CHAPTER 3
The Democratic Bridgehead
EUROPE IS AMERICA’S NATURAL ALLY. It shares the same values; partakes, in the main, of the same religious heritage; practices the same democratic politics; and is the original homeland of a large majority of Americans. By pioneering in the integration of nation-states into a shared supranational economic and eventually political union, Europe is also pointing the way toward larger forms of postnational organization, beyond the narrow visions and the destructive passions of the age of nationalism. It is already the most multilaterally organized region of the world (see chart on page 58). Success in its political unification would create a single entity of about 400 million people, living under a democratic roof and enjoying a standard of living comparable to that of the United States. Such a Europe would inevitably be a global power.
Europe also serves as the springboard for the progressive expansion of democracy deeper into Eurasia. Europe’s expansion eastward would consolidate the democratic victory of the 1990s. It would match on the political and economic plane the essential civilizational scope of Europe—what has been called the Petrine Europe—as defined by Europe’s ancient and common religious heritage, derived from Western-rite Christianity. Such a Europe once existed, long before the age of nationalism and even longer before the recent division of Europe into its American- and Soviet-dominated halves. Such a larger Europe would be able to exercise a magnetic attraction on the states located even farther east, building a network of ties with Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia, drawing them into increasingly binding cooperation while proselytizing common democratic principles. Eventually, such a Europe could become one of the vital pillars of an American-sponsored larger Eurasian structure of security and cooperation.
European Organizations
But first of all, Europe is America’s essential geopolitical bridgehead on the Eurasian continent. America’s geostrategic stake in Europe is enormous. Unlike America’s links with Japan, the Atlantic alliance entrenches American political influence and military power directly on the Eurasian mainland. At this stage of American-European relations, with the allied European nations still highly dependent on U.S. security protection, any expansion in the scope of Europe becomes automatically an expansion in the scope of direct U.S. influence as well. Conversely, without close transatlantic ties, America’s primacy in Eurasia promptly fades away. U.S. control over the Atlantic Ocean and the ability to project influence and power deeper into Eurasia would be severely circumscribed.
The problem, however, is that a truly European “Europe” as such does not exist. It is a vision, a concept, and a goal, but it is not yet reality. Western Europe is already a common market, but it is still far from being a single political entity. A political Europe has yet to emerge. The crisis in Bosnia offered painful proof of Europe’s continued absence, if proof were still needed. The brutal fact is that Western Europe, and increasingly also Central Europe, remains largely an American protectorate, with its allied states reminiscent of ancient vassals and tributaries. This is not a healthy condition, either for America or for the European nations.
Matters are made worse by a more pervasive decline in Europe’s internal vitality. Both the legitimacy of the existing socioeconomic system and even the surfacing sense of European identity appear to be vulnerable. In a number of European states, one can detect a crisis of confidence and a loss of creative momentum, as well as an inward perspective that is both isolationist and escapist from the larger dilemmas of the world. It is not clear whether most Europeans even want Europe to be a major power and whether they are prepared to do what is needed for it to become one. Even residual European anti-Americanism, currently quite weak, is curiously cynical: the Europeans deplore American “hegemony” but take comfort in being sheltered by it.
The political momentum for Europe’s unification was once driven by three main impulses: the memories of the destructive two world wars, the desire for economic recovery, and the insecurity generated by the Soviet threat. By the mid-nineties, however, these impulses had faded. Economic recovery by and large has been achieved; if anything, the problem Europe increasingly faces is that of an excessively burdensome welfare system that is sapping its economic vitality, while the passionate resistance to any reform by special interests is diverting European political attention inward. The Soviet threat has disappeared, while the desire of some Europeans to gain independence from American tutelage has not translated into a compelling impulse for continental unification.
The European cause has been increasingly sustained by the bureaucratic momentum generated by the large institutional machinery created by the European Community and its successor, the European Union. The idea of unity still enjoys significant popular support, but it tends to be lukewarm, lacking in passion and a sense of mission. In general, the Western Europe of today conveys the impression of a troubled, unfocused, comfortable yet socially uneasy set of societies, not partaking of any larger vision. European unification is increasingly a process and not a cause.
Still, the political elites of two leading European nations—France and Germany—remain largely committed to the goal of shaping and defining a Europe that would truly be Europe. They are thus Europe’s principal architects. Working together, they could construct a Europe worthy of its past and of its potential. But each is committed to a somewhat different vision and design, and neither is strong enough to prevail by itself.
This condition creates for the United States a special opportunity for decisive intervention. It necessitates American engagement on behalf of Europe’s unity, for otherwise unification could grind to a halt and then gradually even be undone. But any effective American involvement in Europe’s construction has to be guided by clarity in American thinking regarding what kind of Europe America prefers and is ready to promote—an equal partner or a junior ally—and regarding the eventual scope of both the European Union and NATO. It also requires careful management of Europe’s two principal architects.
GRANDEUR AND REDEMPTION
France seeks reincarnation as Europe; Germany hopes for redemption through Europe. These varying motivations go a long way toward explaining and defining the substance of the alternative French and German designs for Europe.
For France, Europe is the means for regaining France’s past greatness. Even before World War II, serious French thinkers on international affairs already worried about the progressive decline of Europe’s centrality in world affairs. During the several decades of the Cold War, that worry turned into resentment over the “Anglo-Saxon” domination of the West, not to speak of contempt for the related “Americanization” of Western culture. The creation of a genuine Europe—in Charles De Gaulle’s words, “from the Atlantic to the Urals”—was to remedy that deplorable state of affairs. And such a Europe, since it would be led by Paris, would simultaneously regain for France the grandeur that the French still feel remains their nation’s special destiny.
