be built on the basis of active, authoritative and responsible elements. What elements? The States, of course; for, in this respect, it is only the States that are valid, legitimate and capable of achievement. I have already said, and I repeat, that at the present time there cannot be any other Europe than a Europe of States, apart, of course, from myths, stories and parades.¹⁷

¹⁷ Press Conference on May 15, 1962, *Major Addresses*, p. 176.

The States are, in truth, certainly very different from one another, each of which has its own spirit, its own history, its own language, its own misfortunes, glories, and ambitions; but these States are the only entities that have the right to order and the authority to act.¹⁸

¹⁸ Press Conference on September 5, 1960, *Major Addresses*, pp. 92-93.

Thus De Gaulle's proposals for European unity invariably envisage a confederation of states rather than supranational institutions. In his press conference of September 5, 1960, he called for regular consultation between the European governments, for specialized subordinate agencies and for an assembly composed of delegates from the national parliaments. He urged a European referendum "so as to give this launching of Europe the character of popular support and initiative that is indispensable."¹⁹

¹⁹ *Ibid.*, p. 93.

This affirmation of the need for European unity has been repeated regularly:

> ... France ... must help to build Western Europe into an organized union of States, so that gradually there may be established on both sides of the Rhine, of the Alps and perhaps of the Channel, the most powerful, prosperous and influential political, economic, cultural and military complex in the world.²⁰

²⁰ Address on February 5, 1962, *Major Addresses*, p. 159.

> ... Western Europe must form itself politically. Moreover, if it did not succeed in doing so, the Economic Community itself could not in the long run become stronger or even continue to exist. In other words, Europe must have institutions that will lead it to form a political union, just as it is already a union in the economic sphere.²¹

²¹ Press Conference on May 15, 1962, *Major Addresses*, p. 174.

> ... Western Europe appears likely to constitute a major entity full of merit and resources, capable of living its own life, indeed alongside it.²²

²¹ Press Conference on May 15, 1962. *Major Addresses, p. 174.*

... Western Europe appears likely to constitute a major entity full of merit and resources, capable of living its own life, indeed not in opposition to the New World, but right alongside it.²²

²²Charles de Gaulle. Press Conference on July 23, 1964. *Speeches and Press Conferences, No. 208, French Embassy, Press and Information Division, New York, p. 4.*

Most of these ideas were incorporated in the Fouchet Plan for European integration proposed by France in 1961 to its partners in the Common Market.

It is often argued that these proposals are a subterfuge for a design to establish French hegemony in Europe—the mirror image of the French claim that American conceptions camouflage our thirst for domination. It is impossible, of course, to be certain about De Gaulle's “real” designs. However, if French hegemony is his aim, he has chosen a curious road toward it. If a united Europe makes its decisions on the basis of a unanimous vote of its member states—as De Gaulle has proposed—it can be dominated, if at all, by moral leadership alone. France could achieve pre-eminence only if French leaders succeeded in identifying themselves with the main currents of opinion in Europe. The other states are not likely to be so blind to their interests or so unsure of themselves as to refrain from casting their veto if they disagree with French policy.

American hostility to this line of thinking reflects in part our preference for federal institutions, in part our ambivalence on the issue of European unity. The United States, while advocating European unity, has recoiled before some of its consequences. It is uneasy when European states establish closer relations with each other than they do with the United States. Especially in the military field the United States has discouraged the emergence of a European point of view and has dealt with its partners either bilaterally or through integrated commands where we are likely to be dominant. De Gaulle, by contrast, considers defense a principal attribute of autonomy. He therefore resists establishing organic links between the United States and individual European countries which would tie the defense of Europe to American weapons or American conceptions. In his view, Europe should concert its own policy and then deal with the United States as a unit.

This is why De Gaulle has opposed the Nassau Agreement, which tied the British nuclear program to that of the United States, and the proposed NATO multilateral force. Both programs, in his view, would make Europe completely dependent on the United States. Whatever influence Europe could exercise would depend on its ability to sway essentially American decisions. Europeans would be lobbyists and not partners. De Gaulle considers such a role demeaning for a great power, and he is convinced that it will destroy the moral substance of the “integrated” partner.

France had been materially and morally destroyed by the collapse of 1940 and by the capitulation of the Vichy people....

17

That is why, with regard to the United States—rich, active and powerful—she found herself in a position of dependence. France constantly needed its assistance in order to avoid monetary collapse. It was from America that she received the weapons for her soldiers. France's security was dependent entirely on its protection. With regard to the international undertakings in which its leaders at that time were taking part, it was often with a view to dissolving France in them, as if self-renouncement were henceforth its sole possibility and even its only ambition, while these undertakings in the guise of integration were automatically taking American authority as a postulate. This was the case with regard to the project for a so-called supranational Europe, in which France as such would have disappeared, except to pay and to orate; a Europe governed in appearance by anonymous, technocratic and stateless committees; in other words, a Europe without political reality, without economic drive, without a capacity for defense, and therefore doomed, in the face of the Soviet bloc, to being nothing more than a dependent of that great Western power, which itself had a policy, an economy and a defense—the United States of America.²³

²³ Press Conference on July 29, 1963, *Major Addresses*, pp. 233-234.

De Gaulle opposes not the Alliance, but the concept of integration on which it is based. In his view, to assign tasks on the basis of a division of labor will erode France's identity:

> It is intolerable for a great State to leave its destiny up to the decisions and action of another State, however friendly it may be. In addition, it happens that, in integration... the integrated country loses interest in its national defense, since it is not responsible for it. The whole structure of the Alliance then loses its resilience and its strength.²⁴

²⁴ Press Conference on April 11, 1961, *Major Addresses*, p. 124.

Integration would lead to an abdication of responsibility and a sense of impotence. Ultimately, this would demoralize France's foreign policy. It would oblige France and Europe to accept the tutelage of the United States forever.

Thus De Gaulle, in 1959, withdrew the French fleet from NATO command. He argued that naval power by definition was designed for use in areas not protected by NATO commitments. According to De Gaulle, this was the reason that the major portion of the American and British fleets remained under national control. When the French army returned from Algiers, most of it was stationed in France and not "integrated" into NATO. This was done not only because of De Gaulle's objection to the concept of integration but also for a more mundane reason, which showed how brittle the seeming cohesiveness and power of France really was:

> ...it is absolutely necessary, morally and politically, for us to make our army a more integral part of the nation. Therefore, it is necessary for us to restation it, for the most part, on our soil; for us to give it once again a direct responsibility in the external security of the country; in short, for our defense to become once again a national defense.²⁵

²⁵ Press Conference on May 15, 1962, *Major Addresses*, pp. 180-181.

In De Gaulle's judgment, twenty-five years of humiliating conflict and several military revolts against legitimate authority made it more important to integrate the French army into French society than into NATO.

Few of De Gaulle's policies have so embroiled him with America as his insistence on an autonomous nuclear strike force.

priority made it more important to integrate the French arm, into French society than into NATO.

Few of De Gaulle's policies have so embroiled him with America as his insistence on an autonomous nuclear strike force;

We are in the atomic age and we are a country that can be destroyed at any moment unless the aggressor is deterred from the undertaking by the certainty that he too will suffer frightful destruction. This justifies both alliance and independence. The Americans, our allies and our friends, have for a long time, alone, possessed a nuclear arsenal. So long as they alone had such an arsenal and so long as they showed their will to use it immediately if Europe were attacked—for at that time Europe alone could be attacked—the Americans acted in such a way that for France the question of an invasion hardly arose, since an attack was beyond all probability. ... It is impossible to overestimate the extent of the service, most fortunately passive, that the Americans at that time, in that way, rendered to the freedom of the world.

Since then the Soviets have also acquired a nuclear arsenal, and that arsenal is powerful enough to endanger the very life of America. Naturally, I am not making an evaluation—if indeed it is possible to find a relation between the degree of one death and the degree of another—but the new and gigantic fact is there. From then on, the Americans found and are finding themselves confronted with the possibility of direct destruction.²⁶

²⁶ Press Conference on January 14, 1963, *Major Addresses*, pp. 216-217.

These views have caused American spokesmen to charge De Gaulle with fomenting distrust of the United States. He has been lectured on his ignorance of the technical requirements of nuclear strategy and ridiculed for excessive pretensions. Actually, his analysis of the situation does not differ radically from Secretary McNamara's. Both agree that the growing Soviet nuclear arsenal confronts the United States with an unprecedented challenge. Both insist that NATO strategy must be adapted to new realities. They disagree less in their analysis than in the conclusions to be drawn from it. Looking at NATO from the point of view of division of labor, the United States considers French resources better spent on conventional forces than on nuclear arms. From the perspective of vindicating France's identity, De Gaulle is not so concerned with the technical aspects of strategy as with the political problem of choice. The United States considers central control over nuclear weapons crucial for the contingency of general war; De Gaulle gives priority to France's impact on the conduct of day-to-day diplomacy. Secretary McNamara strives for strategic options; President de Gaulle seeks political ones.²⁷

²⁷ For a fuller discussion of the strategic problems, see Chapters 4, 5 and 6.

Differences between France and the United States over the future of Europe have been compounded by disagreements over the scope of Atlantic policy. These have gone through two contradictory phases. During his first three years in office (from 1958-1961), De Gaulle repeatedly urged the coordination of Western policies on a world-wide basis. In September 1958, he proposed a global Directorate composed of the United States, Great Britain and France. The United States rejected this with the argument that it could not desig-

L4

18

nate one of its European partners to speak for the others. No attempt was made to explore De Gaulle's reaction to the possibility of a wider forum.

De Gaulle returned to the theme of the need for coordination in his press conference of March 25, 1959.²⁸ In 1960,

²⁸ Press Conference on March 25, 1959, *Major Addresses*, p. 49.

he made yet another plea for a common Western world-wide policy:

> We feel that, at least among the world powers of the West, there must be something organized—where the Alliance is concerned—as to their political conduct and, should the occasion arise, their strategic conduct outside Europe, especially in the Middle East, and in Africa, where these three powers are constantly involved. Furthermore, if there is no agreement among the principal members of the Atlantic Alliance on matters other than Europe, how can the Alliance be indefinitely maintained in Europe? This must be remedied.²⁹

²⁹ Press Conference on September 5, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 96.

This idea was pressed particularly urgently with respect to the Congo crisis in 1960.

When nothing came of these proposals, De Gaulle reverted to his usual, perhaps preferred, tactic of acting uni-laterally and trying to force his partners' hand. After 1961, he stopped urging concerted Western action. Instead, he stressed that only a strong Europe would receive a respectful hearing from the United States or the U.S.S.R. Increasingly, De Gaulle seemed to expect that the development of Europe's economic strength and sense of identity would leave the United States no choice but to concede a coordination of policy.

This is not to say that De Gaulle's policy was primarily a reaction to being rebuffed by the United States. Rather, two changes in the international situation caused him to consider American support less crucial and made independent action appear rewarding. When he proposed the Directorate, a global showdown seemed possible. The Lebanese crisis had just occurred; Soviet intransigence was at its height. This impelled De Gaulle to try to insure American support in case war proved unavoidable. Since 1961 the Soviet military threat has seemed to recede, and the need for concerted action has diminished proportionately. Indeed, with the growth of American involvements in Asia and Latin America, the shoe is now somewhat on the other foot. It is the United States which presses its European allies to share its global responsibilities and the Europeans who are reluctant to assume world-wide commitments.

The reduction in the Soviet threat has brought to the surface sharply conflicting views of East-West relations. As in most other controversies, each side has accused the other of the same offense: of planning a settlement, if not at the expense of, at least to the exclusion of its ally. In the United States, De Gaulle's comment that Europe extends from the Atlantic to the Urals is often cited as proof of a thinly veiled desire to negotiate directly with Moscow. In France, United States bilateral dealings with the Soviet Union are taken as an indication that the United States is seeking a separate accommodation with the U.S.S.R.

At times both sides seem primarily concerned with scor-ing debating points. De Gaulle's statement that one day Eu-rope would again extend from the Atlantic to the Urals did

At times both sides seem primarily concerned with scor-
ing debating points. De Gaulle's statement that one day Eu-
rope would again extend from the Atlantic to the Urals did
not imply a deal with the Soviet Union:

On our old continent, the organization of a western group, at the
very least equivalent to that which exists in the east, may one day,
without risk to the independence and the freedom of each nation
and taking into account the probable evolution of political re-
gimes, establish a European entente from the Atlantic to the
Urals. Then Europe, no longer split in two by ambitions and
ideologies that would become out-of-date, would again be the
heart of civilization.³⁰

³⁰ Press Conference on May 31, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 78.

The reorganization of Europe to which De Gaulle refers is to
take place *after* Communist ideology no longer dominates in
the Soviet Union, that is, when Russia is once more a na-
tional, and not an ideological, state pursuing a policy dic-
tated by its national interests. This is the precise eventuality
postulated by four American postwar administrations as the
prerequisite of a final settlement.

Indeed, French and American analyses of Soviet trends
are not so different as the controversy sometimes suggests.
Both are of the view that at some point the Soviet system will
be transformed. Both believe that this transformation will
mark the starting point for fruitful negotiations. They dis-
agree not over the fact of evolution but its nature, not over
the ultimate desirability of a diplomatic settlement but about
who will be the spokesman for the West when it takes place.
Above all, they differ about the nature of a stable interna-
tional order and the role of individuals in relation to it.

The United States has a tendency to believe that peace
and stability are "natural." Crises must, therefore, be caused
by personal ill-will rather than by objective conditions. If
tension persists, it is because Communist leaders continue to
be unreasonable; it can be alleviated by establishing an
atmosphere of trust and good personal relations or by a
change of heart on the part of the Soviets. As a result, United
States policy toward the Soviet Union has oscillated between
two opposite approaches: During periods of tension, the
United States tends to assume that Soviet policy is conducted
by highly purposeful, ideologically inspired men operating
according to careful, long-range plans. During periods of
detente, American leaders have often acted as if a settlement
could be achieved by good personal relations with their Com-
munist counterparts. Either approach leads to an avoidance
of concreteness. When the Soviets are aggressive, negotiations
are believed to be useless, and, when they are conciliatory,
there is a reluctance to disturb the favorable atmosphere. In
either case, American policy statements envisage a world
where all conflict has ended and nations live under "the rule
of law."

De Gaulle's view is more historical. Peace to him is not a
final settlement but a new, perhaps more stable, balance of

19

Troubled—Kissinger—9731—11 Bask. 24-13 E-1: forces. "Now, in the last analysis and as always, it is only in equilibrium that the world will find peace."³¹ An equi-

³¹ Address on May 3, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 78.

librium can never be permanent but must be adjusted in constant struggles. Tension, according to De Gaulle, is not caused so much by the personal attitudes of individual Communist leaders as by the dynamics of the system which they represent. To him, internal instability is the distinguishing feature of Communist leadership groups.

During my lifetime, Communist ideology has been personified by many people. ... Each of these holders in his turn condemns, excommunicates, crushes and at times kills the others. In any event, he firmly fights against the personality cult of the others.³²

³² Press Conference on July 29, 1963, *Major Addresses*, p. 236.

Having erected an unnatural system, Soviet leaders are under-
constant pressure to divert attention by foreign adventures.³³

³³ Press Conference on September 5, 1960, *Major Addresses*, p. 84.

... there is in this uproar of imprecations and demands organized by the Soviets something so arbitrary and so artificial that one is led to attribute it either to the premeditated unleashing of frantic ambitions, or to the desire of drawing attention away from great difficulties; this second hypothesis seems all the more plausible to me since, despite the coercions, isolation and acts of force in which the Communist system encloses the countries which are under its yoke, and despite certain collective successes which it has achieved by drawing upon the substance of its subjects, acutally its gaps, its shortages, its internal failures, and above that its character of inhuman oppression, are felt more and more by the elites and the masses, whom it is more and more difficult to deceive and to subjugate.³⁴

³⁴ Press Conference on September 5, 1961, *Major Addresses*, p. 140.

Since in De Gaulle's view Soviet aggressiveness does not reflect a real grievance but domestic instability, it must be resisted and not accommodated by the West. To yield to So-viet blackmail would not alleviate internal Soviet stresses but only supply an incentive for further demands. Thus during the Berlin crisis De Gaulle spoke as follows:

... we do not allow ourselves to be moved by all the tumult, all the flow of invective, of formal notifications, of threats launched by certain countries against other lands and especially against ours. This is all the more true in that we realize the tactical element that enters into all this staging by those who, so to speak, make it their job to upset others.

... in their camps the struggle between political trends, the intrigues of clans, the rivalries of individuals periodically lead to implacable crises, whose sequels—or even whose premonitory symptoms—cannot help but unsettle them. Moreover, we know that in those countries there are conflicting national grievances in spite of the absolutism of their ideology. We realize therefore only too well that they readily indulge in virulent utterances and sensational outbursts in order to lead people astray—within their own country and outside—without, however, overstepping certain bounds.³⁵

³⁵ Press Conference on September 5, 1960, *Major Addresses*, pp. 84–85.

De Gaulle rejected the "exploratory" conversations on Berlin urged by the United States and Britain as a means of determining Soviet intentions. He refused to join the talks because:

... so long as the Soviet Union does not put a stop to its threats and its injunctions and bring about an actual easing of the inter-

... so long as the Soviet Union does not put a stop to its threats and its injunctions and bring about an actual easing of the international situation, we believe that we have spared our allies and ourselves the catastrophic retreat, dramatic rupture or tragicallyical engulfment, in which the conference would obviously have ended.³⁶

³⁶ Address on February 5, 1962, *Major Addresses*, p. 160.

And he did not participate in the Geneva disarmament conference, predicting that it would do nothing except present irreconcilable plans.³⁷

³⁷ Press Conference on May 15, 1962, *Major Addresses*, p. 181.

Views differ, finally, about the significance of the Soviet split and about policy toward Communist China. The United States, convinced of the importance of intentions in the conduct of foreign policy, is tempted to back the Communist power which professes the more peaceful goals. De Gaulle, believing that an equilibrium is the only reliable basis for stability, is more concerned with establishing a counterweight to the stronger Communist partner. He is prepared, if necessary, to play off its weaker Communist opponent against it. The United States, with its global responsibilities, sees in Communist China an objective threat to its interests. De Gaulle, leading a country primarily concerned with European affairs considers a Russia extending its power into the center of Europe as the principal threat. China, to him, is a distant country which could become useful in diverting Soviet energies. What is involved here is a certain divergence of American and European interests; De Gaulle's analysis is far from unique in Europe, even if his methods of implementing it are.

In short, peace according to De Gaulle is achieved not by a personal reconciliation but by the establishment of a more stable equilibrium. France and Europe must contribute in bringing about this balance not as the objects of policy but as its author. De Gaulle is thus concerned not only with the fact of negotiations but also with France's role in them. He would object to *any* settlement that France did not help to formulate—regardless of his opinion of its substance. The major thrust of De Gaulle's policy to make it impossible for the United States to deal with the Soviet Union over the heads of France and the rest of Europe.

