Britain - 2

Mar 1974 - Harold Wilson (Labour)
Mar 1976
James Callaghan (For Sec) Lord Greenhill
Sir Peter Ramsbotham (UK Amb to Wash)

Ap 1976 - James Callaghan (Labour)
Sir Anthony Crosland (For Sec; died suddenly Feb 77)

HAK Out of Office (Jan 1977 - )

- May 1979
James Callaghan (serving since April 76)
David Owen (replaced Crosland as For Sec)

May 1979 - Margaret Thatcher (Cons.; re-elected 1983)
Lord Carrington (For Sec, until Falklands crisis)
Francis Pym (For Sec. after Carrington)
Sir Geoffrey Howe (started out in Exchequer; then For. Sec after Pym in post 83 election changes)
John Nott (Def Min during Falklands)
Michael Hazeltine (Def Min after Nott; resigned over Westland affair)
George Younger (Def Min after Hazeltine)
Nigel Lawson (Energy; then Exchequer after 83)
Peter Walker (Agric; then Energy)
UK Ambassadors: Oliver Wright; Antony Acland

Labour

Denis Healey
Michael Foot
Neil Kinnock ('83)

SDP

Roy Jenkins
David Owen

BRITISH POLITICAL SCENE

C13

PUBLIC AFFAIRS

all the Unionist M.P.s in protest at what they saw
as the first step towards a united Ireland and their
stand attracted the support of a number of senior
Conservative M.P.s, one of whom, Ian Gow, who
earlier had been one of Mrs. Thatcher's closest aides,
resigned from the Government. All but one of the
Unionists were re-elected in by-elections held in
January 1986. The Government's refusal to aban-
don the agreement, however, led to a one-day strike
in the province in February and threats of further
acts of defiance. On the economic front too, the
Government's hopes of major tax cuts were dashed
by a dramatic collapse in oil prices which cost the
Chancellor over £5 billion in tax revenue from North
Sea oil. Nonetheless, in his Budget in March, he
succeeded in cutting the standard rate of income tax
by 1% and in providing other tax concessions, thus
giving some help to his Party as it faced three diff-
cult by-elections. Overall the political outlook for
the next general election remained uncertain. The
Government's image was certainly tarnished and
the Prime Minister's position had been undermined
not only by the Westland affair itself but also by its
effect upon the composition of the Cabinet which in
1986 was less under her control than for some
years. But neither Labour nor the Alliance
appeared able to establish a clear ascendancy as
the main challenger and both had internal problems
to be overcome if either was to present itself as a
credible alternative government. This was con-
formed by the results of the May by-elections (the
Conservatives lost two - Fulham to Labour, Rye-
dale spectacularly to the Alliance - and just held on
to West Derbyshire) and of the local elections which
produced gains for Labour and the Alliance.

Major Government Decisions, May 1979-June 1986.

Economic Affairs

Reduction of Japanese standard rate of income tax to 30% (offset by increase in VAT to 15%)

Abolition of exchange controls

Reform of system of monetary control, including abolition of Minimum Lending Rate (re-introduced as temporary crisis measure in 1985).

Introduction of various schemes to reduce unemployment including major new Youth Training Scheme

Abolition of hire purchase controls

Education

Strengthening of position of parents on school governing bodies and in choosing schools for their children

Relaxation of obligation to provide school meals and milk

Introduction of Assisted Places Scheme to give financial support to enable certain pupils to attend independent schools

Decision to replace O Level and CSE with a new examination as from 1988

Foreign Affairs and Defence

Independence granted to Zimbabwe

Decision to permit US Cruise missiles to be stationed in Britain as from 1983

Decision to replace Polaris with US Trident missiles

Defeat of Argentinian invasion of Falkland Islands

and decision to create a large permanent garrison there

Agreement with China over future of Hong Kong
after expiry of British lease in 1997

Housing

Establishment of a charter for public sector tenants,
including the right to buy their homes

Industrial Relations

Provision for public funds to be used to pay for secret union ballots

Changes in the law relating to the closed shop, picking, unfair dismissal, trade union immunities, strike ballots, and election of union officials

Industry

Strengthening of Office of Fair Trading and Monopolies and Mergers Commission, including power to investigate misuse of monopoly by nationalised industries

Privatisation of public enterprises, including de-
nationalisation of British Aerospace, Cable &
Wireless, Britoil and British Telecom; introduc-
tion of competition into the bus and tele-
communications industries.

Creation of enterprise zones with special tax relief and industrial benefits, and of development corporations for London and Merseyside docklands

National Health Service

Ending of withdrawal of private beds from NHS hospitals

Reorganisation of NHS, including replacement of
area health authorities with a larger number of
district health authorities

Social Security

Reform of supplementary benefits system, includ-
ing linking of benefit rates to prices alone (rather
than prices and earnings)

Limit imposed on payment of supplementary benefit to strikers' families

End of index-linking of short-term social security benefits

Introduction of new sickness benefit arrangements

Other Decisions

Changes in the financial relationship between central and local government, strengthening central control with a new system of grants and restrictions on the powers of local authorities to levy rates

Abolition of Greater London Council and metropolitan county councils

Extension of franchise to British citizens resident abroad, and of postal voting to holidaymakers, increase in deposit at parliamentary elections

Redefinition of British citizenship and nationality and changes in the provisions relating to right of abode in the UK

Establishment of 4th TV channel 'under the Independent Broadcasting Authority except in Wales where a special authority was created to provide programmes in Welsh

Anglo-French decision to build Channel Tunnel.

74 *The Political Issues*

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 succeeding policy, by giving the impression of a special United States-German relationship, was in danger of eventually producing an estrangement of the other Allies. Finally, another change of course restored more balance to our European policy. 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 examine 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 Continent 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

The Best long-range, order have had the lea have seemed inco-ain from its com- to form one.

Yet it was pre- prevented Britair- Britain's history, Continent, which Britain's historic a powerful and u Europe, to submi stitute European tions, all this has few in Britain ha

The memory countries of the of the in to fight alone wracked by inte graphically close recent ally across Europe, before anyone or ing Britain fro Britain had ma

The more that parent it became making a new st the tremendous deserved respite undertake anoth national influenc by the memory enabled the Con ditional nostalgi during two diffi cious exertions had co

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement 75

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
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

weeks by

rage at
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iberate
French
more
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ence—
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ated by
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 European
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76 *The Political Issues*

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 Britain's exclusion from the Continent go deeper than one individual'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

Throughout, Britain's views on the organization of Europe 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 prepared than De Gaulle to join an "integrated," "supranational" 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

¹See Chapter 5.

The Berlin

a matter of degree. It would be a great error to suppose that Europe which would like Europe to be a confederation, a coalition to call it that—what des patries—which we hold in pride of individual defined spheres for the benefit of the concept more in tunnel countries and, in particular

The same thought then President of the

... we have seen in European *patrie* of a thought, that though of the conception of to say that neither be expressed views of the would our membership political federation.³

To be sure, Britain was less theoretical for American policies about the cooperative efforts violated not only

Resistance to such as well. Britain had power and not a bound up with relation. Its emotional "special relationship

This relationship

³Hansard, Fifth Session, 1490-1491.

⁴Ibid., Col. 1958.

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement 77

a matter of degree. I fully accept that there are some forces in 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

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

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

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

³ *Ibid.*, Col. 1958.

78 *The Political Issues*

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.

In the sixties, this policy became less effective for a number 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 wartime effort, despite the very great prestige gained by it, has diminished with time. As the postwar period progressed, many influential Americans have come to believe that Britain 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 Britain a preferential voice or even the appearance of it. They believe that Britain should be treated as simply one other

The Berlin

European country to

The two events influence in Washington and the cancellation of the armistice on condition that the latter shall take effect in two months' time; the action was to some extent then in the case of unfeeling American military personnel. After Supreme Generalobilization had been from Britain to substitute Maneuvering Headquarters, its influence while tion impossible to say.

But the "special relationship" is not being brought about a nation which, where Britain tends to extend the extent of Britain's States policy that she would be a guarantor of world peace, will be a champion of the market so ardent a market as that of the United States. The policy was thwarted.

It is possible, however, that the optimistic. To be have weighed he has been playing a leading role, and have been more less demanding.

*It is interesting to note, Suez. Britain, having suffered the same illusions about its de facto autonomy. The French Suez than of the British

79

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 demonstrated the end of Britain's capacity for major independent action; the latter showed the hollowness of Britain's aspiration 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 disappeared from British diplomacy.⁴ Britain increasingly tended to substitute maneuver for commitment and tried to add to its influence while reducing its responsibilities—a combination 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-

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.

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80 The Political Issues

ment's arguments on behalf of Britain's entry into Europe
always emphasized that only as part of a united Europe
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 amend-
ment to the United States Atomic Energy Act in 1954 permit-
ted United States assistance to the British nuclear program.
This corrected an inequity in the original law which, de-
spite 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 ve-
hicles 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 obsoles-
cence. 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. Be-
cause 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 devel-
opment in the United States, the ill-fated Skybolt.

Throughout the spring and summer of 1960, the Conserv-
ative 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 "independ-
ent" 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 mat-
ters, said, "the Americans have not bought it." The Con-

The Berli-
servative governme-
ment" by the United
contradicted by e-
Administration.

The debate be-
 Administration too-
McNamara publici-
nuclear forces. Th-
tion. In 1962, Haro-
for the Labor Part-
the United States
force strategically
effort would make
other directions. T-
ernment. Labor the
to produce a single
the United States V-
servative governme-

Thus, when the
ber 1962, condition-
tion. The uproar
with the technical
posture of Great E-
ble deterrent gap
bombers became o-
developed to repla-
on which Britain
which successive
dollars. British in-
ever its "real" sig-
death for the Co-
are notoriously slo-
ments that threat-
between President
which had been
situation after the

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement 81

servative government countered by referring to an "agree-
ment" 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 Opposi-
tion. 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 gov-
ernment. Labor then challenged the Conservative government
to produce a single official American statement affirming that
the United States valued the British deterrent. This the Con-
servative government was unable to do.

Thus, when the Skybolt program was canceled in Decem-
ber 1962, conditions were not conducive to calm delibera-
tion. 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-
ble 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
dollars. British independence in the field of strategy—what-
ever 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 argu-
ments 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

82 The Political Issues

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. British 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

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.

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.

The Berlin

The Nassau Agreement to reconcile integrative belief in the need for British desire for auto-

But the price was of the Nassau Agreement. For example, what British retaliatory for- ing the right of independent interest was an out shortly after the preme national inte- country considers the was the meaning of the best protection in "traordinary" conting- over, it was not clear in paragraph six—-to—- was the same as that the commitment in assigned to NATO or establish a mixed-m- urge the first interpr- latter one. Finally, the traditional notio- egy? Did it imply t were proposing to primarily with con-

Thus even an i discord than Presid- view the Nassau Ag- to the Nassau Agree- hostile. In German into a special nucle-

⁶See Chapter 5.

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement 83

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

⁶ See Chapter 5.

84 The Political Issues

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 between 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 Britain 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 strong risk of paralyzing it just at the moment, perhaps, when it should act.⁸

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

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

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement 85

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 is 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 is 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

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—all the more 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 contribu-

⁹ *Ibid.*, p. 218.

86 *The Political Issues*

tory 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 Common 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 prematurely. Britain had received an abrupt rebuff on the Skybolt 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 prospective 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 happened. 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

The Berlin Crisis and the Nassau Agreement 87

Gaulle's action exploded the premises on which much of previous thinking had been based. The belief in an automatic progression from economic to political integration suddenly 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 relationships 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 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.

The press conference of January 14, 1963, ushered in a period of frantic diplomatic activity in which the United

REFLECTIONS ON A PARTNERSHIP: BRITISH AND AMERICAN
ATTITUDES TO POSTWAR FOREIGN POLICY

BY HENRY A. KISSINGER

Introduction

Michael Howard, in his earlier lecture in this series, confirmed what I had suspected: that the United States deserves some of the credit for Britain's decision to create a Foreign Office in the first place. The Foreign Office was founded only a few months after the battle of Yorktown. The "politicians" of the time having just mislaid America, the need was evidently felt for some more professional machinery to run Britain's newly expanded sphere of "foreign" affairs.

Since then, Britain and America have never ceased to play important roles in each other's history. On the whole it has been a productive and creative relationship, perhaps one of the most durable in the history of nations. In the last 200 years, we have approached each other sometimes warily, and dealt with foreign affairs often from different perspectives. Still, on balance the relationship has been of considerable benefit to world peace. This has been true particularly of the period since the Second World War.

All accounts of the Anglo-American alliance during the Second World War and in the early postwar period draw attention to the significant differences in philosophy between Franklin Roosevelt and Winston Churchill reflecting our different national histories. America, which had never experienced a foreign threat to its survival, considered wars an historical aberration caused by evil men or institutions; we were preoccupied with victory defined as the unconditional surrender of the Axis. Britain had seen aggression take too many forms to risk so personal a view of history; she had her eyes on the postwar world and sought to gear wartime strategy toward forestalling Soviet domination of Central Europe. Many American leaders condemned Churchill as needlessly obsessed with power politics, too rigidly anti-Soviet, too colonialist in his attitude to what is now called the Third World, and too little interested in building the fundamentally new international order towards which American idealism has always tended. The British undoubtedly saw the Americans as naive, moralistic, and evading responsibility for helping secure the global equilibrium. The dispute was resolved according to American preferences--in my view, to the detriment of postwar security.

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Fortunately, Britain had a decisive influence over America's rapid awakening to maturity in the years following. In the 1940s and 50s our two countries responded together to the geopolitical challenge of the Soviet Union and took the lead in creating the structures of Western cooperation for the postwar era which brought a generation of security and prosperity.

In the process a rather ironic reversal of positions took place. Today it is the United States that is accused of being obsessed with the balance of power, and it is our European allies who are charged by us with moralistic escapism.

I believe that the extraordinary partnership among the democracies will overcome the occasional squabbles that form the headlines of the day and, even more important, meet the objective new challenges that our countries face.

## Philosophies of Foreign Policy

The disputes between Britain and America during the Second World War and after were, of course, not an accident. British policy drew upon two centuries of experience with the European balance of power, America on two centuries of rejecting it.

Where America had always imagined itself isolated from world affairs, Britain for centuries was keenly alert to the potential danger that any country's domination of the European continent--whatever its domestic structure or method of dominance--placed British survival at risk. Where Americans have tended to believe that wars were caused by the moral failure of leaders, the British view is that aggression has thrived on opportunity as much as on moral propensity, and must be restrained by some kind of balance of power. Where Americans treated diplomacy as episodic--a series of isolated problems to be solved on their merits--the British have always understood it as an organic historical process requiring constant manipulation to keep it moving in the right direction.

Britain has rarely proclaimed moral absolutes or rested her faith in the ultimate efficacy of technology, despite her achievements in this field. Philosophically, she remains Hobbesian: She expects the worst and is rarely disappointed. In moral matters Britain has traditionally practiced a convenient

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form of ethical egoism, believing that what was good for Britain was best for the rest. This requires a certain historical self-confidence, not to say nerve, to carry it off. But she has always practiced it with an innate moderation and civilized humaneness such that her presumption was frequently justified. In the nineteenth century, British policy was a--perhaps the--principal factor in a European system that kept the peace for 99 years without a major war.