For Germany, a commitment to Europe is the basis for national redemption, while an intimate connection to America is central to its security. Accordingly, a Europe more assertively independent of America is not a viable option. For Germany, redemption + security = Europe + America. That formula defines Germany’s posture and policy, making Germany simultaneously Europe’s truly good citizen and America’s strongest European supporter.
Germany sees in its fervent commitment to Europe a historical cleansing, a restoration of its moral and political credentials. By redeeming itself through Europe, Germany is restoring its own greatness while gaining a mission that would not automatically mobilize European resentments and fears against Germany. If Germans seek the German national interest, that runs the risk of alienating other Europeans; if Germans promote Europe’s common interest, that garners European support and respect.
On the central issues of the Cold War, France was a loyal, dedicated, and determined ally. It stood shoulder to shoulder with America when the chips were down. Whether during the two Berlin blockades or during the Cuban missile crisis, there was no doubt about French steadfastness. But France’s support for NATO was tempered by a simultaneous French desire to assert a separate French political identity and to preserve for France its essential freedom of action, especially on matters that pertained to France’s global status or to the future of Europe.
There is an element of delusional obsession in the French political elite’s preoccupation with the notion that France is still a global power. When Prime Minister Alain Juppé, echoing his predecessors, declared to the National Assembly in May 1995 that “France can and must assert its vocation as a world power,” the gathering broke out into spontaneous applause. The French insistence on the development of its own nuclear deterrent was motivated largely by the view that France would thereby enhance its own freedom of action and at the same time gain the capacity to influence American life-and-death decisions regarding the security of the Western alliance as a whole. It was not vis-à-vis the Soviet Union that France sought to upgrade its status, for the French nuclear deterrent had, at the very best, only a marginal impact on Soviet war-making capabilities. Paris felt instead that its own nuclear weapons would give France a role in the Cold War’s top-level and most dangerous decision-making processes.
In French thinking, the possession of nuclear weapons fortified France’s claim to being a global power, of having a voice that had to be respected worldwide. It tangibly reinforced France’s position as one of the five veto-wielding UN Security Council members, all five also nuclear powers. In the French perspective, the British nuclear deterrent was simply an extension of the American, especially given the British commitment to the special relationship and the British abstention from the effort to construct an independent Europe. (That the French nuclear program significantly benefited from covert U.S. assistance was, to the French, of no consequence for France’s strategic calculus.) The French nuclear deterrent also consolidated, in the French mindset, France’s commanding position as the leading continental power, the only truly European state so endowed.
France’s global ambitions were also expressed through its determined efforts to sustain a special security role in most of the Francophone African countries. Despite the loss, after prolonged combat, of Vietnam and Algeria and the abandonment of a wider empire, that security mission, as well as continued French control over scattered Pacific islands (which have provided the venue for controversial French atomic tests), has reinforced the conviction of the French elite that France, indeed, still has a global role to play, despite the reality of being essentially a middle-rank postimperial European power.
All of the foregoing has sustained as well as motivated France’s claim to the mantle of European leadership. With Britain self-marginalized and essentially an appendage to U.S. power and with Germany divided for much of the Cold War and still handicapped by its twentieth-century history, France could seize the idea of Europe, identify itself with it, and usurp it as identical with France’s conception of itself. The country that first invented the idea of the sovereign nation-state and made nationalism into a civic religion thus found it quite natural to see itself—with the same emotional commitment that was once invested in “la patrie”—as the embodiment of an independent but united Europe. The grandeur of a French-led Europe would then be France’s as well.
This special vocation, generated by a deeply felt sense of historical destiny and fortified by a unique cultural pride, has major policy implications. The key geopolitical space that France had to keep within its orbit of influence—or, at least, prevent from being dominated by a more powerful state than itself—can be drawn on the map in the form of a semicircle. It includes the Iberian Peninsula, the northern shore of the western Mediterranean, and Germany up to East-Central Europe (see map on page 64). That is not only the minimal radius of French security; it is also the essential zone of French political interest. Only with the support of the southern states assured, and with Germany’s backing guaranteed, can the goal of constructing a unified and independent Europe, led by France, be effectively pursued. And obviously, within that geopolitical orbit, the increasingly powerful Germany is bound to be the most difficult to manage.
In the French vision, the central goal of a united and independent Europe can be achieved by combining the unification of Europe under French leadership with the simultaneous but gradual diminution of the American primacy on the continent. But if France is to shape Europe’s future, it must both engage and shackle Germany, while also seeking step-by-step to strip Washington of its political leadership in European affairs. The resulting key policy dilemmas for France are essentially twofold: how to preserve the American security commitment to Europe—which France recognizes is still essential—while steadily reducing the American presence; and how to sustain Franco-German partnership as the combined political-economic engine of European unification while precluding German leadership in Europe.
If France were truly a global power, the resolution of these dilemmas in the pursuit of France’s central goal might not be difficult. None of the other European states, save Germany, are endowed with the same ambition or driven by the same sense of mission. Even Germany could perhaps be seduced into acceptance of French leadership in a united but independent (of America) Europe, but only if it felt that France was in fact a global power and could thus provide Europe with the security that Germany cannot but America does.
Germany, however, knows the real limits of French power. France is much weaker than Germany economically, while its military establishment (as the Gulf War of 1991 showed) is not very competent. It is good enough to squash internal coups in satellite African states, but it can neither protect Europe nor project significant power far from Europe. France is no more and no less than a middle-rank European power. Accordingly, in order to construct Europe, Germany has been willing to propitiate French pride, but in order to keep Europe truly secure, it has not been willing to follow French leadership blindly. It has continued to insist on a central role in European security for America.