De Gaulle's thought is remarkably consistent. Convinced that only those capable of assuming responsibility can form meaningful associations, he can logically affirm his faith in the Atlantic Alliance while insisting on the identity of Europe and the uniqueness of France. To De Gaulle, the two notions are complementary—though this may seem disin genuous or even cynical to many Americans.

While De Gaulle's tactics have frequently been brutal, he has faced a very special challenge. Even in the best of circumstances, any leader of a country which has been ravaged by two world wars, and which barely avoided civil war in 1958, in 1960 and again in 1962, would have had to face the problem of restoring France's faith in itself. How well he has

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succeeded is shown by the fact that three years after the end
of the Algerian war France, far from being torn to pieces by
internal schisms—as most observers expected—is the Euro-
pean country most active in international affairs.

Although De Gaulle has often exaggerated his psychologi-
cal mission, he has posed an important question which the
West has yet to answer. There is merit in his contention that
a political unit must mean something to itself before it can
have meaning to others. Before a state can contribute use-
fully to common decisions, it must be convinced that its
opinions matter. The tendency of his opponents to refuse to
take his challenge seriously and to treat De Gaulle as a relic
to be outwaited has prevented a meaningful discussion from
which a new common conception of Atlantic relations might
have emerged. Difficult as it may be to deal with De Gaulle's
France, we would do well to remember that it contributes to
the general interests of the West far more than a France
wracked by dissension or abdicating from the international
stage.

But if his critics have shown little compassion for his
special circumstances, De Gaulle has often thwarted his own
aims by his abrupt tactics and his imperious style. Not com-
fortable with the give and take of negotiations, the French
President has moved through a series of faits accomplis to
force his allies to accept his objectives. A rationalist, he has
acted as if his views were certain to prevail by virtue of their
inherent validity and that feelings of other statesmen were,
therefore, irrelevant. A profound believer in historical neces-
sity, he has acted as if the logic of events would always over-
ride the sensibilities of others.

No doubt, this is a heroic posture. But man is not gov-
erned by reason alone. History may appear inevitable in
retrospect; but it is made by men who cannot always distin-
guish their emotion from their analysis. The paradox of De
Gaulle's position is that he claims to speak for Europe, but he
has not found it possible to create a following outside of
France that considers him a European statesman. He has
alienated many potential supporters by his excessive rational-
ism and unilateral tactics. Many individuals who share De
Gaulle's aspiration that Europe play a more autonomous role
in world affairs have been driven into opposition by his
wounding insistence on intellectual submission to his max-
ims. His rigid defense of an extreme conception of sov-
ereignty has antagonized even those who do not see the
choice between a federal or confederated Europe as an issue
of principle. Although France and the United States seem to
agree on the principle of a strong and autonomous Europe,
De Gaulle's methods suggest that he will cooperate only if
others accept his unilateral pronouncements. His tactics cre-
ate the impression that he desires autonomy not to enhance
the unity of the West but to enable him to pursue policies
contradictory, if not hostile, to those of the United States.

Ironically, De Gaulle has become a symbol on both sides
of the Atlantic of principles contrary to his pronouncements
and probably to his intentions. He has enabled many in Eu-
rope not previously noted for their devotion either to Euro-

Ironically, De Gaulle has become a symbol on both sides of the Atlantic of principles contrary to his pronouncements and probably to his intentions. He has enabled many in Europe not previously noted for their devotion either to European unity or to Atlantic partnership to advocate some ideal model of either relationship in order to thwart whatever progress is possible now. By evoking so many memories of authoritarian rule, De Gaulle has polarized the discussion within Europe in a manner that makes it next to impossible to come to grips with the substance of his thought. A strong Europe was bound to present a challenge to American leadership. But by couching this challenge so woundingly, De Gaulle has spurred American self-righteousness rather than the objective reexamination of Atlantic relationships which the situation demands.

History will probably demonstrate that De Gaulle's conceptions—as distinct from his style—were greater than those of most of his critics. But a statesman must work with the material at hand. If the sweep of his conceptions exceeds the capacity of his environment to absorb them, he will fail regardless of the validity of his insights. If his style makes him unassimilable, it becomes irrelevant whether he is right or wrong. Great men build truly only if they remember that their achievement must be maintained by the less gifted individuals who are likely to follow them. A structure which can be preserved only if there is a great man in each generation is inherently fragile. This may be the nemesis of De Gaulle's success.

Though De Gaulle has performed an enormous feat in lifting his country's sights almost by an act of will, there exists objective limits which great and strong-willed statesmanship may extend but cannot change altogether. De Gaulle's insistence that France and the United States are equal is true in a moral sense, but if pushed too far it must bring into the open a permanent disparity of strength. The superiority of American resources is likely to prevail in any confrontation regardless of the validity of the competing views. By generating so much personal ill-will among American leaders, De Gaulle may rend the fabric of illusion on which his policy depends. The irony of the Franco-American rivalry is that De Gaulle has conceptions greater than his strength, while United States power has been greater than its conceptions.

In the meantime, there is something of a Greek tragedy about the dispute between the United States and France. Each chief actor, following the laws of his nature, is bringing about consequences quite different from those intended. Either the "American" or the "French" concept of Atlantic relationship might have succeeded. Competing as they do—with no comprehension by one side of the real intentions of the other—they may bring on what each side professes to fear most: a divided, suspicious Europe absorbed once again in working its ancient rivalries. Tragedy, to many Americans at least, is to find oneself thwarted in what is ardently desired. But there is another and perhaps more poignant tragedy, that of fulfilling one's desires and then finding them empty.

21

## CHAPTER THREE

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement:

The Federal Republic and Great Britain

Until January 1963

### THE PROBLEM OF GERMANY:
EVENTS LEADING TO THE
FRANCO-GERMAN TREATY
OF COLLABORATION

Germany has held the key to the stability of Europe for at least three centuries. In the twentieth century the peace of Europe has been violated twice by a powerful and unified Germany. But prior to 1871, when Germany was composed of a group of competing states, it was the arena of conflict for other European powers which sought to perpetuate its divisions, thwart its national aspirations and prevent one another from gaining a preponderant influence.

Considering this history it was inevitable that Germany, when it was finally unified in 1871, should identify security with sufficient strength to defend itself against all of its neighbors simultaneously. But this effort, however understandable, proved fatal to the stability of Europe. Germany's strength, coupled with its central location, produced a vicious circle. A country powerful enough to defend itself against all its neighbors simultaneously would also be strong enough to defeat each of them singly. Moreover, the effort to develop such strength required a mobilization of resources and an exaltation of national feelings certain to disquiet the other European countries. Bismarck, who unified Germany, spoke of "the nightmare of hostile coalitions." It was Germany's tragedy that the effort to prevent these coalitions made them inevitable. Germany has been either too weak or too powerful for the peace of Europe.

Ideally, Germany should be strong enough to defend itself but not to attack; it should be united so that its frustrations do not erupt into conflict and its divisions do not encourage the rivalries of other countries, but not so nationalistic that it disquiets its neighbors. To bring about such a Germany has been a major goal of Western policy since the end of World War II.

The effort to define a new role for Germany faces major psychological problems. Every German over fifty years of age

that it disquieted it. In any case, it is significant that many has been a major goal of Western policy since the end of World War II.

The effort to define a new role for Germany faces major psychological problems. Every German over fifty years of age has lived through three revolutions. He has known four different regimes, each claiming to be morally antithetical to its predecessor. He has seen Germany lose two world wars and has experienced two catastrophic inflations. Every German over thirty-five has witnessed the trauma of the Nazi period, of World War II and of the postwar collapse. The Nazi experience has been so completely suppressed or sublimated into a vague feeling of generalized guilt that it is no longer a problem as such. But the rootlessness produced by blotting out twelve years of history is relevant. Germany has suffered too many breaks in historical continuity and too many shocks. Great national prosperity has developed at the same time that national, political and territorial integrity has been lost. The incongruity of this situation contributes to the insecurity of German leadership groups, the stridency and legalism of whose disputes often hide a lack of inner assurance.

Chancellor Adenauer's great achievement—just as De Gaulle's—was that he understood the psychological needs of his country. He was aided by wise and far-sighted American statesmen who helped reintroduce Germany into the community of nations. In order to prevent the latent nihilism in Germany from again menacing the peace, Adenauer sought to give the Federal Republic a stake in something larger than itself. The so-called rigidity decried by many of his critics was in fact the reverse side of his attempt to teach his people habits of reliability in international affairs. He realized that Germany was too exposed geographically and too vulnerable psychologically and politically to be able to sustain a very active policy. He understood that a divided and rootless country, viewed with suspicion and fear, would be excessively tempted by either nationalism or neutralism, or both, if forced to undertake an autonomous foreign policy. The fabric of German political life might not withstand the pressures inherent in such a course.

Adenauer, therefore, sought to submerge narrowly German interests in a wider community. First he developed intimate ties with the United States which caused the opposition parties to call him the Chancellor of the Allies. Later, when United States policy on Berlin seemed to threaten vital German interests, he renewed his always strong tendency for close association with France. This culminated in the Francö-German Treaty of Collaboration of January 1963. In both cases, his major concern was to assure for the Federal Republic the moral and physical backing of a senior partner. In the case of the treaty with France, diplomatic advantage was reinforced by psychological need. For the first time in its history as a nation, Germany had a friendly country as a neighbor to the West. Perhaps Chancellor Adenauer's most notable achievement was to bring about the optical illusion that con-

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ditions in the Federal Republic were as firm and stable as his
own policy.

This is not the case, however. For the first twenty years
after the collapse of the Third Reich, German energies were
absorbed in reconstruction, and German politics were domi-
nated by a man whose formative experience was in the last
century. But Germany's uncertain sense of identity could
take surprising forms. This is all the more true because since
1961 the German situation has become more fluid under the
impact of four events: (1) the Berlin Crisis and Anglo-
American negotiating tactics until the end of 1962; (2) the
Berlin Wall; (3) De Gaulle's European policy and the
United States reaction to it; and (4) United States pressures
for diplomatic flexibility.

The Berlin crisis was crucial because it emphasized a seri-
ous potential for tension within the Alliance: the difference
between the German quest for national unity and the equally
understandable desire of the rest of the Allies for stability. Of
course, no alliance can perfectly reconcile the objectives of all
of its members. But the minimum condition for effectiveness
is that the requirements of the alliance should not clash with
the deepest aspirations of one or more of the partners.

The Berlin issue has proved sensitive not so much because
the city is physically vulnerable, but because all of Germany
is psychologically vulnerable. Not all of Germany's allies ac-
cept the division of Germany, and some might prefer a uni-
fied Germany; but none makes reunification a major goal.
Thus during the Berlin crises of 1959-1960 and 1961-1962,
many in the West argued that the logical solution was to
negotiate new procedures for access to Berlin in return for
accepting the "fact" of a divided Germany. To many influen-
tial Americans and Britishers, the continuation of a status
quo which had persisted for a decade and a half appeared a
small price to pay for a promise of stability.

However, acceptance by the West of the division of Ger-
many as permanent would upset the domestic equilibrium of
the Federal Republic; this is one of the reasons that the So-
viets are so eager to secure Western recognition of the status
quo in Germany. The division of Germany may be unavoida-
ble; but the cohesion of the Atlantic Alliance requires that
there is no ambiguity about the reason for it. If the West
tacitly or explicitly abandoned the principle of German na-
tional unity—by collaborating with the Soviets to keep Ger-
many divided—Germans would consider it a sacrifice of their
basic interests. No German political leader can accept as per-
manent the subjugation of 17 million of his compatriots—all
German political parties are agreed on this point. His mini-
mum goal must be to ameliorate conditions in East Germany
—a goal that he will be under increasing pressure to pursue
independently if his allies prove indifferent to it.

This is why the building of the Wall in Berlin and the
hesitant Western response to it gave such a shock to German
political life. Many in the West considered the Wall pri-
marily as another unilateral abrogation of a treaty obligation
by the Soviets and as an act of inhumanity to the people of

hesitant Western response to it gave such a shock to German political life. Many in the West considered the Wall primarily as another unilateral abrogation of a treaty obligation by the Soviets and as an act of inhumanity to the people of Berlin. In Germany, the Wall shattered the previous hopes for unification. For better or worse, the policy of the Federal Republic had been based on the premise that there was no inconsistency between Germany's national aspirations and its Western orientation. In fact, the Western Alliance had been sold to the German public with the argument that it represented the best method to achieve these aspirations.

The partition of Berlin marked the end of the belief that German unification would more or less automatically follow the strengthening of the Atlantic Alliance. Since then, the Federal Republic has groped for a new approach to the question of German unity and to the alleviation of conditions in East Germany. Some have begun to argue that these objectives must be sought by unilateral initiatives if necessary. Others advocate a policy of relaxation. Still others favor maximum pressure. The challenge to Western policy is to prevent the Alliance from seeming an obstacle to legitimate German aspirations, while not letting German national aspirations transcend all other imperatives.

To strike this balance would be difficult even in a cohesive alliance. It has proved impossible in the face of a Franco-American rivalry. President Kennedy had been in office less than six months when Khrushchev's Berlin ultimatum confronted his administration with a direct challenge. The Kennedy Administration thereupon coupled a drastic build-up of American military strength with a diplomacy based on the unexceptionable proposition that a showdown could not be faced until all honorable means of compromise had been exhausted. It was widely assumed that the primary Soviet goal was to stabilize conditions in Central Europe. The United States was, therefore, inclined to seek some way to deal with the immediate irritant—the problem of Berlin—by making concessions that might enhance the status of the East German authorities without impairing the physical means of access to Berlin. American policymakers assumed that progress on the national question would be achieved by increasing technical contacts between East and West Germany. In these contacts, it was supposed, the superior moral strength of West Germany could not fail to make itself felt.

All these elements were contained in the United States plan which the Germans leaked to the press in April 1962 in order to torpedo it. It provided for an International Access Authority in which East Germany would enjoy the same status as the Federal Republic; it included proposals for a number of East-West German commissions to deal with technical problems, a nonaggression treaty between NATO and the Warsaw Pact, and an agreement to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons to other countries.

These initiatives produced conflicting emotions among the leaders of the Federal Republic. Conscious of the danger of being accused of bellicosity, they accepted the need for negotiations. But Chancellor Adenauer and his associates were extremely uneasy about the way the issue had been

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posed. They held that Soviet "salami tactics" had already cur-
tailed West Berlin's margin of safety so sharply that any fur-
ther concessions were likely to undermine its viability. They
were torn between the desire for progress on the German
question and a fear that any negotiation would result in
further undermining the freedom of Berlin. They remem-
bered that at the Foreign Ministers' Conference in Geneva in
1959 the Western powers first coupled a proposal on German
unification with some concessions on Berlin. When the
Soviets refused to discuss unification, the West refrained from
pushing the German plan, but still allowed possible modi-
fications of Berlin's status to remain on the agenda.

The German government, having based its entire postwar
policy on close ties with the West and especially with the
United States, chose not to make public the full extent of its
disquiet. Similarly, the United States preferred to stress Ger-
man agreement to specific formulas in order to maintain the
appearance of Allied unity. However, nominal German
agreement frequently depended on Chancellor Adenauer's
knowledge that President de Gaulle would exercise his veto
in Allied councils.

One result was that much of the polemic between Wash-
ington and Bonn was conducted by means of inspired leaks to
the press. During the summer and fall of 1961, many Ameri-
can newspapers pointed out that Germany's bills for World
War II would be coming due. The United States was said to
be delaying proposals until after the German elections sched-
uled for that fall so that a new government would be able to
bear the brunt of the unpleasant decisions which were re-
quired. There were demands for "initiatives" and "imagina-
tion" for the Germans. According to a prevalent theory, it
was safe to press the Germans for concessions because, as the
saying went, "Where are the Germans going to go?"

On the German side, the suspicion was frequently voiced
that sooner or later the United States would confront Ger-
many with a *fait accompli*. Planted stories expressed doubt
about the validity of the United States nuclear guarantee.
The frequent demand that the Germans undertake "initia-
tives," it was said, really was a euphemism for an American
desire that they should offer unpalatable concessions which
we were reluctant to make ourselves.

A more important result of this atmosphere of distrust
between Bonn and Washington was the emergence of France
as guardian of the Federal Republic's interests—which an-
swered the rhetorical question of where Germany might go.
This, in turn, laid the basis for the close Franco-German
cooperation which existed during the remainder of Chan-
cellor Adenauer's term in office and which gave France
the psychological support it needed for excluding Britain
from the Common Market.

France's role has not been without its own ambivalence.
French leaders are not likely to have transcended their his-
torical reflexes so thoroughly as to have become believers in a
powerful and self-confident Germany for its own sake. But
President de Gaulle has understood that the most dangerous
kind of Germany is one that feels forsaken by its allies and is
thrown back on a purely national policy. This is why from
the beginning of his tenure De Gaulle has sought to demon-
strate that the Federal Republic would not stand alone.
When rejecting—sometimes brutally—the American efforts to
de devise negotiating formulas, De Gaulle came to express the
true convictions of the German government better than it

strate that the Federal Republic would not stand alone. When rejecting—sometimes brutally—the American efforts to devise negotiating formulas, De Gaulle came to express the true convictions of the German government better than it dared to do itself.

The conflicting policies of the United States, Great Britain, France and the Federal Republic created a diplomacy that combined the disadvantage of Allied disunity with the inability to gain any real benefit from negotiations with the Soviets. France refused to negotiate. The Federal Republic approved diplomatic contacts with the Soviets only with great misgivings. The "exploratory talks" with Foreign Minister Gromyko were first conducted by Secretary Rusk and later by Ambassador Thompson. Thus, the Federal Republic, on an issue affecting it most immediately, stood on the sidelines, in a position to criticize the unfavorable features of specific proposals without having to weigh them against alternative courses. By assuming the role of chief negotiator, the United States played into the hands of President de Gaulle and disquieted the Germans, all without being able to bring about a settlement. Since we could not commit the West as a whole, the Soviets were in a position to treat our offers as fishing expeditions or to engage in fishing expeditions of their own. If they considered Allied discord a feint, this gave them an incentive to be rigid. If they took it seriously, they could, in effect, bank every concession and use it as the starting point for the next round of talks.

The longer negotiations were conducted in this matter, the more relations between Bonn and Washington suffered. The mere fact of bilateral negotiations raised the specter of a United States-Soviet accommodation at the expense of our Allies. Our tactics thus encouraged the Franco-German entente. The French inclination to create a new grouping in Europe would probably have been pursued in any case; but it was given impetus and opportunity by German uneasiness about Anglo-American negotiating tactics.

This was the situation when Chancellor Adenauer finally put an end to the "exploratory talks" by publicly expressing his dissatisfaction with them. Throughout 1962, American-German relations remained wary, while the Federal Republic moved ever closer to an intimate association with France.