American foreign policy is the product of a very different tradition. The Founding Fathers, to be sure, were sophisticated men who understood the European balance of power and skillfully manipulated it to win independence. But for a century and more after that, America, comfortably protected by two oceans--which in turn were secured by the Royal Navy--developed the idiosyncratic notion that a fortunate accident was a natural state of affairs, that our involvement in world politics was purely a matter of choice. Where George Canning viewed the Monroe Doctrine in terms of the world equilibrium, "causing" the New World into existence to redress the balance of the Old, "Americans imagined the entire Western Hemisphere a special case, safely insulated from the rest of the world. We had created a nation consciously dedicated to "self-evident" truths, and it was taken for granted in most American public discourse that our participation (or non-participation) in the world could be guided exclusively by moral precepts. That geography gave us this luxury was only evidence of God's blessing upon us; we owed Him that quid pro quo. The competitive, sometimes cynical, and always relativistic style of European power politics was viewed in America as an unsavory example of what to avoid and as further evidence of our moral superiority.

In American discussion of foreign policy, even through much of the twentieth century, the phrase "balance of power" was hardly ever written or spoken without a pejorative adjective in front of it--the "outmoded" balance of power, the "discredited" balance of power. When Woodrow Wilson took America into the First World War, it was in the expectation that under American influence the postwar settlement would be governed by a "new and more wholesome diplomacy" transcending the wheeling and dealing, secrecy, and undemocratic

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practices that were thought to have produced the Great War. ¹ Franklin Roosevelt, on his return from the Crimean Conference in 1945, told the Congress of his hope that the postwar era would "spell the end of the system of unilateral action, the exclusive alliances, the spheres of influence, the balances of power, and all the other expedients that have been tried for centuries--and have always failed."² Both Wilson and Roosevelt put their faith in a universal organization of collective security in which the peace-loving nations would combine to deter, or combat, the aggressors. It was assumed that all nations would come to the same conclusions regarding what constituted aggression and be equally willing to resist it, no matter where it occurred, regardless of how far from their borders, irrespective of the national interest involved.

In the American view, nations were either inherently peaceful or inherently warlike. Hence, after World War II the "peace-loving" US, Britain, and USSR had together to police the world against Germany and Japan even though the former enemies had been rendered impotent by unconditional surrender. If there were doubts about the peace-loving virtue of our war-time allies, they seemed to many American leaders to apply as much to Britain as to the USSR: Roosevelt toyed with the idea of nonalignment between a balance-of-power-oriented, colonialist Britain and an ideologically obstreperous Soviet Union. Even Truman took care not to meet with Churchill in advance of the Potsdam conference; he did not want to appear to be "lining up" with Britain against the USSR. The secret dream of American leaders, if great power conflict proved unavoidable, was to arrogate to themselves the role to which the nonaligned later aspired: that of moral arbiter, hurling condescending judgments down at all those engaged in the dirty game of international diplomacy.

As late as 1949, the Department of State submitted to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee a memorandum that strove mightily to distinguish the new North Atlantic Treaty from traditional military alliances and above all from any relationship to the very balance of power it was supposed to establish. The Treaty, the memorandum said,

> is directed against no one; it is directed
> solely against aggression. It seeks not to
> influence any shifting "balance of power" but
> to strengthen the "balance of principle."³

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American attitudes until quite literally the recent decade have embodied a faith that historical experience can be transcended, that problems can be solved permanently, that harmony can be the natural state of mankind. Thus our diplomacy has often stressed the concepts of international law, with its procedures of arbitration and peaceful settlement, as if all political disputes were legal issues, on the premise that reasonable men and women could always find agreement on some equitable basis. Theodore Roosevelt won a Nobel Peace Prize for helping mediate the Russo-Japanese war in 1905; thus Alexander Haig's recent efforts on the Falklands have a long tradition behind them. There is also a perennial American assumption that economic well-being automatically ensures political stability, a belief which has animated American policies from Herbert Hoover's relief efforts after World War I to the Marshall Plan to the recent Caribbean initiative--never mind that, in many parts of the world, the timeframes for economic progress and the achievement of political stability may be seriously out of phase. In our participation in the two world wars of this century, and afterward, our bursts of energy were coupled with the conviction that our exertions had a terminal date, after which the natural harmony among nations would be either restored or instituted.

Disillusionment was inevitable. America fluctuated between moral crusading and frustrated isolationism, between overextension and escapism, between extremes of intransigence and conciliation. But history was kind to us. For a long time it spared us from the need to face up to fundamental choices. Not being called upon to help preserve the equilibrium--a service rendered gratis by Great Britain--we could avoid the responsibility of permanent involvement in world politics, of unending exertion with no final answers or ultimate resolution.

Even when the United States finally entered the world stage of permanent peacetime diplomacy after 1945, it did so under conditions that seemed to confirm our historical expectations. For several decades we had the overwhelming resources to give effect to our prescriptions, and thus conducted foreign policy by analogy to the great formative experiences of the 1930s and 40s: The New Deal translated into the Marshall Plan; resistance to Nazi aggression translated into the Korean "police action" and the policy of "containment." We tended to attribute our dominance in the Western Alliance to the virtue of our motives rather than to the preponderance of our power. In fact, the United States enjoyed nearly half the world's Gross National

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Product and an atomic monopoly; our NATO allies, given their
dependence, conducted themselves less as sovereign nations
than as lobbyists in Washington decision-making.

It was therefore a rude awakening when in the 1960s and
70s the United States became conscious of the limits of even
its resources. Now with a little over a fifth of the world's
GNP, America was powerful but no longer dominant. Vietnam
was the trauma and the catharsis but the recognition was
bound to come in any event. Starting in the 70s, for the
first time, the United States has had to conduct a foreign
policy in the sense with which Europeans have always been
familiar: as one country among many, unable either to dominate
the world or escape from it, with the necessity of accomodation,
maneuver, a sensitivity to marginal shifts in the balance of
power, an awareness of continuity and of the interconnections
between events.

Our perennial domestic debates reflect the pain, and in-
completeness, of that adjustment. The American Right still
yearns for ideological victory without geopolitical effort;
the American Left still dreams of reforming the world through
the exercise of goodwill unsullied by power. We are edging
towards a synthesis but it will be a slow, painful, perhaps
bitter process.

The Nature of the Special Relationship

That two countries with such divergent traditions could
form a durable partnership is remarkable in itself. The
periods of the close Anglo-American "special relationship,"
the object of such nostalgia today, were also times of occasional
mutual exasperation.

For quite a while we stressed different aspects of our
histories; in more senses than one, we lived in different
time zones. It was only some while after the settlement of
the *Alabama* affair just over a century ago that American and
British interests began to run parallel. The need for intimacy
seemed to be greater on this side of the Atlantic (that is,
in Britain), and Britain began to avoid alliances that could
entangle her against the United States--including a tantalizing
offer from Germany around the turn of the century.⁴ American
memories were longer: The First World War was a temporary
exertion, after which we withdrew into isolationism; during
the 20s the US Navy Department still maintained a "Red Plan" to
deal with the contingency of conflict with the British fleet.

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It was not until the war with Hitler that the gap closed permanently. In the immediate postwar period we were held together by strategic circumstances which imposed the same necessities, whatever the different philosophical premises. American resources and organization and technological genius, and British experience and understanding of the European balance of power, were both needed to resist the sudden threat from the Soviet Union. The Marshall Plan and North Atlantic Treaty, while formally American initiatives, were inconceivable without British advice and British efforts to organize a rapid and effective European response. Ernest Bevin, as Professor Howard pointed out in the first lecture, was the indispensable architect of the European response as well as the staunch helmsman of Britain's journey from power to influence.

Even then, Anglo-American difficulties persisted occasionally. The anguished disagreements over immigration into Palestine; the misunderstandings over atomic cooperation; competition over Iranian oil; the abrupt, unilateral ending of Lend-Lease; and the race to demobilize were only some of the items in a stream of irritants. More serious policy differences were to follow in the 50s, causing Anthony Eden to reflect on the "tough reality of Anglo-American relations." Even when the politics were parallel, the personalities were often divergent. Eden and Dean Acheson were friends as well as colleagues; the same could not be said for Eden and John Foster Dulles. Misunderstandings and conflicts of interest continued through European integration, the rearmament of Germany, and Indochina, right up to the tragic climax of Suez--to which I will return in a few moments.

That these irritations never shook the underlying unity was due to statesmanship on both sides. One factor was a brilliant British adjustment to new circumstances. To the outside world it may have seemed that Britain clung far too long to the illusion of Empire; in her relations with Washington, she proved that an old country was beyond self-deception on fundamentals. Bevin, the unlikely originator of this revolution in British diplomacy, shrewdly calculated that Britain was not powerful enough to influence American policy by conventional methods of pressure or balancing of risks. But by discreet advice, the wisdom of experience, and the presupposition of common aims, she could make herself indispensable, so that American leaders no longer thought of

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consultations with London as a special favor but as an in-
herent component of our own decision-making. The wartime
habit of intimate, informal collaboration thus became a
permanent practice, obviously because it was valuable to
both sides.

The ease and informality of the Anglo-American partner-
ship has been a source of wonder--and no little resentment--
to third countries. Our postwar diplomatic history is
littered with Anglo-American "arrangements" and "understand-
ings," sometimes on crucial issues, never put into formal
documents. The stationing of B-29 atomic bombers in Britain
in 1948 was agreed between political and service leaders but
not committed to writing. Less happily, only general princi-
ples were recorded when Churchill and Roosevelt agreed in
1942 to cooperate in producing the atomic bomb. After Roosevelt
died, Clement Attlee reflected with admirable restraint:
"We were allies and friends. It didn't seem necessary to
tie everything up."⁶

The British were so matter-of-factly helpful that they
became a participant in internal American deliberations, to
a degree probably never before practiced between sovereign
nations. In my period in office, the British played a seminal
part in certain American bilateral negotiations with the Soviet
Union--indeed, they helped draft the key document. In my
White House incarnation then, I kept the British Foreign Office
better informed and more closely engaged than I did the Ameri-
can State Department--a practice which, with all affection
for things British, I would not recommend be made permanent.
But it was symptomatic.⁷

For a brief moment in the early 1970s, Britain seemed to
decide to put an end to the special relationship in order to
prove itself a "good European" in the year that it entered the
European Community. The attempt was short-lived.⁸ By 1976,
James Callaghan and Anthony Crosland had restored the traditional
close relationship--without resurrecting the label--and it was
enormously valuable, indeed indispensable, in the Southern
Africa negotiations that began in that year. In my nego-
tiations over Rhodesia I worked from a British draft with
British spelling even when I did not fully grasp the dis-
tinction between a working paper and a Cabinet-approved
document. The practice of collaboration thrives to our day,
with occasional ups and downs but even in the recent Falkland
crisis, an inevitable return to the main theme of the relation-
ship.

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Clearly, British membership in Europe has added a new dimension. But the solution, in my view, is not to sacrifice the special intimacy of the Anglo-American connection on the altar of the European idea, but rather to replicate it on a wider plane of America's relations with all its European allies, whether bilaterally or with a politically cohesive European Community--that is for Europe to decide. The special frankness and trust that may have been originally resorted to as compensation for a disparity of power may now be even more essential in the partnership of equals that must characterize the future relations between America and Europe.

## Britain, America, and Europe

In fact, Europe has been a traumatic issue for both Britain and the United States.

Americans often forget that Britain, too, has been a reluctant internationalist, at least as far as Europe was concerned. Tradition pulled Britain across distant oceans. The glory of foreign policy was identified with Empire and Commonwealth, its problems and perils with the continent of Europe. It was Czechoslovakia--in the heart of Europe--which Chamberlain described as a small faraway country of which Britons knew little--after a century and a half of fighting on the borders of India.

In Britain, reluctance to enter Europe was always bipartisan, and somewhat mystical. Eden once said that Britain knew "in her bones" that she could not join it; and Hugh Gaitskell spoke of the impossibility of throwing off 1000 years of history. But there were more substantial reasons: worries about sovereignty--which on the Left was combined with concern for the unfettered development of socialist planning; an instinctive disinclination to deal with continentals on an equal footing; trade ties with the Commonwealth; and the special relationship. Even Churchill, despite his intimations of the future, remained as ambivalent in government as he had been prescient in opposition when he had called as early as 1947 for a United States of Europe. In office, he never quite found the balance among his three concentric circles--the Commonwealth, Europe, and the English-speaking peoples.

Only after Suez did the risks of isolation become obvious, as well as the opportunity that the emerging Europe offered for exercising in a different but equally effective form

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Britain's traditional role of guardian of continental equilibrium. If the economic benefits were ambiguous, the political necessities were not: Only as one of the leaders of Europe could Britain continue to play a major role on the world scene.

By entering the European Community, Britain did not abandon her instinct for equilibrium. But for the first time in peacetime she threw herself into the scales. As I have already noted, she did so with the fervor of a frustrated convert who had been kept waiting for a decade at the doors of destiny.

If Britain has had a difficult adjustment to make in its relationship to Europe, so has the United States.

After the war, American leaders applied a heavy dose of our usual missionary zeal and the full rigor of our "problemsolving" energy to the task of promoting European integration. Federalism, of course, was a hallowed American principle. Shortly after the Philadelphia Convention, Benjamin Franklin was urging on the French the attractions of a federal Europe. A similar evangelism, in a more practical form, shone through the Marshall Plan. Even Acheson, not usually seen as a moralist, was carried away by the European idea; he recalled listening to Robert Schuman outlining his plan for a European Coal and Steel Community: "As he talked, we caught his enthusiasm and the breadth of his thought," Acheson wrote, "the rebirth of Europe, which, as an entity, had been in eclipse since the Reformation."⁹

Despite the idealism of our commitment, tensions between America and a unified Europe were inherent in the logic of what we were so enthusiastically endorsing. We had grown accustomed to the devastated, temporarily impotent Europe of the postwar period; we forgot the Europe that had launched the industrial revolution, that had invented the concept of national sovereignty, and that had operated a complex balance of power for three centuries. A Europe reasserting its personality was bound to seek to redress the balance of influence with the United States; Charles de Gaulle in this respect differed largely in method from Jean Monnet, who never disguised his hopes for a more powerful and effective European voice.

Thus, later American disillusionments were inherent in our goals. It was naive for Americans to take for granted that a federal Europe would be more like us, that a united Europe would automatically help carry our burdens, and that it would

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continue to follow American global prescriptions as it had
in the early postwar years of European recovery--and de-
pendency. That cannot be so.

Yet even if some of our more unhistorical expectations
were disappointed, our original judgment was correct:
European unity, strength, and self-confidence are essential
for the future of the West. It is beyond the psychological
resources of the United States--not only the physical--to
be the sole or even the principal center of initiative and
responsibility in the non-Communist world. (This is one
reason why I always favored the independent British and
French nuclear deterrents.) American support for European
unification was therefore an expression of self-interest even
if it paraded under the banner of altruism; it was to our
advantage even if we paid occasionally in the coin of clashing
perspectives--provided we found a way toward creative unity
on fundamentals.

Britain, Europe, the United States, and the Soviet Union

The central foreign policy problem that Britain, America,
and Europe have had to confront together since 1945 is, of
course, the Soviet Union. And the need for creative unity
among us as we do so has not ended.