That reality, painful for French self-esteem, emerged more clearly after Germany’s reunification. Until then, the Franco-German reconciliation did have the appearance of French political leadership riding comfortably on German economic dynamism. That perception actually suited both parties. It mitigated the traditional European fears of Germany, and it had the effect of fortifying and gratifying French illusions by generating the impression that the construction of Europe was led by France, backed by an economically dynamic West Germany.
Franco-German reconciliation, even with its misconceptions, was nonetheless a positive development for Europe, and its importance cannot be overstated. It has provided the crucial foundation for all of the progress so far achieved in Europe’s difficult process of unification. Thus, it was also fully compatible with American interests and in keeping with the long-standing American commitment to the promotion of transnational cooperation in Europe. A breakdown of Franco-German cooperation would be a fatal setback for Europe and a disaster for America’s position in Europe.
Tacit American support made it possible for France and Germany to push the process of Europe’s unification forward. Germany’s reunification, moreover, increased the incentive for the French to lock Germany into a binding European framework. Thus, on December 6, 1990, the French president and the German chancellor committed themselves to the goal of a federal Europe, and ten days later, the Rome intergovernmental conference on political union issued—British reservations notwithstanding—a clear mandate to the twelve foreign ministers of the European Community to prepare a Draft Treaty on Political Union.
However, Germany’s reunification also dramatically changed the real parameters of European politics. It was simultaneously a geopolitical defeat for Russia and for France. United Germany not only ceased to be a political junior partner of France, but it automatically became the undisputed prime power in Western Europe and even a partial global power, especially through its major financial contributions to the support of the key international institutions.
6 The new reality bred some mutual disenchantment in the Franco-German relationship, for Germany was now able and willing to articulate and openly promote its own vision of a future Europe, still as France’s partner but no longer as its protégé.
For France, the resulting diminished political leverage dictated several policy consequences. France somehow had to regain greater influence within NATO—from which it had largely abstained as a protest against U.S. domination—while also compensating for its relative weakness through greater diplomatic maneuver. Returning to NATO might enable France to influence America more; occasional flirtation with Moscow or London might generate pressure from the outside on America as well as on Germany.
Consequently, as part of its policy of maneuver rather than contestation, France returned to NATO’s command structure. By 1994, France was again a de facto active participant in NATO’s political and military decision making; by late 1995, the French foreign and defense ministers were again regular attendees at alliance sessions. But at a price: once fully inside, they reaffirmed their determination to reform the alliance’s structure in order to make for greater balance between its American leadership and its European participation. They wanted a higher profile and a bigger role for a collective European component. As the French foreign minister, Hervé de Charette, stated in a speech on April 8, 1996, “For France, the basic goal [of the rapprochement] is to assert a European identity within the alliance that is operationally credible and politically visible.”
At the same time, Paris was quite prepared to exploit tactically its traditional links with Russia to constrain America’s European policy and to resuscitate whenever expedient the old Franco-British entente to offset Germany’s growing European primacy. The French foreign minister came close to saying so explicitly in August 1996, when he declared that “if France wants to play an international role, it stands to benefit from the existence of a strong Russia, from helping it to reaffirm itself as a major power,” prompting the Russian foreign minister to reciprocate by stating that “of all the world leaders, the French are the closest to having constructive attitudes in their relations with Russia.”
7
France’s initially lukewarm support for NATO’s eastward expansion—indeed, a barely suppressed skepticism regarding its desirability—was thus partially a tactic designed to gain leverage in dealing with the United States. Precisely because America and Germany were the chief proponents of NATO expansion, it suited France to play cool, to go along reticently, to voice concern regarding the potential impact of that initiative on Russia, and to act as Europe’s most sensitive interlocutor with Moscow. To some Central Europeans, it appeared that the French even conveyed the impression that they were not averse to a Russian sphere of influence in Eastern Europe. The Russian card thus not only balanced America and conveyed a none-too-subtle message to Germany, but it also increased the pressure on the United States to consider favorably French proposals for NATO reform.
Ultimately, NATO expansion will require unanimity among the alliance’s sixteen members. Paris knew that its acquiescence was not only vital for that unanimity but that France’s actual support was needed to avoid obstruction from other alliance members. Thus, it made no secret of the French intention to make support for NATO expansion a hostage to America’s eventually satisfying the French determination to alter both the balance of power within the alliance and its fundamental organization.
France was at first similarly tepid in its support for the eastward expansion of the European Union. Here the lead was taken largely by Germany, with American support but without the same degree of U.S. engagement as in the case of NATO expansion. Even though in NATO France tended to argue that the EU’s expansion would provide a more suitable umbrella for the former Communist states, as soon as Germany started pressing for the more rapid enlargement of the EU to include Central Europe, France began to raise technical concerns and also to demand that the EU pay equal attention to Europe’s exposed Mediterranean southern flank. (These differences emerged as early as the November 1994 Franco-German summit.) French emphasis on the latter issue also had the effect of gaining for France the support of NATO’s southern members, thereby maximizing France’s overall bargaining power. But the cost was a widening gap in the respective geopolitical visions of Europe held by France and Germany, a gap only partially narrowed by France’s belated endorsement in the second half of 1996 of Poland’s accession to both NATO and the EU.