Thus, by the end of 1962, while NATO was still going through protestations of unity, serious fissures had appeared. France had formulated an explicit challenge to American pre-eminence within NATO. The Federal Republic was torn between disquiet over American policy and the knowledge that its military security depended on American support. Great Britain's application for membership in the Common Market was stalled. Matters were brought to a head by De Gaulle's press conference of January 14, 1963, excluding Britain from

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the Common Market. This was followed within two weeks by
the Franco-German Treaty of Collaboration.

The first United States reaction was stunned outrage at
what was seen as an embryo European organization based on
De Gaulle's conceptions. This was followed by a deliberate
policy of wooing the Federal Republic away from its French
ties. The focus of America's European policy shifted more
and more toward Germany. In the military, diplomatic and
economic fields strenuous efforts were made to forge new
United States-German links. The practical consequence—
whatever the intention—was to reduce Germany's interest in
the treaty with France—a process which was accelerated by
the retirement of Chancellor Adenauer and the installation
of a new government. Whereas the previous policy ran the
risk of a German estrangement from the Alliance, the suc-
ceeding policy, by giving the impression of a special United
States-German relationship, was in danger of eventually pro-
ducing an estrangement of the other Allies. Finally, another
change of course returned American policy to a more bal-
anced approach to European Allies. By then, however, many
German leaders who had staked their careers on following
our lead found themselves in an extremely exposed position.
Before dealing with these problems, it is important to ex-
amine the role of Great Britain, the ally which has prided
itself on its special relationship with the United States during
the entire postwar period.

GREAT BRITAIN AND EUROPE:
THE NASSAU AGREEMENT

Great Britain's relations to the Continent in the postwar
period have been extraordinarily ambivalent. In the years
immediately following the war, the countries of the Conti-
nent were on the verge of chaos. The quest for a modicum of
stability overrode all other considerations. Great Britain
alone seemed to possess a structure capable of sustaining a
long-range, orderly policy. During this period, Britain could
have had the leadership of Europe for the asking. It would
have seemed inconceivable that Europe might exclude Brit-
ain from its community—assuming that it would ever be able
to form one.

Yet it was precisely the memory of its recent isolation that
prevented Britain from seizing its opportunity. Throughout
Britain's history, the threats to its security had come from the
Continent, which in Britain significantly is called Europe.
Britain's historic policy had been to prevent the emergence of
a powerful and united Continent. To promote the unity of
Europe, to submerge Britain in such a structure and to sub-
stitute European for American and Commonwealth connec-
tions, all this has represented a wrench with tradition which
few in Britain have been prepared to make.

The memory of the war reinforced this hesitation. The
countries of the Continent had surrendered and forced Brit-
ain to fight alone. In the late forties, these countries were still
wracked by internal dissension. Although Britain was geo-
graphically close to Europe, its emotional ties were to its

countries of the Continent had surrendered and forced Brit-
ain to fight alone. In the late forties, these countries were still
wracked by internal dissension. Although Britain was geo-
graphically close to Europe, its emotional ties were to its
recent ally across the sea and to the Commonwealth. Long
before anyone on the Continent could even imagine exclud-
ing Britain from whatever structure might be formed,
Britain had made a tentative choice against the Continent.

The more the memory of the war receded, the more ap-
parent it became that total defeat may be more conducive to
making a new start than partial victory. For Great Britain,
the tremendous exertions of the war did not lead to a well-
deserved respite. On the contrary, Britain was obliged to
undertake another major effort to adjust to a loss of inter-
national influence—a task which was made even more difficult
by the memory of the recent heroic effort. While defeat
enabled the Continent to free itself from the shackles of tra-
ditional nostalgia, Britain's policy, courageous and steadfast
during two difficult decades, now began to turn stagnant. Its
exertions had consumed so much energy that Britain never
seemed able to decide which option to pursue: close relations
with the United States, a new concept of Commonwealth or
an unreserved entry into Europe. By trying to combine all
three, Britain ran the risk of losing each. The roots of Brit-
ain's exclusion from the Continent go deeper than one indi-
vidual's arbitrary decision.

This ambivalence has been described by some as Britain's search for identity. But the real problem is not that Britain has lacked an identity. Rather it is that its sense of identity has been incompatible with an unreserved entry into Europe. Britain's coolness toward Europe has been a consistent feature of the postwar period. It refused to join the Schuman Plan. It was not part of the abortive European Defense Community. Britain opposed the Common Market and applied for membership only after it was well-established and thriving. Britain has rejected the possibility of eventually transforming the proposed NATO multilateral force into a European force—indeed, one of its motives for even considering this scheme is to obtain a veto over such a development.¹

¹ See Chapter 5.

Throughout, Britain's views on the organization of Eu-
rope have been quite different from those of the European
integrationists who so passionately championed her cause.
They have, in fact, not been easy to distinguish from those of
President de Gaulle except that they have been stated in a
more accommodating fashion. Britain has been no more pre-
pared than De Gaulle to join an "integrated," "suprana-
tional" Europe. Thus, in proposing that Britain enter the
Common Market, Prime Minister Macmillan told the House
of Commons:

A number of years have passed since the movement began which culminated in the Treaty of Rome and I am bound to say that I do not see any signs of the members of the Community losing their national identity because they have delegated a measure of their sovereignty. This problem of sovereignty, to which we must, of course, attach the highest importance is, in the end, perhaps a matter of degree. I fully accept that there are some forces in

25

Europe which would like a genuine federalist system... They would like Europe to turn itself into a sort of United States, but I believe this to be a completely false analogy.

... The alternative concept, the only practical concept, would be a confederation, a commonwealth if hon. Members would like to call it that—what I think General de Gaulle has called *Europe des patries*—which would retain the great traditions and the pride of individual nations while working together in clearly defined spheres for their common interest. This seems to me a concept more in tune with the national traditions of European countries and, in particular, of our own.²

² *Hansard, Fifth Series, Vol. 645, Commons (July 24-August 4, 1961)*, Cols. 1490-1491.

The same thought was expressed by Reginald Maudling, then President of the Board of Trade:

... we have seen in the last year or two the development of the European *patrie* of General de Gaulle and it is clear, I should have thought, that the Governments of the Six are not supporters of the conception of a political federation. Therefore, it is fair to say that neither by the terms of the Treaty itself nor by the expressed views of the Governments concerned in the Community would our membership commit ourselves in any way to ultimate political federation.³

³ *Ibid.*, Col. 1958.

To be sure, Britain's attitude toward European integration was less theoretical than De Gaulle's and therefore easier for American policymakers to accept. It advanced no general maxims about the relationship between national identity and cooperative efforts. It insisted simply that supranationalism violated not universal rules but the lessons of British history.

Resistance to supranationalism has had an emotional basis as well. Britain had always considered itself primarily a world power and not a European power. Its sense of identity was bound up with relations across the sea, not across the channel. Its emotional ties were less with Europe than with the "special relationship" with the United States.

This relationship is difficult to define, and there is no doubt that President de Gaulle sees it as more formal than it really is. Unquestionably the enormous prestige gained by Britain during the war has played a major role. Unique ties of language and culture encourage many informal connections. Anglo-American relations would therefore be "special" whatever the formal arrangements.

British diplomacy has skillfully exploited these assets. De Gaulle's tactics consist of submitting a proposal pre-emptorily and with a minimum of explanation. If the proposal is rejected, he then proceeds to implement it unilaterally in order to create a *fait accompli* to which his allies must adjust. British tactics have been more subtle. Britain never contests an abstract or theoretical point. It almost never disagrees openly with fundamental American policies. Instead, British policy usually concedes us the liturgy while seeking to shape its implementation through intensive formal and informal consultation. De Gaulle has often been deliberately difficult to insure that he cannot be overlooked, while Britain has been conciliatory to make it seem natural for the United States to solicit its views before major action is taken. Whatever the "reality" of the "special relationship," Britain has tried hard to give the impression to the outside world that American policy is strongly influenced, if not guided, by London.

conciliatory to make it seem natural for the United
solicit its views before major action is taken. Whatever the
"reality" of the "special relationship," Britain has tried hard
to give the impression to the outside world that American
policy is strongly influenced, if not guided, by London.

In the sixties, this policy became less effective for a num-
ber of reasons. For one thing, the "special relationship" has
never had the same psychological significance for the United
States that it did for Britain. The memory of Britain's war-
time effort, despite the enormous prestige gained by it, has
diminished with time. As the postwar period progressed,
many influential Americans have come to believe that Brit-
ain has been claiming influence out of proportion to its
power. Consequently, they have pressed Britain to substitute
close association with Europe for the special ties across the
Atlantic. This school of thought has objected to giving Brit-
ain a preferential voice or even the appearance of it. They
believe that Britain should be treated as simply one other
European country that should seek its fulfillment in Europe.

The two events that underlined the decline of Britain's
influence in Washington most vividly were the Suez crisis
and the cancellation of the Skybolt missile. The former dem-
onstrated the end of Britain's capacity for major independent
action; the latter showed the hollowness of Britain's aspira-
tion to military autonomy. In both instances, the wounds
were to some extent self-inflicted—more in the case of Suez
then in the case of Skybolt. In both instances, brutal and
unfeeling American actions aggravated an already difficult
situation. After Suez much of the previous assurance disap-
peared from British diplomacy.⁴ Britain increasingly tended

⁴It is interesting to compare the reactions of Britain and France to Suez. Britain, having based its entire policy on close association with the United States, suffered a severe psychological blow. France, having fewer illusions about its determining role in Washington, decided to accelerate its autonomy. The French nuclear program was much more the result of Suez than of the British example.

to substitute maneuver for commitment and tried to add to
its influence while reducing its responsibilities—a combina-
tion impossible to sustain in the long run.

But the "special relationship" lasted long enough to
bring about a number of illusions in Allied relationships.
Where Britain tended to exaggerate its special influence in
Washington, the United States may have overestimated the
extent of Britain's pliability. It became an axiom of United
States policy that Britain's entry into a supranational Europe
would be a guarantee of Atlantic partnership. This is why
Washington championed Britain's entry into the Common
Market so ardently and why it was so outraged when this
policy was thwarted.

It is possible, however, that the American view was over-
optimistic. To be sure, Britain's political maturity would
have weighed heavily in Europe's councils. With Britain
playing a leading role, the policy of a united Europe would
have been more subtle, more skillful and, at least in form,
less demanding. Nevertheless, the Conservative govern-
ment's arguments on behalf of Britain's entry into Europe
always emphasized that only as part of a united Europe

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Troubled—Kissinger—9731—11 Bask. 24-13 E-1 would Britain carry weight with the United States, that basically the United States respected only strength. One ironic result of Britain's entry into Europe might well have been that Europe would henceforth have conducted De Gaulle's policies with British methods.

By 1962 the chief remaining symbol of the special Anglo-American relationship was in the nuclear field. An amendment to the United States Atomic Energy Act in 1964 permitted United States assistance to the British nuclear program. This corrected an inequity in the original law which, despite close war-time collaboration in research between Britain and the United States, prohibited the sharing of nuclear information with foreign countries. American technology was also made available for the development of delivery vehicles for the British retaliatory force. No such assistance has been extended to any other ally.

The "independent" British deterrent has been composed of about 175 V-bombers which are threatened with obsolescence. Accordingly, in 1957, Britain began to develop a missile called the Blue Streak—similar to first-generation American liquid-fuel missiles such as Jupiter or Thor. Because this development was extremely expensive—as is true of all first-generation weapons—it was abandoned in February 1960 in favor of an air-to-surface weapon then under development in the United States, the ill-fated Skybolt.

Throughout the spring and summer of 1960, the Conservative government was under constant attack by Labor on two grounds: (1) By relying on a weapon to be developed by a foreign country, Britain admitted that an "independent" British deterrent was impossible and (2) If there really was a need for an independent deterrent, it was dangerous to rely on Skybolt, since the weapons did not yet exist and since, as George Brown, then Labor's spokesman on defense matters, said, "the Americans have not bought it." The Conservative government countered by referring to an "agreement" by the United States to supply Skybolt. This was never contradicted by either the Eisenhower or the Kennedy Administration.

The debate became more intense after the Kennedy Administration took office. President Kennedy and Secretary McNamara publicly deprecated the utility of independent nuclear forces. They were supported by the British Opposition. In 1962, Harold Wilson, then foreign affairs spokesman for the Labor Party, insisted after a visit to Washington that the United States did not consider the British retaliatory force strategically significant and that the British defense effort would make a greater contribution if channeled in other directions. This was denied by the Conservative government. Labor then challenged the Conservative government to produce a single official American statement affirming that the United States valued the British deterrent. This the Conservative government was unable to do.

Thus, when the Skybolt program was canceled in December 1962, conditions were not conducive to calm deliberation. The uproar the cancellation produced had little to do with the technical merits of Skybolt or with the strategic posture of Great Britain. No one was concerned over a possi-

ber 1962, conditions were not conducive to calm deliberation. The uproar the cancellation produced had little to do with the technical merits of Skybolt or with the strategic posture of Great Britain. No one was concerned over a possible deterrent gap in the interval between the time the V-bombers became obsolete and a new weapons system could be developed to replace Skybolt. What was at stake was a fiction on which Britain's postwar policy had been based and for which successive British governments expended $10 billion. British independence in the field of strategy—whatever its “real” significance—was literally a matter of life or death for the Conservative government. And governments are notoriously slow to appreciate the technical merits of arguments that threaten their existence. As a result, a conference between President Kennedy and Prime Minister Macmillan, which had been scheduled originally to review the world situation after the Cuban missile crisis, was transformed into a redefinition of nuclear relationships. The Nassau Agreement was the result.

The Nassau Agreement is a document of extraordinary ambiguity, reflecting an attempt to reconcile the American quest for the integration of all the nuclear forces of the Alliance with the British desire to maintain a measure of independence. The United States agreed to supply Polaris missiles to Great Britain. Britian was to construct the submarines and to provide the warheads. The British Polaris submarines, armed with American missiles and British warheads, were then to be subscribed to a NATO "multilateral" force that the United States and Great Britain pledged themselves to establish. It was to include the British Bomber Command, some United States Polaris forces and other tactical forces in Europe. Another paragraph stated that the purpose of the two governments was "the development of a NATO multilateral force in the closest consultation with other NATO allies." Great Britain committed itself to use its nuclear forces "for the purpose of the international defense of the Western Alliance" except "where the supreme national interest was at stake." The same qualification appeared in the provision that both governments agreed that Western defense "is indivisible and . . . in all ordinary circumstances of crisis or danger [emphasis added] it is this very unity which is the best protection of the West." Finally Great Britain and the United States agreed that NATO in addition to having a nuclear "shield" should have a non-nuclear "sword," thus reversing the traditional NATO strategic concept.⁵

⁵Text. Joint Communique and Attached Statement on nuclear defense systems issued on December 21, 1962, by President Kennedy and Prime Minister Macmillan, DOSB, Vol. XLVIII, No. 1229 (January 14, 1963), pp. 44-45. See also Chapter 4.

This agreement was transmitted to President de Gaulle after it was published. In an accompanying memorandum, the United States offered to sell Polaris missiles to France on the same terms as to Great Britain.

The Nassau Agreement attempted a tour de force. It tried to reconcile integration with independence, the American

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belief in the need for an indivisible nuclear strategy with the British desire for autonomy.

But the price was high, and in practice the various clauses of the Nassau Agreement tended to cancel each other out. For example, what was the significance of subscribing the British retaliatory force to NATO while at the same time reserving the right of independent action when the supreme national interest was at stake? As President Kennedy pointed out shortly after the Nassau Agreement was signed, the supreme national interest is automatically involved when a country considers the use of nuclear weapons. Similarly, what was the meaning of the phrase that a unified strategy was the best protection in "ordinary" circumstances? To what "extraordinary" contingencies did the escape clause refer? Moreover, it was not clear whether the multilateral force described in paragraph six—to be composed of national contributions—was the same as that in paragraph seven. In other words, did the commitment imply only that national contingents be assigned to NATO or did it involve also an undertaking to establish a mixed-manned fleet (the MLF)?⁶

⁶See Chapter 5.

Britain was to urge the first interpretation; the United States defended the latter one. Finally, what was the meaning of the reversal of the traditional notions of "shield" and "sword" in NATO strategy? Did it imply that the United States and Great Britain were proposing to resist a conventional attack in Europe primarily with conventional means?

Thus even an individual less inclined to exploit Allied discord than President de Gaulle would have been likely to view the Nassau Agreement with suspicion. Indeed, reaction to the Nassau Agreement all over Europe ranged from cool to hostile. In Germany, the grouping of NATO's nuclear forces into a special nuclear command revived fears of a possible nuclear disengagement. The Labor Party interpreted the Nassau Agreement as proving the validity of their previous contention that British nuclear independence was a sham. The Agreement did not satisfy those in the United States who had been pressing for an integrated strategy. And it was, of course, rejected out of hand by President de Gaulle.

The Nassau Agreement could not have been timed more disastrously for Britain's application for membership in the Common Market. If Britain overestimated its special ties with the United States, De Gaulle took them at face value. He has never forgotten Churchill's statement that if Britain were forced to choose between Europe and the open sea, it would unhesitatingly choose the latter.⁷ The difference be-

⁷Charles de Gaulle, *The War Memoirs of Charles de Gaulle, Unity, 1942-1944*, translated by Richard Howard (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1959), p. 253.

tween the tenacity with which Britain had argued about the economic conditions of its entry into Europe and the willingness to settle its nuclear future in a three-day conference with the United States seemed to reflect Britain's priorities. Britain's special relation with the United States in the nuclear field could have two meanings: It was either a challenge to De Gaulle's contention that a united Europe required its own defense; or else it seemed designed to assure British a pre-eminent place in a united Europe. Neither contingency was attractive to De Gaulle.

held could have two meanings: It was either a challenge to De Gaulle's contention that a united Europe required its own defense; or else it seemed designed to assure Britian a pre-eminent place in a united Europe. Neither contingency was attractive to De Gaulle.

Moreover, if the integration envisaged by the Nassau Agreement did not go far enough for some Americans, it was much too sweeping for President de Gaulle. He was likely to object to the integration of nuclear forces whatever its actual significance. He said that the proposed assignment of nuclear forces to NATO involved:

> ... a web of liaisons, transmissions and interferences within itself... such that, if an integral part were suddenly snatched from it, there would be a stronger risk of paralyzing it just at the moment, perhaps, when it should act.⁸

⁸ Press Conference on January 14, 1963, *Major Addresses*, p. 219.

And he asked how in practice integration could be reconciled with independent disposition, putting his finger on the key evasion of the Nassau Agreement. At the same time, he agreed that cooperation between the national nuclear forces within NATO was both possible and desirable. It was symptomatic that, while arguing the relative merits of integration and coordination, neither side has yet defined what common action might be possible under one label that was not possible under the other.

The way the Nassau Agreement was negotiated created as many problems as its content and timing. Given De Gaulle's wartime experiences and his view of France's role in the world, it was against all probability that he would accept a proposal negotiated privately by the "Anglo-Saxons" and revealed to Paris only after it had been released to the press. It should have come as no surprise that, at the press conference where he rejected French participation in the Nassau Agreement, De Gaulle commented acidly: "Of course, I am only speaking of this proposal and agreement because they have been published and because their content is known." ⁹

⁹ *Ibid.*, p. 218.

