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Mostrando postagens com marcador Kissinger. Mostrar todas as postagens
Mostrando postagens com marcador Kissinger. Mostrar todas as postagens

domingo, 10 de dezembro de 2023

Kissinger: Great Lesson of Pragmatism in International Relations - Francesco Sedate Pluralia

Kissinger: Great Lesson of Pragmatism in International Relations

Henry Kissinger’s passing has provoked strong reactions from across the political spectrum

Francesco Sedate

Pluralia, 4/12/2023

Kissinger_ Great Lesson of Pragmatism in International Relations - Pluralia

A diplomatic lesson from former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who died on November 29, 2023 at the age of 100, would still be useful today to shed light on the international crisis

https://pluralia.forumverona.com/en/a/kissinger-great-lesson-of-pragmatism-in-international-relations/ 


From Oriana Fallaci to Christopher Hitchens, Henry Kissinger had highly influential Western detractors, including the memorable book The Price of Power by Seymour Hersh, the most respected living investigative journalist. However, the death of Henry Kissinger was marked by very significant positive assessments coming from a wide range of political sides.

The comments of influential American and Chinese observers are clear; a special case is that of Vladimir Putin, who wrote in his condolences to the family: “An exceptional diplomat, a wise and far-sighted statesman, who for many decades enjoyed well-deserved authority throughout the world. Henry Kissinger’s name is closely associated with the pragmatic policies that led to the easing of international tensions and to important US-Soviet agreements that contributed to strengthening global security.”

The praise takes us back to the Vladivostok summit between Leonid Brezhnev and Gerald Ford in November 1974, when Russians and Americans agreed to jointly manage future crises, avoiding the risk of global confrontation that had recently arisen over the situation in the Middle East. These were the years of détente, a policy that was later revised in the United States, which many regretted, as it ensured more peaceful coexistence internationally. The search for an agreement with Russia remained a constant element of Kissinger’s subsequent thinking.

Putin’s assessment is directed towards the past, but only to a certain extent: it is reminiscent of Kissinger’s latest positions on Russia. In this regard, at least four points were particularly poignant in Kissinger’s argument: responsibility for the conflict in Ukraine, the possibility of a global conflict, the search for a solution, and Russia’s place in the future international order.

As far as the responsibility for the conflict in Ukraine concerns, Kissinger stated that responsibility did not lie solely with Russia and that “it was unwise to combine the admission of all the countries of the former Eastern Bloc into NATO with an invitation to Ukraine to join it.”

Regarding the possibility of global conflict, Kissinger wrote: “The First World War was a kind of cultural suicide that destroyed the dominance of Europe. European leaders fell like sleepwalkers – as the historian Christopher Clark famously put it – into a conflict where none of them would have ever entered if they could have foreseen what the world would be like at the end of the war, in 1918.”

Regarding the search for a solution to the conflict, Kissinger wrote, still referring to the initial moment of the First World War: “Diplomacy has become the road less traveled. The Great War continued for another four years and claimed many millions more casualties. Today the world finds itself at a similar turning point in Ukraine.” And he adds, clearly referring to what is happening today: “If the pre-war border line between Ukraine and Russia could not be achieved through combat or negotiation, the possibility of appealing to the principle of self-determination could be explored. In disputed territories that have changed hands repeatedly over the centuries, consultative referendums on self-determination could be organized under the supervision of the international community.”

Regarding Russia’s place in the emerging international order and in light of the existing conflict, Kissinger wrote: “The purpose of the peace process will be twofold: to strengthen the freedom of Ukraine and to define a new international structure, particularly for Central and Eastern Europe. Ultimately, Russia must find its place in this order. For some people, the most desirable outcome would be if Russia became powerless as a result of the war. I disagree. Despite all its propensity for violence, Russia has made a decisive contribution to the global balance and balance of power for more than half a millennium. Its historical role should not be diminished. Russia’s military failures have not harmed its global nuclear capabilities, allowing it to threaten escalating the conflict in Ukraine. Even if this potential is undermined, the collapse of Russia or the weakening of its capabilities in terms of political strategy could turn an area that spans eleven time zones into an indeterminate void. Other countries may try to assert their claims through force. All these dangers will be exacerbated by the presence of thousands of nuclear weapons.”