That gap was inevitable, given the changing historical context. Ever since the end of World War II, democratic Germany had recognized that Franco-German reconciliation was required to build a European community within the western half of divided Europe. That reconciliation was also central to Germany’s historical rehabilitation. Hence, the acceptance of French leadership was a fair price to pay. At the same time, the continued Soviet threat to a vulnerable West Germany made loyalty to America the essential precondition for survival—and even the French recognized that. But after the Soviet collapse, to build a larger and more united Europe, subordination to France was neither necessary nor propitious. An equal Franco-German partnership, with the reunified Germany in fact now being the stronger partner, was more than a fair deal for Paris; hence, the French would simply have to accept Germany’s preference for a primary security link with its transatlantic ally and protector.
With the end of the Cold War, that link assumed new importance for Germany. In the past, it had sheltered Germany from an external but very proximate threat and was the necessary precondition for the eventual reunification of the country. With the Soviet Union gone and Germany reunified, the link to America now provided the umbrella under which Germany could more openly assume a leadership role in Central Europe without simultaneously threatening its neighbors. The American connection provided more than the certificate of good behavior: it reassured Germany’s neighbors that a close relationship with Germany also meant a closer relationship with America. All of that made it easier for Germany to define more openly its own geopolitical priorities.
Germany—safely anchored in Europe and rendered harmless but secure by the visible American military presence—could now promote the assimilation of the newly freed Central Europe into the European structures. It would not be the old Mitteleuropa of German imperialism but a more benign community of economic renewal stimulated by German investments and trade, with Germany also acting as the sponsor of the eventually formal inclusion of the new Mitteleuropa in both the European Union and NATO. With the Franco-German alliance providing the vital platform for the assertion of a more decisive regional role, Germany no longer needed to be shy in asserting itself within an orbit of its special interest.
On the map of Europe, the zone of German special interest could be sketched in the shape of an oblong, in the West including of course France and in the East spanning the newly emancipated post-Communist states of Central Europe, including the Baltic republics, embracing Ukraine and Belarus, and reaching even into Russia (see map on page 64). In many respects, that zone corresponds to the historical radius of constructive German cultural influence, carved out in the prenationalist era by German urban and agricultural colonists in East-Central Europe and in the Baltic republics, all of whom were wiped out in the course of World War II. More important, the areas of special concern to the French (discussed earlier) and the Germans, when viewed together as in the map below, in effect define the western and eastern limits of Europe, while the overlap between them underlines the decisive geopolitical importance of the Franco-German connection as the vital core of Europe.
The critical breakthrough for the more openly assertive German role in Central Europe was provided by the German-Polish reconciliation that occurred during the mid-nineties. Despite some initial reluctance, the reunited Germany (with American prodding) did formally recognize as permanent the Oder-Neisse border with Poland, and that step in turn removed the single most important Polish reservation regarding a closer relationship with Germany. Following some further mutual gestures of goodwill and forgiveness, the relationship underwent a dramatic change. Not only did German-Polish trade literally explode (in 1995 Poland superseded Russia as Germany’s largest trading partner in the East), but Germany became Poland’s principal sponsor for membership in the EU and (together with the United States) in NATO. It is no exaggeration to say that by the middle of the decade, Polish-German reconciliation was assuming a geopolitical importance in Central Europe matching the earlier impact on Western Europe of the Franco-German reconciliation.
Through Poland, German influence could radiate northward—into the Baltic states—and eastward—into Ukraine and Belarus. Moreover, the scope of the German-Polish reconciliation was somewhat widened by Poland’s occasional inclusion in important Franco-German discussions regarding Europe’s future. The so-called Weimar Triangle (named after the German city in which the first high-level trilateral Franco-German-Polish consultations, which subsequently became periodic, had taken place) created a potentially significant geopolitical axis on the European continent, embracing some 180 million people from three nations with a highly defined sense of national identity. On the one hand, this further enhanced Germany’s dominant role in Central Europe, but on the other hand, that role was somewhat balanced by the Franco-Polish participation in the three-way dialogue.
Central European acceptance of German leadership—and such was even more the case with the smaller Central European states—was eased by the very evident German commitment to the eastward expansion of Europe’s key institutions. In so committing itself, Germany undertook a historical mission much at variance with some rather deeply rooted Western European outlooks. In that latter perspective, events occurring east of Germany and Austria were perceived as somehow beyond the limits of concern to the real Europe. That attitude—articulated in the early eighteenth century by Lord Bolingbroke,
8 who argued that political violence in the East was of no consequence to the Western Europeans—resurfaced during the Munich crisis of 1938; and it made a tragic reappearance in the British and French attitudes during the conflict of the mid-1990s in Bosnia. It still lurks beneath the surface in the ongoing debates regarding the future of Europe.
In contrast, the only real debate in Germany was whether NATO or the EU should be expanded first—the defense minister favored the former, the foreign minister advocated the latter—with the net result that Germany became the undisputed apostle of a larger and more united Europe. The German chancellor spoke of the year 2000 as the goal for the EU’s first eastward enlargement, and the German defense minister was among the first to suggest that the fiftieth anniversary of NATO’s founding was an appropriately symbolic date for the alliance’s eastern expansion. Germany’s conception of Europe’s future thus differed from its principal European allies: the British proclaimed their preference for a larger Europe because they saw in enlargement the means for diluting Europe’s unity; the French feared that enlargement would enhance Germany’s role and hence favored more narrowly based integration. Germany stood for both and thus gained a standing in Central Europe all its own.
