As a European, whenever I read that “the West” ought to understand this-or-that aspect of Soviet policy, or be aware of this-or-that danger, or be ready to seize such-and-such an opportunity, I wonder who exactly is being exhorted. If it is the United States, that is one thing. For the United States is an autonomous great power, fully able to engage in the “contest of will,” or “competitive coexistence,” or the “balance of terror”—in short, capable of meeting any Soviet “challenge.” But if by “the West” is meant the totality of the countries joined in the Atlantic alliance (and some democracies outside the alliance, such as Sweden and Switzerland) then I am not so sure that I understand how this collective entity should go about acting in accordance with its ideals, or its interests, or even its will to live. For three very relevant and difficult questions immediately come to mind: (1) the European democracies and German reunification; (2) Western Europe’s contribution to its own defense; and (3) the special problems of anti-Communism in Europe. I can of course deal only summarily with these questions here.

(1) The plain fact is that the democratic neighbors of the German Federal Republic—all of them, including the Federal Republic’s allies and its partners in the Common Market—are totally indifferent to the cause of German reunification; perhaps even secretly hostile and fearful. Yet it is also true that reunification would in effect mean the right to self-determination for that part of the German people now living under a system it loathes. Reunification would also constitute a kind of “decolonization” inside the Soviet empire. Now progressive minds all over the world today—and especially in the new states of Africa and Asia—have a fervent attachment to the values of self-determination and decolonization. Is it not, then, a mistake to fail to insist on them in Europe, a part of the world where, for once, these two “freedoms” would entirely profit the West?

But even inside West Germany, neither the government nor any large segment of public opinion feels as strongly about the cause of reunification as might be expected. There are leaders of opinion who reproach the government and the public for their apathy, branding it as the consequence of a society given over to the callous pursuit of material gain. (Have these leaders forgotten that this same “materialistic” prosperity has made it possible for three million Germans from the Soviet zone to build a new life for themselves in the Federal Republic?) We ourselves must look to some other causes for the meager interest of the West Germans in reunification: the shock of total defeat, for example, which has not yet been absorbed; and the widespread feeling, among the intellectuals and professionals, of German guilt for the war, whose effects—even when unjust—are after all the consequences of the policy pursued by the Third Reich: a German state. Many Germans, among them Chancellor Konrad Adenauer, are afraid that the subordination of everything else to the rebuilding of a united Germany might lead to the re-emergence of a strong German nationalism, which might lead in turn to a break between the Federal Republic and the neighboring European democracies. Surely, after the European solidarity which they now enjoy, German democrats must fear any possible return of their old isolation.

The truth is that the West Germans’ lack of passion about the fate of the East Germans, whom they know to be subjected to one of the worst dictatorships in the world, reflects a feeling of simple helplessness. West Germans are aware that the question of reunification is a broad one, of the utmost importance to all East Europe, not to be resolved by any unilateral action of Germany alone. If such is the state of mind of the West Germans, how much harder must it be to arouse any active sympathy for the cause of the oppressed East Germans among the French, Italians, or Norwegians! The memory of German totalitarianism is still fresh: the fear of a new imbalance in “little Europe” has not yet disappeared.

However, in East Germany the Russians have set up the weakest of all their Communist systems, and their withdrawal, therefore, has always seemed negotiable; it is a fact that the Soviet Union is embarrassed and compromised by Ulbricht’s unpopular regime. It was along these lines, until last year, that the German socialists reasoned. Had not the Russians finally moved out of their zone in Austria? Why should they not do the same in Germany? The answer is, probably, that the collapse of the East German “people’s democracy” would have a serious demoralizing effect on the other satellite countries of East Europe. The key claim of the Soviet Union would be compromised: “You are the past, we are the future”—withdrawal from East Germany would instantly transform that “future” into a past as embarrassing as Stalin’s corpse. . . .