For decades, Kissinger was the most listened to man in the United States. Back in 1974, a Gallup poll named him the most admired person in America. However, as far as I know, in the stream of Western commentary on his death, not a single significant discussion has paid due attention to this formidable “Russophile” and very complex part of his intellectual biography.

Kissinger was an unrepentant bachelor during the golden years of his international fame. It is said that in Washington he reached the apogee of envy and enemies when he was photographed shoulder to shoulder with Jill St. John, who was the first of the Bond Girls and who winked at half the world from those advertising posters for Coppertone, the sunscreen that connoisseurs still remember and collect as breathtaking relics of the good old days.

Among his boasts, Henry Kissinger includes unscrupulous assessments of sexuality and politics, as well as some witticisms that have become starting points in the literature. The most famous is the definition of power as “the ultimate aphrodisiac.” But there are two that should be placed in the middle, because they may hint at an inexpressible truth that involuntarily emerges from the unconscious, gets distorted and discarded. The first is defining himself as a “secret swinger,” and the second is the war between the genders, which he defined as “a war that no one can win, because the tendency to fraternize with the enemy is too great.”

Philosophers, historians, psychiatrists – many have ventured into acrobatic speculation about the relationship between sexuality and politics. It is a minefield between jokes and quirks. Niall Ferguson, Kissinger’s influential biographer, did not follow up on this issue. He is writing the second volume of Kissinger’s biography and may think about it in the process. We are left with doubts about this “secret swinger” Kissinger and his self-confessed “penchant for fraternization with the enemy.” It is because of these doubts that Kissinger’s thinking about Russia has remained muted, even if it is obviously a rational and reasonable legacy not only in methodological and diplomatic terms, but even from the viewpoint of basic common sense.


segunda-feira, 3 de julho de 2023

Augusto de Franco sobre as democracias e as autocracias

Uma canja. Capítulo 33 do meu novo livro Como as democracias nascem

Augusto de Franco : 

Como Nascem as Democracias

A RAIZ DO REALISMO POLÍTICO

“A teoria de Darwin sobre a sobrevivência do mais forte… [é] um melhor guia para a compreensão da história do que a moralidade pessoal”.

O realista Kissinger (1994), em Diplomacy, interpretando o pensamento de Theodore Roosevelt, o seu admirado “estadista-guerreiro” (1).

O realismo político acabou virando uma vertente de política externa ou internacional. Não nasceu assim, porém. Nasceu como um pensamento antipolítico, para efeitos, na verdade, internos.

Há uma tradição autocrática no pensamento político. É essa tradição que constitui o chamado realismo político. Começa com Platão, passa por Maquiavel, Hobbes, pelo Cardeal Richelieu, por Clausewitz, pelos chamados “políticos do poder”, como Metternich e Bismarck e vários outros até chegar aos realistas modernos como Schmitt, Morgenthau e Carr e aos contemporâneos, como, para citar apenas alguns exemplos, Brzezinski, Genscher, Ross, Kissinger e o novo crush dos autocratas de direita e de esquerda chamado John Mearsheimer. Este capítulo é sobre isso. Mas não vai comentar exaustivamente as ideologias desses autocratas e sim apenas chamar a atenção para alguns padrões antidemocráticos que estão presentes nos seus pensamentos.

Platão

Podemos dizer – sem medo de errar – que o realismo político nasceu com Platão, quer dizer, tem a ver com os fundamentos dos regimes de Esparta, Creta e Siracusa, não com os fundamentos do regime que vigorou em Atenas nos séculos 5 e 4 a.C. Sua raiz é dória, não jônia. E as tentativas de atribuí-lo originalmente a Tucídides são inconsistências inventadas por acadêmicos americanos.

Platão, nas Leis (626a), escreveu que “na realidade, por questões de natureza (φύσις), todas as póleis vivem envolvidas em um estado de guerra velada”. Bem… aí com certeza começou, no plano teórico, o chamado realismo político. O primeiro problema dessa afirmação platônica não é constatar que as póleis (entendidas erroneamente como cidades-Estado) vivem em estado de guerra e sim achar que isso ocorre por algum tipo de deteminação natural, da phýsis, como qualidade ou propriedade constitutiva de todas as coisas ou sua maneira de ser. O segundo problema é não ver que a pólis, numa democracia (onde Platão vivia, embora a ela se contrapusesse), não é a cidade-Estado e sim a koinonia (comunidade) política. Como percebeu Hannah Arendt (1958), em A condição humana, “a pólis não era Atenas e sim os atenienses” (2).