AMERICA’S CENTRAL OBJECTIVE
The central issue for America is how to construct a Europe that is based on the Franco-German connection, a Europe that is viable, that remains linked to the United States, and that widens the scope of the cooperative democratic international system on which the effective exercise of American global primacy so much depends. Hence, it is not a matter of making a choice between France and Germany. Without either France or Germany, there will be no Europe.
Three broad conclusions emerge from the foregoing discussion:
1. American engagement in the cause of European unification is needed to compensate for the internal crisis of morale and purpose that has been sapping European vitality, to overcome the widespread European suspicion that ultimately America does not favor genuine European unity, and to infuse into the European undertaking the needed dose of democratic fervor. That requires a clear-cut American commitment to the eventual acceptance of Europe as America’s global partner.
2. In the short run, tactical opposition to French policy and support for German leadership is justified; in the longer run, European unity will have to involve a more distinctive European political and military identity if a genuine Europe is actually to become reality. That requires some progressive accommodation to the French view regarding the distribution of power within transatlantic institutions.
3. Neither France nor Germany is sufficiently strong to construct Europe on its own or to resolve with Russia the ambiguities inherent in the definition of Europe’s geographic scope. That requires energetic, focused, and determined American involvement, particularly with the Germans, in defining Europe’s scope and hence also in coping with such sensitive—especially to Russia—issues as the eventual status within the European system of the Baltic republics and Ukraine.
Just one glance at the map of the vast Eurasian landmass underlines the geopolitical significance to America of the European bridgehead—as well as its geographic modesty. The preservation of that bridgehead and its expansion as the springboard for democracy are directly relevant to America’s security. The existing gap between America’s global concern for stability and for the related dissemination of democracy and Europe’s seeming indifference to these issues (despite France’s self-proclaimed status as a global power) needs to be closed, and it can only be narrowed if Europe increasingly assumes a more confederated character. Europe cannot become a single nation-state, because of the tenacity of its diverse national traditions, but it can become an entity that through common political institutions cumulatively reflects shared democratic values, identifies its own interests with their universal-ization, and exercises a magnetic attraction on its co-inhabitants of the Eurasian space.
Left to themselves, the Europeans run the risk of becoming absorbed by their internal social concerns. Europe’s economic recovery has obscured the longer-run costs of its seeming success. These costs are damaging economically as well as politically. The crisis of political legitimacy and economic vitality that Western Europe increasingly confronts—but is unable to overcome—is deeply rooted in the pervasive expansion of the state-sponsored social structure that favors paternalism, protectionism, and parochialism. The result is a cultural condition that combines escapist hedonism with spiritual emptiness—a condition that can be exploited by nationalist extremists or dogmatic ideologues.
This condition, if it becomes rampant, could prove deadly to democracy and the idea of Europe. The two, in fact, are linked, for the new problems of Europe—be they immigration or economic-technological competitiveness with America or Asia, not to speak of the need for a politically stable reform of existing socioeconomic structures—can only be dealt with effectively in an increasingly continental context. A Europe that is larger than the sum of its parts—that is, a Europe that sees a global role for itself in the promotion of democracy and in the wider proselytization of basic human values—is more likely to be a Europe that is firmly uncongenial to political extremism, narrow nationalism, or social hedonism.
One need neither evoke the old fears of a separate German-Russian accommodation nor exaggerate the consequences of French tactical flirtation with Moscow to entertain concern for the geopolitical stability of Europe—and for America’s place in it—resulting from a failure of Europe’s still ongoing efforts to unite. Any such failure would in fact probably entail some renewed and rather traditional European maneuvers. It would certainly generate opportunities for either Russian or German geopolitical self-assertion, though if Europe’s modern history contains any lesson, neither would be likely to gain an enduring success in that regard. However, at the very least, Germany would probably become more assertive and explicit in the definition of its national interests.
Currently, Germany’s interests are congruent with, and even sublimated within, those of the EU and of NATO. Even the spokesmen for the leftist Alliance 90/Greens have advocated the expansion of both NATO and the EU. But if the unification and enlargement of Europe should stall, there is some reason to assume that a more nationalist definition of Germany’s concept of the European “order” would then surface, to the potential detriment of European stability. Wolfgang Schauble, the leader of the Christian Democrats in the Bundestag and a possible successor to Chancellor Kohl, expressed that mindset when he stated that Germany is no longer “the western bulwark against the East; we have become the center of Europe,” pointedly adding that in “the long periods during the Middle Ages . . . Germany was involved
in creating order in Europe.”9 In this vision, Mitteleuropa
—instead of being a European region in which Germany economically preponderates—would become an area of overt German political primacy as well as the basis for a more unilateral German policy vis-à-vis the East and the West.
Europe would then cease to be the Eurasian bridgehead for American power and the potential springboard for the democratic global system’s expansion into Eurasia. This is why unambiguous and tangible American support for Europe’s unification must be sustained. Although both during Europe’s economic recovery and within the transatlantic security alliance America has frequently proclaimed its support for European unification and supported transnational cooperation in Europe, it has also acted as if it preferred to deal on troubling economic and political issues with individual European states and not with the European Union as such. Occasional American insistence on a voice within the European decision-making process has tended to reinforce European suspicions that America favors cooperation among the Europeans when they follow the American lead but not when they formulate Europe’s policies. This is the wrong message to convey.
American commitment to Europe’s unity—reiterated forcefully in the joint American-European Madrid Declaration of December 1995—will continue to ring hollow until America is ready not only to declare unambiguously that it is prepared to accept the consequences of Europe becoming truly Europe but to act accordingly. For Europe, the ultimate consequence would entail a true partnership with America rather than the status of a favored but still junior ally. And a true partnership does mean sharing in decisions as well as responsibilities. American support for that cause would help to invigorate the transatlantic dialogue and would stimulate among the Europeans a more serious concentration on the role that a truly significant Europe might play in the world.