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Self-Determination has made progress under Communism, but only in nations with a distinct historical identity. Yugoslavia dared to break with Stalin; Poland established a relatively more liberal system; and Albania, supported by a very distant ally, is bold enough to resist Khrushchev. The one place where Communism and nationalism have been unable to enter into an alliance toward greater self-determination, either in foreign relations or domestic affairs or both, is precisely the Deutsche Demokratische Republik.

The Western alliance has failed to profit from the great psychological and political advantages opened up by the weakness and unpopularity of the Ulbricht regime. There are several reasons for this. Chiefly, the governments of the European Community still lack that sense of solidarity which would cause any one of them to feel itself injured by the injuring of any other. These separate governments still react as nationalists concerned with a European balance of power—though it is clear that the importance of the traditional balance-of-power system has been greatly diminished by new relations in world forces. The Common Market has made obvious the need and desirability of economic unity; political unity is still being resisted. “Europe,” as we saw, was unable to take advantage of the workers’ uprisings in East Berlin, or the Hungarian and Polish revolutions. Nor have any of the European democratic movements seemed able to profit measurably from the latest crisis in the European Communist parties since the 22nd Congress. The horizon has not widened; a nationalist mentality still operates, and some small “great powers” still dream of a sovereignty defined by the rules of a vanished past.

The Anglo-French Suez expedition showed very clearly how firm a grip the past still has over the minds of the leaders of the West European governments. The Russians boast that it was they, their threats, that put a stop to the enterprise. But any European must have been struck not so much by the Franco-British withdrawal in face of worldwide opposition (including both the United States and the USSR) but by the fact of the adventure itself. Not only did Suez distract attention from the Russian troubles in Hungary: it was bound to remind all the uncommitted nations of the imperial past of France and Britain. The Hungarian revolt had opened up prospects of freedom for the whole Continent, a popular democratic revolution was taking place in the very heart of Europe—yet the leaders of the two major European democracies were busy with their Suez expedition. Here was indeed a measure of the incapacity of the European democracies to act in accordance with the higher common interest of European freedom.

(2) We come now to the second question. Western Europe, now undergoing a tremendous economic expansion, is collectively as rich in manpower and resources as either of the two Great Powers. We know that the Russians have the capacity to wage a limited, conventional war. Why then has Western Europe, in its own interest, failed to prepare itself for such a war? Switzerland is almost the only European country to think in these terms of self-defense, just as Sweden is almost the only one preparing for civil defense against nuclear war. But of course these two countries are neutral, and are therefore forced to rely on their own efforts—and not on American might—to defend themselves.

The turning point in Europe’s defense came in August 1954, when the majority of the National Assembly—a negative coalition including Communists and nationalists of the extreme right—rejected the Defense Community which France herself had conceived and her five partners had accepted. We are still suffering from that blow to the European Defense Community. Since then, France, engaged in the Algerian war, has contributed only minutely to its own land defense while withdrawing its Mediterranean fleet from the authority of the NATO high command. The contrast between the weakness of the French military contribution and the firmness of General de Gaulle’s attitude on the Berlin question has—to put it mildly—astonished everyone.

For reasons too numerous to be analyzed here, Italians have demonstrated a desire for much greater independence within the framework of the Atlantic alliance. Lucky in no longer being confronted with any problems of “decolonization,” Italy has enjoyed an extraordinary economic growth. But its leaders suffer from being looked upon as belonging to a minor country, in comparison, for example, with France which is still supposed to be one of the big powers. In Italian business circles and among intellectuals, there are strong pro-neutralist currents. When we recall how far away the Italian managerial and intellectual elites had moved from the old nationalism toward the idea of European unity, we see that they are now somewhat in retreat. And the same thing is beginning to be true of the German Federal Republic.

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If Europeans are to cooperate, as they must, they cannot avoid having common political institutions. Without these, without the sense that they are together in a vast common enterprise, Europeans will inevitably restrict themselves to their economic concerns, and leave to America the responsibility of attending to the important political and military problems. But is it not Khrushchev’s professed purpose to paralyze Western Europe? It is not the United States he directly threatens, but the free part of Europe. Therein lies the paradox. Finally, though I shall not here discuss the special situation of Great Britain, I believe that its relation to the Continent confirms my contention that “the West” does not really exist as a body inside Europe.

