Cold War
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Although historians have debated for years the cause of the Cold War, virtually everyone agrees that it developed around five major issues:
Poland, the structure of governments in other Eastern European
countries, the future of Germany, economic reconstruction of Europe, and
international policies toward the atomic bomb and atomic energy. All of
these intersected, so that within a few months, it became almost impossible
to separate one from the other as they interacted to shape the emergence of
a bipolar world. Each issue in its own way also reflected the underlying
confusion and conflict surrounding the competing doctrines of
"universalist" versus "sphere-of-influence" diplomacy. Examination of these
fundamental questions is essential if we are to comprehend how and why the
tragedy of the Cold War evolved during the three years after Germany's
defeat.
Poland constituted the most intractable and profound dilemma facing
Soviet-U.S. relations. As Secretary of State Edward Stettinius observed in
1945, Poland was "the big apple in the barrel." Unfortunately, it also
symbolized, for both sides, everything that the war had been fought for.
From a Soviet perspective, Poland represented the quintessence of Russia's
national security needs. On three occasions, Poland had served as the
avenue for devastating invasions of Russian territory. It was imperative, given Russian history, that Poland be governed by a regime supportive of
the Soviet Union. But Poland also represented, both in fact and in symbol, everything for which the Western Allies had fought. Britain and France had
declared war on Germany in September 1939 when Hitler invaded Poland, thus
honoring their mutual defense pact with that victimized country. It seemed
unthinkable that one could wage war for six years and end up with another
totalitarian country in control of Poland. Surely if the Atlantic Charter
signified anything, it required defending the right of the Polish people to
determine their own destiny. The presence of 7 million Polish-American
voters offered a constant, if unnecessary, reminder that such issues of
self-determination could not be dismissed lightly. Thus, the first issue
confronting the Allies in building a postwar world would also be one on
which compromise was virtually impossible, at least without incredible
diplomatic delicacy, political subtlety, and profound appreciation, by each
ally, of the other's needs and priorities.
Roosevelt appears to have understood the tortuous path he would have to
travel in order to find a peaceful resolution of the conflict. Given his
own commitment to the Atlantic Charter, rooted in both domestic political
reasons and personal conviction, he recognized the need to advocate an
independent and democratic government for the Polish people. "Poland must
be reconstituted a great nation," he told the country during the 1944
election. Yet the president also repeatedly acknowledged that the Russians
must have a "friendly" government in Warsaw. Somehow, Roosevelt hoped to
find a way to subordinate these two conflicting positions to the higher
priority of postwar peace. "The President," Harry Hopkins said in 1943,
"did not intend to go to the Peace Conference and bargain with Poland or
the other small states; as far as Poland is concerned, the important thing
[was] to set it up in a way that [would] help maintain the peace of the
world."
The issue was first joined at the Tehran conference. There, Churchill
and Roosevelt endorsed Stalin's position that Poland's eastern border, for
security reasons, should be moved to the west. As Roosevelt had earlier
explained to the ambassador from the Polish government-in-exile in London, it was folly to expect the United States and Britain "to declare war on Joe
Stalin over a boundary dispute." On the other hand, Roosevelt urged Stalin
to be flexible, citing his own need for the Polish vote in the 1944
presidential election and the importance of establishing cooperation
between the London Poles and the Lublin government-in-exile situated in
Moscow. Roosevelt had been willing to make a major concession to Russia's
security needs by accepting the Soviet definition of Poland's new
boundaries. But he also expected some consideration of his own political
dilemma and of the principles of the Atlantic Charter.
Such consideration appeared to be forthcoming in the summer of 1944
when Stalin agreed to meet the prime minister of the London-Polish
government and "to mediate" between the two opposing governments-in-exile.
But hopes for such a compromise were quickly crushed as Soviet troops
failed to aid the Warsaw Polish resistance when it rose in massive
rebellion against German occupation forces in hopes of linking up with
advancing Soviet forces. The Warsaw Poles generally supported the London
government-in-exile. As Red Army troops moved to just six miles outside of
Warsaw, the Warsaw Poles rose en masse against their Nazi oppressors. Yet
when they did so, the Soviets callously rejected all pleas for help. For
eight weeks they even refused to permit American planes to land on Soviet
soil after airlifting supplies to the beleaguered Warsaw rebels. By the
time the rebellion ended, 250,000 people had become casualties, with the
backbone of the pro-London resistance movement brutally crushed. Although
some Americans, then and later, accepted Soviet claims that logistical
problems had prevented any assistance being offered, most Americans
endorsed the more cynical conclusion that Stalin had found a convenient way
to annihilate a large part of his Polish opposition and facilitate
acquisition of a pro-Soviet regime. As Ambassador Averell Harriman cabled
at the time, Russian actions were based on "ruthless political
considerations."