It is conceivable that at some point a truly united and powerful European Union could become a global political rival to the United States. It could certainly become a difficult economic-technological competitor, while its geopolitical interests in the Middle East and elsewhere could significantly diverge from those of America. But, in fact, such a powerful and politically single-minded Europe is not likely in the foreseeable future. Unlike the conditions prevailing in America at the time of the formation of the United States, there are deep historical roots to the resiliency of the European nation-states and the passion for a transnational Europe has clearly waned.
The real alternatives for the next decade or two are either an expanding and unifying Europe, pursuing—though hesitantly and spasmodically—the goal of continental unity; a stalemated Europe, not moving much beyond its current state of integration and geographic scope, with Central Europe remaining a geopolitical no-man’s-land; or, as a likely sequel to the stalemate, a progressively fragmenting Europe, resuming its old power rivalries. In a stalemated Europe, it is almost inevitable that Germany’s self-identification with Europe will wane, prompting a more nationalist definition of the German state interest. For America, the first option is clearly the best, but it is an option that requires energizing American support if it is to come to pass.
At this stage of Europe’s hesitant construction, America need not get directly involved in intricate debates regarding such issues as whether the EU should make its foreign policy decisions by majority vote (a position favored especially by the Germans); whether the European Parliament should assume decisive legislative powers and the European Commission in Brussels should become in effect the European executive; whether the timetable for implementing the agreement on European economic and monetary union should be relaxed; or, finally, whether Europe should be a broad confederation or a multilayered entity, with a federated inner core and a somewhat looser outer rim. These are matters for the Europeans to thrash out among themselves—and it is more than likely that progress on all of these issues will be uneven, punctuated by pauses, and eventually pushed forward only by complex compromises.
Nonetheless, it is reasonable to assume that the Economic and Monetary Union will come into being by the year 2000, perhaps initially among six to ten of the EU’s current fifteen members. This will accelerate Europe’s economic integration beyond the monetary dimension, further encouraging its political integration. Thus, by fits and starts and with an inner more integrated core as well as a looser outer layer, a single Europe will increasingly become an important political player on the Eurasian chessboard.
In any case, America should not convey the impression that it prefers a vaguer, even if broader, European association, but it should reiterate, through words and deeds, its willingness to deal eventually with the EU as America’s global political and security partner and not just as a regional common market made up of states allied with the United States through NATO. To make that commitment more credible and thus go beyond the rhetoric of partnership, joint planning with the EU regarding new bilateral transatlantic decision-making mechanisms could be proposed and initiated.
The same principle applies to NATO as such. Its preservation is vital to the transatlantic connection. On this issue, there is overwhelming American-European consensus. Without NATO, Europe not only would become vulnerable but almost immediately would become politically fragmented as well. NATO ensures European security and provides a stable framework for the pursuit of European unity. That is what makes NATO historically so vital to Europe.
However, as Europe gradually and hesitantly unifies, the internal structure and processes of NATO will have to adjust. On this issue, the French have a point. One cannot someday have a truly united Europe and yet have an alliance that remains integrated on the basis of one superpower plus fifteen dependent powers. Once Europe begins to assume a genuine political identity of its own, with the EU increasingly taking on some of the functions of a supranational government, NATO will have to be altered on the basis of a 1 + 1 (US + EU) formula.
This will not happen overnight and all at once. Progress in that direction, to repeat, will be hesitant. But such progress will have to be reflected in the existing alliance arrangements, lest the absence of such adjustment itself should become an obstacle to further progress. A significant step in that direction was the 1996 decision of the alliance to make room for the Combined Joint Task Forces, thereby envisaging the possibility of some purely European military initiatives based on the alliance’s logistics as well as on command, control, communications, and intelligence. Greater U.S. willingness to accommodate French demands for an increased role for the Western European Union within NATO, especially in regard to command and decision making, would also betoken more genuine American support for European unity and should help to narrow somewhat the gap between America and France regarding Europe’s eventual self-definition.
In the longer run, it is possible that the WEU will embrace some EU member states that, for varying geopolitical or historical reasons, may choose not to seek NATO membership. That could involve Finland or Sweden, or perhaps even Austria, all of which have already acquired observer status with the WEU.
10 Other states may also seek a WEU connection as a preliminary to eventual NATO membership. The WEU might also choose at some point to emulate NATO’s Partnership for Peace program with regard to would-be members of the EU. All of that would help to spin a wider web of security cooperation in Europe, beyond the formal scope of the transatlantic alliance.
In the meantime, until a larger and more united Europe emerges—and that, even under the best of conditions, will not be soon—the United States will have to work closely with both France and Germany in order to help such a more united and larger Europe emerge. Thus, regarding France, the central policy dilemma for America will continue to be how to inveigle France into closer Atlantic political and military integration without compromising the American-German connection, and regarding Germany, how to 3 exploit U.S. reliance on German leadership in an Atlanticist Europe without prompting concern in France and Britain as well as in other European countries.
More demonstrable American flexibility on the future shape of the alliance would be helpful in eventually mobilizing greater French support for the alliance’s eastward expansion. In the long run, a NATO zone of integrated military security on both sides of Germany would more firmly anchor Germany within a multilateral framework, and that should be a matter of consequence for France. Moreover, the expansion of the alliance would increase the probability that the Weimar Triangle (of Germany, France, and Poland) could become a subtle means for somewhat balancing German leadership in Europe. Although Poland relies on German support for gaining entrance into the alliance (and resents current French hesitations regarding such expansion), once it is inside the alliance a shared Franco-Polish geopolitical perspective is more likely to emerge.