Avancemos agora pouco mais de dois milênios para constatar como os padrões autocráticos se replicam em outras regiões do tempo. Hans Morgenthau (1948), um dos principais teóricos do realismo político, acreditava que “a política, como aliás a sociedade em geral, é governada por leis objetivas que deitam suas raízes na natureza humana”. Eis aí, desnudado, o pressuposto ideológico platônico antipolítico. Natureza humana é uma natureza (não, com perdão do neologismo, uma “socialeza”). Natureza, Deus ou História (tudo assim com maiúsculas) dá no mesmo. É uma instância extra-política determinando a política a despeito da interação propriamente política entre as pessoas. Se há algo infenso à política, determinando a política, não pode haver democracia.

Bastaria dizer isso. Mas partamos de uma definição, quase escolar, de realismo político antes de examinar os pensamentos de alguns realistas políticos.


Realismo político é guerra

Em poucas palavras e simplificando ao máximo (o que não é tão inadequado, pois suas construções intelectuais são simplórias), o realismo político parte da constatação de que, não havendo uma instância normativa no plano internacional (uma autoridade máxima à qual os Estados devam se submeter), cada Estado – sim, todo realismo é um estatismo: o sujeito é sempre o Estado, a sociedade é um dominium do Estado – deve garantir a sua própria segurança, agindo em nome de um interesse nacional.

Em nome desse interesse nacional, definido pelo próprio Estado, cada ator deve lutar para aumentar o seu poder (em geral traduzido como capacidade militar, mas não só), para impor sua vontade a Estados mais fracos. Cada Estado deve então decidir por si mesmo se e quando vai usar sua força para alcançar seus objetivos (ou realizar seus interesses).

A colaboração entre Estados, no limite, leva a abrir flancos perigosos, pois o aliado de hoje pode se tornar o inimigo de amanhã (o que é bem resumido na máxima autocrática: “os aliados lhe enfraquecem, os inimigos lhe fortalecem”).

Como não há democracia no plano internacional, não há lei (quer dizer, império da lei) ou critério ético-político a que um Estado deva se submeter. Logo, a única maneira de garantir a sobrevivência do Estado como entidade é organizar-se para se defender de um possível ataque de outros Estados.

Para garantir a paz (entendida como manutenção da integridade do Estado) é necessário se preparar para a guerra por meio da defesa (e por isso toda defesa é guerra preemptiva). E como o sistema é competitivo, a única maneira de evitar a guerra é alcançar um equilíbrio de forças que desestimule, por medo da retaliação, que um Estado faça guerra contra outro e o destrua.

Bem, trata-se de uma definição quase escolar, mas nem por isso incorreta. Pelo menos deixa claro que falar do realismo é falar de guerra. Não, não é falar de outra coisa. É o óbvio. Mas agora vem uma inferência não tão óbvia: toda guerra é interna. Este é o primeiro ponto a ser entendido. Para entendê-lo, porém, é preciso balançar algumas certezas.

Para começar, guerra não é o conflito. É um modo de regular o conflito. E guerra não é o conflito violento. Pode ser praticada sem violência (física), como guerra fria e como política adversarial (a política como continuação da guerra por outros meios).

Depois é preciso ver que guerra não é destruição de inimigos e sim, pelo contrário, construção e manutenção de inimigos (tanto faz se for a Eurásia ou a Lestásia, para lembrar o 1984 de Orwell).

Em seguida é necessário entender que a guerra não tem como objetivo principal derrotar um país estrangeiro a não ser na medida em que isso puder ser usado para instalar internamente um ‘estado de guerra’ (não adianta derrotar um inimigo externo se não se derrotar os inimigos internos, quer dizer, se a força política que está no poder de Estado não continuar estabelecendo sua supremacia). O objetivo da guerra – para quem a faz (e como dizia Maturana, “a guerra não acontece, nós a fazemos”) – é instalar um estado de guerra que enseje, permita e justifique a ereção de estruturas hierárquicas regidas por modos autocráticos. Ou seja, a guerra é um engendramento para possibilitar uma reorganização do cosmo social. Em outras palavras, para impor uma ordem preconcebida em vez de deixar que diversas ordens emerjam da interação, o que acontece toda vez que tomamos a liberdade como sentido da política (e não a ordem). Este ponto é fundamental, porque a democracia é apenas a política que não tem uma ordem pronta (preconcebida) para colocar no lugar de outra, mesmo que essa ordem seja avaliada como a mais perfeita e justa do universo.