By the time of the Yalta conference, the Red Army occupied Poland, leaving Roosevelt little room to maneuver. When one American diplomat urged the president to force Russia to agree to Polish independence, Roosevelt responded: "Do you want me to go to war with Russia?" With Stalin having already granted diplomatic recognition to the Lublin regime, Roosevelt could only hope that the Soviets would accept enough modification of the status quo to provide the appearance of representative democracy. Spheres of influence were a reality, FDR told seven senators, because "the occupying forces [have] the power in the areas where their arms are present." All America could do was to use her influence "to ameliorate the situation."
Nevertheless, Roosevelt played what cards he had with skill. "Most
Poles," he told Stalin, "want to save face. ... It would make it easier for
me at home if the Soviet government could give something to Poland." A
government of national unity, Roosevelt declared, would facilitate public
acceptance in the United States of full American participation in postwar
arrangements. "Our people at home look with a critical eye on what they
consider a disagreement between us. ... They, in effect, say that if we
cannot get a meeting of minds now . . . how can we get an understanding on
even more vital things in the future?" Although Stalin's immediate response
was to declare that Poland was "not only a question of honor for Russia, but one of life and death," he finally agreed that some reorganization of
the Lublin regime could take place to ensure broader representation of all
Poles.
In the end, the Big Three papered over their differences at Yalta by
agreeing to a Declaration on Liberated Europe that committed the Allies to
help liberated peoples resolve their problems through democratic means and
advocated the holding of free elections. Although Roosevelt's aide Admiral
William Leahy told him that the report on Poland was "so elastic that the
Russians can stretch it all the way from Yalta to Washington without ever
technically breaking it," Roosevelt believed that he had done the best he
could under the circumstances. From the beginning, Roosevelt had
recognized, on a de facto basis at least, that Poland was part of Russia's
sphere of influence and must remain so. He could only hope that Stalin
would now show equal recognition of the U.S. need to have concessions that
would give the appearance, at least, of implementing the Atlantic Charter.
The same basic dilemmas, of course, occurred with regard to the
structure of postwar governments in all of Eastern Europe. As early as
1943, Roosevelt had made clear to Stalin at Tehran that he was willing to
have the Baltic states controlled by the Soviets. His only request, the
president told Stalin, was for some public commitment to future elections
in order to satisfy his constituents at home for whom "the big issues . . .
would be the question of referendum and the right of self-determination."
The exchange with Stalin accurately reflected Roosevelt's position over
time.
Significantly, Roosevelt even sanctioned Churchill's efforts to divide
Europe into spheres of influence. With Roosevelt's approval, Churchill
journeyed to Moscow in the fall of 1944. Sitting across the table from
Stalin, Churchill proposed that Russia exercise 90 percent predominance in
Romania, 75 percent in Bulgaria, and 50 percent control, together with
Britain, in Yugoslavia and Hungary, while the United States and Great
Britain would exercise 90 percent predominance in Greece. After extended
discussion and some hard bargaining, the deal was made. (Poland was not
even included in Churchill's percentages, suggesting that he was
acknowledging Soviet control there.) At the time, Churchill suggested that
the arrangements be expressed "in diplomatic terms [without use of] the
phrase 'dividing into spheres,' because the Americans might be shocked."
But in fact, as Robert Daliek has shown in his superb study of Roosevelt's
diplomacy, the American president accepted the arrangement. "I am most
pleased to know," FDR wrote Churchill, "you are reaching a meeting of your
two minds as to international policies." To Harriman he cabled: "My active
interest at the present time in the Balkan area is that such steps as are
practicable should be taken to insure against the Balkans getting us into a
future international war." At no time did Roosevelt protest the British-
Soviet agreement.
In the case of Eastern Europe generally, even more so than in Poland, it seemed clear that Roosevelt, on a de facto basis, was prepared to live
with spheres-of-influence diplomacy. Nevertheless, he remained constantly
sensitive to the political peril he faced at home on the issue. As
Congressman John Dingell stated in a public warning in August 1943, "We
Americans are not sacrificing, fighting, and dying to make permanent and
more powerful the communistic government of Russia and to make Joseph
Stalin a dictator over the liberated countries of Europe." Such sentiments
were widespread. Indeed, it was concern over such opinions that led
Roosevelt to urge the Russians to be sensitive to American political
concerns. In Eastern Europe for the most part, as in Poland, the key
question was whether the United States could somehow find a way to
acknowledge spheres of influence, but within a context of universalist
principles, so that the American people would not feel that the Atlantic
Charter had been betrayed.