In any case, Washington should not lose sight of the fact that France is only a short-term adversary on matters pertaining to the identity of Europe or to the inner workings of NATO. More important, it should bear in mind the fact that France is an essential partner in the important task of permanently locking a democratic Germany into Europe. That is the historic role of the Franco-German relationship, and the expansion of both the EU and NATO eastward should enhance the importance of that relationship as Europe’s inner core. Finally, France is not strong enough either to obstruct America on the geostrategic fundamentals of America’s European policy or to become by itself a leader of Europe as such. Hence, its peculiarities and even its tantrums can be tolerated.
It is also germane to note that France does play a constructive role in North Africa and in the Francophone African countries. It is the essential partner for Morocco and Tunisia, while also exercising a stabilizing role in Algeria. There is a good domestic reason for such French involvement: some 5 million Muslims now reside in France. France thus has a vital stake in the stability and orderly development of North Africa. But that interest is of wider benefit to Europe’s security. Without the French sense of mission, Europe’s southern flank would be much more unstable and threatening. All of southern Europe is becoming increasingly concerned with the social-political threat posed by instability along the Mediterranean’s southern littoral. France’s intense concern for what transpires across the Mediterranean is thus quite pertinent to NATO’s security concerns, and that consideration should be taken into account when America occasionally has to cope with France’s exaggerated claims of special leadership status.
Germany is another matter. Germany’s dominant role cannot be denied, but caution must be exercised regarding any public endorsements of the German leadership role in Europe. That leadership may be expedient to some European states—like those in Central Europe that appreciate the German initiative on behalf of Europe’s eastward expansion—and it may be tolerable to the Western Europeans as long as it is subsumed under America’s primacy, but in the long run, Europe’s construction cannot be based on it. Too many memories still linger; too many fears are likely to surface. A Europe constructed and led by Berlin is simply not feasible. That is why Germany needs France, why Europe needs the Franco-German connection, and why America cannot choose between Germany and France.
The essential point regarding NATO expansion is that it is a process integrally connected with Europe’s own expansion. If the European Union is to become a geographically larger community—with a more-integrated Franco-German leading core and less-integrated outer layers—and if such a Europe is to base its security on a continued alliance with America, then it follows that its geopolitically most exposed sector, Central Europe, cannot be demonstratively excluded from partaking in the sense of security that the rest of Europe enjoys through the transatlantic alliance. On this, America and Germany agree. For them, the impulse for enlargement is political, historical, and constructive. It is not driven by animosity toward Russia, nor by fear of Russia, nor by the desire to isolate Russia.
Hence, America must work particularly closely with Germany in promoting the eastward expansion of Europe. American-German cooperation and joint leadership regarding this issue are essential. Expansion will happen if the United States and Germany jointly encourage the other NATO allies to endorse the step and either negotiate effectively some accommodation with Russia, if it is willing to compromise (see chapter 4), or act assertively, in the correct conviction that the task of constructing Europe cannot be subordinated to Moscow’s objections. Combined American-German pressure will be especially needed to obtain the required unanimous agreement of all NATO members, but no NATO member will be able to deny it if America and Germany jointly press for it.
Ultimately at stake in this effort is America’s long-range role in Europe. A new Europe is still taking shape, and if that new Europe is to remain geopolitically a part of the “Euro-Atlantic” space, the expansion of NATO is essential. Indeed, a comprehensive U.S. policy for Eurasia as a whole will not be possible if the effort to widen NATO, having been launched by the United States, stalls and falters. That failure would discredit American leadership; it would shatter the concept of an expanding Europe; it would demoralize the Central Europeans; and it could reignite currently dormant or dying Russian geopolitical aspirations in Central Europe. For the West, it would be a self-inflicted wound that would mortally damage the prospects for a truly European pillar in any eventual Eurasian security architecture; and for America, it would thus be not only a regional defeat but a global defeat as well.
The bottom line guiding the progressive expansion of Europe has to be the proposition that no power outside of the existing transatlantic system has the right to veto the participation of any qualified European state in the European system—and hence also in its transatlantic security system—and that no qualified European state should be excluded a priori from eventual membership in either the EU or NATO. Especially the highly vulnerable and increasingly qualified Baltic states are entitled to know that eventually they also can become full-fledged members in both organizations—and that in the meantime, their sovereignty cannot be threatened without engaging the interests of an expanding Europe and its U.S. partner.
In essence, the West—especially America and its Western European allies—must provide an answer to the question eloquently posed by Václav Havel in Aachen on May 15, 1996:
I know that neither the European Union nor the North Atlantic Alliance can open its doors overnight to all those who aspire to join them. What both most assuredly can do—and what they should do before it is too late—is to give the whole of Europe, seen as a sphere of common values, the clear assurance that they are not closed clubs. They should formulate a clear and detailed policy of gradual enlargement that not only contains a timetable but also explains the logic of that timetable. [italics added]
EUROPE’S HISTORIC TIMETABLE
Although at this stage the ultimate eastern limits of Europe can neither be defined firmly nor finally fixed, in the broadest sense Europe is a common civilization, derived from the shared Christian tradition. Europe’s narrower Western definition has been associated with Rome and its historical legacy. But Europe’s Christian tradition has involved also Byzantium and its Russian Orthodox emanation. Thus, culturally, Europe is more than the Petrine Europe, and the Petrine Europe in turn is much more than Western Europe—even though in recent years the latter has usurped the identity of “Europe.” Even a mere glance at the map on page 82 confirms that the existing Europe is simply not a complete Europe. Worse than that, it is a Europe in which a zone of insecurity between Europe and Russia can have a suction effect on both, inevitably causing tensions and rivalry.