(3) If a Europe divided into indefensible sovereign states has refused to face up to its military responsibilities, has it at least faced the psychological challenges of competitive coexistence? I think not; for it seems to me that the internal Communist threat has not called forth the counter-thrust we have a right to expect of governments and their leaders of opinion. The question is of course why, and there is a whole series of explanations. To begin with, let us recall a fact that everybody here in Europe knows, but which Americans may not always grasp in all its implications: it was under the banner of anti-Communism that totalitarianism, war, and tyranny were experienced by those of us who live in free Europe. Spain and Portugal, which are part of our Western Europe defense system, to this day use anti-Communism as a chief justification for their dictatorial, reactionary systems.¹ Even the European democrat who sees the greatest present danger in an expanding Communist empire, and not in the vanished Third Reich, will be very careful to distinguish his anti-Communism from that of the Nazi or fascist, or the simple reactionary. Echoes of reactionary anti-Communism can still be heard throughout the countries of Europe. Italy has its neo-Fascist party, and France the OAS, whose terrorists and professional murderers have their open supporters in the most respectable circles. Germany harbors the remnants of a nostalgic nationalism, especially among certain student organizations. Fear that the anti-Communist cause may help to bring to power an extreme nationalism, or even some kind of fascism, is not merely imaginary.

And that is not all. In France many intellectuals, firmly anti-Communist since Budapest, now are joining committees investigating cases of torture, disappearance, and injustice involving the Algerian war (the Audin Committee, the Djamila Boupacha Committee, etc.), and they are associated in these committees with Communists—though in 1956 these same intellectuals had vowed never to cooperate again with those who applauded the Russian tanks in Budapest. It is hard to fight more than one cause at a time, and with equal fervor. For many leftist or even liberal Frenchmen, the menace of the OAS, the police brutality against the Algerian demonstrators in Paris, have created the impression that the more urgent fight is the one against the right. Frenchmen are reluctant to join in protesting the oppression and injustice behind the Iron Curtain: they must first show, they feel, that they are fully aware of the oppressions and injustices at home, brought on by the Algerian war.

Many German democrats feel that, in the light of the Nazi past, Germans had better be reserved about expressing moral indignation over others’ misdeeds. One may argue, explain that there is a hierarchy of dangers, etc.—but it must be realized that the feelings I have described exist, are genuine. Here, too, of course, morality and self-interest commingle. Many West European attitudes have been shaped by the belief that the USSR will triumph, that the future belongs to the Communists; “progressivism” therefore offers a clear conscience of noble idealizing at no risk. Just the same, it is futile to try to disentangle the “noble” from the less “noble” reasons. They combine to create the psychological climate which prevents taking advantage of the present deep crisis among the Communist adherents in France and Italy; if somewhat more is being done in Italy, it is because Italy, unlike France, does not have a colonial war on its hands. In short, the “third death” of Stalin has been no more made use of to attract Communists to the democratic parties than was the aftermath of the 20th Congress—from “Stalin’s second death” to the Polish and Hungarian uprisings.

The anti-Americans, the “Atlantists,” the nationalists, even the neutralists in free Europe at present rest easy in the belief that the United States will be responsible for their safety. Such an attitude, aside from being unworthy, is unrealistic. There exists among us the tendency to view Soviet threats and oppression in East Europe as episodes in a struggle between the Russians and the Americans in which the West Europeans are mere onlookers. In reality, we are not bystanders, but the stake for which the struggle is being waged. The struggle is over us and our future, and it is we who will have to become the determining factor of that future. But Europeans will not take over their full responsibilities until the European continent, or at least a nucleus of European nations, has set up the necessary structure for meeting the Communist challenge. To do what needs to be done, in our own interest as Europeans and in the interest of the West as a whole, Europe must begin to exist.

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¹ The Spanish regime has been recently praised by Mr. Dean Rusk in more glowing words than formerly by the late John Foster Dulles.