Moreover, the actual terms of the Agreement seemed to De Gaulle to perpetuate the discriminatory treatment that he had opposed throughout his public career. France possessed neither submarines nor warheads for the Polaris missiles. Thus, the Nassau Agreement could bring benefits to France only after many years. Britain's experience with the Skybolt program reduced the already small incentive of France to make itself dependent on the promise of future delivery of United States missiles—even less so as France was not offered the information about the construction of nuclear warheads which was essential if the missiles were to be useful.

There have been endless debates whether the Nassau Agreement precipitated De Gaulle's decision to veto British membership in the Common Market, whether it was a pre-text or—as is most likely—whether it was simply a contributory cause. It is not necessary to decide this question to realize that the Nassau Agreement exacerbated an already difficult situation and placed the issue of British entry into the Com-

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mon Market in the most adverse light imaginable. Britain's application was bound to raise the question whether it was consistent with the aspirations of a united Europe for one of its members to have an exclusive relationship with the United States on so vital a subject as nuclear strategy or whether it should share its nuclear knowledge with its new partners.

The Nassau Agreement brought this issue to a head pre-
maturely. Britain had received an abrupt rebuff on the Sky-
bolt issue. Yet it never seems seriously to have considered that
it might use this opportunity for closer cooperation with its
European partners in the military field. Instead, it concluded
an agreement with the United States without even consulting
France, the other European nuclear power, and it developed
a nuclear plan for NATO without the participation of its pro-
tective partners in the Common Market. It agreed to reverse
the traditional significance of "sword" and "shield" in NATO
doctrine without consulting any other NATO ally. Perhaps
President de Gaulle had decided on a veto whatever hap-
pened. But if he still hesitated, the Nassau Agreement was
likely to tip the scales.

In retrospect, the failure of Britain to consult with France and its other European allies before committing itself to the Nassau Agreement seems a crucial missed opportunity. It will never be known what the reaction would have been if Britain had made such an overture before the Bahamas meeting. Even had it failed, it would have placed the subsequent debate in a far better context.

As it was, De Gaulle, in his press conference of January
14, 1963, abruptly and brutally vetoed British membership
in the Common Market and rejected the Nassau offer. The
date marks an important watershed in Atlantic relations. De
Gaulle's action exploded the premises on which much of
previous thinking had been based. The belief in an auto-
matic progression from economic to political integration sud-
denly stood in need of reexamination. The concept of an
Atlantic partnership between the United States and a united
Europe, including Great Britain, was seriously challenged. It
was now clear that conflicting approaches to Atlantic rela-
tionships were confronting each other.

The debate was confused by the way the lines were drawn, which made it dangerous to take either criticism or support of United States positions at face value. France's claim that it spoke for Europe was belied by the fact that on economic issues Germany and the Netherlands tended to side with Great Britain and in the field of strategy the Federal Republic leaned toward the United States. Many in Europe were disquieted by De Gaulle's tactics even when they basically agreed with his policies—as in the case of the recognition of Communist China and his proposal for the neutralization of Southeast Asia.

At the same time, opposition to De Gaulle does not
guarantee support of United States policies. British policy
often differs from that of De Gaulle only in the greater sub-
tlety of British methods. Much domestic French criticism is
due to the frustration of the divided Opposition that sees its
policies carried out by the incumbent. All over Europe, left-

guarantee support of United States policies. British policy, often differs from that of De Gaulle only in the greater subtlety of British methods. Much domestic French criticism is due to the frustration of the divided Opposition that sees its policies carried out by the incumbent. All over Europe, left-wing groups violently oppose De Gaulle's imperious style, seeing in him a direct descendant of the dictators of the thirties. But this does not mean that they object to Third Force policies as such or that their long-term alternative is close association with the United States. The Federal Republic maneuvers uneasily between relying on the military protection of the United States and the diplomatic cover of France.

PART THREE

The Strategic Issues

CHAPTER FOUR

The Nature of the Strategic Debate

AMERICAN STRATEGIC DOCTRINES
AND NATO POLICY

When the Atlantic Alliance was formed in 1949, Soviet aggression was believed to be imminent. As a result, there was a natural preoccupation with military security. Allied cohesion grew greatest with respect to strategic matters. An integrated headquarters staffed by officers of various nationalities was set up near Paris (SHAPE). A joint defense plan was developed. Some agreement about the nature of the common defense has always been central to the cohesiveness of NATO.

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In recent years, such agreement has been difficult to achieve, and for good reasons. Weapons are novel and untested—and everything depends on them. Offensive power has far outstripped defensive power. Every ally—no matter how powerful—faces a level of destruction which in the past would have been considered catastrophic. Finally, modern technology makes available more choices than the Alliance can afford to implement. High risk combines with multiple choice to produce controversy.

¹See also Chapter 1.

Whether the Allies choose land- or sea-based missiles, whether they emphasize nuclear or conventional weapons depends less on technology than on strategic doctrine. Strategic doctrine, as here used, does not connote something abstract or dogmatic. In the absence of any relevant experience, its role is to define the likely dangers and how to deal with them, to project feasible goals and outline plans for attaining them. It must furnish a mode of action for the circumstances it defines as "ordinary." Its adequacy will be demonstrated by whether these events do in fact occur and whether the forces and procedures developed in anticipating them are adequate to deal with the real challenges.

In the interwar period French strategic doctrine exalted the value of the strategic defensive and built its plans around the Maginot Line. However, the likely German attempts to overthrow the Treaty of Versailles could be prevented only by French offensive action. The Maginot Line could prove useful, in other words, only after the Versailles settlement was already overturned. Thus French strategic doctrine contributed to the paralysis of French foreign policy. When German armies reoccupied the Rhineland and attacked France's allies in Eastern Europe, French power remained passive and French diplomacy stood impotent. Even when the long-awaited attack in the West finally came, it took place in an area which had not been fortified.

If a mistaken strategic doctrine absorbs energy in reconciling what happens with what is expected, an excessively complicated or esoteric doctrine can break down under the stress of decision-making. The Schlieffen Plan, Germany's military design for World War I, provided for every contingency except the psychological strain on the commander. It failed largely because the German leaders lost their nerve. In the face of Russian advances into East Germany—which were foreseen by the Schlieffen Plan—the Germans rushed reinforcements from the West and thus weakened their offensive thrust at the crucial moment. It adds to the irony of the situation that these reinforcements were in transit when the decisive battle in both the East and the West were being fought.

But if there is no doctrine at all and a society operates pragmatically, solving problems "on their merits" as the saying goes, every event becomes a special case. More energy is spent on deciding where one is than where one is going. Each event is compartmentalized and dealt with under pressure by experts in the special difficulties it involves without an adequate consideration of its relation to other occurrences.

ing goes, every event becomes a special case. More energy is spent on deciding where one is than where one is going. Each event is compartmentalized and dealt with under pressure by experts in the special difficulties it involves without an adequate consideration of its relation to other occurrences. American policy has been shaped by this approach.

The problem of agreeing on strategic doctrine is complex within each government. The difficulty has been magnified within the Alliance because disputes about strategy become symbols for larger disagreements on policy. To be sure, differences of opinion about strategy have been real enough. But their urgency is due to the fact that something deeper than the analysis of weapons systems is involved. Disputes have become exacerbated because the United States and its European critics have rarely been talking about the same thing.

The United States has stressed the technical adequacy of its strategic views and the analytic accuracy of its strategic assessments. Our European critics have emphasized the political and psychological framework within which these decisions will have to be implemented. The United States has reiterated its formal commitment to the defense of Europe—as if a legal clause could settle the problems of credibility in the nuclear age once and for all. Our European Allies are wary of even the most solemn undertakings. Too many of them have seen alliances disintegrate not to be concerned over the impact of the unprecedented stress of nuclear war on obligations incurred many years before under completely different circumstances.

The sense of insecurity of most of our European Allies has been magnified by the one-sided relationship that has grown up in the military field within the Alliance. In no other area has the dependence of Europe on the United States been so great or so prolonged. In every other field American policy has deliberately sought to reduce Europe's dependence on the United States; in the military sphere the thrust of United States policy has been to make our tutelage more bearable.

When the United States gave economic assistance to Europe after World War II, it tried to induce its European Allies to assume responsibility for developing a joint program and a system for dividing up the total available aid. Though United States representatives played an active and important advisory role, the basic scheme was European. This cooperative effort spawned the Schuman Plan and later the Common Market. It encouraged the emergence of a responsible group of European leaders, dedicated to Atlantic partnership and experienced in working with the United States. The Atlantic Alliance owes a great deal to the habits of cooperation and mutual respect developed during the Marshall Plan.

In the military field, by contrast, the United States never encouraged the emergence of a specifically European point of view. It made no effort to stimulate European institutions comparable to those it fostered in the economic sphere. The West European Union (WEU), which originally had been expected to play that role, has remained dormant. Thus NATO strategy has always been based on more or less unilateral

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American conceptions. The consultative role of our European
Allies has been confined in effect to the technical implemen-
tation of American views. No specifically European concept
of defense—and no real European sense of responsibility—has
developed.

This state of affairs had many causes. At the beginning of NATO, our Allies, remembering our tradition of isolationism, actively encouraged a predominant United States military role. A hegemonic position for the United States seemed the best guarantee of our commitment to the defense of Europe. Later on, many Allies used our dominant position as an excuse to avoid difficult domestic choices. They encouraged us to assume the burden of defense expenditures and the stress of difficult strategic decisions. We acquiesced because we were psychologically more deeply engaged in the military than in the economic field. Most importantly, the United States possessed a monopoly of nuclear weapons on which the security of the West was believed to depend.

However valid the reasons, the imbalance in responsibility between us and our European partners could not be healthy in the long run. It was unprecedented that the defense of an area so rich and potentially so powerful as Europe should be left to a country 3,000 miles away and with a recent history of isolationism. The result has been that many of our Allies have seen their role primarily as that of lobbyists trying to sway decisions not their own. They have either abdicated from the strategic field altogether or emphasized a military posture which makes no provision for the possibility that deterrence might fail.

This attitude contributes to Allied discord. Charged with the major responsibility for the common defense, the United States has been obliged to adapt its strategy to a rapidly changing technology. Many of our Allies, on the other hand, cling to the status quo as the best guarantee of our reliability. Unilateral change of our strategic views has a symbolic quality for them. If we are able to alter our views about strategy, might not the same be true of other commitments? If our Allies were primarily concerned with the technical aspects of strategy, they should be worried if we follow an existing doctrine after circumstances change. It is a measure of Europe's abdication from serious concern with defense that the opposite has been the case.

The United States, in turn, has fallen into the habit of dealing with its European Allies, except Great Britain, almost psychotherapeutically. It has tended to confuse periodic briefings and reassurance with consultation and it has sought to muffle expressions of concern rather than deal with the underlying causes. This is the psychological background of the strategic debate that has been taking place since the beginning of NATO and with particular intensity since the change in United States strategic concepts in 1961.

In order to understand the reaction of our Allies to this change, it is necessary to examine briefly the doctrine that was replaced. When the Korean War first raised the specter of a Soviet attack on Europe, NATO developed the Libson goals, which envisaged a largely conventional defense of Europe. These provided for some thirty-five to forty regular and some fifty-five to sixty reserve divisions. It soon became apparent, however, that no European ally was prepared to make

of a Soviet attack on Europe, NATO developed the Libson goals, which envisaged a largely conventional defense of Europe. These provided for some thirty-five to forty regular and some fifty-five to sixty reserve divisions. It soon became apparent, however, that no European ally was prepared to make the sacrifices necessary to raise these forces.

The advent of the Eisenhower Administration in 1953, led to a new defense policy—called the New Look—which placed much greater emphasis on nuclear forces. In 1957 the United States submitted to NATO what came to be known as the Radford Plan—initially to the dismay of the Europeans. This plan started from the premise that NATO was permanently inferior in conventional strength to the hordes of easily-mobilized Soviet manpower. To base NATO's strategy on resisting a Soviet attack with conventional weapons was to emphasize Communist superiority. Therefore, the defense of NATO should depend on nuclear weapons. Any attack on Europe would involve general nuclear war. The purpose of the military establishment on the Continent was primarily to delay a Soviet advance long enough for the effects of nuclear war to make themselves felt. The ground forces were to be a "trip wire" or a "plate glass window."

As a result, large numbers of tactical nuclear weapons were shipped into Europe under the so-called double-veto system. This required the consent of both the United States and the host country before nuclear weapons could be used. Moreover, the definition of "tactical" was such that the Supreme Allied Commander, Europe (SACEUR) was to be able to destroy all Soviet weapons aimed at Europe. The nuclear arsenal in Europe thus included some weapons of a range and destructiveness indistinguishable from those in the arsenal of the Strategic Air Command (SAC). They could be called "tactical" only in the sense that they were stationed in Europe and not in the United States and that they were controlled by SACEUR rather than the commanding general of SAC.

According to this strategic concept, conventional weapons played a minor role. Their function was to deal with minor incursions; they were to act as a screen to determine that a full-scale Soviet attack was taking place. Through there was some talk of a "pause" before nuclear weapons might be used, the logistic system of NATO left little doubt about the real emphasis of NATO strategy. None of NATO's conventional forces had supplies for more than two weeks, and several national contingents were considerably worse off. In case of large-scale Soviet attack, nuclear weapons would have to be used practically from the outset. "The pause," General Norstad was reported to have observed, "will probably take place *before* the outbreak of hostilities." NATO doctrine described conventional weapons as the "shield" and nuclear weapons as the "sword" of the Alliance.

Almost concurrently with the disclosure of the Radford Plan in 1957, the United States came to believe that it was inferior to the Soviet Union in long-range missiles. In order to close this "missile gap," the United States pressed its NATO

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Troubled—Kissinger—9731—11 Bask. 24-13 E-1 allies to permit the installation of intermediate-range ballistic missiles on their territory. These were thought to be essential to the over-all strategic posture of the West. The concern of some of our Allies regarding the vulnerability of these missiles was rejected: It was argued that the Soviets would not be able to launch a blow against our European bases without an acceptable risk of an all-out United States counterblow and that a coordinated Soviet attack against the United States overseas and domestic bases would prove technically difficult. In pursuit of these policies, intermediate-range missiles (IRBM's) were stationed in Greece, Turkey and Great Britain.²

²The IRBM's in Greece and Turkey were under SACEUR; those in Great Britain were not part of NATO.

The stationing of these missiles in Europe tended to establish an inextricable link between the defense of Europe and that of the United States. As long as the United States believed that its European bases were essential to redress the strategic balance, an attack on Europe would threaten the survival of the United States immediately rather than indirectly. Deployment rather than a decision taken at the moment of attack would determine the American response.

With the advent of a new United States administration in 1961, these policies were drastically and suddenly changed. Starting early in 1961, the Kennedy Administration developed a four-pronged strategic theory which has remained essentially unchanged under President Johnson.

1. *Flexible Response:* When it took office, the Kennedy Administration found itself confronted with a strategy for general war which emphasized a single all-out response. If general nuclear war proved inevitable, the goal was to be to destroy the opposing society virtually in one blow.

The Kennedy Administration sought to replace this strategy with a doctrine which offered more alternatives. It attempted to develop the maximum number of options even for the contingency of general nuclear war—a strategy summed up in the phrase “flexible response.” In 1962, this strategy was described by secretary of Defense McNamara as follows:

> ... our forces can be used in several different ways. We may have to retali ate with a single massive a'tack. Or, we may be able to use our retaliatory forces to limit damage done to ourselves, and our allies, by knocking out the enemy's bases before he has had time to launch his second salvos. We may seek to terminate a war on favorable terms by using our forces as a bargaining weapon—by threatening further attack.

In any case, our large reserve of protected firepower would give an enemy an incentive to avoid our cities and to stop a war. Our new policy gives us the flexibility to choose among several operational plans, but does not require that we make any advance commitment with respect to doctrine or targets. We shall be committed only to a system that gives us the ability to use our forces in a controlled and deliberate way, so as best to pursue the interests of the United States, our Allies, and the rest of the Free World.³

³Robert S. McNamara, address before the Fellows of the American Bar Foundation Dinner, Chicago, Illinois, February 17, 1962, Department of Defense, Office of Public Affairs, News Release No. 239-62 (February 17, 1962), pp. 6-7.

Official explanations about how this capability for flexible

World.⁵

² Robert S. McNamara, address before the Fellows of the American Bar Foundation Dinner, Chicago, Illinois, February 17, 1962, Department of Defense, Office of Public Affairs, News Release No. 239-62 (February 17, 1962), pp. 6-7.

Official explanations about how this capability for flexible response would be used have not always been consistent. Criticizing the nuclear forces of Britain and France, Secretary McNamara argued that the United States proposed to rely on a counterforce strategy and confine its initial attacks to military targets:

> The U.S. has come to the conclusion that to the extent feasible, basic military strategy in a possible general nuclear war should be approached in much the same way that more conventional military operations have been regarded in the past. That is to say, principal military objectives—should be the destruction of the enemy's military forces, not of his civilian population.⁴

⁴ McNamara, address at the Commencement Exercises, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan, June 16, 1962, Department of Defense. Office of Public affairs, News Release No. 980-62, June 16, 1962, p. 9. See also statement on RS-70, *New York Times*, March 16, 1962.

Throughout 1962 Secretary McNamara insisted that the United States had the capability to destroy the entire Soviet military target system even *after* absorbing a first blow. The corollary was, of course, that the United States would be able to overwhelm Soviet strategic forces by striking first, for instance, in response to an attack on Europe. But if this assessment was correct, the purpose of building up conventional forces in Europe was far from obvious. If Soviet strategic forces were indeed so much more vulnerable than ours, a Soviet conventional attack on Europe would be too risky to be at all probable. NATO strategy could continue to rely primarily on United States nuclear power.

More recently Secretary McNamara has been less san-
guine about the prospects for a counterforce strategy. He has
argued that the growing size of the opposing strategic forces
requires us to define more modest objectives than the origi-
nal counterforce doctrine had seemed to imply. He now
maintains that no matter how large our strategic forces, they
will not be able to prevent vast damage. The strategy of flexi-
ble response is not designed to achieve victory in the tradi-
tional sense; its function is to limit damage by destroying the
largest possible number of weapons which an aggressor might
hold in reserve after he has launched an initial blow:

... a "damage-limiting" strategy appears to be the most practical and effective course for us to follow.... While there are still some differences of judgment on just how large such a [U.S. strategic] force should be, there is general agreement that it should be large enough to ensure the destruction, singly or in combination, of the Soviet Union, Communist China, and the Communist satellites as national societies, under the worst possible circumstances of war outbreak that can reasonably be postulated, and, in addition, to destroy their warmaking capability so as to limit, to the extent practicable, damage to this country and to our Allies.⁵

⁵ McNamara, *Hearings, Department of Defense, Appropriations for 1965*, House Appropriations Subcommittee (88th Cong., 2nd sess., 1964, Part 4), pp. 27-28.