One thing that is clear from the historical record is
that neither side of the Atlantic has had a monopoly of
special insight into this problem. As soon as the war had
ended, both Britain and America fell over each other in the
rush to demobilize. All American troops were due to leave
Europe by 1947. After a visit to Moscow in May 1945, Harry
Hopkins told President Truman that he saw no major sources
of conflict between America and Russia on the horizon.¹⁰

After Churchill left office, British policy for a brief
period ironically fell prey to some of the same illusions that
had bedeviled American leaders. The Labour Government at first
hoped that "Left could speak unto Left." The brief moment
of nostalgia reflected the hope that Britain would stand
neither for the unbridled capitalism of the United States nor
for Soviet Communism. A resolution calling for the "pro-
gressive unity" between the British Labour and Communist
parties was only narrowly defeated. There is not much doubt,
in fact, that once the US was committed after the Greek-

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Turkish aid program in 1947, some in Britain were tempted-- as Roosevelt and Truman a few years earlier--by the idea of enhancing British influence by remaining aloof not just from Europe but from the emerging superpower confrontation, adding to her traditional role as manipulator of the balance in Europe that of intermediary between East and West. This attitude has reappeared in some circles in Europe today.

No amount of revisionist distortion can change the fact that it was the Kremlin which turned Anglo-American hopes into mirages. There is today in some circles a curious assumption of diabolic Soviet cleverness and foresight. Yet in those years, Stalin's conduct of relations with his former allies made him the chief architect of NATO. A few more fleeting smiles on the wooden features of Mr. Molotov, and a modicum of self-restraint and diplomatic delicacy, would have done much to prise apart the young and still brittle Atlantic cooperation: and all the boys might have been home, as planned, by 1947.

The Soviets did not manage this degree of subtlety. Instead, Moscow went out of its way to estrange and alienate, where it could have softened through a little courtship, however heavy-handed. The Russians declined Britain's invitation to send a Soviet contingent to a victory parade, and Stalin side-stepped an offer from Attlee to renew the wartime alliance. Every door that Ernest Bevin, mindful of the influential left wing of his party, was careful to keep open was resoundingly slammed and loudly bolted. As was soon to be shown in the persecution of social democrats in Eastern Europe, the Soviet Union countenanced only one form of "socialism" and fought other, democratic versions even more bitterly than capitalists. The outright Soviet rejection of the Marshall Plan was an egregious blunder; a mild expression of interest, however disingenuous, could have caused untold disruption and delay in the Western camp. Acceptance would have changed the face of postwar politics.

It was one of those moments when America's activism and idealism brought out the best in her. The 40s were years of imaginative men and bold measures on both sides of the Atlantic: The Marshall Plan, the Truman Doctrine, the Berlin airlift, the Brussels treaty, and finally NATO, were inspired and creative initiatives. And in the years following, the United States and its allies stood fast against Soviet pressures and blackmail in crises over Korea, Berlin, and missiles in Cuba.

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But we in America had only begun to scratch the sur-
face of the long-term problem of US-Soviet relations in the
nuclear age, which would soon produce more ambiguous chal-
lenges. The problem was, at bottom, conceptual. Americans
were uncomfortable with the notion of a Cold War. They tended
to treat war and peace as two distinct phases of policy.
Total victory was the only legitimate goal for war; conciliation
the appropriate method for peace. In this sense the postwar
period fulfilled neither of America's conceptual expectations.
If in wartime we lacked a sense of political strategy, in
peacetime we had difficulty forming an understanding of the
permanent relation between power and diplomacy. The policy
of containment, and its variant called "negotiation from
strength," was based on the experience with the anti-Hitler
coalition. It focused on the buildup of military strength
towards some hypothetical day of greater parity; it aimed
at eventual negotiation of some kind with the Soviet Union
but offered no clue as to either its timing or its content,
nor even a clear definition of the nature of the relevant
military strength. George Kennan's famous "X" article in
*Foreign Affairs* in 1947 looked vaguely to the eventual "mellow-
ing" of the Soviet system; Dean Acheson spoke of building
"situations of strength" which, somewhere down the road,
would induce the Kremlin "to recognize the facts..."¹¹ But
how precisely this negotiation would emerge or to what end
it would be conducted was left vague.

The flaw in containment was not only, as the cliché has
it today, that it was overly preoccupied with military counter-
force but that it misunderstood that the West in the immediate
postwar period was precisely at the apex of its relative strength.
Containment thus deferred the moment for a diplomatic encounter
with the Soviet Union to a later time by which Soviet power
could only have grown. In 1945 the United States had an atomic
monopoly and the Soviet Union was devastated by 20 million
casualties. Our policy paradoxically gave the Kremlin time to
consolidate its conquests and to redress the nuclear imbalance.
The West's military and diplomatic position relative to the
USSR was never more favorable than at the very *beginning* of
the containment policy in the late 40s. *That* was the time
to attempt a serious discussion on the future of Europe and
a peaceful world.

As so often, Winston Churchill understood it best. In
a much neglected speech at Llandudno in October 1948, out
of office, he said:

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The question is asked: What will happen when they get the atomic bomb themselves and have accumulated a large store? You can judge yourselves what will happen then by what is happening now. If these things are done in the green wood, what will be done in the dry? If they can continue month after month disturbing and tormenting the world, trusting to our Christian and altruistic inhibitions against using this strange new power against them, what will they do when they themselves have huge quantities of atomic bombs?... No one in his senses can believe that we have a limitless period of time before us. We ought to bring matters to a head and make a final settlement. We ought not to go joggling along improvident, incompetent, waiting for something to turn up, by which I mean waiting for something bad for us to turn up. The Western Nations will be far more likely to reach a lasting settlement, without bloodshed, if they formulate their just demands while they have the atomic power and before the Russian Communists have got it too.¹²

So the postwar world came into being. A precarious peace was maintained, based on a nuclear equilibrium, with occasional negotiations to ease tensions temporarily, but ultimately dependent on a balance of terror. The problem of maintaining security took on an unprecedented new dimension. Technology was soon to make the United States directly vulnerable to attack; the Atlantic Alliance increasingly based its defense strategy on reliance on weapons of mass destruction that posed risks more and more difficult to reconcile with the objectives being defended.

In the nuclear age, peace became a moral imperative. And it imposed a new dilemma: The desire for peace is the mark of all civilized men and women. Yet the democracies' desire for peace, if divorced from a commitment to defend freedom, could turn into a weapon of blackmail in the hands of the most ruthless; if the desire to avoid nuclear war turns into undifferentiated hysteria, nuclear blackmail may well be encouraged. The problem of the relationship of power to peace, the balance between ends and means, has been evaded for a generation by an abdication to technology. But history tolerates no evasions. To develop a strategy that relates ends to means, to build military forces that avoid the choice between Armageddon and surrender, is a preeminent moral as well as political problem for

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our period. Of at least equal importance is to develop
an Allied consensus behind proposals of arms control based
on analysis not panic and freed of either the quest for
confrontation or the tendency towards abdication.

Third World Perspectives: What is the Limit of Inter-Allied Conflict?

In a period of nuclear stalemate, ironically, conflict be-
came more likely at the level of local, nonnuclear crisis. In
an age of decolonization, many of these clashes were bound to
occur in the Third World. This was another area in which, in
the immediate postwar period, American and European attitudes
diverged sharply.

Americans from Franklin Roosevelt onward believed that the United States, with its "revolutionary" heritage, was the natural ally of peoples struggling against colonialism; we could win the allegiance of these new nations by opposing and occasionally undermining our European allies in the areas of their colonial dominance. Churchill, of course, resisted these American pressures, as did the French and some other European powers for a longer period than did Britain.

As Europe decolonized, partly under American pressure, there began a reversal of roles, the march by each side towards the philosophical positions vacated by the other--to an America focused on international security and a Europe affirming general moral precepts of conduct. On Third World issues especially, many in Europe have ended up adopting the attitude embodied in Roosevelt's anticolonialism and Eisenhower's conduct over Suez. Now Europe would seek to identify with Third World aspirations, economic and political, intensifying its efforts at conciliation the more insistent, peremptory, and radical that Third World demands become. At the same time, the United States, at least in some administrations, has come to a perception closer to Eden's: that appeasement of radical challenges only multiplies radical challenges.

Different perceptions of national interest were involved
as well. Thus in the India-Pakistan war of 1971 Britain did
not share our sense of concern for the country which had
opened the first tenuous links to China; the historic nostalgia
for India was too strong. So too in the early stages of
the Falkland crisis America hesitated between its Atlantic
and its Western Hemisphere vocations. But neither of these
disagreements did any lasting damage. In the end we came

-16-

together; the old friendship prevailed over other considerations.

The lesson I draw is that in the Third World we may occasionally operate from different perspectives. But we must take care not to let these differences reach a point where they undermine the basic self-confidence and sense of mission of the other party, lest we threaten prospects for progress and stability transcending the immediate issue.

In this context the experience of Suez is instructive. Our prolonged and never-reconciled clash had lasting consequences not only for the Middle East and the Third World but also for the long-term evolution of Western policies.

The details of that disaster are not relevant to my immediate purpose. The British-French expedition against the Suez Canal was clearly misconceived. The fact remains that Eden had got hold of what was intellectually the right problem, while the American reaction, among other things, begged some crucial questions: to what extent our "revolutionary" historical analogy was relevant; to what extent it was wise to humiliate one's closest ally; and what would be the long-term consequence of such a course.

Britain and France, in my view, were acting on a strategic analysis which may have been traditional and even self-serving but was far from frivolous. Nasser was the first Third World leader to accept Soviet arms and to play the radical, pro-Soviet game in an attempt to blackmail the West. Eden's perception was that a dangerous precedent was being set: can there be any dispute of this today? Had Nasser's course been shown a failure, a quite different pattern of international relations would have developed, at least for a decade or more. As it turned out, Nasser's policy was vindicated; revolutions spread in the Middle East in the following years, and he has countless imitators today around the world relying on Soviet arms to increase their influence and to destabilize their neighbors.

Even more important, our humiliation of Britain and France over Suez was a shattering blow to these countries' role as world powers. It accelerated their shedding of international responsibilities, some of the consequences of which we saw in succeeding decades when reality forced us to step into their shoes--in the Persian Gulf, to take one notable example.

-17-

Suez thus added enormously to America's burdens--and simultaneously fueled a European resentment at America's global role which continues to this day.

It is clear that a world of progress and peace requires that more than 100 new and developing nations be made part of the international system; no international order can survive unless they feel a stake in it. It is incontestable that many conflicts in the developing world arise from legitimate social, economic, or political grievances; this, however, does not exclude the possibility that these can be exploited by extremists and turned against the long-term security interests of the West. The democracies, whatever their shifting positions, have failed to relate their philosophical and moral convictions to a coherent analysis of the nature of revolution and an understanding of how best to foster moderation. Above all, disputes among the democracies over this problem should not be permitted to turn into a kind of guerrilla warfare between allies. Whatever the merit of the individual issue, the price will be a weakening of the West's overall psychological readiness to maintain the global balance.

The strategic position or self-confidence of a close ally on a matter it considers of vital concern must not be undermined. It is a principle of no little contemporary relevance. In this sense the Falkland crisis in the end will strengthen Western cohesion.

Suez, by weakening Europe's sense of its own importance as a world power, accelerated the trend of Europe's seeking refuge in the role of "mediator" between the United States and the Soviet Union. The role that some American leaders naively saw the United States as playing between Churchill and Stalin, in the end too many Europeans seek to adopt between Washington and Moscow.

It is not a new phenomenon. It began, at least where Britain was involved, as wise advice to us that negotiation could be an element of strategy. This is a lesson of which Americans often need to be reminded. It has its antecedents in Attlee's flight to Washington for reassurance when Truman seemed to hint at using nuclear weapons in Korea; in Eden's efforts at various Geneva conferences to sponsor a dialogue in the era of Dulles's moralism; in Macmillan's appearance in an astrakhan hat in Moscow in 1959; in the strenuous Western European importunings of the Nixon Administration in 1969 to join Europe in the pursuit of détente. But carried too far,

-18-

it runs the risk of abdicating any share of responsibility
for a cohesive Western strategy toward the USSR, or toward
anti-Western radicalism in the Third World.

And thus we see the ironic shift of positions reflected
in some of our contemporary debates. The deprecation of
the importance of power, the abstract faith in goodwill,
the belief in the pacific efficacy of economic relations,
the evasion of the necessities of defense and security, the
attempt to escape from the sordid details of maintaining the
global balance of power, the presumption of superior morality--
these features once characteristic of America now seem to be
more common in Europe. Where the United States has never
quite abandoned its earlier moralism or fully developed a
concept of equilibrium as Europe had once maintained, many
in Europe paradoxically seem to have adopted some of the
illusions that Americans clung to in years of isolation from
responsibility.

The unity of the industrial democracies remains crucial
to the survival of democratic values and of the global
equilibrium. We must at last answer the perennial questions
of all alliances: How much unity do we need? How much
diversity can we stand? An insistence on unanimity can be
a prescription for paralysis. But if every ally acts as it
pleases, what is the meaning of alliance? There is no
more important task before the Alliance than to deal with
these problems concretely, seriously, and above all immediately.

## The Contemporary Debate

Let me make a few general points, therefore, about the
contemporary debates between America and Europe.

I do not claim that the United States is always correct
in its perceptions. But Europeans ought to take care not
to generate such frustrations in America that either an em-
bittered nationalism, or unilateralism, or a retreat from
world affairs could result.

I fully acknowledge that the United States by its actions
has sometimes stimulated or intensified the feelings in
Europe that Europe had to strive to maintain its own interests,
its own policies, its own identity. Indeed, as I said, naive
American expectations that a rejuvenated Europe would follow
our lead are partly responsible for the sometimes petulant

-19-

reaction to Europe's assertions of its own role. In recent
times the United States may have appeared unintentionally
callous toward the danger of nuclear war or insufficiently
alert toward the opportunities for peace. But the United
States has nevertheless been more nearly correct than
its critics in warning that those who seek peace not backed
by strength will sooner or later find the terms of peace
dictated to them; that peace to be meaningful must be just;
that nations live in history, not utopia, and thus must
approach their goals in stages. To ask for perfection
as a precondition of action is self-indulgence, and in the
end an abdication.

Observers, including myself, have been sounding the
alarm for decades about this or that "crisis" in the Western
Alliance. But today's, I am afraid, is more genuinely,
objectively, serious than ever. It comes after decades
of a relentless Soviet military buildup, when the West,
for a decade, is edging in some areas toward a dangerous
dependency on economic ties with the East, while in Poland
the Soviet Union enforces the unity of its empire, its
clients press on to undermine the security interests of the
West from Southeast Asia to the Middle East to Africa to
Central America. Not all our difficulties are caused by
the Soviet Union, but the Soviet Union has shown little
restraint in exploiting them, and their solution --whatever
their cause--has been impeded by the lack of a unified
Western response.

One of Britain's contributions to the Western Alliance
has been to supply a needed global perspective: the knowledge,
from centuries of experience in Europe, that peace requires
some clear-eyed notion of equilibrium and a willingness to
maintain it; the insight, from centuries of world leadership,
that Europe's security cannot be isolated from the broader
context of the global balance; the awareness, from heroic
exertions in this century, that those who cherish the values
of Western civilization must be willing to defend them. In
the Falkland crisis, Britain is reminding us all that certain
basic principles such as honor, justice, and patriotism re-
main valid and must be sustained by more than words.