The future of Germany represented a third critical point of conflict.
For emotional as well as political reasons, it was imperative that steps be
taken to prevent Germany from ever again waging war. In FDR's words, "We
have got to be tough with Germany, and I mean the German people not just
the Nazis. We either have to castrate the German people or you have got to
treat them in such a manner so they can't just go on reproducing people who
want to continue the way they have in the past." Consistent with that
position, Roosevelt had agreed with Stalin at Tehran on the need for
destroying a strong Germany by dividing the country into several sectors,
"as small and weak as possible."
Still operating on that premise, Roosevelt endorsed Secretary of the
Treasury Henry Morgenthau's plan to eliminate all industry from Germany and
convert the country into a pastoral landscape of small farms. Not only
would such a plan destroy any future war-making power, it would also
reassure the Soviet Union of its own security. "Russia feared we and the
British were going to try to make a soft peace with Germany and build her
up as a possible future counter-weight against Russia," Morgenthau said.
His plan would avoid that, and simultaneously implement Roosevelt's
insistence that "every person in Germany should realize that this time
Germany is a defeated nation." Hence, in September 1944, Churchill and
Roosevelt approved the broad outlines of the Morgenthau plan as their
policy for Germany.
Within weeks, however, the harsh policy of pastoralization came unglued. From a Soviet perspective, there was the problem of how Russia could exact the reparations she needed from a country with no industrial base. American policymakers, in turn, objected that a Germany without industrial capacity would prove unable to support herself, placing the entire burden for maintaining the populace on the Allies. Rumors spread that the Morgenthau plan was stiffening German resistance on the western front. American business interests, moreover, suggested the importance of retaining German industry as a key to postwar commerce and trade.
As a result, Allied policy toward Germany became a shambles. "No one
wants to make Germany a wholly agricultural nation again," Roosevelt
insisted. "No one wants 'complete eradication of German industrial
production capacity in the Ruhr and the Saar.' " Confused about how to
proceed, Roosevelt—in effect—adopted a policy of no policy. "I dislike
making detailed plans for a country which we do not yet occupy," he said.
When Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt met for the last time in Yalta, this
failure to plan prevented a decisive course of action. The Russians
insisted on German reparations of $20 billion, half of which would go to
the Soviet Union. Although FDR accepted Stalin's figure as a basis for
discussion, the British and Americans deferred any settlement of the issue, fearing that they would be left with the sole responsibility for feeding
and housing the German people. The only agreement that could be reached was
to refer the issue to a new tripartite commission. Thus, at just the moment
when consensus on a policy to deal with their common enemy was most urgent, the Allies found themselves empty handed, allowing conflict and
misunderstanding over another central question to join the already existing
problems over Eastern Europe.
Directly related to each of these issues, particularly the German
question, was the problem of postwar economic reconstruction. The issue
seemed particularly important to those Americans concerned about the
postwar economy in the United States. Almost every business and political
leader feared resumption of mass unemployment once the war ended. Only the
development of new markets, extensive trade, and worldwide economic
cooperation could prevent such an eventuality. "The capitalistic system is
essentially an international system," one official declared. "If it cannot
function internationally, it will break down completely." The Atlantic
Charter had taken such a viewpoint into account when it declared that all
states should enjoy access, on equal terms, to "the raw materials of the
world which are needed for their economic prosperity."
To promote these objectives, the United States took the initiative at
Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, in 1944 by creating a World Bank with a
capitalization of $7.6 billion and the International Monetary Fund with a
capitalization of $7.3 billion. The two organizations would provide funds
for rebuilding Europe, as well as for stabilizing world currency. Since the
United States was the major contributor, it would exercise decisive control
over how the money was spent. The premise underlying both organizations was
that a stable world required healthy economies based on free trade.
Attitudes toward economic reconstruction had direct import for postwar
policies toward Germany and Eastern Europe. It would be difficult to have a
stable European economy without a significant industrial base in Germany.
Pastoral countries of small farms rarely possessed the wherewithal to
become customers of large capitalist enterprises. On the other hand, a
prosperous German economy, coupled with access to markets in Eastern and
Western Europe, offered the prospect of avoiding a recurrence of depression
and guaranteed a significant American presence in European politics as
well. Beyond this, of course, it was thought that if democracy was to
survive, as it had not after 1918, countries needed a thriving economy.