Aqui é preciso entender, para resumir, que não é apenas que autocracias façam guerras: a guerra já é a autocracia. E toda autocracia é sempre uma guerra contra um inimigo interno (ainda que um inimigo externo possa existir objetivamente).

Voltemos agora aos pensadores realistas para corroborar essas primeiras impressões.


Schmitt

O jurista e estudioso político alemão Carl Schmitt, publicou, em 1932, um famoso livro intitulado O conceito do político, que provocou grande controvérsia sobre um suposto militarismo ou belicismo presente nas suas concepções. Sua posição foi encarada como realista, pelo fato de ele admitir (mesmo sem desejar, ou propor) que a guerra é o pressuposto sempre presente como possibilidade real em qualquer relação política. De qualquer modo, não há como negar que, para conceituar o político, Schmitt insiste demais nas noções de guerra e de inimigo, deixando de tratar, com a mesma atenção – e isso não pode ser por acaso –, dos conceitos de paz e de amigo.

Não cabe aqui entrar na controvérsia nos termos em que ela foi colocada. Talvez seja necessário dizer apenas que, para Carl Schmitt, “a diferença especificamente política… é a diferença entre amigo e inimigo”. Ainda que ele tente fazer uma distinção entre inimicus em seu sentido lato (o concorrente comercial, “o adversário particular que odiamos por sentimentos de antipatia”) e hostis (o inimigo público, o combatente que usa armas para destruir meu contexto vital, enfim, o inimigo político), parece claro que Schmitt não via diferença de natureza entre guerra e política. Tanto é assim que ele afirma que “a guerra, enquanto o meio político mais extremo, revela a possibilidade subjacente a toda concepção política, desta distinção entre amigo e inimigo” (3). Quer dizer que, para ele, conquanto seja um “meio extremo”, a guerra é um meio político. Do contrário ele deveria ter afirmado que a política pode levar à guerra, deixando de ser o que é (mudando, portanto, sua natureza) e não que a guerra é um meio político, pois que, assim, ao fazer guerra, ainda estamos fazendo política.


Pode-se perceber em Carl Schmitt um viés realista da chamada realpolitik. Contrapondo-se ao idealismo, o realismo político é uma política baseada no “equilíbrio do poder”, na linha do pensamento e da prática do Cardeal Richelieu – com sua “razão de Estado” (“raison d’état”) colocada acima de qualquer princípio moral – e dos chamados “políticos do poder”, como os já citados Metternich, Bismarck e, mais recentemente, Kissinger (1994), segundo a qual – e ele escreveu isso interpretando o pensamento do presidente Theodore Roosevelt, o seu admirado “estadista-guerreiro” – “a teoria de Darwin sobre a sobrevivência do mais forte… [é] um melhor guia para a compreensão da história do que a moralidade pessoal” (4).

O ponto da discussão é o seguinte: se pode haver guerra como meio político, então devemos ser realistas o suficiente para praticar a política como quem conta com tal possibilidade (e se prepara para isso, o que acaba, quase sempre, sendo a mesma coisa que praticar a política como “arte da guerra”). Ao proceder desse modo, separando os amigos políticos dos inimigos políticos (os que podem nos combater), cristalizamos aquela relação de inimizade que pode levar à guerra (e que, de qualquer modo, leva à prática da política como uma “arte da guerra”).

O problema é que isso não vale apenas para a relação entre Estados soberanos, mas acaba deslizando – inevitavelmente – para todas as relações políticas (Richelieu usava a “lógica” da tal “razão de Estado” para manter o seu poder internamente e não apenas nas relações internacionais da França). Amigo, então, passa a ser todo aquele que está de acordo com nosso projeto e inimigo todo aquele que discorda do nosso projeto. Ora, se quero afirmar o meu projeto, então devo derrotar ou destruir (na verdade, incapacitar) aqueles que podem inviabilizar a sua realização e isso deve ser feito, inclusive, preventivamente, antes que eles (os outros, os inimigos) consigam inviabilizar meu projeto ou substituí-lo pelos projetos deles. Preempção.