32

2. *Hostility to National Nuclear Forces:* Flexible response, however its objectives are defined, presupposes a centralized system of command and control and highly invulnerable strategic forces. The possibility of conducting nuclear war discriminately depends on an over-all plan controlled by individuals familiar with the strategic context. United States doctrine has considered the existence of strategic nuclear forces not under United States control inconsistent with these requirements. Said Secretary McNamara:

We are convinced that a general nuclear war target system is indivisible, and if, despite all our efforts, nuclear war should occur, our best hope lies in conducting a centrally controlled campaign against all of the enemy's vital nuclear capabilities, while retaining reserve forces, all centrally controlled.⁶

⁶ McNamara, address at the Commencement Exercises, University of Michigan, June 16, 1962, op. cit., p. 11.

President Kennedy described the French nuclear program as “inimical” to NATO. Secretary McNamara called European nuclear forces “dangerous,” “expensive,” “prone to obsolescence” and “lacking in credibility.” Under Secretary Ball has criticized these nuclear forces because “the road toward nuclear proliferation has no logical ending.”⁷

⁷George Ball, “NATO and World Responsibility,” *The Atlantic Community Quarterly*, Vol. 2. No. 2 (Summer 1964), p. 211.

At first, these criticisms were directed against the French nuclear program alone. However, they could be applied with equal logic to the British strategic force, although it has been in existence with American support for over a decade. Robert Bowie, one of the most eloquent defenders of official nuclear policy, has made this explicit.⁸

⁸Robert Bowie, “Tensions Within the Alliance,” *Foreign Affairs*, Vol. 43, No. 1 (October 1963), p. 66.
—, Strategy and the Atlantic Alliance, *International Organization*, Special issue on the Atlantic Community, Vol. 17, No. 3 (Summer 1963), pp. 722–726.

In short the requirement of central control is interpreted by the Pentagon to mean the integration of strategic nuclear forces in a way that forecloses the technical possibility of independent use. If any of our Allies are to have nuclear forces of their own—and the clear United States preference is that they do not—these must be an adjunct to United States strategic forces and, for all practical purposes, subject to American control.

3. *Tactical Nuclear Weapons:* United States strategic doctrine has shown considerable ambivalence about tactical nuclear weapons which were previously considered the key element of the military establishment on the Continent. On the one hand, the number of tactical nuclear weapons on the Continent has been considerably increased, according to official Pentagon estimates, by some 60 per cent. On the other hand, tactical nuclear weapons do not really fit the Administration's strategic concept.

Tactical nuclear weapons in the hands of front-line units are extremely difficult to subject to the central command and control envisaged by the new doctrine. The Administration has repeatedly stressed the danger of escalation. As the then Deputy Secretary of Defense Gilpatric put it, “I, for one,

Tactical nuclear weapons in the lands of Iran were
are extremely difficult to subject to the central command and
control envisaged by the new doctrine. The Administration
has repeatedly stressed the danger of escalation. As the then
Deputy Secretary of Defense Gilpatric put it, "I, for one,
have never believed in a so-called limited nuclear war. I just
don't know how you build a limit into it once you start using
any kind of a nuclear bang."⁹ And in the spring of 1961, Sec-

⁹ *New York Times*, June 7, 1961.

retary McNamara said that, in his concept, limited war in
effect excluded the use of *any* nuclear weapons. "I think by
'limited' war we simply mean war that is carried on for the
most part with non-nuclear weapons. . . ."¹⁰

¹⁰ McNamara, *Department of Defense, Appropriations for 1962, Hearings, Committee on Appropriations, House Subcommittee (87th Cong., 1st sess., 1961, Part 3)*, p. 136.

Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense Alain C. Enthoven
said on February 10, 1963:

There has been, in recent years, the development of small
nuclear weapons having yields equivalent to a few thousand
tons of TNT or less. The day will come, if it has not already,
when there will be nuclear weapons of smaller yield than the
largest high explosive weapons. When that day comes, will there
no longer be a distinction between nuclear and conventional
weapons? Some have argued to that effect. But they are mistaken.
There is and will remain an important distinction, a "firebreak"
if you like, between nuclear and non-nuclear war, a recognizable
qualitative distinction that both combatants can recognize and
agree upon, if they want to agree upon one. And in the nuclear
age they will have a very powerful incentive to agree upon this
distinction and limitation, because if they do not there does not
appear to be another easily recognizable limitation on weapons—
no other obvious "firebreak"—all the way up the destructive
spectrum to large-scale thermonuclear war.¹¹

¹¹ Alain C. Enthoven, U.S. Senate, Committee on Armed Services, *Military Procurement Authorization: Fiscal Year 1964; Hearings on H.R. 2440* (88th Cong., 1st sess., 1963), p. 168.

If any use of nuclear weapons is likely to lead to an un-
controlled general nuclear exchange, it follows that many of
the Administration's strictures against independent nuclear
forces apply also to the tactical nuclear weapons on the Con-
tinent. Administration statements have made clear that the
tactical nuclear weapons in Europe were too vulnerable to
serve as reliable second-strike weapons and thus were not
needed to deter or to fight a general nuclear war:

There is no question but today our strategic retaliatory forces of
bombers, missiles and Polaris are fully capable of destroying Soviet
targets, even after absorbing an initial nuclear surprise attack. Al-
lowing for losses from an initial enemy attack we calculate that our
forces would destroy virtually all Soviet targets without any help
from deployed tactical air units of carrier task forces which, of
course, have the capability of attacking these targets with nuclear
weapons.¹²

¹² McNamara,

If official doctrine is ambivalent about tactical nuclear
weapons, it is hostile to the overseas deployment of strategic
delivery systems. Accordingly, the intermediate-range ballistic
missiles were withdrawn from Britain, Italy and Turkey in
1963. This was justified by the argument that new weapons
such as the Polaris missiles are more effective and that land-
based missiles are too vulnerable.

33

4. Conventional Defense: If European national nuclear forces are irrelevant or worse and tactical nuclear weapons are over-valued, it follows that American strategic doctrine considers Europe's optimum contribution to be in the field of conventional defense. This argument has been pressed insistently. "The decision to employ tactical nuclear weapons," testified Secretary McNamara before the House Armed Services Committee in January 1963, "should not be forced upon us simply because we have no other way to cope with a particular situation." ¹³

¹³ McNamara, statement before the House Armed Services Committee, *The Fiscal Years 1964-68, Defense Program, 1964 Defense Budget* (January 30, 1963), p. 18.

The corollary is that the most desirable objective is to resist a Soviet conventional attack with purely conventional means. Secretary McNamara added that existing NATO conventional capabilities were adequate to deal with any "major incursion." Nevertheless, he urged that they be strengthened to give us "capabilities for dealing with even larger Soviet attacks"—in other words, a massive, sustained Soviet offensive. This view was made explicit by Alain C. Enthoven a little later that year:

> ... we will have no sensible alternative to building up our conventional forces to the point at which they can safely resist all forms of non-nuclear aggression. Our forces will be adequate if we can never be forced because of weakness to be the first to have to resort to nuclear weapons.¹⁴

¹⁴ Enthoven, address to the Loyola University Forum for National Affairs, Los Angeles, February 10, 1963. Cited in *Survival*, Vol. V, No. 3 (May—June 1963), p. 98.

This feature of the new United States strategic doctrine was vividly symbolized in the Nassau Agreement which reversed the traditional NATO concepts of "shield" and "sword." In the new formulation, decided bilaterally by Great Britain and the United States, nuclear weapons were described as the "shield" and the conventional weapons as the "sword" of the Alliance—implying a preference for a largely conventional defense of Europe.

The new strategic doctrine made a sharp debate almost inevitable. The drastic change of views within the space of less than five years cast into question either our steadiness or our judgment. Those Allied leaders who had staked their prestige on supporting the American doctrine of the fifties found themselves in the embarrassing position of seeing some of their opposition's arguments vindicated by a change of heart in Washington. This explains much of the bitterness of the debate.

Moreover, many of the changes decoupled deployment for general war from the defense of Europe. With American strategic forces located in the United States or at sea, the former military necessity to respond to an attack on Europe with nuclear retaliation was reduced. Together with the emphasis on conventional defense, this raised issues of nuclear control which had been muted when American nuclear retaliation had been believed to be automatic. The debate took on added urgency because the advent of a new, highly

with nuclear retaliation was reduced. Together with an
emphasis on conventional defense, this raised issues of nu-
clear control which had been muted when American nuclear
retaliation had been believed to be automatic. The debate
took on added urgency because the advent of a new, highly
analytical administration in the United States coincided with
the deliberate policy of President de Gaulle to assert a more
independent role.

THE NATURE OF THE DEBATE:
NUCLEAR OR CONVENTIONAL DEFENSE?

The strategic debate in the Alliance was at first given a
slightly unreal quality by the desire of Washington to main-
tain an appearance of continuity. When the Kennedy Ad-
ministration sought early in 1961 to convince NATO to
strengthen its conventional forces, our Allies inquired
whether the United States was reducing its reliance on nu-
clear weapons. We replied that the proposed build-up did not
involve any lessened confidence in what had come to be
called "The Deterrent." On the contrary, United States stra-
tegic forces were being expanded and made more invulner-
able. The non-nuclear build-up, far from diminishing the
credibility of our nuclear power, would actually enhance it.¹⁵

¹⁵ McNamara, speech to the Fellows of the American Bar Foundation, Chicago, Illinois, February 17, 1962, *op. cit.*, p. 8.

According to official American statements, the NATO policy
being promulgated was not new. We were simply asking our
Allies to live up to their previous commitments. The goal
was flexibility of response.

This curious dialogue, in which a change of emphasis in
United States policy was defended in terms of traditional
doctrines of NATO, produced new misgivings. Our Allies
asked why, if the reliance on nuclear deterrence remained
unimpaired, conventional forces had to be strengthened? Did
not American efforts to build up conventional strength in-
volve a risk? Since even thirty divisions would probably not
be enough to stop a full-scale Soviet attack, a build-up might
raise doubts about the American nuclear commitment and
thus might make aggression more likely. The result was a
paradoxical argument about whether an increase in NATO's
strength would weaken its over-all defensive posture. The
emphasis on conventional weapons had the strange conse-
quence of exacerbating the issue of nuclear control.

This was no accident. As long as NATO strategy was nu-
clear and the United States had no obvious alternative to
nuclear retaliation, our Allies were ready to acquiesce in the
hegemonial position of the United States. They reasoned that
this was the price which had to be paid for an automatic
American nuclear response. However, one of the essential
characteristics of the doctrine of flexible response is that
American nuclear reaction will occur—if at all—deliberately
and in stages. The very qualities that have made the new
doctrine desirable for Americans raise questions for Euro-
peans of how the American commitment will be interpreted
under the stress of nuclear war. This, in turn, has brought to
a head a long-standing difference in perspective between the
American and the European approach to NATO.

Ever since the beginning of NATO, the military establish-

34

ment on the Continent has been seen in symbolic terms by the Europeans and in military terms by the United States. When the Korean War seemed to indicate that Soviet aggression might be imminent, serious efforts were made to turn NATO into a more effective military instrument. However, given the enormous disparity in military and economic strength between the United States and Europe, the primary concern of the European countries was to commit the United States to their defense. They considered NATO above all a means to obtain American protection, by which they meant American nuclear protection.

At the same time, Europeans have had too much experience with the tenuousness of formal commitments not to strive for more tangible guarantees. This led to pressures for the stationing of American troops in Europe. European reasoning was similar to that ascribed to a French marshal in 1912 when he was asked how many British troops he wanted for the eventuality of a European war. He is reported to have replied: "We need only one, who we will make sure is killed on the first day of the war." In the nuclear age, the price of a guarantee has risen to close to five divisions.

With so many American troops permanently stationed in Europe, it was only sensible to try to give them some meaningful military mission. Even in the heyday of the doctrine of massive retaliation in the fifties, NATO forces were larger than the prevailing strategic concept seemed to demand. Indeed the number was somewhat inconsistent with it. Despite the United States commitment to a retaliatory strategy, we constantly pressed for a European contribution of ground forces. The Europeans, though they agreed to a succession of NATO force goals, never really believed in the doctrines used to rationalize them. Rather they considered their military contribution a fee to be paid for the United States nuclear protection. Our Allies agreed to our requests. But they tried to make certain that their actual contributions would be only large enough to induce us to keep a substantial military establishment in Europe, yet not so high as to provide a real alternative to nuclear retaliation. They were opposed to giving the conventional forces a central military mission; but they also resisted any hint of American withdrawal.

This ambivalence was brought into the open by the shift in United States strategic doctrine in 1961. The American attempt to strengthen conventional forces brought to the fore the issue of nuclear control, which for many Europeans had always been the crux of the matter. For the first time, United States strategic views were publicly challenged, at first hesitantly, then ever more explicitly. Europe had by now gained sufficient self-confidence so that the mere enunciation of an American policy no longer guaranteed its acceptance. The pre-emptory way in which the United States proceeded added ruffled feelings to substantive disagreements. And France compounded these problems by giving European doubts their most extreme formulation.

But while European concerns were understandable and inherent in the relationship which had grown up between Europe and the United States in the strategic field, by 1961 a

But while European concerns were understandable and inherent in the relationship which had grown up between Europe and the United States in the strategic field, by 1961 a changing technology had made a reassessment of NATO doctrine essential. Traditional NATO strategy assumed United States strategic preponderance. This superiority enabled us not only to prevent an attack on the United States but also to protect our Allies by what amounted to a unilateral American guarantee. The Soviet Union did possess superior conventional strength. But it could not use it for fear of triggering the Strategic Air Command. It could not attack the United States at the same time as Europe—even after it became technically able to do so—because, while this would have increased American losses, a Soviet defeat would nevertheless have been inevitable. Until the middle sixties, the security of NATO thus depended essentially on the ability of the United States to destroy the Soviet retaliatory power—technically speaking, on the American capacity to conduct a counterforce disarming strategy.

Any prudent planning for NATO in the sixties had to start from the assumption that the utility of a counterforce strategy—in the sense of an ability to disarm the opponent—for the defense of Europe is bound to decline. Indeed, Secretary McNamara's statements in 1962 about the efficacy of a disarming strategy, while technically correct at the time they were made, were misleading if applied to forseeable conditions. In the years ahead, the strategic and political significance of our numerical superiority in strategic weapons is certain to diminish.

For one thing, the more sophisticated missile systems which are now, or soon will be, in operation are dispersed, thus preventing one attacking missile from destroying more than one on the ground. Also, many missiles are protected in hardened underground sites, which means that more than one attacking missile is necessary to destroy a defending one. Other missiles will be mobile or based at sea, creating the need for coordinating many different forms of attack. These factors will greatly magnify the force required for a successful counterforce "disarming" strike.

The constantly mounting complexity of staging a missile attack is bound to reduce the political utility of a counterforce "disarming" strategy—perhaps even faster than is warranted by purely military considerations. In the face of risks that are certain to grow dramatically, it will become more and more difficult to convince political leaders to rely on a strategy based on fragmentary intelligence and to use large numbers of weapons for which there is no wartime operational experience. Even if the proportion of the opposing strategic force which we can destroy remains constant throughout the sixties—an unwarrantedly optimistic assumption—the absolute number left will rise. Thus the Soviet capability to devastate NATO countries in a counterblow will inevitably increase.

These factors are certain to reduce any President's readiness to initiate general war. For us to have pretended other-

35

wise would have been sheer irresponsibility. Even our best efforts will not prevent the credibility of a counterforce "disarming" strategy from declining in the years ahead. It will grow ever more difficult to convince the Soviets that such a capability exists or that we are prepared to run the risks it involves. This problem has been accurately described by Secretary McNamara as follows:

> Fully hard ICBM sites can be destroyed but only at great cost in terms of the numbers of offensive weapons required to dig them out. Furthermore, in a second-strike situation we would be attacking, for the most part, empty sites from which the missiles had already been fired.

The value of trying to provide a capability to destroy a very high proportion of Soviet hard ICBM sites becomes even more questionable in view of the expected increase in the Soviet missile-launching submarine force...¹⁶

¹⁶ McNamara. *Military Procurement Authorizations: Fiscal Year 1964; Senate Armed Services Committee (88th Cong., 1st sess., 1963)*, p. 41.

But if the United States was correct in insisting that an adaptation of NATO strategy was necessary, it was less sensitive to the political and psychological implications of its insight. It is not necessary to agree with General Gallois that growing nuclear capabilities end all possibility of alliance to recognize that they bring about a drastically changed situation. Ultimately, it could lead to a merging of sovereignty within the Atlantic area. But until this comes to pass, the increasing vulnerability of civilian populations has produced a gap between the technical requirements of the new strategy and the political realities of an alliance of sovereign states. United States strategic doctrine seeks to make any American nuclear response depend on decisions taken in the light of circumstances when aggression is actually taking place. The very quality of deliberation which makes this strategy militarily desirable for the United States raises the latent possibility of a unilateral change of heart for our Allies. This is all the more true because the decisions to implement the strategy will have to be made under the unprecedented stress of actual or imminent nuclear war. The central command and control system, which is the key feature of the new doctrine, is American. The United States will determine—to the extent that the enemy cooperates—how and with what weapons the war is to be fought and on what terms it will be concluded.

These insecurities were reinforced by simultaneous American pressures for the build-up of conventional forces. Secretary McNamara has argued that a build-up of conventional forces by the Europeans—indeed, a specialization by the Europeans in conventional weapons—would enhance the credibility of the nuclear arsenal:

> If we have shown ourselves able and ready to engage in large-scale non-nuclear warfare in response to a Communist provocation, the Soviets can hardly misconstrue two things: first, that we regard this provocation as a challenge to our vital interests; and second, that we will use nuclear weapons to prevail, if this becomes necessary.¹⁷

¹⁷ McNamara, address before the Fellows of the American Bar Foundation, Chicago, Illinois, February 17, 1962, op. cit., p. 9.

This estimate has left many Europeans unconvinced.

¹⁷ McNamara, address before the Fellows of the American Bar Founda-
tion, Chicago, Illinois, February 17, 1962, op. cit., p. 9.

This estimate has left many Europeans unconvinced. This is not because the Europeans fail to understand the notion of flexible response—though they do have trouble with some of its subtler applications. Rather it is that they reject its applicability for themselves. When the issue is Asia or Latin America, Europeans usually conceive even more “options” than the United States. With respect to the defense of Europe, their attitude is more rigid. Europeans are likely to agree with the following assessment of Soviet intentions by Secretary of the Navy Paul Nitze (then Assistant Secretary of Defense for International Security Affairs):

Communists demonstrate both a proclivity for bold political actions against a background of impressive military force and also careful calculation of risks and a staunch desire to keep events under their own control. Because they can be expected sensibly to avoid high risks of nuclear war or events leading to it, their military actions against the West at any one moment are likely to be controlled in size and aimed at limited objectives. [emphasis added.]¹⁸

¹⁸ Paul H. Nitze, address before the Cleveland Council on World Affairs, Cleveland, Ohio, March 2, 1963. Cited in William W. Kaufmann, *The McNamara Strategy* (New York: Harper & Row, 1964), pp. 130-131.