The issue before the allies now is not to assess blame
but to face our future. An alliance at odds over central
issues of East-West diplomacy, economic policy, the Middle
East, Central America, Africa, and relations with the Third
world is in serious, and obvious, difficulty. Indeed it can-
not be called an alliance if it agrees on *no* significant

-20-

issue. Sooner or later such divisions *must* affect the field of security. For too long, all of us in the community of free nations have put off the uncomfortable questions; our evasions are now coming home to roost.

Thirty-five years ago after the war, the democracies for a time overestimated the immediate dangers and underestimated their own capabilities; yet in the end they came up with a creative and effective response. Today too, we may be underrating our own capacities and confusing long- and short-term dangers.

The strange aspect is that the disarray is taking place at the precise moment that the bankruptcy of the system that denies the human spirit seems to become clear beyond doubt. The Communist world has fundamental systemic problems and has not shown any ability to solve them except by re-current brute force, which only delays the day of reckoning. In the sixty-five-year history of the Soviet state, it has never managed a legitimate, regular succession of its poli-tical leadership; the country faces the demographic time-bomb of its growing non-Russian population, soon to be a majority. The system has failed to deal seriously with the desire for political participation of its intellectual and managerial elite. Or else it has sought to preempt their political aspirations by turning the ruling group into a careerist "new class" bound to produce stagnation if not corruption. Its ideology is a discredited failure, without legitimacy, leaving the Communist Party a smug privileged elite with no function in the society except its own self-perpetuation, struggling to deal with bottlenecks and crises which its own rigidity has caused. It is an historic joke that the ultimate crisis in every Communist state, latent if not evident, is over the role of the Communist Party.

Soviet economic performance is a disaster. It seems impossible to run a modern economy by a system of total planning, yet it seems impossible to maintain a Communist state *without* a system of total planning. How ironic that the West is tearing itself apart over how best to coordinate Western financial, technological, and agricultural *aid* to a so-called "superpower" incapable of sustaining a modern economy.

In short, if Moscow is prevented by a coordinated Western policy from deflecting its internal tensions into international crises, it is likely to find only disillusionment in the boast that history is on its side.

-21-

It is the Communist world, not the West, that faces a profound systemic crisis. Ours are problems of coordination and policy, theirs are of structure. And therefore it is not beyond the realm of hope that a coherent, unified Western policy could at long last bring into view the prospect of a negotiated global settlement that Churchill foresaw at Llandudno.

The solutions to the West's problems are, to a significant degree, in our own hands.

One problem is that the democracies have no forum for addressing the future in a concrete way, let alone harmonizing disagreements or implementing common policies. As my friend Christopher Soames has recently emphasized, the Atlantic Alliance has no institutional machinery for addressing economic or Third World issues, or any long-term political strategy; the European Community, while eminently successful in its political coordination, has no mechanism as yet for formulating a coherent European view on matters of defense. The economic summits of Western and Japanese leaders, begun in the mid-70s, are an attempt to surmount this procedural impasse, but they can do little more than call key leaders' attention to key problems in an informal, unsystematic way. Procedures do not solve substantive problems. Nevertheless, creating an appropriate forum for broader and deeper consultation would be an important first step.

America has learned much in the postwar period, perhaps most of all from Britain. In the last decade we have also learned something of our limits, and in the new Administration we have shaken off the trauma of perhaps excessive preoccupation with our limits. An America that has recovered its vitality and its faith in the future is as much in the interests of the West as a Europe shaping its identity.

Both Britain and America have learned that whatever their histories, their futures are part of the common destiny of freedom. Experience has taught that moral idealism and geo-political insight are not alternatives but complementary; our civilization may not survive unless we possess *both* in full measure. Britain and America, which have contributed so much to the free world's unity and strength, have another opportunity now, together with our allies, to show that the democratic nations are the masters of their destiny.

Thank you.

NOTES

1. Woodrow Wilson, address before the League to Enforce Peace, Washington, D.C., May 27, 1916.

2. Franklin D. Roosevelt, address to Congress on the Yalta (Crimea) Conference, March 1, 1945.

3. U.S. Senate, Committee on Foreign Relations, *Hearings on the North Atlantic Treaty*, 81st Cong., 1st sess. (1949), pt. 1, Appendix, p.337.

4. See R.B. Mowat, *The Diplomatic Relations of Great Britain and the United States* (London, 1925), p.92.

5. Anthony Eden, *Full Circle* (Cambridge, Mass., Houghton Mifflin Co., 1960), p.225.

6. Clement Attlee and Francis Williams, *Twilight of Empire* (New York: A.S. Barnes & Co., 1962), p.108.

7. Henry Kissinger, *Years of Upheaval* (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson/Michael Joseph, 1982), pp.274-286.

8. *Ibid.*, pp.140-143.

9. Dean Acheson, *Sketches from Life* (New York: Harper & Bros., 1961), pp.36-37.

10. Attlee and Williams, above, p.161.

11. U.S. Senate, Committee on Armed Services and Committee on Foreign Relations, *Hearings on the Military Situation in the Far East*, 82nd Cong., 1st sess. (1951), p.2083.

12. Winston Churchill, speech at Llandudno, October 9, 1948, in *New York Times*, October 10, 1948.

86

1969: *The Start of the Journey*

Those who argued that Europe would be more willing to share global burdens if it were federally integrated seemed to me to follow too mechanical a concept of history. The reason Europe did not play a global role was not so much shrinking resources as shrinking horizons. I did not think that countries shared burdens merely because they were capable of doing so. Through the greatest part of its history the United States had the resources but not the inclination to play a global role; conversely, many European countries continued to maintain overseas commitments even after their resources began to dwindle. The largest colonial empire in the Sixties and part of the Seventies was maintained by Portugal, one of the weakest NATO members. Burden-sharing among the allies was likely only if two conditions were met: Europe had to develop its own perception of international relations, and Europe had to be convinced that we could not, or would not, carry the load alone. Neither condition obtained in the late Sixties. Europeans were absorbed with domestic problems. To the extent that they sought reinsurance against American withdrawal, they did so not by a division of labor with us but in duplicating our strengths, by building strategic weapons of their own. And Europe would need to articulate a policy of its own before it would assume greater burdens or responsibilities.

I favored European unity, but I was agnostic about the form it should take, whether it should be a confederation of nation-states or a supranational federation. I wanted Europe to play a larger international role, but we had to face the fact that this role would derive from an independent conception that would not always agree with ours. Shortly before the election, I had written about our relation to Europe:

> No country can act wisely simultaneously in every part of the globe at every moment of time. A more pluralistic world — especially in relationships with friends — is profoundly in our long-term interest. Political multipolarity, while difficult to get used to, is the precondition for a new period of creativity. Painful as it may be to admit, we could benefit from a counterweight that would discipline our occasional impetuosity and, by supplying historical perspective, modify our penchant for abstract and "final" solutions.⁷

The vitality of free peoples would be tested by the answer they gave to the age-old dilemma of freedom: how to reconcile diversity and unity, independence and collaboration, liberty and security.

## London and the "Special Relationship"

FROM Brussels, Nixon flew to London. The ease and warmth of his welcome concealed the fact that a major storm had just taken place: a nasty dispute between Britain and France over the future of Europe, symptomatic of what lay before us.

## European Journey

The flare-up had begun. Gaulle had had with him Soames, who as Winston Churchill with greatness or much about the debate February 4, 1969, Presiding at the Elysée Palace (the table of Europe; they had ary 14. The British then that General de Gaulle had in rather provocative and

To create a truly independent matters of global importance, it is necessary for Europe to have a NATO, with its "American European political organization" most significant in Europe. Italy. And in that relation, Anglo-French understand the structure of the Council of any event had little chance to alter its replacement by some rricultural products. Third, the keystone of this bilateral discussions with financial problems. He had such talks.

The British told us that, Kingdom still wished to tiations might soon be re- relations with the United States in Europe differed in the General's proposals to them further, but only would be kept fully informed. Gaulle at their second meeting to brief German Ch- on February 13-14. The Gaulle-Soames talks to begin like wildfire through NA-

On February 17 and sought to ascertain how had become known and intention of breaking up NA-

European Journey

87

The flare-up had begun in private conversations which President de Gaulle had had with the British Ambassador in Paris, Christopher Soames, who as Winston Churchill's son-in-law was not wholly unfamiliar with greatness or overly awed by grandeur. The controversy told much about the debate within Europe and the Alliance as a whole. On February 4, 1969, President de Gaulle and Ambassador Soames chatted at the Elysée Palace (the Presidential residence and office) about the future of Europe; they had another meeting on the same subject on February 14. The British thereafter informed their other allies, including us, that General de Gaulle had described his concept of the future of Europe in rather provocative and somewhat novel terms.

To create a truly independent Europe, capable of making decisions on matters of global importance, de Gaulle had said that first of all it would be necessary for Europeans to free themselves from the encumbrance of NATO, with its "American domination and machinery." A successful European political organization would have to rely on a concert of the most significant European powers: France, England, Germany, and Italy. And in that relationship the central element would have to be Anglo-French understanding and cooperation. Secondly, in this process the structure of the Common Market had to change, and de Gaulle in any event had little confidence in its future. Instead, he could envisage its replacement by some sort of broad free-trade area, especially for agricultural products. Thirdly, since the Anglo-French relationship would be the keystone of this concept, the General was ready to hold private bilateral discussions with Britain on economic, monetary, political, and financial problems. He said he would welcome a British initiative for such talks.

The British told us that they had replied to de Gaulle that the United Kingdom still wished to join the Common Market and hoped that negotiations might soon be reopened. Though British views on NATO, relations with the United States, and the desirability of a four-power direction in Europe differed materially from de Gaulle's, Britain considered the General's proposals to be very significant. It was willing to discuss them further, but only on the understanding that its NATO partners would be kept fully informed. In this connection, Soames had told de Gaulle at their second meeting that Prime Minister Wilson had felt it his duty to brief German Chancellor Kiesinger when the two met in Bonn on February 13-14. The British also conveyed the essence of the de Gaulle-Soames talks to us, the Belgians, and other allies; word spread like wildfire through NATO.

On February 17 and 18, French ambassadors to European capitals sought to ascertain how much of the de Gaulle-Soames conversations had become known and to offer assurances that the General had no intention of breaking up NATO. He had merely told Soames, they said,

88

that the expansion of the Common Market would inevitably change its
character and that its subsequent direction would have to be closely
reviewed.

By February 21, the squabble over who said what to whom had
reached such proportions that both the British and the French felt ob-
ligated to leak their rival versions to the press. A British backgrounder
in the London *Times* matched very closely their earlier private account
to us. An inspired story in the Paris newspaper *Figaro* replied that de
Gaulle had simply sketched his views of an independent Europe, which
could be realized "without having any effect on the conception of
NATO." *Figaro*, for good measure, attacked Ambassador Soames per-
sonally for having spread around Europe a "sensational version" of the
General's remarks, which "cast doubts on the credibility of Mr.
Soames." French Foreign Minister Michel Debré soon afterward de-
clared publicly that the General had wanted only to examine whether the
British were interested in exploratory talks on "European political and
economic perspectives."

Like old warriors of a battle whose memory sustained emotion and
righteousness, all the American veterans of previous controversies with
de Gaulle rushed into the fray. The new Administration was deluged
with proposals from inside and outside our government to seize the op-
portunity to reaffirm our commitment to a federal Europe and to reject
de Gaulle's proposal — which in any event had not been made to
us — for a special directorate of the larger European powers. The new
Administration was being asked to pick up the fallen lance of its prede-
cessor and tilt once more against the windmills of European dogma, to
resume the acrimonious debate with France exactly where it had been
suspended by our election.

This we were determined not to do. We thought the organization of
Europe was for Europeans to decide. The United States had wasted too
much of its prestige over such doctrinal disputes. On February 22, the
day before we flew to Europe, I sent Nixon a brief account of the affair,
which I concluded as follows:

I believe that de Gaulle did expound his views on the future of Europe to Soames in much the terms originally reported by the British. In any case, the hope for a Europe independent of American "domination" and guided by the concert of the greatest European powers is completely in consonance with de Gaulle's recorded views. It is also characteristic that de Gaulle would have recognized that such a concert would have to be based on Anglo-French agreement, although on the supposition that England would emancipate itself from any "special relationship" with the United States. . . .

You will be under pressure to comment.

*I recommend that you:*

## European Journey

1. affirm our commitment to the Common Market

2. affirm our tradition of free trade and free movement of goods
   into the Common Market

3. make clear that we
   on the forms, methods and

Nixon followed this
I repeated it often in ba-
trip. Asked about the S-
February 21: "Our co-
Europe, not the inter-
Soames-de Gaulle con-
be on Atlantic relations-
ternal arrangements to
stance most helpful to
the United States."

Nixon arrived in Lon-
be greeted at Heathrow
the Foreign Secretary,
cause Nixon was afraid
Vietnam was raging an-
was a painful sacrifice
Britain, which has raised
than that anywhere, Br-
that they are entitled to

Harold Wilson greeted
of an ancient family that
memories of the wisdom
family name in the first
his rejection of "inward
contrasted it unfavorably
by Nixon, to which he
what had become ritual
had to move from secu-
peace." The purpose of
defense — at least in pu-
coming the relaxation of
others' high-sounding
was to work to death in
of expectations from det-
can bring about a durat-
mood. He tackled head-
Britain and the United St-
ment — by referring to it

This gave no little pain

European Journey

89

1. affirm our commitment to NATO;

2. affirm our traditional support of European unity, including British entry into the Common Market, but

3. make clear that we will not inject ourselves into intra-European debates on the forms, methods and timing of steps toward unity.

Nixon followed this approach carefully and subtly in his private talks; I repeated it often in background briefings before and after the European trip. Asked about the Soames-de Gaulle controversy, I told the press on February 21: "Our concern is the relationship of the United States to Europe, not the internal arrangements of Europe." We used the Soames-de Gaulle controversy to make clear that our emphasis would be on Atlantic relations; we would leave the elaboration of Europe's internal arrangements to the Europeans. In the long run this would be the stance most helpful to Britain's entry into the Common Market.

Nixon arrived in London from Brussels on a rainy Monday evening to be greeted at Heathrow Airport by Prime Minister Harold Wilson and the Foreign Secretary, Michael Stewart. Ceremony was subdued because Nixon was afraid of being accused of junketing while the war in Vietnam was raging and had asked to limit protocol to a minimum. This was a painful sacrifice since he dearly loved ceremony, especially in Britain, which has raised understated pomp to a major art form. More than that anywhere, British state protocol deftly reassures the insecure that they are entitled to their honors on merit.