Há uma linha divisória muito fina entre derrotar e destruir o projeto do outro e derrotar e destruir o outro como ator político, quer dizer, como alguém que pode apresentar um projeto diferente (que não é o meu). Assim, basta alguém não estar de acordo com meu projeto (político), para poder ser classificado como inimigo (político), pelo menos em potencial.

Esse ponto de vista, portanto, não cogita muito da possibilidade de transformar o inimigo político em amigo político, convencendo-o, ganhando-o para o nosso projeto ou adotando outro projeto, um terceiro projeto, que contemple ambos os projetos (o nosso e o dele). O realismo indica que isso não ocorrerá, pelo simples fato de ele (o outro), para usar o pensamento de Carl Schmitt, não ser um eu-mesmo – o que significa, paradoxalmente, convenhamos, uma construção ideal do inimigo, aquele que deve ser desconstituído como ser político enquanto ameaçar a realização do meu projeto. Não podendo ser destruído de pronto, tal inimigo, pelo menos, deverá ficar em seu canto, respeitando meu espaço, caso contrário será destruído mais tarde ou a qualquer momento: a isso se chama “equilíbrio de poder”. Configura-se assim uma situação de luta permanente, levando a uma política adversarial ou geradora de inimizade. Porque o outro, em vez de ser considerado como um possível parceiro, um aliado ou colaborador, é visto, antes de qualquer coisa, como um potencial inimigo.

Na verdade, o inimigo como construção ideal passa a ser uma peça funcional do nosso esquema de poder, quer dizer, da nossa política (ou antipolítica). Sem o inimigo, desconstitui-se a realpolitik e o tipo de poder que ela visa sustentar, em geral baseado na necessidade de preservação de uma determinada ordem que precisa ser mantida contra o perigo representado pelo inimigo. É para manter essa ordem que se instaura então, internamente, o “estado de guerra” que consiste em uma preparação para a guerra externa (que pode vir ou não, pouco importa) mas sempre em nome da paz (pois que só alguém preparado para a guerra pode manter a paz). E o mais grave é que esse “estado de guerra” interna pode se referir tanto ao âmbito de um país diante de outros países, como ao de uma organização em conflito real ou potencial com outras organizações, como, por exemplo, ao de um governo confrontado por partidos de oposição. O raciocínio, como se vê, é uma perversão, mas o fato de ele ser aceito tão amplamente indica que as tendências de autocratização da democracia ainda estão na ofensiva em relação às tendências de democratização da democracia.

Toda política que admite a guerra como um de seus meios acaba sendo uma política adversarial, baseada na luta constante para destruir o inimigo ou para manter o “equilíbrio de forças” (e deve-se notar que, aqui, a política já começa a se constituir sob o signo da força e não do poder – uma distinção tão cara à Johanna Arendt). Para a realpolitik, a única realidade política – inexorável – é a da interação de forças e, assim, o único critério político deve ser o da correlação de forças. Devo, sempre, fazer tudo o que for possível para alterar a correlação de forças a favor do meu projeto (ou a meu favor, quando se trata de um projeto pessoal, de uma agenda própria – como, aliás, sempre acontece). A política passa a ser uma luta constante para atingir tal objetivo, quando não deveria ser; ou seja, como escreveu Michelangelo Bovero (1988) em Ética e política: entre maquiavelismo e kantismo, a política não deveria ser luta e sim impedir a luta: não combater por si próprio, mas resolver e superar o conflito antagônico e impedir que volte a surgir (5).

Não são apenas as teorias políticas que estão, em sua maioria, contaminadas pela visão perversa do clausewitzianismo invertido (a fórmule-inverse de Clausewitz-Lenin). A chamada sabedoria política tradicional também se baseia, totalmente, nas regras da luta política como “arte da guerra” ou na prática da ‘política como uma continuação da guerra por outros meios’, pois parece claro que, na maioria dos casos, essa sabedoria não se refere à guerra propriamente dita, aquela em que ocorre a violência física: aqui estamos tratando do ânimo adversarial, que tanto está por trás da guerra quanto da política adversarial ou competitiva.