But most Europeans would not consider that an attack on Central Europe could involve limited objectives. If Secretary Nitze is correct in his view that the Soviets recoil before a high risk of nuclear war, then a limited attack in Europe is likely only if the American nuclear guarantee has lost some of its credibility. Therefore, in the eyes of Europeans, a few additional conventional divisions may seem too insignificant to affect the conventional balance but significant enough to produce concern about possible American reluctance to face the risks of nuclear war.

This is well illustrated by reactions to the European argu-
ments which we have used to justify the strengthening of
NATO's conventional forces. The purpose of the conventional
forces has been said to be to provide a "pause" in military
operations in order to permit the Soviets to "appreciate the
wider risks involved." The ground forces, in other words, are
supposed to define a "threshold" below which nuclear weap-
ons would not have to be used.

These arguments did not increase the European willingness to undertake a conventional build-up; instead they raised the issue of nuclear control in acute form. To begin with, it is far from certain that the Soviets will, in fact, confront increased risks of nuclear war after a given period of conventional conflict. Presumably the Soviets would have discounted in advance the threat of nuclear retaliation before launching a major attack on Central Europe. But if such an attack does take place, why should NATO's bargaining position be better at the end of a period of thirty days (the usual target date for the build-up)—when NATO's conventional forces would have presumably been decimated—than at the beginning? What if at that point the Soviets offered to negotiate after having gained possession of their prize? If nu-

36

clear war is too risky for the West at the start of the conflict, why should it not be even more risky when the local issue has in effect already been decided and when the devastation caused by a nuclear exchange may make the local situation seem irrelevant? If, on the other hand, it is argued that the Soviets would never dare to defeat NATO's ground forces lest this trigger a nuclear exchange, what is gained by increasing the number of NATO divisions beyond a level which forces the Soviets into a major commitment?

The same difficulty applies to the concept of a "threshold." This was defined by the then Deputy Secretary of Defense, Roswell Gilpatric, as follows: "The current doctrine is that if NATO forces were about to be overwhelmed by non-nuclear attacks from the bloc countries, NATO would make use of nuclear arms." ¹⁹ This raises two questions: (1) Who determines whether the NATO conventional forces are being overwhelmed? (2) Assuming this determination is made, how are nuclear weapons then to be used?

With respect to the first of these issues, a question of definition arises: are the NATO forces "overwhelmed" when they are simply pushed back but still largely intact? What if the Soviets mass clearly overwhelming power in Eastern Europe, but have not yet launched an attack? If nuclear weapons are useful to prevent this contingency, why not to prevent others? Or it could be that in an otherwise successful defense, individual units of, say, division size would suffer setbacks. In view of the dispersal of nuclear weapons in Europe to divisional levels and below, it is likely that the location of nuclear stockpiles and delivery vehicles would decide the question of using nuclear weapons. In short, the deployment of nuclear weapons in Europe has been inconsistent with the announced United States strategic preference. This has raised the question about which is a better key to United States intentions: the pronouncements of our highest defense officials or the disposition of our forces.

Assuming, however, that it is possible to determine that NATO's conventional forces are being overwhelmed, this only shifts the concern to the issue of how nuclear weapons are to be used and who makes the decision to use them. If nuclear weapons are to be used only when NATO forces are at the point of being defeated, what is the sense in the nuclear establishment in Europe? If we assume that both sides have tactical nuclear weapons in adequate numbers and sizes, it is far from clear that the employment of these weapons would favor the defense at that stage of a battle. After a breakthrough has been achieved, battlefield employment of nuclear weapons may well favor the offense, whose units can by then be dispersed while the defense has to move into predictable areas. In short, if nuclear weapons are ever to be used tactically, it is likely that the optimum, perhaps the only appropriate, moment is early in military operations, or at least while the ground forces are reasonably intact and Soviet reserve forces have not yet appeared on the battlefield. If nuclear weapons are not to be used tactically, what is the sense of increasing their number in Europe?

These questions become all the more acute because the

least while the ground forces are reasonably strong, if not quite as strong as they were before. reserve forces have not yet appeared on the battlefield. If nuclear weapons are not to be used tactically, what is the sense of increasing their number in Europe?

These questions become all the more acute because the choice between nuclear and conventional war is no longer entirely up to the West. Whatever its preference, NATO will have to prepare for the introduction of nuclear weapons by the opponent. Any war will be nuclear, whether or not nuclear weapons are used, in the sense that deployment—even of conventional forces—will have to take place in a nuclear environment.

This in turn casts doubt about the feasibility of a large-scale conventional war in Central Europe. Preparations for such a war would have to assume that the Soviet Union discounts not only our strategic nuclear capability but also NATO's growing tactical nuclear establishment; for the United States has repeatedly announced that it would not accept a conventional defeat in Europe without using nuclear weapons. Even if the Soviets do not believe that we would risk the destruction of American cities by attacking the Soviet homeland, they can hardly expect that we would let the large stockpile of tactical nuclear weapons in Europe simply fall into their hands. Moreover these weapons are extremely vulnerable. Is it really sensible to assume that the Soviets would launch a large-scale conventional attack in Central Europe—which they would, of course, expect to win—without seeking to neutralize the nuclear weapons on the continent?

²⁰ For a splendid analysis of this problem of the conventional defense of Europe see Bernard Brodie, "What Price Conventional Capabilities in Europe," *The Reporter*, Vol. 28, No. 11 (May 23, 1968), pp. 25-33.

The issue of conventional defense has been muted since early in 1964 because the United States has apparently had second thoughts about its previous course. But it lasted long enough to make the issue of nuclear control one of the central unresolved problems of the Alliance. As long as the United States insists on central control over the nuclear weapons of the Alliance, as well as total freedom of action with respect to them, the European incentive in the development of strategy is likely to be exactly the opposite of ours. Rather than permit a "pause" for "appreciating the wider risks involved," Europeans prefer to make our response as automatic as possible.

This has little to do with whether the United States could "afford" to lose Europe. It is rooted in the nature of sovereignty and is made more acute by the destructiveness of nuclear weapons. Robert Bowie has criticized British nuclear policy before the Assembly of the Western European Union as follows: "Britain... has retained a national command structure and the right to withdraw them at its option. This means that they *certainly* could not be counted upon by any of the others to be available in case of need."²¹ [emphasis added]. If this concern is valid when applied to British nuclear forces, which are, after all, assigned to NATO, it must be even stronger regarding United States strategic forces which remain under exclusive American control.

²¹ *Proceedings, Assembly of Western European Union, Ninth Ordinary Session, Second Part, IV. December 1963, p. 125.*

37

The debate about the level of conventional forces has hurt the Alliance in two other respects. It is dangerous to insist that a given form of defense is essential when allies are unable or unwilling to support it. Failure to reach the announced goals can then foster either a sense of impotence or a policy of neutrality. Moreover, as leader of the Alliance, the United States has a responsibility to consider whether its preferred schemes can be maintained over an extended period. If not, their benefits must be weighed against the loss of confidence engendered by frequent shifts of position. It is already apparent that in both Washington and London there is growing support for the view that conventional forces in Europe can be reduced. Such a step would have had unfortunate political consequences at any time; occurring two years after insistent American pressures that these forces be built up, the negative impact will be greatly increased.

If the United States has lacked consistency and, occasionally, psychological insight, some of our European critics have not helped matters by their insistence that existing NATO doctrine is sacrosanct and by the deliberate tendency—especially on the part of France—to put the worst possible construction on our actions. United States proposals for strengthening conventional forces have been treated with the same panic as later hints that some American troops might be withdrawn. Most Europeans do not want to give conventional forces a larger role because they fear that it will diminish the effectiveness of the nuclear deterrent. But they also have resisted a reduction of United States forces because they believe these represent the surest guarantee of American nuclear protection. It is just as difficult for Europeans to face the fact that these attitudes are inconsistent as it has been for Americans to admit that increased emphasis on local defense is incompatible with United States hegemony in nuclear matters.

The problem can then be summed up as follows: Exclusive United States control of nuclear strategy is politically and psychologically difficult to reconcile with a strategy of multiple choices or flexible response. The European refusal to assign a meaningful military mission to conventional forces in Europe is incompatible with the indefinite retention of large United States forces there. If the United States places a high enough value on conventional defense, it will have to concede Europe a measure of autonomy in nuclear control. Or else it will have to move to an effective sharing of political sovereignty. If the Europeans want to insist on an automatic nuclear response, a reconsideration of our conventional deployment on the Continent will become inevitable. Refusal to face these facts will guarantee a perpetuation of present disputes and increasing disarray within NATO.

## NATO'S NUCLEAR DILEMMA

NATO's nuclear dilemma has developed because there is an increasing inconsistency between the technical requirements of strategy and political imperatives of the nation-state. Three factors have produced the difficulty: (1) the need for centralized control of military operations, (2) the desire of

increasing inconsistency between the technical requirements of strategy and political imperatives of the nation-state. Three factors have produced the difficulty: (1) the need for centralized control of military operations, (2) the desire of each major ally to have substantial influence on common decisions, especially during crises, in defining the *casus belli* and in participating in the planning of the controlled operations foreseen by the doctrine of flexible response and (3) the wish of the major allies to share in the prestige and the political power which control of nuclear weapons confers or is thought to confer.

The dilemma arises because there is no scheme which can reconcile these objectives perfectly so long as the Atlantic Alliance remains composed of sovereign states. The occasional bitterness of the debate is at least in part due to the fact that neither the United States nor its European critics has been prepared to admit that a genuine conflict of interests exists. The only political solution that could resolve this contradiction is unattainable in the foreseeable future. Turning over *all* the nuclear weapons of the Alliance to an authority embracing the North Atlantic area—a supranational political and defense community which would be essentially a federal government. In the absence of such an embracing political structure, a clash of interests is inevitable.

This is illustrated by two United States policies: (1) the sharp attack on the national nuclear forces of Britain and France and (2) the various schemes to achieve central command and control over the nuclear weapons of the Alliance within the present framework of NATO.

With respect to national nuclear forces, Great Britain since 1951 and France since 1958 have been engaged in a program to develop nuclear capabilities under their own control. In 1954, an amendment to the McMahon Act made possible United States nuclear assistance to Great Britain. The provisions of the amended McMahon Act have never been extended to France. This discrimination has been a constant source of irritation in Franco-American relations—and would have been regardless of which government was in power in France.

United States policy, which had been tolerant of the nuclear programs of its Allies, grew increasingly hostile from 1961 onward. The French nuclear program was described as irrelevant and harmful to the Alliance. The same criticisms, if more muted, were applied to the British nuclear program. The tension inherent in an attack on major defense programs of two close allies exacerbated the debate about other aspects of NATO strategic doctrine—particularly the role of conventional weapons.

United States opposition to the British and French nuclear programs was supported by the following major arguments: There was no strategic need for national nuclear forces since all significant targets were already covered by United States strategic forces. National nuclear forces were divisive because their very existence implied distrust of the United States. They were wasteful and would divert resources from the conventional build-up which should be the

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primary NATO effort. They would promote nuclear proliferation. National nuclear forces would make impossible the flexible response which was the key to United States strategy. They were too small and too vulnerable to concentrate on military targets. And if they attacked population centers, the enemy in rage and frustration would retaliate against the civilian population of the United States.

Regardless of the merits of these arguments, they were certain to lead to a bitter, divisive debate. A full-scale theoretical onslaught on major programs of close allies impelled their governments to elaborate a doctrine to justify them which, in turn, could not help but stress conflicting interests with the United States. The political impact of United States views thus went far beyond the technical arguments in which they were couched. To ask a government to confess the bankruptcy of a policy which it has pursued at heavy expense for over a decade is to undermine its domestic position and to evoke reactions of hostility. We might ask ourselves how an American administration would respond if an allied government publicly and repeatedly insisted that one of our major programs was "divisive," "dangerous" and "useless."

Apart from the involvement of the United States strategic doctrine in the domestic disputes of close allies, arguments involved a difference in perspective with our Allies even on purely military grounds. Our European critics have identified the doctrine of flexible response with the concept, enunciated by Secretary McNamara at Ann Arbor in 1962, of counterforce operations confined to military targets and designed to disarm the enemy. Many of them consider this concept unrealistic. To densely populated Europe, the distinction between military and civilian targets seems rather ephemeral. While not objecting to a "disarming" strategy as one possible option, some of our European Allies see no compelling reason to subordinate all considerations to what may well be a very remote contingency.

This is all the more true because United States pronouncements are postulating a scenario for general nuclear war that seems somewhat remote. In his presentations to the Armed Services Committee in 1963 and in 1964, Secretary McNamara described only one contingency for general nuclear war: a full-scale Soviet nuclear attack on the United States concentrating on military targets. The United States would then respond by attacking Soviet residual forces and other targets.²²

²² In his testimony before the Armed Services Committee in January 1964, Secretary McNamara associated the defense of Europe with *tactical*, not *strategic*, nuclear weapons should the conventional forces prove inadequate. Thus, in his report to the Armed Services Committee on the Fiscal Years 1965-1969, Defense Program and Defense Budget (January 27, 1964), Secretary McNamara said:

> ... a large-scale Soviet attack on Western Europe... would be extremely dangerous to our own security, and would compel us to respond immediately with whatever force was needed to halt the onslaught, even with tactical nuclear weapons, if necessary. [emphasis added]. (pp. 56-57).

And a little further on, when discussing General Purpose Forces, Secretary McNamara said:

(1) The forces envisioned in NATO plans for the end of 1966... could hold an initial Soviet attack on the central front using non-nuclear means alone; (2) Until these requirements are met, the defense of Europe against an all-out Soviet attack, even if such an attack were limited to non-nuclear means, would require the use of *tactical* nuclear weapons on our part. [emphasis added]. (p. 58).

(1) The forces envisioned in NATO plans for the end of 1966... could hold an initial Soviet attack on the central front using non-nuclear means alone; (2) Until these requirements are met, the defense of Europe against an all-out Soviet attack, even if such an attack were limited to non-nuclear means, would require the use of tactical nuclear weapons on our part. [emphasis added]. (p. 58).

But it is not clear what could possibly tempt even a rash Soviet planner into such a course or why the Soviets would then attack American missile sites. As long as the present numerical imbalance between Soviet and American strategic forces remains, the Soviets could not conceivably benefit from launching a blow against the United States strategic forces. Even if every Soviet missile destroyed an American delivery vehicle, the Soviets would have disarmed themselves and would find themselves confronted with a large American force unrestrained by any Soviet threat.

In short, a "disarming" strategy cannot be an optimum strategy for both sides. Soviet military theorists have consistently denied the possibility of the kind of war described by Pentagon officials. This would not be decisive were it not in accord with the realities of the strategic equation; for a war confined to military targets, even if it were technically feasible, cannot be in the interest of the weaker side. As the United States reduced the Soviet retaliatory force, the sensible strategy for the Soviets would be to begin attacking objectives of great value to America, such as cities, perhaps "controlling" their response by destroying some smaller towns first.

This is another way of saying that flexible response should not be confused with counterforce strategy. The Soviets may well have an incentive to "control" their response, but not necessarily to direct their attack against military targets. This situation is likely to multiply pressures either for European nuclear forces or for a more effective voice in ours. As has been frequently pointed out by Pentagon spokesmen, the Soviet delivery vehicles aimed at Europe far exceed in number those deployed against the United States. It has also been emphasized that even a "controlled" nuclear war would produce far greater casualties in Europe than in the United States, exceeding the tens of millions estimated for North America. In these conditions, it is understandable that some Europeans have come to the conclusion that Europe must have its own means of retaliation in order to discourage the Soviets from using Europe as a hostage in the Soviet version of "flexible response."

In order to meet these concerns, the Kennedy Administration in 1961-1962 offered a number of schemes which sought to combine assurances about the availability of American weapons with undiluted American control. However, these schemes missed the central concern of our Allies which was not technical but political: A centralized military strategy was possible only if the United States was prepared to yield at least some of the freedom of action in the political realm that it was asking its allies to give up in the military field. The issue of nuclear control emphasized that NATO required a mechanism for managing political crises even more than a military staff for planning a war.

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This is illustrated by the initial United States proposals for nuclear control, which concentrated on such gestures as “earmarking” and “assignment” of nuclear weapons to NATO. Thus in May 1961 President Kennedy formally offered to “commit to the NATO command five—and subsequently still more—Polaris... submarines... subject to any agreed NATO guidelines on their control and use.”²³ This pledge was de-

²³ John F. Kennedy, address to the Canadian Parliament, May 17, 1961, DOSB, Vol. XLIV, No. 1145 (June 5, 1961), p. 841.

claimed fulfilled by Secretary McNamara at the Athens ministerial meeting when he announced that five Polaris submarines had already been “committed” to NATO with more to come.²⁴ In his report to the House Armed Services Committee

²⁵ *New York Times*, May 6, 1962. No more submarines have, in fact, been assigned.

mittee of January 1963, Secretary McNamara announced that the United States had “earmarked a fully operational Polaris force to the NATO command.”²⁵

²⁶ Hearings on Military Posture, Committee on Armed Services, House (88th Cong., 1st sess., 1963), p. 298.

These measures were largely symbolic. In the absence of a political mechanism for managing crises and developing strategic doctrine, there was a serious question about the practical meaning of the term “assignment.” All forces in NATO are under national command in peacetime. NATO headquarters are planning outfits that control the forces “assigned” to them only during specified maneuvers or in war. Each ally retains the right to go to war according to its own constitutional processes. The right to withdraw forces is inherent, and “assignment” does not significantly restrict the independent disposition of NATO forces. This has been demonstrated by the United States withdrawal of forces from Germany for action in Lebanon, by the French withdrawal of its fleet from NATO, by the use of NATO-assigned forces by both Greece and Turkey during the Cyprus crisis and by the withdrawal of British forces from Germany for use in Malaysia. Thus the assignment of American and British strategic units to NATO does not significantly restrict the ability to use these forces for national purposes (or, what is even more relevant, to refrain from using them). The severely criticized escape clauses in the Nassau Agreement concerning national emergencies gave Britain no additional rights; if Britain were to abandon these clauses, by assigning its nuclear forces “irrevocably” to NATO, as has been proposed, this would not materially change the situation for the inconceivable case that it would be prepared to go to nuclear war without the United States.

But assuming that “assignment” does imply a higher degree of commitment, what precisely was its strategic significance? Did it mean that there was a stronger obligation to use submarines “assigned” to NATO than SAC in the defense of Europe? What was one to make of the phrase in the communique after the NATO ministerial meeting in Athens in May 1962 which stated that the United States and Great Britain had given “firm assurances that their strategic forces will continue to provide defense against threats to the Alliance beyond the capability of NATO-committed forces to deal with”?²⁶ Did this mean that there were two “thresholds” in

²⁶ Text of communique, *New York Times*, May 7, 1962.