Harold Wilson greeted Nixon with the avuncular goodwill of the head of an ancient family that has seen better times but is still able to evoke memories of the wisdom, dignity, and power that had established the family name in the first place. He took a jab at de Gaulle by announcing his rejection of "inward looking attitudes" toward foreign affairs and contrasted it unfavorably with the "wider world concept" put forward by Nixon, to which he pledged support. But Wilson's major theme was what had become ritual all over Western Europe — that the Alliance had to move from security to such positive ends as "cooperation and peace." The purpose of the Alliance in the late Sixties was no longer defense — at least in public rhetoric; its principal justification was becoming the relaxation of tension. Nixon was never to be outdone by others' high-sounding proclamations. He responded with a phrase he was to work to death in the 1972 campaign with a consequent inflation of expectations from détente: "I believe as I stand here today, that we can bring about a durable peace in our time." He was in a buoyant mood. He tackled head-on the so-called special relationship between Britain and the United States that was so contentious within our government — by referring to it explicitly twice and in most positive terms.

This gave no little pain to many of the European integrationists in the

90

Department of State and outside the government. The advocates — al-
most fanatics — of European unity were eager to terminate the "special
relationship" with our oldest ally as an alleged favor to Britain to
smooth its entry into the Common Market. They felt it essential to
deprive Britain of any special status with us lest it impede Britain's role
in the Europe they cherished. They urged a formal egalitarianism, unaf-
fected by tradition or conceptions of the national interest, as the best
guarantee of their Grand Design.

Even if desirable, which I doubted, this was impractical. For the
special relationship with Britain was peculiarly impervious to abstract
theories. It did not depend on formal arrangements; it derived in part
from the memory of Britain's heroic wartime effort; it reflected the com-
mon language and culture of two sister peoples. It owed no little to the
superb self-discipline by which Britain had succeeded in maintaining
political influence after its physical power had waned. When Britain
emerged from the Second World War too enfeebled to insist on its
views, it wasted no time in mourning an irretrievable past. British
leaders instead tenaciously elaborated the "special relationship" with
us. This was, in effect, a pattern of consultation so matter-of-factly in-
timate that it became psychologically impossible to ignore British
views. They evolved a habit of meetings so regular that autonomous
American action somehow came to seem to violate club rules. Above
all, they used effectively an abundance of wisdom and trustworthiness
of conduct so exceptional that successive American leaders saw it in
their self-interest to obtain British advice before taking major decisions.
It was an extraordinary relationship because it rested on no legal claim;
it was formalized by no document; it was carried forward by succeeding
British governments as if no alternative were conceivable. Britain's in-
fluence was great precisely because it never insisted on it; the "special
relationship" demonstrated the value of intangibles.

One feature of the Anglo-American relationship was the degree to
which diplomatic subtlety overcame substantive disagreements. In real-
ity, on European integration the views of Britain's leaders were closer to
de Gaulle's than to ours; an integrated supranational Europe was as
much anathema in Britain as in France. The major difference between
the French and the British was that the British leaders generally con-
ceded us the theory — of European integration or Atlantic unity —
while seeking to shape its implementation through the closest contacts
with us. Where de Gaulle tended to confront us with faits accomplis and
doctrinal challenges, Britain turned conciliation into a weapon by mak-
ing it morally inconceivable that its views could be ignored.

I considered the attacks from within our government on the special
relationship as petty and formalistic. Severing our special ties — assum-
ing it could be done — would undermine British self-confidence, and

European Journey

gain us nothing. In a b
departure for Europe, I p

My own personal view
from such an excess of fri
ey have a special friend
special relationship of Brita
tus, rather than to discour
United States.

Nixon had accepted
Soames-de Gaulle contr
so long as it was confine
ing. Believing in the "sp
arrival statement.

This fitted in well with
low-key, personal, and s
ordinary lengths to make
available for an exchang
t American action in return
the Prime Minister's co
ostentatious, full of just e
ous past. But like its occa
small private gathering o
Burke Trend, the British

When we first encounter
a wily politician whose
sence of ultimate reliabil
considered him too close
his vanity were supposed
blandishments. And he w
comfiture in Vietnam to s
experience with Wilson, n
sure, any Labour Party lea
wing of his party. Nor wa
himself as a special ap
millan, after all, had ga
showing up in Moscow a
ciliation and wearing an
sincere friend of the Un
most Britons, were across
region which in Britain is
much time in the United
American partnership. It

European Journey

91

gain us nothing. In a background briefing on February 21 before our departure for Europe, I pointed out:

My own personal view on this issue is that we do not suffer in the world from such an excess of friends that we should discourage those who feel that they have a special friendship for us. I would think that the answer to the special relationship of Britain would be to raise other countries to the same status, rather than to discourage Britain into a less warm relationship with the United States.

Nixon had accepted my advice not to become involved in the Soames-de Gaulle controversy; he also had little interest in the dispute so long as it was confined to obtuse and theoretical bureaucratic backbiting. Believing in the "special relationship," he settled the issue by his arrival statement.

This fitted in well with the approach of our hosts. Everything was low-key, personal, and subtly flattering. The British had gone to extraordinary lengths to make us comfortable without being intrusive, to be available for an exchange of opinion without asking for any specific American action in return. We were taken from the airport to Chequers, the Prime Minister's country residence, which is comfortable but not ostentatious, full of just enough history to remind one of Britain's glorious past. But like its occupants, it is subtle and indirect in its lesson and its influence. The first conversations took place there over dinner, a small private gathering of Nixon and Wilson, Rogers and Stewart, Sir Burke Trend, the British Cabinet Secretary, and me.

When we first encountered him, Harold Wilson had the reputation of a wily politician whose penetrating intelligence was flawed by the absence of ultimate reliability. Some in the outgoing Administration had considered him too close to the left wing of the Labour Party; this and his vanity were supposed to make him unusually susceptible to Soviet blandishments. And he was accused of not being above using our discomfiture in Vietnam to shore up his own domestic position. In my experience with Wilson, none of these criticisms proved accurate. To be sure, any Labour Party leader has to take account of the views of the left wing of his party. Nor was he the first British Prime Minister to present himself as a special apostle of peace with the East — Harold Macmillan, after all, had gained himself the sobriquet of Super Mac by showing up in Moscow at the height of the Berlin crisis preaching conciliation and wearing an astrakhan hat. In my experience, Wilson was a sincere friend of the United States. His emotional ties, like those of most Britons, were across the oceans and not across the Channel in that region which in Britain is significantly called "Europe." He had spent much time in the United States; he sincerely believed in the Anglo-American partnership. It was not theatrics to invite Nixon, as he did, to

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attend a Cabinet meeting — an unprecedented honor for a foreigner. As for Wilson's reliability, I am in no position to judge his conduct on the British scene. With the United States I always found him a man of his word. He represented a curious phenomenon in British politics: his generation of Labour Party leaders was emotionally closer to the United States than were many leaders of the Conservative Party. The Tories seemed to find the loss of physical preeminence to the United States rankling, especially after what they considered our betrayal over Suez.

Though trained at Oxford, where he had taught economics for several years, Wilson had almost no interest in abstract ideas. He was fascinated by the manipulation of political power; he relished the enterprise of solving definable problems. Longer-range objectives elicited from him only the most cursory attention. He saw no sense in planning, because he had complete confidence that his many skills would see him through any tight spot. Wilson had an extraordinary memory that enabled him to recall the exact position on a page of a sentence he had read many years before. It was a skill he delighted in showing off; he exhibited almost equal skill in finding opportunities to do so. He was personally rather cold, though — not unlike Nixon — touchingly eager for approval, especially from those he respected. This category, generally included men of power or academics; he prized especially his close relationships with American Presidents. Early on he suggested to Nixon that they call each other by their first names. A fish-eyed stare from Nixon squelched this idea. But the incident did not change Wilson's friendly attitude toward the United States. I personally liked him; he never let us down.

His colleague, Foreign Secretary Michael Stewart, was a different personality. Well-meaning, slightly pedantic, Stewart delighted in moral disquisitions that could drive Nixon to distraction. He had been a schoolmaster, and showed it, before becoming first Minister of Education and then Foreign Secretary. Like many who came late in life to international responsibility, he acted as if it consisted of the proclamation of theoretical maxims. Stewart, however, was dedicated by conviction to the close relationship between our countries. Despite his many doubts, he defended our position in Vietnam in a debate at the Oxford Union with more vigor and skill than was exhibited by many of the Americans who had made the decision to send our troops there; he never expressed his qualms to outsiders. He was a decent, solid man, not brilliant or farsighted, but of the sturdy quality to which Britain owes so much of its greatness.

The third senior Britisher at dinner was Sir Burke (later Lord) Trend, Secretary of the Cabinet. His office is as powerful as it is anonymous. A senior civil servant who remains in place through all changes of administration, he prepares the minutes of Cabinet meetings, supervises

*European Journey*

the permanent civil service of decades of activity. This position was used to place Burke Trend on a slightly higher level than his predecessor, and a manner that presumably steered discussion of him away from the attention of the prime minister. He served appointees such as the prime minister, and was a close associate of the prime minister's cabinet. He was a man of great political influence, the benefits to us of which were not limited to the day he left office.

The dinner at Chequers, a tour d'horizon of world politics, continued over brandy and�, and the conversation had to be other's measure and was often Nixon's.

Nixon later called on Burke Trend, an events. The day had started ended at the home of Burke Trend, and he continued to be a regular visitor, as did his son, King and then a Prime Minister, Winston Churchill. Chequers — all this was a long list of high office, but not the highest. Burke Trend was the first British prime minister to be a member of the House of Commons, and the first to be a member of both houses. His first election was in 1957, and he remained in office until 1965, during which time he presided over a period of high inflation. In 1963, however, he was defeated by his son, who was then in his forties, and the former was forced to give up his seat in Parliament.

The next day in the Cabinet, as well as the office of Prime Minister, Burke Trend was joined by a number of his closest associates, including his son, Sir James, and his son-in-law, Sir Frederick. Chequers, as with his father, presided over a period of high inflation. In 1968, however, he was defeated by his son, who was then in his forties, and the former was forced to give up his seat in Parliament.

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93

the permanent civil service machinery, and renders the disinterested ad-
vice of decades of accumulated experience. The influence inherent in
this position was used with special effectiveness by its incumbent.
Burke Trend was a slight and scholarly man, with a twinkle in his eye
and a manner that proclaimed both wisdom and discretion. He unob-
trusively steered discussion away from shoals which he knew had
wrecked earlier impetuous adventures. He skillfully made the Cabinet
ministers he served appear more competent than they could possibly be.
He was a man of generous spirit. His erudition and advice were among
the benefits to us of the ‘‘special relationship.’’

The dinner at Chequers seemed a family evening. The discussion was a *tour d'horizon* of world affairs, begun in the paneled dining room and continued over brandy in the famous Long Gallery. Men who would have to settle their countries' futures for the next years took one another's measure and were on the whole at ease with the results.

Nixon later called me to his suite at Claridge's to review the day's
events. The day had started at the NATO Council in Brussels and had
ended at the home of the British Prime Minister, to which Nixon as-
cribed a history dating back through the centuries. I did not have the
heart to tell him that Chequers had performed its current function only
since World War I. He was exuberant; he adored the vestigial cere-
monies and was new enough to it to be thrilled at the succession of
events. To land with *Air Force One* on foreign soil, to be greeted by a
King and then a Prime Minister, to review honor guards, to visit
Chequers — all this was the culmination of his youthful dreams, the
conception of high office, seemingly unattainable for a poor, somewhat
resentful young man from a little town in California. It all produced one
of the few occasions of nearly spontaneous joy I witnessed in my ac-
quaintance with this withdrawn and elusive man. Though the day's dis-
cussion had resolved no grand issues, Nixon loved philosophical conver-
sations that involved neither confrontations nor haggling over details.
Nixon desperately wanted to be told how well he had done. As he
would do on so many other occasions, he asked me to recount his con-
spicuous role in the day's events over and over again. He had gone to
bed, and as occasionally happened when under stress he began to slur
his words or else struggle to form them very carefully. It was easy to
reassure him. Although the day had presented no taxing challenge, he
had conducted himself with dignity and ability.

The next day in the Cabinet room at 10 Downing Street (the residence
as well as the office of the Prime Minister), a larger group on both sides
touched on the themes of the night before. The main topics were Brit-
ain's decision to renew its application to the Common Market, the fu-
ture of NATO, and the course of East-West relations. The British minis-
ters claimed that they sought membership in Europe less for the

94

economic than for the political benefits of the more outward-looking Europe they would help bring about. Nixon agreed with this concept, but stressed that it could not be furthered by American hostility to de Gaulle. He would try to improve America's relations with France; while this would not alter de Gaulle's basic views it might make him more amenable to practical accommodations. The British ministers averred that this was exactly their view as well — as if the Soames-de Gaulle controversy had never occurred.

The discussion of NATO revealed once again the ambivalences of the Atlantic Alliance. Everyone agreed with Nixon's assessment that the Soviet Union was closing the nuclear gap and that we would do well in the face of Congressional pressures to preserve the new defense programs we were starting. But there was no willingness to draw the obvious conclusion that European defenses had to be strengthened. Wilson argued that NATO required a new strategic doctrine; he doubted that any European country was prepared to undertake a major increase in its defense expenditures for fear that the United States would then reduce its commitment. Wilson left it to us to figure out what could be the significance of a new strategic doctrine not embodied in new forces.

Michael Stewart contributed what was becoming the standard European theme. Our negotiation with the Soviet Union, especially on strategic arms limitation, was essential. The young generation would no longer support the Atlantic Alliance solely as an instrument for defense; it was essential for the unity of the West that they see in it also a vehicle for détente. He was right, but he thereby revealed the profound ambivalence of our European allies. In times of rising tension, they feared American rigidity; in times of relaxing tension, they dreaded a US-Soviet condominium. They urged us to be firm, then offered their mediation to break the resulting deadlock. They insisted that we consult with them before we did anything, but they wanted the freedom and autonomy to pursue their own détente diplomacy without restraint. If we were perceived to block détente, we would lose the support of our West European allies, who would then speed up their own contacts with the East, with no coordinated strategy; they would be too weak to resist simultaneous domestic and Soviet pressures. We found ourselves in the paradoxical position that we would have to take a leadership role in East-West relations if we wanted to hold the Alliance together and establish some ground rules for East-West contacts. But if we moved too rapidly or raised unwarranted hopes, we would undermine our case for the military strength that was the only safe basis on which to deal with the Soviet Union. It was a problem that would remain long after the participants in the Downing Street discussion had all left office.

There was a luncheon at Buckingham Palace with Queen Elizabeth. I thought she had been wrongly stereotyped as rather stodgy. She has an

## European Journey

impish wit and she impressed and her insight into the President spoke to the people with a group of British editors

The evening was notable to the public. During the speech the extraordinary misjudgment had therefore appointed Humphrey's, as Ambassador, of the disastrous decision. Freeman, the party. He had resigned gone on to make a name then editor of the left week's missioner to India. While brated Nixon's defeat in removing "a man of no sacrifice everything in the election seven months after with his embarrassing choice of ambassadors. Nixon was on the tration, he swore that he was reinforced by General January that Freeman's approach a person but to the President would declare a British Amendment as difficult and awkward and capable of doing so. Our Freeman from the guest list Street. Wilson courageously with trepidation.

But Nixon could astonish his opponents. Looking squarely at table, Nixon said: "Some states there's a new Freeman. I think after all, he's the new diplomat for our best for peace in the world."

The impact was electric. had heard at 10 Downing Street: "You can't guarantee being it — to be born a gentleman close to tears. Thus was born a spectacular success. John F. Kennedy as I ever dealt with. That's all."