De Hobbes a Clausewitz

Thomas Hobbes (1651) – que era autocrático, mas não desprovido de inteligência – já havia percebido que “a guerra não consiste apenas na batalha ou no ato de lutar, mas naquele lapso de tempo durante o qual a vontade de travar batalha é suficientemente conhecida… [já que] a natureza da guerra não consiste na luta real, mas na conhecida disposição para tal…” (6).

Conquanto acumule uma grande dose de sabedoria, a tradição política é autocrática, não democrática. Essa sabedoria dos grandes chefes e articuladores políticos, tão admirada pelos políticos tradicionais e pelas almas impressionáveis, tem pouco a ver com a democracia.

Sabedoria não significa democracia nem constitui um requisito para a boa prática democrática. A democracia não é uma tradição: é um acaso; é um erro no script da Matrix, uma falha no software dos sistemas autocráticos.

O conjunto dos ensinamentos oriundos da sabedoria política tradicional induz a um comportamento que gera inimizade e que, consequentemente, exige a prática da política como “arte da guerra”. Tudo está baseado, no fundo, em vencer o adversário, desarmar seu projeto político, ou seja: desorganizar suas forças e, sobretudo, impedir que se reúnam os meios necessários à sua existência como ator político.

Do ponto de vista da democracia – não há como negar – isso tudo é uma perversão. Se existe uma ética da política e essa ética é – ou só pode ser – a democratização, então o recurso da guerra (no sentido da prática da política como “arte da guerra”) deve ser visto como violador dessa ética e, assim, como o comportamento a ser evitado.

Em política, a guerra (quer dizer, a política pervertida como “arte da guerra”) não acontece em função da existência objetiva do inimigo, mas em função de nossas opções de encarar o outro como inimigo e de tentar destruí-lo (mas, na verdade, mantê-lo como impotente para nos destruir). Tais opções só são feitas se estivermos montando ou mantendo um sistema autocrático de poder, que exige o inimigo para a sua ereção ou para o seu funcionamento como tal (quer dizer, como um sistema não-democrático de organização e resolução de conflitos).

Clausewitz (1832) tinha razão, segundo certo ponto de vista, quando dizia que a guerra é uma continuação da política por outros meios: se ficar claro que essa continuação não é mais política e que a política capaz de ter tal continuação é uma política praticada como “arte da guerra”. A chamada “fórmula inversa” (a ‘política como continuação da guerra por outros meios’) é que é perversa, pois a guerra não pode levar à política a menos que queiramos estabelecer a impossibilidade da democracia. Políticas que conduzem à guerra são autocráticas. Coletividades que praticam a democracia não guerreiam entre si (na exata medida em que a praticam).

Há um fundamento hobbesiano na visão da política como continuação da guerra por outros meios. No famoso capítulo XIII do Leviatã, Hobbes (1651) decreta que “os homens não tiram prazer algum da companhia uns dos outros (e sim, pelo contrário, um enorme desprazer), quando não existe um poder capaz de intimidar a todos”. É claro que ele não está falando apenas de política, mas também revelando os pressupostos antropológico-sociais que condicionam sua maneira de ver a política. Segundo ele, “na natureza do homem encontramos três causas principais de discórdia. Primeiro, a competição; segundo, a desconfiança; e terceiro, a glória” – ou seja, essas manifestações de egoísmo não seriam culturais, não emanariam da forma como a sociedade se organiza, mas intrínsecas. Essa inclinação “genética” para o mal explicaria por que, “durante o tempo em que os homens vivem sem um poder comum capaz de mantê-los todos em temor respeitoso, eles se encontram naquela condição a que se chama guerra; e uma guerra que é de todos os homens contra todos os homens. Pois a guerra não consiste apenas na batalha ou no ato de lutar, mas naquele lapso de tempo durante o qual a vontade de travar batalha é suficientemente conhecida… [já que] a natureza da guerra não consiste na luta real, mas na conhecida disposição para tal, durante todo o tempo em que não há garantia do contrário. Todo tempo restante é de paz” (7).