NATO strategy: one between conventional and nuclear war

continue to provide defense against threats to the Alliance
beyond the capability of NATO-committed forces to deal
with"?²⁶ Did this mean that there were two "thresholds" in

²⁶ Text of communique. *New York Times*, May 7, 1962.

NATO strategy: one between conventional and nuclear war
and another between the strategic forces assigned to NATO
and the rest of SAC? If so, this would mean either that the
counterforce strategy on which the Administration had
staked so much would have to be abandoned or that the stra-
tegic forces under the control of SACEUR would have to be
vastly increased—at least to match the Soviet MRBM's sta-
tioned in Eastern Europe. In other words, before determin-
ing the significance of a rearrangement of the nuclear forces
within NATO there must be an agreed strategic doctrine; this
is now lacking.

It has been argued by some that the strategic forces ear-
marked for NATO can fill precisely this need by encouraging
joint Allied guidelines for their use. The significance of this
view depends on what is actually involved in an agreement to
joint guidelines. Are they to be conceived as a kind of
contingency plan for the employment of nuclear weapons,
provided the governments concerned agree to implement
these plans? Or are they to be considered as a delegation of
authority to use nuclear weapons in certain specified con-
tingencies without further reference to political authority?

If guidelines are to be interpreted in the former sense—as
a form of contingency war plan—they are a useful exercise in
Allied consultation. But in that case it is not clear why a
formal assignment to NATO is necessary of how the NATO-
committed Polaris forces are to be distinguished from other
strategic forces in the Alliance. Joint planning could and
should take place even with respect to forces not formally
assigned to the Alliance.

If, on the other hand, the guidelines are to be a form of
delegation of authority, serious problems would arise. It is
difficult to imagine any President agreeing to such an un-
precedented abdication of constitutional responsibilities.
And even if it were taken, it would probably compound the
problem. The predelegation of authority would be confined
to the most obvious and unambiguous cases. A guideline so
conceived will omit more cases than it specifies and thus raise
uncertainties precisely about the ambiguous cases that have
caused the greatest worries.

The dialogue on nuclear control thus has taken place on
two levels which rarely coincided. On strictly strategic
grounds, the United States doctrine is more nearly correct
than the alternative of its European critics; division of labor
within an alliance conceived as a unit *does* promote the most
efficient allocation of resources. What the United States over-
looked was that NATO is *not* a single political unit, nor is it
likely to be one in the foreseeable future. The blind spot of
the United States has been its unwillingness to face the politi-
cal implications of its strategic views: Central command and
control over all the nuclear weapons of the Alliance is incom-
patible with undiluted sovereignty. The United States cannot

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allies, once NATO's non-nuclear goals have been achieved."¹

¹ John F. Kennedy, "The Common Aims of Canada and the United States," speech at Ottawa, May 17, 1961, *DOSB*, Vol. XLIV, No. 1145 (June 5, 1961), p. 841.

In the course of the next year, administration spokesmen invited our Allies to analyze the problem and to develop a satisfactory control plan.

The two conditions put forward by the United States—a prior conventional build-up and European agreement about a control plan—suggested that the MLF scheme was not considered very urgent. Most of America's Allies doubted the need for a conventional build-up. They could not afford both to strengthen their ground forces and to contribute to a NATO nuclear force. Moreover, none of our Allies possessed sea-borne nuclear delivery vehicles. Since a command and control system for even a national nuclear force is far from a simple matter, the probability that they would develop a meaningful control system for a *multilateral* sea-borne force was not great. Indeed there were many in the administration who believed that the problem would be found insoluble. It was expected that the Allies would then ask the President to act as executive agent for the Alliance on nuclear matters.

When this did not happen, the United States in 1962 continued its gingerly approach to the MLF. In September 1962, McGeorge Bundy spoke hedgingly of a multilateral *European* force.

It would also be wrong to suppose that the reluctance which we feel with respect to individual, ineffective, and unintegrated forces would be extended automatically to a European force, genuinely unified and multilateral, and effectively integrated with our own necessarily predominant strength in the whole nuclear defense of the alliance. Any possible arrangements for assistance and cooperation in such an enterprise would, of course, require full consultation and approval by all appropriate agencies of our Government.²

² McGeorge Bundy, "Building the Atlantic Partnership: Some Lessons from the Past," speech on September 27, 1962, *DOSB*, Vol. XLVII, No. 1217 (October 22, 1962), pp. 604-605.

The speech said nothing about what the United States meant by "multilateral," "unified" or "integrated."

A month later Under Secretary of State Ball returned to the theme of a NATO nuclear force. He insisted that it was militarily unnecessary and he continued to stress the priority placed by the Kennedy Administration on the build-up of conventional forces. But he added:

> ...should o'her NATO nations so desire, we are ready to give serious consideration to the creation of a genuinely multilateral medium-range ballistic missile force fully coordinated with the other deterrent forces of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization.³

³ George W. Ball, "NATO and the Cuban Crisis," speech on November 16, 1962, *DOSB*, Vol. XLVII, No. 1223 (December 3, 1962), p. 835.

In the following weeks an American briefing team toured Europe to explain the American concept of a multilateral force, including the provision for crews of mixed nationality. It did not elicit a significant European response.

In December, Secretary Rusk spoke vaguely of a force "not... so heavily dependent upon the United States alone." But he stressed that it was up to the Europeans to formulate a concrete proposal:

We also have expressed our willingness, if our allies wish to do so, to consider a multilateral nuclear force which would not be so heavily dependent upon the United States alone. Now, we have not ourselves put forward a precise plan in this regard. This is something that our friends across the Atlantic would presumably wish to do if they conclude what it is they would like to propose in this field.⁴

⁴Dean Rusk, News Conference on December 10, 1962, *DOSB*, Vol. XLVII, No. 1227 (December 31, 1962), p. 995.

At the regular NATO ministerial conference in December 1962, the United States took no initiative with respect to the MLF. A week later at Nassau, however, the United States and Great Britain decided to subscribe part of their national nuclear forces to a NATO multilateral force:

Returning to Polaris the President and the Prime Minister agreed that the purpose of their two governments with respect to the provision of Polaris missiles must be the development of a multilateral NATO nuclear force in the closest consultation with other NATO allies. They will use their best endeavors to this end.⁵

⁵Text, Joint Communique and Attached Statement on nuclear defense systems issued on December 21, 1962, by President Kennedy and Prime Minister Macmillan, *DOSB*, Vol. XLVIII, No. 1229 (January 14, 1963), p. 44.

This was one of the many ambiguities in the Nassau Agreement, an exegesis of which absorbed energies on both sides of the Atlantic for many months. Did "multilateral" mean the assignment of national contingents to NATO as Great Britain argued? Or did it involve a commitment to create a mixed-manned, sea-borne force as the United States urged? For a few weeks after the Nassau Agreement, the term multilateral was in fact used interchangeably for either arrangement. Whatever the answer, it is obvious that until De Gaulle's press conference on January 14, 1963, the MLF was far from a high priority goal of American foreign policy.

Whatever the hesitations of the administration, they were resolved by De Gaulle's press conference. Within a week, Secretary Rusk said in a television interview that the United States would proceed with the MLF even without France (though he did not make clear whether he was using multilateral in the American or the British sense).⁶ On February

⁶Dean Rusk, "Today," NBC Television. January 21, 1963, *DOSB*, Vol. XLVIII, No. 1233 (February 11, 1963), p. 206.

9, the legal counsellor of the State Department, Abram Chayes, explicitly advanced the Multilateral Force as an alternative route to the Grand Design that De Gaulle had sought to block with his veto of Britain's entry into the Common Market.⁷

⁷Abram Chayes, "European Integration and American Foreign Policy," February 9, 1963, *DOSB*, Vol. XLVIII, No. 1236 (March 4, 1963), p. 321.

By March 1963, the United States had dropped the conditions of a non-nuclear build-up and of a prior European agreement on a control plan. Indeed, it now argued that a final decision on the control problem should await the actual creation of the Multilateral Force. Ambassador Livingston Merchant was assigned to carry out the negotiations to bring

Lc

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the Multilateral Force into being. On April 27, 1963, Under Secretary Ball laid down four criteria for the MLF: (1) There must be many participants. (2) The force must not be based predominantly in one country. (3) Through mixed-manning, the components must be made unavailable for withdrawal. (4) The decision-making must be collective. He went on to describe the MLF in glowing terms:

> The kind of multilateral force I have described has much to commend it. Not only is it the best means of dealing with the nuclear problem in the present political framework; it is also a means of promoting gradual and constructive evolution within that framework. The multilateral force would offer the great advantage of a further opportunity to work toward greater unity in Europe and closer partnership between Europe and the United States.⁸

⁸George W. Ball, "The Nuclear Deterrent and the Atlantic Alliance," speech April 26, 1963, DOSB, Vol. XLVIII, No. 1246 (May 13, 1963), p. 739.

During 1963 the MLF became the main focus of American NATO policy. The original posture of responding to European wishes was abandoned. American spokesmen ever more insistently urged the MLF as a major contribution to restoring Allied cohesion—indeed as the principal available step. Thus, on October 27, Secretary Rusk, speaking in Frankfurt, said:

> Such a multilateral missile fleet would be militarily effective. Its accurate and well-protected missiles would be counted toward the total needs of Western deterrence.

> It would strengthen Atlantic partnership by binding the United States and Europe in an inextricable nuclear tie. The missiles and warheads would be jointly owned and controlled; they could not be unilaterally withdrawn.

> And it would strengthen European cohesion by providing the presently nonnuclear powers an opportunity to share in ownership, manning, and control of a powerful nuclear force on the same basis as other members of that force.⁹

¹⁰Dean Rusk, "Toward a New Dimension in Atlantic Partnership," speech at Frankfurt on October 27, 1963, DOSB, Vol. XLIX, No. 1272 (November 11, 1963), p. 750.

The full apparatus of American persuasion—official, semiofficial and unofficial—pressed the MLF on our European Allies. In September 1964, Thomas K. Finletter, United States Representative at the NATO Council, went so far as to say: "As goes this fleet, so may go the defense of the West and our efforts to prevent war."¹⁰ There were strong intimations

¹⁰New York Times, September 11, 1964.

that if the other Allies procrastinated the United States would go ahead with the MLF as a German-American project —a position supported by Chancellor Erhard on October 6, 1964.

This onslaught overcame the initial reserve of many of our Allies. After brief hesitation, the Federal Republic agreed to the scheme. While its original motive may well have been to prove that the Franco-German Treaty of Collaboration was not inconsistent with continued loyalty to the Alliance, the Federal Republic soon became nearly as enthusiastic an advocate of the MLF as the United States. Greece, Turkey and Italy agreed in principle to participate. Britain,

laboration was not inconsistent with continued loyalty to the Alliance, the Federal Republic soon became nearly as enthusiastic an advocate of the MLF as the United States. Greece, Turkey and Italy agreed in principle to participate. Britain, Belgium and the Netherlands joined the other countries in a study of the technical feasibility of mixed-manning. France refused any degree of participation.

However, the large number of participants in the technical studies was deceptive. United States insistence made it difficult for allied governments to face the issue of the MLF on its merits. The defense ministries of our Allies (except in Bonn), which might be thought to have a vested interest in the MLF, were opposed or lukewarm, while the foreign offices, fearful of the political consequences of a refusal, were pressing it. The skepticism or indifference of the military was countered by the concern that flat rejection might jeopardize the American commitment to the defense of Europe.

Moreover, American negotiating tactics were deliberately designed to avoid difficult political issues. The complex problem of control was sidestepped. During 1964, American diplomacy concentrated on studies regarding the technical feasibility of mixed-manning. Efforts were also made to draft a charter for the operation of the MLF if the governments concerned later agreed to join. The negotiations thus had a curious aspect. Some governments, though indifferent, participated just to keep informed; others did not want to offend their senior ally. The United States and other advocates of the MLF, in turn, took the view that joining the technical discussions implied a commitment in principle to the MLF. The confusions thus engendered were amply demonstrated when, after having taken part in all the technical discussions, Belgium announced in November 1964 that it would not join the MLF after all. In January 1965 Turkey also withdrew from the MLF.

Thus the MLF—ridiculed by many when it first appeared, doubtfully received even under American pressure, perhaps accepted, except in Bonn, with the hope that it would never come to pass—took on increasing substance. By the end of October 1964, discussions had reached the following point: The MLF was to be composed of twenty-five surface ships, each carrying eight A-3 Polaris missiles with a range of 2,500 miles. Each ship was to be manned by crews drawn from at least three nationalities. No nation was to contribute more than 40 per cent of the total. Command of the ships was to be in proportion to the financial contribution. (In practice this would have meant that the Federal Republic and the United States would each contribute 40 per cent, leaving 20 per cent to be divided among the five or six other participants. The Federal Republic was to be by far the largest European contributor, paying close to 70 per cent of the European share.) The control system had not yet been decided, but it seemed certain that an executive body in which all participants were represented would make decisions, at least initially, on the basis of unanimity. The timetable called for signing a treaty on the MLF by the end of 1964, with ratification taking place sometime during 1965. The new British government was expected not to refuse a project that had already advanced so

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far. It was assumed that the smaller European countries
would follow the British lead. France would then be isolated.

But it was unrealistic to expect that so far-reaching a
scheme as the MLF could be pushed through without facing
the central political issues. The illusion that France would
stand idle at the emergence of a project that had the practical
consequence of isolating her was shattered. As American
pressure increased, French opposition came into the open,
and the Federal Republic was caught between the conflicting
views of its closest allies. The new British government began
to state misgivings about the MLF that had been muted by the
imminence of elections. The Secretary General of NATO,
Manlio Brosio, announced that in his view so radical a step
toward integration as the MLF required unanimous consent,
even of the countries not participating, thus giving France an
effective veto. The MLF, proposed to restore Allied cohesion,
became instead an additional element of discord.

At this point, President Johnson wisely removed Ameri-
can deadlines to permit a calmer consideration of NATO's nu-
clear problem. Whatever its ultimate fate, it is already clear
that many of the extravagant claims made for the MLF are
unfulfillable, and what will finally emerge may have little
relationship to the original project.

THE CASE FOR THE MLF

How did it happen that for nearly two years the MLF
became the focus of United States NATO policy? And why did
the United States stake so much on the issue of nuclear
control?

The MLF became the keystone of United States NATO policy because, as so often happens, several conflicting pressures and points of view in our bureaucracy suddenly coalesced. The immediate impetus, as we have seen, was SACEUR's requirement for medium-range missiles to counteract Soviet missiles aimed at Europe. This military requirement acquired a symbolic significance because of German uneasiness about the early versions of the doctrine of flexible response. Though German demands for reassurance about the continued validity of the American nuclear guarantee generally concerned the disposition and use of *tactical* nuclear weapons on German soil, they were interpreted in Washington as the forerunner of more sweeping proposals, which the MLF was designed to deflect.

Another motive behind the MLF was to prevent other
Allies from following the lead of Britain and France in de-
veloping national nuclear programs. To the extent that na-
tional weapons programs were justified by the unreliability
of American assistance, other Allies might be moved to de-
velop nuclear arsenals of their own. According to the line of
reasoning, the British nuclear program had produced the
French effort and the French program would inevitably
evoke similar aspirations in Germany.¹¹

¹¹ Indeed, President Kennedy saw the spread of nuclear weapons to countries that must have been startled to find themselves listed as possible candidates for the nuclear club. Thus, in his television interview of December 17, 1962, President Kennedy said: "The question is whether the United States should join in helping make France a nuclear power, then Italy, then West Germany, then Belgium. How does that produce security when you have 10, 20, 30 nuclear powers who may fire their weapons off under

countries that must have been startled to find themselves listed as possible
candidates for the nuclear club. Thus, in his television interview of December
17, 1962, President Kennedy said: "The question is whether the United
States should join in helping make France a nuclear power, then Italy,
then West Germany, then Belgium. How does that produce security when
you have 10, 20, 30 nuclear powers who may fire their weapons off under
different conditions?" (The CBS Television Network, Transcript of an Inter-
view with President John F. Kennedy, December 17, 1962, p. 13.)

The MLF was given additional impetus by the reluctance of the NATO nuclear powers to share their planning and strategic decisions with their non-nuclear Allies. The Nuclear Committee of the NATO Council, which was created in April 1962 to provide a forum for the nuclear powers to discuss their strategic policy, remained dormant. Proponents of joint planning hoped to fill this gap through the MLF.

Another pressure for the MLF came from American strategic doctrine. Though the United States Defense Department would have preferred that all nuclear weapons of the Alliance remain under American control, it accepted the MLF as the next best expedient—provided the American veto remained unimpaired. The Pentagon was further attracted by the proposition that the MLF might provide a “safety net” into which the nuclear Allies might jump in order to dispose of their nuclear arsenals.

An opposite view was taken by the advocates of European integration. Their objection to the nuclear programs of France and Britain was less that they divided the Alliance than that they divided Europe. Too weak to encourage self-reliance, too nationally oriented to provide a focal point for European loyalties, these programs prevented both European integration and the “dumbbell concept” of Atlantic partnership. It would be different with a European nuclear force. According to the European integrationists, both in the State Department and overseas, a European nuclear force would have the advantage of promoting European unity; and it would be strong enough to become a respectable partner for the United States. The MLF was accepted by Jean Monnet's influential Action Committee for a United Europe for precisely the opposite reason that the Pentagon resigned itself to it: The European integrationists (and their allies in the State Department) saw in the MLF the kernel of a separate European nuclear force. They supported the MLF because they wanted a new basis for uniting Europe, which would provide a bridge for eventual British participation.¹²

¹² For a splendid historical account of the MLF see Alastair Buchan, "The Multilateral Force: An Historical Perspective," Institute for Strategic Studies, Adelphi Papers, Number Thirteen (October 1964).

For the best statement on behalf of the MLF see Robert Osgood, *The Case for the MLF; A Critical Evaluation* (Washington: Washington Center of Foreign Policy Research, 1964).

These motives might have concealed each other out had it not been for President de Gaulle's press conference excluding Britain from the Common Market. Many American policymakers reacted with a sense of personal outrage and began to cast about for some suitable response. They chose the MLF partly because the French challenge seemed to base itself on nuclear autonomy, partly because the MLF happened to be the one "integrationist" project available and had a strong group of supporters within the government. In other words,

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conversion of the United States government from aloof re-
ceptivity to passionate advocacy of the MLF was less the result
of positive conviction than reaction to French intransigence.
Nothing had changed between December 10, 1962, when
Secretary Rusk stated that it was up to the Europeans to
formulate a plan with respect to the MLF, and January 21,
1963, when he first committed the United States to pressing
it—except De Gaulle's veto of Britain's entry into the Com-
mon Market. The MLF was an attempt to implement the
Grand Design without France and, if necessary, against it.