Significantly, economic aid also offered the opportunity either to
enhance or diminish America's ties to the Soviet Union. Averell Harriman, the American ambassador to Moscow after October 1943, had engaged in
extensive business dealings with the Soviet Union during the 1920S and
believed firmly in the policy of providing American assistance to rebuild
the Soviet economy. Such aid, Harriman argued, "would be in the self-
interest of the United States" because it would help keep Americans at work
producing goods needed by the Russians. Just as important, it would provide
"one of the most effective weapons to avoid the development of a sphere of
influence of the Soviet Union over eastern Europe and the Balkans."
Proceeding on these assumptions, Harriman urged the Russians to apply
for American aid. They did so, initially, in December 1943 with a request
for a $1 billion loan at an interest rate of one-half of 1 percent, then
again in January 1945 with a request for a $6 billion loan at an interest
rate of 2.25 percent. Throughout this period, American officials appeared
to encourage the Soviet initiative. Secretary of the Treasury Morgenthau
had come up with his own plan for a $10 billion loan at 2 percent interest.
When Chamber of Commerce head Eric Johnson visited Moscow, Stalin told him:
"I like to do business with American businessmen. You fellows know what you
want. Your word is good, and, best of all, you stay in office a long
time—just like we do over here." So enthusiastic were some State Department
officials about postwar economic arrangements that they predicted exports
of as much as $1 billion a year to Russia. Molotov and Mikoyan encouraged
such optimism, with the Soviets promising "a voluminous and stable market
such as no other customer would ever [offer]."
As the European war drew to a close, however, the American attitude
shifted from one of eager encouragement to skeptical detachment. Harriman
and his aides in Moscow perceived a toughening of the Soviet position on
numerous issues, including Poland and Eastern Europe. Hence, they urged the
United States to clamp down on lend-lease and exact specific concessions
from the Russians in return for any ongoing aid. Only if the Soviets
"played the international game with us in accordance with our standards,"
Harriman declared, should the United States offer assistance. By April
1945, Harriman had moved to an even more hard-line position. "We must
clearly recognize," he said, "that the Soviet program is the establishment
of totalitarianism, ending personal liberty and democracy." A week later he
urged the State Department to view the Soviet loan request with great
suspicion. "Our basic interest," he cabled, "might better be served by
increasing our trade with other parts of the world rather than giving
preference to the Soviet Union as a source of supply."
Congress and the American people, meanwhile, seemed to be turning
against postwar economic aid. A public opinion poll in December 1944 showed
that 70 percent of the American people believed the Allies should repay
their lend-lease debt in full. Taking up the cry for fiscal restraint,
Senator Arthur Vandenberg told a friend: "We have a rich country, but it is
not rich enough to permit us to support the world." Fearful about postwar
recession and the possibility that American funds would be used for
purposes it did not approve, Congress placed severe constraints on
continuation of any lend-lease support once the war was over and indicated
that any request for a postwar loan would encounter profound skepticism.
Roosevelt's response, in the face of such attitudes, was once again to procrastinate. Throughout the entire war he had ardently espoused a generous and flexible lend-lease policy toward the Soviet Union. For the most part, FDR appeared to endorse Secretary Morgenthau's attitude that "to get the Russians to do something [we] should ... do it nice. . . . Don't drive such a hard bargain that when you come through it does not taste good." Consistent with that attitude, he had rejected Harriman's advice to demand quid pro quos for American lend-lease. Economic aid, he declared, did not "constitute a bargaining weapon of any strength," particularly since curtailing lend-lease would harm the United States as much as it would injure the Russians. Nevertheless, Roosevelt accepted a policy of postponement on any discussion of postwar economic arrangements. "I think it's very important," the president declared, "that we hold back and don't give [Stalin] any promise until we get what we want." Clearly, the amount of American aid to the Soviet Union—and the attitude which accompanied that aid— could be decisive to the future of American-Soviet relations. Yet in this—as in so many other issues—Roosevelt gave little hint of the ultimate direction he would take, creating one more dimension of uncertainty amidst the gathering confusion that surrounded postwar international arrangements.
The final issue around which the Cold War revolved was that of the atomic bomb. Development of nuclear weapons not only placed in human hands the power to destroy all civilization, but presented as well the critical question of how such weapons would be used, who would control them, and what possibilities existed for harnessing the incalculable energy of the atom for the purpose of international peace and cooperation rather than destruction. No issue, ultimately, would be more important for human survival. On the other hand, the very nature of having to build the A-bomb in a world threatened by Hitler's madness mandated a secrecy that seriously impeded, from the beginning, the prospects for cooperation and international control.
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