A Charlemagne Europe (limited to Western Europe) by necessity made sense during the Cold War, but such a Europe is now an anomaly. This is so because in addition to being a civilization, the emerging united Europe is also a way of life, a standard of living, and a polity of shared democratic procedures, not burdened by ethnic and territorial conflicts. That Europe in its formally organized scope is currently much less than its actual potential. Several of the more advanced and politically stable Central European states, all part of the Western Petrine tradition, notably the Czech Republic, Poland, Hungary, and perhaps also Slovenia, are clearly qualified and eager for membership in “Europe” and its transatlantic security connection.
In the current circumstances, the expansion of NATO to include Poland, the Czech Republic, and Hungary—probably by 1999—appears to be likely. After this initial but significant step, it is likely that any subsequent expansion of the alliance will either be coincidental with or will follow the expansion of the EU. The latter involves a much more complicated process, both in the number of qualifying stages and in the meeting of membership requirements (see chart on page 83). Thus, even the first admissions into the EU from Central Europe are not likely before the year 2002 or perhaps somewhat later. Nonetheless, after the first three new NATO members have also joined the EU, both the EU and NATO will have to address the question of extending membership to the Baltic republics, Slovenia, Romania, Bulgaria, and Slovakia, and perhaps also, eventually, to Ukraine.
It is noteworthy that the prospect of eventual membership is already exercising a constructive influence on the affairs and conduct of would-be members. Knowledge that neither the EU nor NATO wishes to be burdened by additional conflicts pertaining either to minority rights or to territorial claims among their members (Turkey versus Greece is more than enough) has already given Slovakia, Hungary, and Romania the needed incentive to reach accommodations that meet the standards set by the Council of Europe. Much the same is true for the more general principle that only democracies can qualify for membership. The desire not to be left out is having an important reinforcing impact on the new democracies.
EU Membership: Application to Accession
In any case, it ought to be axiomatic that Europe’s political unity and security are indivisible. As a practical matter, in fact it is difficult to conceive of a truly united Europe without a common security arrangement with America. It follows, therefore, that states that are in a position to begin and are invited to undertake accession talks with the EU should automatically also be viewed henceforth as subject in effect to NATO’s presumptive protection.
Accordingly, the process of widening Europe and enlarging the transatlantic security system is likely to move forward by deliberate stages. Assuming sustained American and Western European commitment, a speculative but cautiously realistic timetable for these stages might be the following:
1. By 1999, the first new Central European members will have been admitted into NATO, though their entry into the EU will probably not happen before 2002 or 2003.
2. In the meantime, the EU will initiate accession talks with the Baltic republics, and NATO will likewise begin to move forward on the issue of their membership as well as Romania’s, with their accession likely to be completed by 2005. At some point in this stage, the other Balkan states may likewise become eligible.
3. Accession by the Baltic states might prompt Sweden and Finland also to consider NATO membership.
4. Somewhere between 2005 and 2010, Ukraine, especially if in the meantime the country has made significant progress in its domestic reforms and has succeeded in becoming more evidently identified as a Central European country, should become ready for serious negotiations with both the EU and NATO.
In the meantime, it is likely that Franco-German-Polish collaboration within the EU and NATO will have deepened considerably, especially in the area of defense. That collaboration could become the Western core of any wider European security arrangements that might eventually embrace both Russia and Ukraine. Given the special geopolitical interest of Germany and Poland in Ukraine’s independence, it is also quite possible that Ukraine will gradually be drawn into the special Franco-German-Polish relationship. By the year 2010, Franco-German-Polish-Ukrainian political collaboration, engaging some 230 million people, could evolve into a partnership enhancing Europe’s geostrategic depth (see map above).
Whether the above scenario emerges in a benign fashion or in the context of intensifying tensions with Russia is of great importance. Russia should be continuously reassured that the doors to Europe are open, as are the doors to its eventual participation in an expanded transatlantic system of security and, perhaps at some future point, in a new trans-Eurasian system of security. To give credence to these assurances, various cooperative links between Russia and Europe—in all fields—should be very deliberately promoted. (Russia’s relationship to Europe, and the role of Ukraine in that regard, are discussed more fully in the next chapter.)
If Europe succeeds both in unifying and in expanding and if Russia in the meantime undertakes successful democratic consolidation and social modernization, at some point Russia can also become eligible for a more organic relationship with Europe. That, in turn, would make possible the eventual merger of the transatlantic security system with a transcontinental Eurasian one. However, as a practical reality, the question of Russia’s formal membership will not arise for quite some time to come—and that, if anything, is yet another reason for not pointlessly shutting the doors to it.
To conclude: with the Europe of Yalta gone, it is essential that there be no reversion to the Europe of Versailles. The end of the division of Europe should not precipitate a step back to a Europe of quarrelsome nation-states but should be the point of departure for shaping a larger and increasingly integrated Europe, reinforced by a widened NATO and rendered even more secure by a constructive security relationship with Russia. Hence, America’s central geostrategic goal in Europe can be summed up quite simply: it is to consolidate through a more genuine transatlantic partnership the U.S. bridgehead on the Eurasian continent so that an enlarging Europe can become a more viable springboard for projecting into Eurasia the international democratic and cooperative order.