European Journey

95

impish wit and she impressed me with her knowledge of world affairs and her insight into the personalities involved. In the afternoon, the President spoke to the personnel of the United States Embassy and met with a group of British editors and intellectuals.

The evening was notable for showing a side of Nixon barely known to the public. During the spring of 1968, Harold Wilson had committed the extraordinary misjudgment of betting on a Democratic victory; he had therefore appointed John Freeman, an old friend of Hubert Humphrey's, as Ambassador to Washington. It threatened to be a nearly disastrous decision. Freeman had been a Labour minister on the left of the party. He had resigned in a row over government health charges and gone on to make a name for himself first as a television interviewer, then editor of the left weekly *New Statesman*, and Britain's High Commissioner to India. While editor of the *Statesman* Freeman had celebrated Nixon's defeat in California by congratulating Americans on removing "a man of no principle whatsoever except a willingness to sacrifice everything in the cause of Dick Nixon." When Nixon won the election seven months after Freeman's appointment, Wilson was stuck with his embarrassing choice. To his credit, Wilson refused to change ambassadors. Nixon was outraged. From the beginning of his Administration, he swore that he would have nothing to do with Freeman. He was reinforced by General Eisenhower, who told him in my presence in January that Freeman's appointment was an insult not only to Nixon as a person but to the Presidency. But since it was unthinkable that we would declare a British Ambassador *persona non grata*, it seemed there was nothing left for Nixon but to make Freeman's ambassadorial tenure as difficult and awkward as possible. There was no doubt that he was capable of doing so. Our advance men requested Wilson to remove Freeman from the guest list for the President's dinner at 10 Downing Street. Wilson courageously refused and we all approached the evening with trepidation.

But Nixon could astonish. At the end of the dinner, he rose to make a toast. Looking squarely at Freeman, who sat on the opposite side of the table, Nixon said: "Some say there's a new Nixon. And they wonder if there's a new Freeman. I would like to think that that's all behind us. After all, he's the new diplomat and I'm the new statesman, trying to do our best for peace in the world."

The impact was electric. Wilson called the toast the most gracious he had heard at 10 Downing Street. He wrote Nixon a note on his menu. "You can't guarantee being born a Lord. It is possible — you've shown it — to be born a gentleman." The usually imperturbable Freeman was close to tears. Thus was born a mission to Washington that proved a spectacular success. John Freeman was one of the most effective ambassadors I ever dealt with. The reason for this was not so simple. His style

96

was unpropitious. Freeman eschewed all flattery; he met socially only those he respected; he made little effort to turn his Embassy into a fashionable salon. When he had a message to deliver, he prefaced it with a very formal statement that he was speaking under instructions. But Freeman was prepared to go beyond his instructions to express personal views. Since he was a man of superb intelligence and utter integrity, this soon proved invaluable. He had a shrewd geopolitical mind and, as it turned out, rather shared our philosophy of foreign relations. I thought so highly of Freeman's judgment that I frequently consulted him on matters outside his official purview; on one or two occasions, I let him read early drafts of Presidential speeches, tapping his talents as an editor. He had every right to report all his conversations to his Prime Minister; he almost certainly did so. But the intimacy and trust of the "special relationship" were meant precisely for such cordial collaboration.

For his part Nixon came first to trust, then to like Freeman. Freeman was the only Ambassador invited to the White House for a social occasion during Nixon's first term. He also became one of my closest friends; that friendship has survived both our terms of office. I consider it one of the greatest rewards of my public service.

So the London trip ended with a special bonus of goodwill. It had exposed more ambivalences than it solved. But as intended, it laid the basis for fruitful collaboration later.

## Bonn and Berlin and the Enigma of Germany

OUR next stop was Bonn. The situation of the Federal Republic of Germany was more complex. German politics were in preelection flux and we arrived during an incipient Berlin crisis. The West German President, a largely ceremonial figure, is selected by a special assembly of the Bundestag or representatives of the states (Länder). On all prior occasions this session was held in the old Reichstag building in West Berlin. This was to emphasize Bonn's claim to represent the continuity of the legitimate German state. The Soviets and their East German associates had previously ignored this implied challenge; by 1969 they felt strong enough to make an issue of it. They protested the electoral meeting in Berlin on the ground that West Berlin was not legally part of the Federal Republic. They started harassing the access routes for the first time since 1962.

This was bound to cause profound anxiety in Bonn. Berlin's vulnerability had become proverbial. There was uncertainty about how the new Administration would react. There was a pervasive unease caused in part by Germany's exposed position, in part by policy disputes with the two administrations preceding us. Bonn had disagreed with the McNamara emphasis on non-nuclear regional defense, fearing that it might

## European Journey

tempt Soviet aggression. Treaty a clear example of American forces on German soil — wig Erhard — had with the Kennedy administration.

All this reflected powerful new German of the Nazi past, economy in search of government, system of government, sybil of government, system of resurrection. The FdH of low roots, vulnerable small town where A.

The tenuousness of its leaders. Addedary duty to restoratively rejected man maneuver between domestic oppositions for Germanments from the East in Europe, and Europeanism which had have the opportunities

Adenauer succeeded the Federal Republic of West Germany, the neutralist Germany changed its program, protesting its allegiant twist of fate, the bristling chose this moment who had placed so just accomplished sensus behind his domestic upheaval. The Social Democracy tap the latent Germanic orientation. American connectivity

385

The Uneasy Alliance

The funeral was also the occasion for the discussion of a fundamental defense issue that was raised by an old friend, Denis Healey, then Minister of Defense of the United Kingdom. Healey and I had known each other since the mid-Fifties, when we had both written on strategic problems. He was brilliant and gregarious, extraordinarily well read and impleacable in debate. His restless intellect sometimes caused him to shift his positions faster than his admirers could assimilate. But though like most politicians he was finely attuned to the moods of the moment, he was always constructive and stimulating.

Healey had written me a private letter asking what our attitude would be toward grouping the West European nations within NATO to concert their positions on defense matters. The prospect of a European caucus on defense raised an interesting question. The "integrationists" in our bureaucracy, as well as outside, passionately favored European identity in the defense field as likely to divide the Alliance. I thought the opposite was more likely to be true. In economic matters Europe and America were to some extent rivals; moreover, there was no risk or penalty for competition. In the military field there was no conceivable contingency in which Europe would be better off without American support. Our vital interests were complementary; the penalty for independent action was overwhelming. I was convinced that a European identity in the defense field would be less divisive than the European economic unity that all leading Americans, including myself, welcomed. Only by arriving at independent conclusions would Europe see the necessity of strengthening its defense effort.

I thought the issue sufficiently important to ask the President's guidance on how to respond to Healey:

> Some US officials . . . have noted that a European caucus could grow into a third force grouped around France, drawing its chief impulse to unity from anti-Americanism. . . .

> I believe that efforts to create a more coherent European voice in NATO are in our net interest, though not without some short term problems. Greater European coherence would be quite consistent with what you have said about the desirability over the longer run of our being able to deal with Europe as a true and more equal partner.

I therefore recommended that I inform Healey of our generally favorable reaction, provided such a grouping was not used as a device to isolate France. We would be prepared to tell other Europeans that "a stronger and more united European voice will make for a more equitable and hence a more productive Atlantic partnership." Nixon approved this approach. The "Eurogroup" gradually took shape, but no European consensus on defense emerged. The reason was lack of agreement on

386

Europe's political structure. France wanted a united European voice, but not within NATO; it was bound to consider the British initiative as a way of getting around the issue of British membership in the Common Market. The American bureaucracy, whatever the decision of the President, was lukewarm; it supported the scheme weakly and wherever possible surreptitiously opposed its implementation. The other Europeans were ambivalent. They favored unity in the abstract, but they feared that the attempt to articulate a European identity within NATO might give the United States an excuse for reducing its military establishment in Europe.

These attitudes came into focus again during the Washington meeting of foreign and defense ministers to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the Alliance. In a memorandum of April 9 I had urged Nixon to emphasize our commitment to maintain strong American forces in Europe; but he should stress also that Congressional support in the United States required proportionate contributions from our allies. Second, he needed to counteract the notion that détente was just around the corner merely because the Soviet tone had softened. We should indicate a general readiness to explore concrete areas for agreement, rather than mere atmospherics, with the Soviet Union. Third, with respect to international European arrangements I recommended that we encourage the European members of NATO to improve cooperation among themselves. But we should avoid support for a particular method; we should neither join in any effort to isolate France nor convey the idea that special rewards awaited those who contracted out of the Alliance.

Above all, I urged the President to underline the principle "that the security of this alliance should be broadly construed to involve not only its physical safety against external attack but the ability of our countries to cope with the problems *within* our societies." To develop a sense of common interest above and beyond defense, I endorsed an idea, which Pat Moynihan had inspired, for a Committee on the Challenges of Modern Society. As modern industrial nations we all shared the problems of protecting the environment or improving transportation, and surely the resources and imagination of the Western nations could be brought to bear on the quality of life. In addition, to give tangible expression to his commitment to increased consultation, I recommended that the President propose that Deputy Foreign Ministers meet at least once between the semiannual Foreign Ministers' meetings. They could attempt longer-range planning, especially on East-West relations. Nixon accepted these recommendations and put them before the North Atlantic Council in an eloquent speech in April 1969.

One might have expected that, after years of complaining about inadequate American attention and insufficient consultation, our allies would

have embraced a political philosophy meant in part of our allies' planning for the future received and advocating a program of national defense which was to be the basic elements of all foreign policy decisions of all branches of the military establishment.

The final version of the President's program and for "change of view" at the international conference on international environment and international security. Included in the program were the following commitments: to continue the growing relationship between the United States and Western European countries; to increase the effectiveness of the commitment to the NATO alliance; and to provide for the growing needs of the ally in Europe.

In 1969, and in 1970, I had inherited the principles, given Nixon by American Echelon, of the American foreign policy of hewing to the funniest and funniest points of view in Europe. abruptly resuming the program of local government in France and Germany, and resuming the program of American renunciation of the残余残余残余残余 of local government in France. He had brought

416

clearer; Bonn, not we, should assume the responsibility for accepting the division of Germany. And it made no sense expanding commercial and technical ties if tensions persisted. The President issued instructions along this line.

Rogers could report to the President with some satisfaction of the December NATO ministerial meeting:

On the European Security Conference and East-West relations, we achieved a realistic and cautious NATO stand which stressed the need for further explorations and better prospects for significant results before we agreed to go to a Conference. We also obtained Alliance agreement on NATO initiatives vis-à-vis Eastern Europe including preparation of a negotiating position for mutual and balanced force reductions, support for initiatives on Germany and Berlin.

Euphoria for a conference for a conference's sake was contained. . . .

We had, in fact, blunted the Soviet strategy of selective détente by linking key issues to each other. The Soviets wanted a European Security Conference but they could not get one except by making progress in Berlin, where we had a veto as an occupying power. Brandt's *Ostpolitik* tended to confirm the European status quo no matter what we did, but Brandt would not be able to get his agreement with the Soviet Union or East Germany ratified by his Parliament in the absence of an agreement that improved access to Berlin. If we kept our head, therefore, we were in a position to encourage détente and to control its pace, to respond to our allies' pleas for an easing of tensions, and conduct a negotiation both precise and compatible with our security.

*European Leaders Visit Washington: 1970*

THERE was thus much to talk about when the West European leaders, reciprocating Nixon's visit of the year before, descended on Washington at monthly intervals starting late in January 1970. The first visitor was Harold Wilson; he was followed by Georges Pompidou in late February and by Willy Brandt in early April.

Wilson, as always with Nixon, affected his most avuncular manner, like a small-town banker who had decided that the best way to deal with his most improvident customer was to give him a reputation for parsimony to uphold. He urged on Nixon the benefits of Brandt's policy as if no other approach were conceivable. Nixon, whose suspicion of Brandt had not abated, went no further than to indicate that we would do nothing to oppose him. At the same time, Wilson was not above using *Ostpolitik* to further his goal of Britain's entry into the European Community, arguing that Britain's membership might serve to restrain German nationalist ambitions.

Much of the discussion was about Biafra, a province of Nigeria,

*The Uneasy Deal*

populated by government, perial powers, tribal or lingüistically at a tribal basis, cedent was e African Unity to preserve the its colonial tra

For some regional campaign not doing enough Our State Department and the suspicious the contrary view some of those who that they too w

During Wil's drawing to a close, overrun the second unless massive, a half would start supplies be de Morris of my seeking to rush happy for once to and State Department troops took cont dence.'' A curtailed government succeeded in defeated Ibos. When our intervention interests he and t

Another noteworthy regular NSC meeting equally historic a visited London in obviously no sense leaders — all the any discussion which

The Uneasy Alliance

417

populated by the Ibo tribe, that had sought to secede from the central government. The borders of Africa's nations were cruelly drawn by imperial powers on the basis of administrative convenience, cutting across tribal or linguistic ties. National unity within existing frontiers was both constantly at risk and passionately defended. Secession — especially on a tribal basis — threatened to disrupt all established order; once the precedent was established no state would be safe. The Organization of African Unity strongly supported the Nigerian federal government's war to preserve the unity of the country. So did Britain, convinced also that its colonial tradition conferred a special knowledge of African problems.

For some reason Biafra had become an issue in the American Presidential campaign of 1968. Nixon had claimed that the United States was not doing enough to ease civilian suffering in the besieged province. Our State Department shared the British view that to challenge Nigerian sovereignty would earn us the hostility of Africa's most populous nation and the suspicions of all others. I am inclined to believe that Nixon took the contrary view in part because he took no little pleasure in showing some of those who were wont to attack him for his alleged moral defects that they too were capable of expediency on the issue of human rights.

During Wilson's visit in January 1970 the Nigerian civil war was drawing to a bloody conclusion. The central government was about to overrun the seceding province. Independent studies had indicated that unless massive relief supplies reached Biafra immediately, a million and a half would starve to death. The Nigerian government insisted that all supplies be delivered through it. The White House — with Roger Morris of my staff playing an energetic and passionate role — was seeking to rush supplies directly. I supported Morris. So did Nixon, happy for once to be on the humane side of an issue. British obfuscation and State Department procrastination soon made the issue moot. We never succeeded in establishing an independent relief program. Federal troops took control of the province and snuffed out Biafran "independence." A curtain of silence descended. In the end, the Nigerian federal government successfully carried out a policy of reconciliation with the defeated Ibos. Wilson influenced Nixon's policy to a degree and curbed our interventionist impulses. From the point of view of our long-term interests he and the State Department were undoubtedly right.

Another noteworthy event of Wilson's visit was his attendance at a regular NSC meeting. It was Nixon's way of reciprocating for his equally historic attendance at a session of the British Cabinet when he visited London in February 1969. Both events were part charade, since obviously no serious debate would occur in the presence of foreign leaders — all the less so as Nixon was generally uncomfortable with any discussion whose outcome he could not foresee. The subject chosen, appropriately enough, was American policy toward Europe. The

418

bureaucratic maneuvering preceding the meeting turned out to be far more interesting than the meeting itself. For a year my office had sought to extract an options paper on the subject from the European Bureau of the State Department. It had resisted bitterly. The State Department had considered European policy its special preserve and did not want to admit what was unfortunately inherent in the presentation of options: the possibility of a policy change.