Once the United States committed itself to the MLF, the
official arguments on behalf of it went something like this:
The issue of nuclear control is the fundamental problem be-
fore the Alliance and the one in which American leadership
has been most explicitly challenged. The cohesion of the Al-
liance therefore requires that it be "solved." Only three solu-
tions are conceivable: American hegemony, which is psycho-
logically unacceptable; nuclear proliferation to other NATO
countries, which is politically divisive and strategically dan-
gerous; and the MLF which will give the Federal Republic
equal status while supplying a new impetus to European in-
tegration and strengthening Allied cohesion.

There were, however, several difficulties with this policy.
The first was the lack of clarity about our real objectives.
The MLF became the focus for many diverse hopes, and its
supporters had many contradictory motives. It was supposed
to revitalize NATO, yet reduce the role of France in Europe. It
was to prevent nuclear proliferation and yet satisfy alleged
German desires for a share of nuclear control. It simultane-
ously sought to meet requirements of the Pentagon for cen-
tral control over nuclear weapons and the hopes of many
Europeans for the emergence of a European nuclear force.
Perhaps these aims were not irreconcilable. But because an
explicit consideration of them was avoided in favor of the
technical problem of mixed-manning, the debate in the
winter of 1964 was mortgaged by many previous evasions and
ambiguities, some of them deliberate.

These inconsistencies became all the more serious because
the issue of nuclear control was inherently divisive. A project
which involved giving Germany access to nuclear weapons
was bound to bring on almost instinctive reactions of dis-
quiet, which were magnified by the hints from Washington
and Bonn that, if necessary, the United States and the Fed-
eral Republic might establish the MLF bilaterally. French
hostility compounded the uneasiness of almost all the other
Allies. To be sure, if the need was urgent the United States
might well have been justified to vindicate its leadership
position by pressing on despite Allied doubts. A great deal,
therefore, turns on the answer to two related questions: How
valid was the analysis which produced the MLF? How good
was the remedy?

THE MLF—WRONG PROBLEM,
WRONG ANSWER

The military case for the MLF has usually been put in
terms of the MRBM "requirement" developed by SACEUR in
the late fifties. However, this "requirement" reflects many of
the unsolved problems of NATO doctrine. Existing NATO doc-

The military case for the MLF has usually been put in terms of the MRBM "requirement" developed by SACEUR in the late fifties. However, this "requirement" reflects many of the unsolved problems of NATO doctrine. Existing NATO doctrine assumes that all the missiles necessary to eliminate the Soviet MRBM's should be under SACEUR's command. But should a counterforce mission deep into Soviet territory really be a top priority task of SACEUR? Indeed does it make any strategic sense when missiles on both sides are numbered in the hundreds and can be either hardened or mobile? In any event, the MLF as originally conceived is much too small to deal with the Soviet MRBM's by itself. Those who cite the SACEUR "requirement" on behalf of the MLF encourage later pressures for increasing its size so that it can conduct effective counterforce operations. This would require many more missiles than the 200 projected in initial MLF plans.

If, on the other hand, the task of neutralizing the Soviet MRBM's is to be given to the MLF in conjunction with SAC, it becomes relevant to inquire why it is necessary to have two nuclear forces in the Alliance in both of which the United States has the final say. Since SAC would be the key element in any coordinated strategy, the MLF is at best a cumbersome and costly device to accomplish what remains a necessity in any event: to give our Allies greater access to American strategic planning. In other words, if joint planning is confined to the MLF, it will be inadequate; if it is extended to cover all relevant strategic forces, the MLF is unnecessary.

However, the military case for the MLF has never been decisive. Successive SACEUR's have been at best lukewarm about the project. And until six weeks before it emerged as a principal objective of American NATO policy, our highest officials had declared the MLF militarily unnecessary.

The key argument on behalf of the MLF has always been political. Specifically, it was supposed to help prevent nuclear proliferation by providing a framework within which our nuclear Allies could abandon their nuclear programs. It was to discourage other Allies from entering the nuclear field. Above all, it was to give equal status to the Federal Republic in nuclear matters.

The first objective has been negated by the refusal of France and, to a lesser extent, of Great Britain to abolish their national forces. As for the other Allies, none except the Federal Republic has either the resources or the motivation for a national nuclear program. The issue then becomes whether the MLF is a good device for absorbing Germany's nuclear ambitions.

There is no doubt that the vitality of the Atlantic Alliance depends importantly on the long-term orientation of the Federal Republic. The Federal Republic must be treated as an equal partner and must be able to participate fully in developing common policies. It is another question whether access to nuclear weapons should have been made the criterion of equality. It will never be known whether a subcon-

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conscious desire for the possession of nuclear weapons did exist in Germany or what form it could have taken if it had. Was there a nuclear problem in Germany or did the United States create it—in the words of the former Defense correspondent of the London *Times*—by the passionate advocacy of its solution?

The trouble with self-fulfilling prophecies is that in retrospect it is impossible to demonstrate whether what happened was predicted or caused by the prophecy. The fact is that once the theory of a German appetite for nuclear weapons had become established, every German proposal was interpreted to become consistent with it. Thus, in 1960 Chancellor Adenauer stated that French and British possession of nuclear weapons should not give these countries a privileged position within NATO. The advocates of the MLF used this to demonstrate a veiled German desire for nuclear weapons. It is more likely that Chancellor Adenauer was concerned lest the Directorate proposed by President de Gaulle exclude the Federal Republic. It was a demand for political equality not necessarily for nuclear weapons.

A similar interpretation was put on the strategic views of former Defense Minister Franz Josef Strauss. He sought more information about the nuclear stockpiles in Germany, a guarantee that these would not be withdrawn without the consent of NATO and a degree of unspecified joint control over weapons fired from German soil.¹³ But Strauss' stated

¹³ See, for example, the *Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung*, April 21, 1962, concern was with the tactical nuclear weapons already in the NATO stockpiles and of a range not suitable for a retaliatory strategy.

Whatever the afterthoughts of Adenauer and Strauss, the question remains whether it would not have been wiser to take their statements at face value rather than gear our policy to guesses about their unstated desires. The spread of nuclear weapons to Germany was much more complicated than simply extending the British and French precedents. It was a grave error to act as if Germany by a unilateral decision could enter the nuclear field. No country faced greater obstacles in developing a national nuclear program. In the treaty which established the Western European Union and made German rearmament possible, the Federal Republic renounced the production or testing of nuclear weapons on its territory. There is a curious inconsistency between the proposition that the Federal Republic wanted nuclear weapons so badly that it might break that treaty and the argument that another treaty could then restrain this desire.

Moreover, the issue was hardly urgent. At least until the elections of 1969, it would have been impossible to mobilize domestic support within Germany for a national nuclear program. Any German government would have had to hesitate before taking a step which might have irrevocably ended all hopes for reunification. German restraint would have been all the more indicated because any attempt to develop German national nuclear weapons would have awakened latent distrust all over Europe. It is doubtful that NATO could have survived if the Soviet Union had used the existence of a German national nuclear program as a pretext to unleash a

man national nuclear weapons would have awakened latent distrust all over Europe. It is doubtful that NATO could have survived if the Soviet Union had used the existence of a German national nuclear program as a pretext to unleash a series of crises. No European country would have run major risks so that Germany might have nuclear weapons under national control.

For all these reasons it is probable that German nuclear demands would not have been articulated for the better part of a decade—if then. This interval could have been used to foster European political unity and an Atlantic political structure. The former would have diminished the significance of the nation-state; the latter might have allayed fears in the field of security. Concurrently with these longer term measures, it would have been essential to give Germany fuller access to political decision-making in the Alliance.

Such policies would have been far wiser than to become an advocate for German claims in the nuclear field, which the Federal Republic could not have articulated for itself. They would have dealt with the real pressures behind the spread of nuclear weapons within the Western Alliance. Was the French nuclear program—begun by De Gaulle's predecessors —really inspired by the example of Great Britain as so many of our policymakers seem to believe? It is likely that the experience of Suez, with its dramatic demonstration of how American and European policies and interests might diverge, was a more powerful catalyst than speeches in the House of Commons. The fact that we gave Britain a special status in East-West negotiations did more to emphasize the political utility of Britain's nuclear arsenal than the claims of British defense ministers. Thus whether the Federal Republic did in fact feel a sense of discrimination would depend above all on its political role. A scrupulous concern for German interests —especially in the conduct of East-West negotiations—and an intimate system of political consultation might well have met the demands likely to be advanced by any foreseeable German government in the sixties.

Instead, a vicious circle was created. The United States put forward a proposal based on a theoretical conception of German desires that the Germans felt obliged to accept because they did not want to thwart American wishes. What was originally intended as a device to tie the Federal Republic to NATO and the United States to Europe became an end in itself.

Regardless of whether the MLF grew up in response to German nuclear appetites or whether it stimulated them, it is unlikely to absorb whatever nuclear aspirations exist in Germany. Its primary role will be to shift the debate from the issue of the ownership of nuclear weapons to the issue of control of a force in which the Federal Republic is the largest European shareholder.

A great deal depends, therefore, on the solution of the complex issue of control of the MLF. During the MLF negotiations, strangely little attention has been paid to this problem. The United States has taken the view that since the Multi-

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lateral Force does not yet exist the issue of nuclear control
need not be faced until later. Official spokesmen have also
implied that the United States would be willing to consider a
modification of the initial control arrangements, including
giving up the veto.

Both of these arguments raise serious questions. Physical
operation of the MLF will offer next to no insight into the
problem of political control. Knowledge of how to operate a
missile-carrying ship is irrelevant to the issue of how a coali-
tion of sovereign states decides to enter a nuclear war. The
passage of time will serve only to buttress the bargaining
position of countries which will have made a major financial
contribution to the MLF and whose interests with respect to
its control arrangements are likely to diverge from ours.

The complexity of the issue of nuclear control is demon-
strated by the three kinds of nuclear forces that will exist in
NATO if the MLF comes into being. They are: (1) National
nuclear forces such as SAC, the French *force de frappe* and,
depending on its ultimate disposition, perhaps the British
deterrent—these would remain under exclusive national con-
trol. (2) Nuclear forces “assigned” to NATO that, depending
on the meaning attached to the word “assignment,” will be
available to NATO for planning purposes even though they are
also subject to national decision. (3) The MLF, which, at
least initially, can be activated only by unanimous consent.

An MLF in which each contributor has a veto will not
fundamentally change the situation with respect to nuclear
control in NATO. No country presently *unable* to initiate nu-
clear war would be able to do so, and no country *able* to go to
nuclear war could be prevented from doing so. No country
can be made to enter nuclear war through membership in the
MLF.

In case of disagreement with our European Allies, one of
two things would happen. If we decided to resort to nuclear
weapons against their wishes, the MLF would be inactive; but
we could use SAC and the Polaris submarines assigned to NATO.
If the situation were reversed—that is, if our Allies wished to
use nuclear weapons and we disagreed—neither the MLF nor
SAC could operate. In return for an expenditure of upward of
three billion dollars our Allies would obtain a veto over some
three per cent of our nuclear force while we retain complete
freedom of action with respect to the remainder. Can anyone
seriously believe that this can be a permanent state of affairs?

A force that multiplies safety catches and is too small for
its mission is certain to face pressure (1) to turn it into a
useful military instrument by increasing its size at least to the
level of the Soviet MRBM's in Western Russia and (2) to
dilute the unanimity principle to avoid paralysis in times of
crisis. These pressures are likely even among allies initially
indifferent or hostile to the MLF. Defense ministers will be
forced to justify continuing expenditures. They will feel
obliged to make the MLF a significant institution.

There have already been hints of things to come. The
German Defense Minister, Kai-Uwe von Hassel, has stated
that the veto of all the participants, while acceptable ini-
tially, will have to be reconsidered once the MLF has come
into being.¹⁴ In the United States, two possible solutions

German Defense Minister, Kai-Uwe von Hassel, has stated that the veto of all the participants, while acceptable initially, will have to be reconsidered once the MLF has come into being.¹⁴ In the United States, two possible solutions

¹⁴ Interview in *Christ und Welt* (October 23, 1963), p. 7.

have been proposed: (1) eventual surrender of the American veto and (2) the less radical suggestion that the United States retain its veto while the smaller contributors give up theirs.

Can the United States seriously consider giving up the veto? Robert R. Bowie, who originated the concept of the MLF and who has been one of its most influential defenders, has written:

> We should be ready to concede to a multilateral force the same degree of ultimate autonomy as has already been granted the British national force. The final outcome might take the form of either (1) an integrated NATO force in which the United States, *without a veto, would be one member*, [emphasis added] or (2) an integrated European force (without the United States as a member), closely coordinated with United States forces, but under ultimate European control.¹⁵

¹⁵ Robert R. Bowie, "Strategy and the Atlantic Alliance," *International Organization*, Vol. XVII, No. 3 (1963), p. 728.

It is not easy to see how so fateful a decision as the use of nuclear weapons can be abdicated to a majority vote of even very close allies. The Constitutional provision that a declaration of war requires the consent of two-thirds of the Senate may well prove insurmountable. The Congressional debate on such a proposition could not avoid discussing the circumstances in which a nuclear war might break out. This would force the administration to define contingencies in which in its judgment the use of nuclear weapons would *not* be appropriate. The doubts generated by such a debate would do more damage than any benefit it could possibly bring.

For precisely what would giving up the veto actually imply? Does it mean that when requested by a majority of our Allies we would agree to go to war with the small part of the total nuclear arsenal of the Alliance represented by the MLF while SAC remained inactive? Or does it mean that we would be prepared to go to war with our entire nuclear arsenal? The former interpretation would be utterly contrary to the strategic doctrine elaborated so persistently by Secretary McNamara and his associates. To enter nuclear war with only the MLF, which is a small part of the total nuclear force of the Alliance and one not exceptionally well-suited to discriminating targeting, would make no military sense. It would prevent a strategy of flexible response. And Soviet retaliation against a blow by a force in which we participate will surely not take into account our negative vote on the control body.

But if the second interpretation is correct—that we would be committed to go to war with our *entire* strategic force—then why must a special multilateral force be set up? If we are prepared to limit our sovereignty to this extent, it would be better to create a political control body for the Alliance as a whole and agree to go to war on the basis of majority vote.

[L]

47

Difficult as it will be to decide on a control mechanism for entering nuclear war, the political control over the actual military operations of the MLF will be even more complex. Who is to be responsible for changing planned targets (retargeting, in strategic jargon) or for determining the scale of individual attacks? How is the MLF to fit into wartime negotiations? How does one go about ending hostilities—on the basis of one vote or unanimity? With whom would the Soviet Union deal when nuclear operations are to be stopped? To evade these questions until irrevocable decisions are made is to invite endless controversy later on.

A final problem of control is raised by that aspect of the MLF which attracts many of its advocates: The international status of the crews produced by mixed-manning. If each national contingent is to remain responsive to national direction, the only problem is one of communications and the difficulty inherent in control by the threat of mutiny. If, however, the crews became international in outlook and if their loyalties came to transcend national ties—as the proponents of the MLF urge—serious control problems may develop in time. The unauthorized use of nuclear weapons by national military units—about which sensational novels have been written—is restrained by long traditions of civilian supremacy and by habits of obedience. International crews separated for long periods from their societies may be less subject to such inhibitions. To start integration in the nuclear realm before a corresponding political framework exists may thus create a dangerous imbalance.

What about the other claims being made by the advocates of the MLF? Will it eventually develop into a European nuclear force? Will it promote European integration? Secretary Rusk has praised the MLF because of its potential contribution to European cohesion.¹⁶ Deputy Assistant Secretary J.

¹⁶ Dean Rusk, "Toward a New Dimension in the Atlantic Partnership," DOSB, Vol. XLIX, No. 1272 (November 11, 1963), p. 730.

Robert Schaetzel has argued that:

> The multilateral force would also inevitably make easier the eventual development of a European nuclear force, should this be the desire and within the grasp of the Europeans.¹⁷

¹⁷ J. Robert Schaetzel, "The Nuclear Problem and Atlantic Interdependence," *Atlantic Community Quarterly*, Vol. 1, No. 4 (Winter 1963-64), p. 567.

The then Vice President Johnson said much the same thing:

> The movement to Atlantic partnership makes this MLF possible. The movement to European Unity makes this desirable—as a first step toward a greater European voice in nuclear matters. Evolution of this missile fleet toward European control, as Europe marches toward unity, is by no means excluded.¹⁸

¹⁸ Lyndon B. Johnson, address at Brussels on November 8, 1963, DOSB, Vol. XLIX, No. 1275 (December 2, 1963), pp. 853-854. See also Robert R. Bowie, speech before the Western European Union Assembly, December 3, 1963, op. cit., pp. 127-128.

The Action Committee for a United Europe, headed by Jean Monnet, has endorsed the MLF as the precursor of a European nuclear force.

Two problems are raised by the prospect of transforming the MLF into a European force: (1) the relative role of Germany and (2) the relationship of the United States to the force.

The problem of Germany is acute because participants in the MLF have been promised influence in the control body

The problem of Germany is acute because participants in the MLF have been promised influence in the control body and command over ships in proportion to their financial contribution. Thus, if there is to be a European point of view within the MLF, its spokesman is likely to be the Federal Republic.

Such a prospect is not in the interest of NATO, of European cohesion, of the Federal Republic or of international stability. It would push the most exposed ally into the forefront of every dispute. It would make the Federal Republic, which already has the largest conventional army, the most significant nuclear power in Europe as well. This would again raise fears that a decade and a half of far-sighted German policy have only begun to erase. It might fuse anti-American, anti-German and anti-nuclear feelings into a dangerous wave of neutralism.

Some of the advocates of the MLF argue that the prospect of German domination will make Britain and France more eager to join. This may be the case. But it is possible that Britain and France will in time move away from an alliance that threatens to turn into a special German-American arrangement. Even if the assumption proves correct, however, such a process of solving NATO's nuclear problem would be extremely worrisome. It would be better for the long-term stability and cohesiveness of Europe for the Federal Republic to join an institution in which France and Britain are the senior partners, than for Britain and France to be obliged to seek membership in a grouping to which Germany is the largest European contributor and in which ultimately it may play the same role as France does in the Common Market. History has been altered by smaller nuances.

Apart from the fear of German domination, the MLF is a poor chrysalis for a European nuclear force. Such a force could grow out of the MLF in only one of two ways: (1) by an American decision to withdraw from the MLF or (2) through a European request that we leave it. Either course would be divisive in the extreme. It is one thing for a European nuclear force to develop from the present national programs which have existed for many years. It is quite another for a European force to come about through a United States withdrawal, voluntary or forced, from a joint Atlantic enterprise. Such an act might raise serious doubts about the continued validity of America's commitment to the defense of Europe.

In short, to leave open the two most important and interrelated problems of the MLF—that of control and that of evolution of the force—will magnify tensions later. If the MLF comes into being, the United States may be haunted for years by the inconsistencies of its arguments on behalf of it. To the Federal Republic, the MLF has been represented as a device to give non-nuclear countries an increased participation in