After months of procrastination over subsidiary issues there emerged at last a governmental options paper. The choices being laid before the President hardly opened scintillating new vistas. They were: (1) maintaining the "present course"; (2) supporting an "enhanced Europe" (meaning British entry and closer integration); or (3) American disengagement. Here was the standard bureaucratic device of leaving the decision-maker with only one real option, which for easy identification is placed in the middle. The classic case, I joked, would be to confront the policymaker with the choices of nuclear war, present policy, or surrender. In this case, the bureaucracy took no chances. Options 1 and 2 were the same; our present course was an "enhanced Europe." "American disengagement" had pejorative connotations and no support in our government or in any allied government. Thus the preordained consensus quickly embraced the policy of encouraging an "enhanced Europe." Nixon laid down the gospel:

> I have never been one who believes the US should have control of the actions of Europe. It is in the interests of the United States to have a strong economic, political and military European community, with the United Kingdom in that community. I have preferred that Europe move independently, going parallel with the United States. A strong, healthy and independent Europe is good for the balance of the world. For the US to play a heavy-handed role would be counter-productive. What we want is friendly competition with the United States.

Wilson generously told the NSC meeting that it was "fascinating as a form of governmental process." This was either a token of Wilson's personal affection for things American, or else classic British understatement. "Fascinating" was surely the least one could say for a procedure that brought forth alternatives no one would consider and that after months of study pointed to the course — British membership in an increasingly integrated Europe — which was already being carried out.

In a few months it began to appear that matters were not quite so simple. The "enhanced Europe" had its political promise, but it was also evidently capable of fierce economic competition with us, producing tensions not foreseen by the grand designs of the Sixties. But by then Harold Wilson was out of office. In June he called an election that he confidently expected to win — an opinion shared also by all our key

The Uneasy Alliance

officials saved vered and who

The relationship, having started in 1954 with Pompidou, president, having seen De Gaulle have Gaulle not really have seen, surely have slid to de Gaulle, call no occasion decessor but tive suspiciously. De Gaulle's style in keeping with Fifth French President of the term of several prerogatives of a French president.

Pompidou was an actor. Wary of criticism of a sort that some statesmen have surmounted few statesmen of politics. He and the French more reflectively employed by humor.

In regard to the NSC in ambivalent terms, it was understood that the two states were bound to act long as the ultimate test France's forces. Forced to choose nations — and have to abandoned to fomented between Nixon and other distrusted mutual

Speech by Henry A. Kissinger - at the Davos Symposium

January 31, 1980

Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen,

I want to express my great appreciation about what
**Ted Heath** has said. We have been friends for twenty
years and fought sometimes together and sometimes
separately about the future of our societies.

I had the privilege of working with Ted Heath when
he was Prime Minister. The German statesman Bismarck once
said (I paraphrase from memory) that the art of states-
manship is to listen carefully until one can perhaps
discern the footsteps of history and follow for a brief
period in their train. I am convinced that history
will show that Ted Heath understood and heard the footsteps
of history.

He realized that Europe needed unity and identity to
make its contribution to our contemporary period. In office,
he did not always share my own estimate of my infalli-
bility, which made him not always the easiest partner to
be with. But he performed the most important role of an
ally, a friend and a partner: to recall us to our duties,
to advance his view of our future, and, as Winston Churchill
said, he was not always wrong.

["932", "1970-1971: From Turmoil to Hope", "senhower had paid a triumphal call in December 1959. One of Nixon's obsessions, in fact, was to ensure that the crowds for him at least equaled, and, he hoped, exceeded, those of the predecessor whom he both respected and envied. There was no reason for concern. Madrid gave Nixon a magnificent reception, marred only by the unfortunate fact that the control tower neglected to close the runways after the arrival, and the whine of jet engines drowned the welcoming speeches. Since on both sides these had been honed to a fine edge of platitude, history is unlikely to feel their loss. On the ceremonial route into town not even Haldeman could complain about the splendid and photogenic scene, as mounted lancers flanked his chief and Franco, erect in an open limousine, amidst scenes of wild enthusiasm. He was able to assuage Nixon's unease over unfavorable comparisons with Eisenhower's reception by commenting sagely that once crowds exceeded several hundred thousand the only problem was to announce some plausible figure.", "Of all the visits this was the one in which the symbolism of continued American interest was most clearly the message. The negotiations on bases had been concluded; the post-Franco transition was a subject too delicate for even the most oblique allusion. And the conversations with Franco were not memorable — at least to me — for yet another reason. When Nixon, accompanied by me, called on Franco for what were billed as substantive talks, we found the aged dictator exhausted by the long motorcade and tending to doze off while the President was talking. This had a weirdly mesmeric effect on me. Despite my most desperate efforts to contribute to the Spanish-American dialogue, at least to the extent of staying awake, I found myself also dozing off. Nixon was left exchanging ideas with Gregorio Lopez Bravo, the Spanish Foreign Minister, while Franco and I recuperated peacefully from our exertions. I was admitted to the meeting as note-taker. We owe whatever historical record of the event as now may exist to the wakeful General Walters, acting as interpreter.", "We flew off and stopped for lunch at Chequers, the country home of British Prime Ministers, for Nixon's first talks with Edward Heath. The relationship with Heath was one of the most complex of Nixon's Presidency. There was no foreign leader for whom Nixon had a higher regard, especially in combination with Sir Alec Douglas-Home, Heath's Foreign Secretary, whom Nixon positively revered. During the British election campaign, Nixon had been an unabashed partisan of the Tories. Despite the evidence of the polls and contrary to the opinion of all of his advisers, including our Embassy in London, Nixon had been convinced that Heath would win. When his prediction came true, he was so elated that he called me four times in one night in Mexico City, where I was attending the soccer World Cup, to express his joy and receive my confirmation of his prescience. He wanted nothing so much as intimate collaboration of a kind he would grant to no other foreign leader. At last,", "Crisis in the Alliance", "he said, there would be leaders who did not buttress, and from whom", "The relationship remained by everyone that there was no reason to justify these expenses, and the personal rapport between them was not as strong as it had been. Both were rather acceptance but their loneliness. Of course, they knew best and liked each other's company, and their good friends, despite their government. He was free of the complex POLITENESS that attended all political meetings. The rudest come naturally and are renowned aloofness and politeness. The best person to talk to is a gentleman who is a native of a people, and a politician should join Europe. He should join the European Parliament. He has a great chance to do so. He has the support of the British people, and he will be accepted as a Britishman. He has the support of the American people, and he will be accepted as a American. He has the support of the European people, and he will be accepted as a European. And of all the British people, he will be accepted as a Britishman. Rather, he will be accepted as an American. Rather, his attachment forged in the facts of geography, of a time when Britain was a great power, and of a time when America was a great power, and of a time when both sides in the争戰 between the two great powers were ready to fight, he should join Europe. He had been a member of the British Parliament. He had been a member of the American Parliament. He had been a member of the American National Council. He had been a member of the British National Council. He was a friendly foe, and he was not a foreigner. His comrade was a friendly foe, and he was not a foreigner. His comrade was a foreigner, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. 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He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. 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He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the British government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the American government, and he was not a foreigner. He was close to the European

Crisis in the Alliance

933

he said, there would be a kindred spirit in one major country, a group of leaders who did not lean on us, whom we did not need constantly to buttress, and from whom we might learn a great deal.

The relationship never flourished. Like a couple who have been told by everyone that they should be in love and who try mightily but futilely to justify these expectations, Heath and Nixon never managed to establish the personal rapport for which Nixon, at least, longed in the beginning. Both were rather austere personalities, vulnerable and eager for acceptance but incapable of the act of grace that could have bridged their loneliness. Of all British political leaders, Heath was the one I knew best and liked most when I came to office. We have remained good friends, despite some differences of opinion when we were both in government. He was one of the ablest world leaders I met. He was not free of the complexes imposed by Britain's class history; he rose from modest beginnings to lead a party imbued with Britain's aristocratic tradition. The ruthlessness necessary to achieve his ambition did not come naturally and was all the more noticeable for that reason. His renowned aloofness was more apparent than real. He was a warm and gentle person who anticipated rejection and fended it off with a formal politeness (punctuated often with a laugh distinguished by its lack of mirth). He was in many respects the most untypical of British postwar political leaders. He had a theoretical bent closer than the rest to that of the continental Europeans, which gave his ideas an abstract cast sometimes verging on the doctrinaire.

And of all the British leaders Heath was probably also the least committed emotionally to the United States. It is not that he was anti-American. Rather, he was immune to the sentimental elements of that attachment forged in two wars. For most British leaders, whatever the facts of geography, America is closer than "Europe." This is a vestige of a time when Britain sought its fulfillment across the oceans and the continent was a source of danger, never of self-realization. Heath, however, was persuaded that Britain's future was in Europe and that Britain should join Europe not reluctantly and calculatingly but with real conviction. He had been the principal British negotiator in Macmillan's effort to enter the Common Market, aborted by de Gaulle's veto in 1963. More than half convinced by the Gaullist argument that the principal obstacle had been Britain's "special relationship" with the United States, Heath as Prime Minister was determined not to repeat Macmillan's mistake. His commitment to Europe was profound: The United States was a friendly foreign country, entitled to the consideration that reflected its power and importance, but the "special relationship" was an obstacle to the British vocation in Europe. Heath was content to enjoy no higher status in Washington than any other European leader. Indeed, he came close to insisting on receiving no preferential treatment.

A paradox was in the making. Wilson, whom Nixon distrusted, had

["934", "1970-1971: From Turmoil to Hope", "reached for an easier and more personal relationship than did Heath, whom Nixon greatly admired. The Labour Party, whose domestic philosophy was far less congenial to a Republican Administration, established a closer rapport than the Conservatives, who in one sense were a kind of sister party. Some of this was due to Heath's personality and convictions; some of it brought to the surface deeper currents in Tory thinking. The Conservative Party felt acutely the decline in Britain's global role, with which it had historically been so identified. Some of its elements were not free of resentment about America's part in the process of decolonization, from Franklin Roosevelt's strictures during World War II to the Suez crisis of 1956.", "Whatever the reason, Heath kept Washington at arm's length. He was being offered for nothing the preferred status in consultation for which his predecessors had struggled with patience and persistence and not a little straight flattery. He chose not to avail himself of the opportunity, and by making this rejection explicit he both smoothed Britain's entry into Europe and complicated his relationship with Washington. There was no meeting between the President and the Prime Minister immediately after Heath's election, as Nixon had hoped and as every previous postwar British leader had sought. There were very few personal calls on the telephone, though Nixon had made clear to those charged with handling all his phone calls that his refusal to accept \"unscreened\" calls did not apply to the British Prime Minister, and even though I repeatedly urged the British Ambassador, John Freeman, to encourage this sort of contact. The new British Prime Minister thus implemented what the American apostles of European integration had urged when Nixon had entered office and what had then been explicitly rejected. Indeed, inviting Nixon to stop briefly at Chequers — even in a most cordial atmosphere — served Heath's purpose of delaying a formal consultative meeting for several months more. It gave Heath an opportunity to present the meeting to his European colleagues as an informal courtesy call in which nothing of substance could possibly have been concluded because of the pressures of time, and to consult his European colleagues *before* launching himself on a trans-Atlantic dialogue.", "Future historians will have to decide whether Heath's judgment of the European mood was correct. Did he really need to pay the price in intimacy with Washington to establish his European credentials, especially at a time when Brandt and Pompidou were heading in the opposite direction of strengthening their countries' ties with us? Did he, in fact, pay a price except for a slight change in atmospherics? Heath pursued a long-term policy with vision and tenacity. It may be argued that by making the Anglo-American relationship more formal, he adapted it to an inevitable reality. It was nevertheless a pity that so formidable and attractive a man could have such a blind spot for the importance of intangibles.", "## Crisis in the Alliance", "Outwardly, the meeting in Washington, D.C., to discuss Nixon still ascribed the responsibility for the shakedown period.) The lunch Heath met with Nixon and I were also present. Altogether, there was a significant amount of conversational exposure to the shakedown period. Significantly, Europe was the only major power not yet involved in the Four-Power talks. All the conversational exposure to the shakedown period was pursued. All the conversational exposure to the

Crisis in the Alliance

935

Outwardly, the meeting at Chequers could not have gone better. Nixon still ascribed the relative aloofness of the new British government to the need to get its feet on the ground — confusing British with American practice. (British administrations, inheriting the permanent civil service, and consisting of a handful of party leaders with long Parliamentary exposure to the issues, usually do not require an extended shakedown period.) The talks were conducted in two sessions. Before lunch Heath met with Nixon; only Cabinet Secretary Sir Burke Trend and I were also present. During lunch Rogers and Sir Alec joined the group. Altogether, there was less than two hours' time for conversation. Significantly, Europe was not discussed at all, except for Nixon's general comment that we were prepared to be discreetly helpful in the British negotiations with the European Community, an offer that was not pursued. All the conversations concerned international issues: Vietnam and Africa before lunch; the Middle East afterward. Heath was at his best in this sort of dialogue — incisive, decisive, and astute. He also substantially shared our perception of international affairs. He called our attention to the strategic significance of Africa and the Indian Ocean at a time when these were not yet high priorities on our agenda. He agreed with us that how we disengaged from Vietnam would affect the world beyond Southeast Asia: "If the Soviets feel you are in retreat and humiliated, they will reactivate their policy in Europe." Under the guise of briefing us on his attendance at Nasser's funeral, Sir Alec sought to nudge us gently toward greater activism in the Middle East, especially in the Four-Power talks. Nixon disagreed, believing, as I did, that the radical forces had not yet run out their string. He thought more crises inevitable, no matter what we did. There was no time to resolve the issue since our schedule forced us to leave for Ireland if we were not to arrive too late for the cherished "photo opportunity." The meeting had been useful, friendly, even warm, but strangely inconclusive, a harbinger of a more complex future.

The last stop of the Presidential trip was Ireland. My briefing book for Nixon said the maximum that was possible: "The Irish stop has no great international significance, except that Ireland has not been totally passive in world affairs. It has served, and can in the future, as a constructive and reliable neutral." This worthy objective would not normally require personal Presidential attention for a full forty-eight hours. The stop was frankly a domestic political one. It enabled Nixon to bring his claim to Irish ancestry to the attention of Irish-American voters and to pay off an obligation to a wealthy American contributor at whose ex-travagant castle we stayed. The contributor decided to put on a pageant of Irish history that started at one in the morning and, given the passion and drama of the subject, did not conclude until around four-thirty. By accident of propinquity my staff and I became the target of Presidential wrath, though we had had nothing to do with the scheduling.

Crisis in the Alliance

937

idea of the President of the United States repairing from a memorial service at Notre-Dame to Maxim's was, of course, mind-boggling. But it did not seem so to an ebullient Nixon when he thought about it after a good dinner at the residence of our Ambassador, Arthur (Dick) Watson. Plans were therefore being laid to proceed. In good bureaucratic fashion I clothed my objection to principle in the technical argument that the President could not possibly be photographed drinking wine after a memorial service. I was overruled. An edict was issued reaffirming Maxim's but banning wine from the meal. Luckily, our Ambassador was a sensible man. By a stroke of destiny, he rather than an advance man had been assigned to contact the restaurant. I took Watson aside and warned him that his position would become intolerable when the French public outrage at our insensitivity spilled over into official relations. He should not do anything that night. If there were any complaint I would take the responsibility. As it turned out Nixon, after a good night's sleep, himself had had second thoughts. When I told him the next morning that he would undo all the good his trip had accomplished by such an action, he instructed me to cancel the preparations. I had no difficulty promising a speedy execution of that order.

Edward Heath visited Washington a month later, in December 1970, for his first formal consultation with Nixon. Britain's prospective entry into the European Common Market had brought to a head increasing tensions between Europe and America, though it did not cause them. The underlying reason was a clash of perception due essentially to economic rivalry between the United States and a resurgent Europe. Some of the dispute had a slightly unreal quality. We spoke of nondiscriminatory trade, ignoring that a common market is inherently discriminatory; after all, it is formed by raising tariffs and other obstacles against imports from the outside world that do not apply to the trade of the states within it. The imminence of Britain's membership forced us to face the long-ignored problem inherent in the very concept of European integration. Heath's visit defined the issue; Heath was in no position to resolve it. He left no doubt about the new priorities in British policy. He stressed that his overriding goal was Britain's entry into the Common Market. Once in, Britain would play a constructive role with respect to our concerns. But he could not risk making any concessions to us in advance; he wished neither to negotiate Common Market issues bilaterally with us nor to appear as — or, for that matter, to be — America's Trojan Horse in Europe. No previous British Prime Minister would have considered making such a statement to an American President. Neither the amiable context nor Nixon's understanding reply could obscure the fact that we were witnessing a revolution in Britain's postwar foreign policy.

However painful the transformation, this revolution had its positive

938

aspects. Britain's global experience and pragmatic style were bound to be helpful in European councils whether its views were coordinated beforehand with the United States or not. Heath was surely right in stressing that the major benefit to us of Britain's entering into Europe would be political, not economic. (This, of course, begged the question of how big an economic price we were prepared to pay for political benefits.) And his conversations with Nixon on world affairs demonstrated — as at Chequers — a substantial harmony of views.

As did all the other European leaders, Heath expressed misgivings about the long-term trends in Germany; though like all his colleagues he almost surely did not convey them in Bonn, leaving it to us — if anybody — to bear the onus of expressing what everyone seemed to fear. He opposed Brandt's idea of a permanent conference on Berlin. He thought the allies had to bring home to the Soviets the need for reciprocity, especially on Berlin, if Brandt's policy was not to become a series of unilateral concessions. Nixon agreed, explaining our concept of linkage. He reassured Heath that he would not permit SALT to give the Soviets strategic superiority. There was a review of Indochina, again with substantial agreement. Heath was a new experience for American leaders: a British Prime Minister who based his policy toward the United States not on sentimental attachments but on a cool calculation of interest. At the same time his convictions so nearly coincided with ours that close collaboration would result from that self-interest.

The Heath visit concluded another year of intensive allied consultations. We had after some hesitation supported the breakthrough of Brandt's policy. Britain's entry into Europe would in time have significant consequences. But on the whole we were engaged in a holding action. In the early part of 1971 we were preoccupied with the effort to sever the North Vietnamese communications in Laos, the opening to China, and the May 20 breakthrough linking offensive and defensive weapons in the SALT negotiations with the Soviet Union.

In high office competing pressures tempt one to believe that an issue deferred is a problem avoided; more often it is a crisis invited. Both the military and the economic dimensions of our European relationship came back to haunt us in 1971.

*The Mansfield Amendment: The Old Guard Steps into the Breach*

THE first crisis was military. On May 11, 1971, we learned without any warning that the gentle Senate Majority Leader, Mike Mansfield, would revive his perennial proposal to cut our forces in Europe by half, or 150,000 men. The vehicle would be an amendment to the Draft Extension Act having the force of law. Mansfield was not just any

*Crisis in the Alliance*

Senator. He was the universally liked for radical fringe but a ч that small band of p system of checks and ponent of the war in never passed the bou a democracy. At he all American oversea that sought to mainta posure to calculation foreigners.

Mansfield's amend studies indicated that enhanced, not reduc them. If the Senate c massive troop cut. N foreign policy as a vi whereby in order to s late the essential. Th strategic realities wo

The issue had con budget, which critics assault on all elemen already publicly con year extension of th Senator Mansfield re Europe — this time tion,” as he usually next day, May 12. I House that Mansfield

It was symptomatic and of the substanti such magnitude cou hearing and that it balance-of-payments penditures; respect f against him. But th malaise that made t administrations. Th White House immed the amendment wo

964

of European conditions. After some initial hesitation he now favored the fostering of European unity; he objected, however, to basing it on the prospect of American withdrawal, which he feared would turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy. He concentrated on Soviet relations and the opening to China. He expressed his own fears about the long-range implications of *Ostpolitik*. He promised that his trips to Moscow and Peking would not encourage sentimental illusions. He explained our policy in the India-Pakistan crisis; Pompidou professed to agree with our analysis. But he left little doubt that since we were making the difficult decisions, France had some scope for cynical opportunism. Since we would protect the equilibrium, France would lean toward India as the stronger and more populous country.

Pompidou's reactions reflected the basic European ambivalence. In times of tension Europeans advocated détente; in periods of relaxation they dreaded condominium. In crisis they looked to us to maintain the equilibrium outside of Europe, and under the umbrella of the risks we were running they did not hesitate to seek special advantages for themselves. These attitudes acted at once as a spur and a brake to our European policy. It impelled us to a degree of sharing of views unprecedented among allies, but it left us finally face to face with the necessity of making the ultimate decisions on the most critical issues, especially outside of Europe. And it provided an additional incentive for us to develop our own strategy for détente. In its absence European leaders would make their own forays to Moscow and be tempted to gain the support of their left by pretending to act as a brake on an alleged American bellicosity, which they secretly welcomed. If we had our own option toward the East, these tendencies would be restrained by the fear that if pushed too far we could outstrip our allies in a race to Moscow.

The meeting with Heath on December 20-21 followed a similar pattern, except that Heath, being more familiar with American thought processes, was less explicit about long-term trends than Pompidou. He was more prepared to take Nixon at his word when he explained our priority of Atlantic over East-West relations. Heath pursued his favorite theme of European unity and reassured the President that it would be "competitive," not confrontational. It was an interesting and not entirely reassuring formulation, a considerable step away from the automatic cooperation taken for granted by our own "twin pillar" Atlanticists in the 1960s and by all of Heath's predecessors. Heath explained his ideas for the best procedure for Atlantic cooperation. First Europe should develop a common policy at a European summit or foreign ministers' conference. After that an effort would be made to coordinate with us — another important modification of the old "special relationship" based on prior consultations between London and Washington. Heath spoke more passionately than Pompidou about European defense. We

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Crisis in the Alliance

965

faced in Heath the curiosity of a more benign British version of de Gaulle.

Except on these issues Heath's views paralleled ours. He shared our skepticism about the European Security Conference. He gave some credence to Pompidou's belief that it might buttress the independence of East European countries but sympathized with my view that it was hard to explain why then the Soviets would push it so energetically. Heath's major concern was not to be caught in a dispute between France and the United States on the subject. He suggested we put the issue off until 1973, using as a pretext the need to ratify Germany's Eastern treaties first.

The review of the world situation was warm and harmonious. On the Indian subcontinent Britain's historic relationship was too emotional to countenance our colder geopolitical assessment. The two leaders discussed what was perhaps the most profound philosophical question faced by all the nations of the West in common. It was posed by Heath: "We are moving more and more into a state of world affairs in which effective action is no longer possible. How much can you do?" It led to one of Nixon's more effective presentations, part of which has already been quoted in the previous chapter:

Part of the reason for conducting our Vietnam withdrawal so slowly is to give some message that we are not prepared to pay *any* price for ending a war; we must now ask ourselves what we are willing to pay to avert war. If we are not, we have tough days ahead. . . . The Establishment has a guilt complex. They can't stand the fact that I, their political opponent, am rectifying their mistakes. In addition, the Establishment has this growing obsession with domestic problems. The intellectual establishment is confused and frustrated by their own role, and by the United States' role. They have never believed that there was any real danger from the Left. They are turning inward. They have made it a problem whether we are going to continue our involvement in the world. The point of this too-long discourse is this: I know the issue; I'll see it through; we will have a world role. You'll wake up day after day wondering what's happening to us. Our initiatives are necessary to give our people hope. A political leader must constantly feed hope — but he must constantly know what he is doing, without illusion.

Nixon's later fate must not obscure the importance of this passage. He was right; he had diagnosed both the American and the Atlantic problem correctly.

The last visitor was Willy Brandt. As with the other European leaders there were few outstanding issues. But unlike the other leaders Brandt made no claims to a global role; he prided himself on avoiding it. As a result there was relatively little to discuss. The purely German problems had been negotiated. Both the Eastern treaties and the Berlin Agreement

The Year of Europe

137

forward the Year of Europe. We did not know what we were letting
ourselves in for.

The Exploratory Phase

THE year began on a somewhat sour note. All our European allies, with the honorable exception of British Prime Minister Edward Heath, dissociated themselves in varying degrees from the last painful tremor of the Vietnam war — the Christmas bombing. Most European media swallowed the fashionable canard that we had been engaged in the massive extermination of civilians. Many European leaders made comments no less offensive for their allusive phrasing.

Nixon was beside himself. As a passionate believer in the Atlantic Alliance — in 1947 he had been a member of the Herter Committee that had studied European reconstruction for the House of Representatives and laid the basis for the Marshall Plan — he simply could not understand how our allies could turn on us at a moment of such importance and sensitivity. Over a month after the bombing and a week after the Paris Agreement was reached, on February 1, 1973, Nixon told Heath: "What you did, did not go unnoticed and what others did, did not go unnoticed either. It is hard to understand when allies turn on you." On February 15 Nixon made the same point to General Andrew Goodpaster, then Supreme Allied Commander in Europe. Nixon's bitterness did not keep him from pursuing his commitment to a new initiative in Atlantic relations. Indeed, while the photographers were still in the room with Goodpaster, Nixon repeated his intention to make 1973 the "Year of Europe."

There was one man impervious to obstacles, impatient with petty calculation, undisturbed by latent tensions: the father of the European Community, Jean Monnet. Amidst Europe's postwar chaos he had grasped that the traditional nation-state in Europe was finished and that the Continent, to recover from the ravages of war, needed the guiding light of a great idea: European unity. Monnet was a remarkable statesman, though ironically he had no state to represent. Great historical achievements often evolve from simple concepts, for an enterprise requiring the collaboration of multitudes rarely thrives on complexity. Monnet's contribution to European unity was two propositions of great seeming simplicity: First, the various European states, encapsulated in their jealous sovereignty, would not, without prodding, take the leap into the future implicit in the notion of European unity. Second, the United States might well provide that prod if it did not fear that a united Europe would turn on America.

What was most extraordinary was Monnet's inspiration to prod governments by means of a nongovernmental group. In 1955 Monnet

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140

Years of Upheaval

absorbing more of their energies and dedication than was the elaboration of Atlantic institutions, which they had come to take for granted. Some leaders, in fact, considered a new emphasis on Atlantic cohesion a diversion from their priority of constructing a united Europe: contrary to Monnet, they did not believe that we would be able to merge the two.

These trends were nearly all personified by Edward Heath, Britain's Prime Minister and the first European leader with whom Nixon discussed the Year of Europe. That we should choose Britain for the first of these consultations was natural; it was the essence of what was still called the "special relationship." For generations successive administrations had synchronized their moves with London, especially over the Atlantic Alliance. The British had fought for this tenaciously. Their way of retaining great-power status was to be so integral a part of American decision-making that the idea of not consulting them seemed a violation of the natural order of things. So able and self-assured were our British counterparts that they managed to convey the notion that it was they who were conferring a boon on us by sharing the experience of centuries. Nor were they quite wrong in this estimate.

But this pattern was precisely what Heath was determined to change. He preferred a leading position in Europe to an honored advisory role in Washington, and he did not consider the two functions compatible.

Heath was the first Conservative Prime Minister to have achieved party leadership by election of the Tory members of Parliament instead of by the traditional method — effectively an informal consensus of key Conservative leaders talking privately in their clubs and elsewhere. And his background was as unprecedented as the process that had produced him. A product of the lower middle class, he had risen to leadership of a party still essentially upper-class in its orientation if no longer in its composition. He had the insecurity that the British class system inflicts on those not born into the upper echelons. Some compensate by disguise, affecting the accent, postures, and bonhomie of the well-bred.

Ted Heath had clearly chosen a different course. He gave the impression of a man who was in essence warmhearted and must have been in his youth jolly and gregarious but who had steeled himself by iron self-discipline to rest his eminence not on personality but on performance. He eschewed any claim to personal charm even though at one time he must have had it in considerable measure; he insisted on prevailing through mental superiority and a somewhat aloof air. He made a citadel of personal excellence. In the process his smile grew mirthless; the few excursions into human warmth he permitted himself were tentative and sharply separated from his political actions. His personality and chilling integrity would have inhibited the "special relationship" even if his convictions had not.

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The Year of Eur

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The Year of Europe

141

Nixon's. Heath, however, was more versatile. He did not suppress entirely, as Nixon often did, the warm and generous side of his nature but sublimated it in his passions for music and sailing. As a result Heath rarely exhibited Nixon's crippling diffidence even as he shared his essentially solitary nature. He could travel with an approximation of ease if not enjoyment in the class that disconcerted him; Nixon was always in enemy territory. Heath was more of a piece than Nixon: the various segments of his personality fitted together more snugly. Strangely, this made him somewhat more ideological, even doctrinaire. He was less flexible, less subtle. He was a better, more assertive talker, a less adaptable statesman.

The similarity in psychological makeup was just great enough to make the ultimate differences unbridgeable. Nixon's relationship with Heath was like that of a jilted lover who has been told that friendship was still possible, but who remembers the rejection rather than being inspired by the prospect. Nixon began with enormous admiration for Heath; he had exulted in Heath's unexpected victory in 1970. He counted on establishing a close personal relationship. It was doomed.

Of all British political leaders, Heath was the most indifferent to the American connection and perhaps even to Americans individually. Personally, I liked and admired Heath immensely; in many ways I have had a longer friendship with him than with any other leading British political figure. Yet this did not keep him from being the most difficult British head of government we encountered. Whether it was the memory of the American pressure that had aborted the Suez adventure in 1956 when Heath was Chief Whip of the Conservative Party (and he did refer to it from time to time), or whether the reason was dedication to a vision of Europe quite similar to de Gaulle's, Heath dealt with us with an unsentimentality totally at variance with the "special relationship." The intimate consultation through which British and American policies had been coordinated during the postwar period was reduced to formal diplomatic exchanges. Heath disdained the occasional telephone calls I urged upon the British Ambassadors to establish the personal relationship that Nixon craved, lest he be accused by France, as his predecessor Harold Macmillan had been, of being an American "Trojan horse." Ten years before, Heath had led the British side in the negotiations for Britain's entry into the Common Market, which de Gaulle had abruptly vetoed at least in part because of Macmillan's Nassau agreement on nuclear cooperation with President Kennedy.

There was a stubborn, almost heroic, streak to Heath's policy: He sought to alter not simply a diplomatic pattern but the attitude of his people. The heart of most Britons was with America and the Commonwealth. Europe for them began not in the British Isles but across the Channel, reflecting a history in which peril had almost always arisen in