Mas, segundo Hobbes, “tudo aquilo que se infere de um tempo de guerra, em que todo homem é inimigo de todo homem, infere-se também do tempo durante o qual os homens vivem sem outra segurança senão a que lhes pode ser oferecida pela sua própria força e pela sua própria invenção. Em uma tal condição [de falta de um poder que domestique ou apazigue os homens]… não há sociedade; e o que é pior do que tudo, um medo contínuo e perigo de morte violenta. E a vida do homem é solitária, miserável, sórdida, brutal e curta” (8).

O mesmo fundamento hobbesiano para a visão da política como continuação da guerra por outros meios – ao assumir que não pode haver sociedade (civil) sem Estado – conspira contra os pressupostos da democracia.

Enfim, a luta política como “arte da guerra”, cria a guerra e obstrui a democracia. Lembrando novamente do que disse certa vez Maturana, a guerra não acontece: nós a fazemos (9). E como a fazemos? Ora, praticando a “arte” de operar as relações sociais com base no critério amigo x inimigo. Toda vez que fazemos isso estamos, caso se possa falar assim, armando ou fazendo guerra. Não necessariamente a guerra tradicional, “quente” e declarada, entre países ou grupos dentro de um país, a guerra com derramamento de sangue, mas também aquelas formas de guerra “fria” e não instalada: a “guerra sem derramamento de sangue” (como Mao definia a política), a “guerra sem mortes” (como George Orwell definia o esporte competitivo), a paz dos impérios (lato sensu, quer dizer, a paz estabelecida pelo domínio) e a paz como preparação para a guerra, o “estado de guerra” (interno) instalado em função da guerra (externa) ou de sua ameaça (ou, ainda, da avaliação, subjetiva, da sua possibilidade); enfim, a prática da política como “arte da guerra” que compreende: os modos de regulação de conflitos em que a produção permanente de vencedores e vencidos gera inimizade política, os padrões de organização compatíveis com esses modos de regulação de conflitos e o clima adversarial que se instala consequentemente nos coletivos humanos que os praticam.

Para captar os conceitos (na verdade os preconceitos) fundantes é ocioso passear pelos demais realistas. Aí acima estão os principais fundamentos do realismo político e por que eles são incompatíveis com os fundamentos da democracia (um modo pazeante – não-guerreante – de regulação de conflitos). Mas é preciso dizer algo a mais para chegar à conclusões aplicáveis aos tempos que correm.

O que aprendemos sobre o realismo político

São três os principais aprendizados decorrentes da análise democrática do realismo político:

1 – O realismo político é uma ideologia.

2 – O realismo político é um culto ao Estado.

3 – O contrário do realismo político é a democracia.


Examinemos cada um desses aprendizados.

O credo realista. O realismo é uma ideologia que se escuda em uma suposta ciência (às vezes chamada de geopolítica) para não se reconhecer como tal (como uma ideologia). Da constatação de que o mundo está assim, ele passa de contrabando a ideia que o mundo é assim. Como disse John Mearsheimer, respondendo a um jornalista do New Yorker que lhe perguntava se não devemos pensar em tentar criar um mundo onde nem os EUA nem a Rússia se comportem de maneira intervencionista: “Não é assim que o mundo funciona” (10).

As crenças em que se baseia a ideologia realista são, basicamente, as seguintes: a) o ser humano é inerentemente (ou por natureza) competitivo; b) as pessoas sempre fazem escolhas tentando maximizar a satisfação de seus próprios interesses ou preferências (ao fim e ao cabo egotistas); c) sem líderes destacados não é possível mobilizar e organizar a ação coletiva; e d) nada pode funcionar sem hierarquia. Infelizmente extravasa o escopo deste capítulo mostrar que essas crenças estão presentes no subsolo das concepções realistas da política. Mas talvez nem seja tão necessário fazer isso (para os propósitos do presente escrito): estes são fundamentos hobbesianos ou decorrentes do hobbesianismo, como o darwinismo social.

O culto ao Estado. O protótipo de qualquer hierarquia (stricto sensu, como poder sacerdotal) é o Estado (e sua forma histórica inaugural, que é o Estado-Templo mesopotâmico).

O realismo é um culto ao Estado. Poder é poder de Estado (degenerado como força). Os Estados são os únicos atores que contam. Para quem adota o realismo político (como uma espécie de religião laica, pois é isso que ele é) não faz nenhum sentido continuar defendendo a democracia. A democracia não se baseia nos interesses dos Estados e sim nos desejos das pessoas. Desejos? Pessoas? Tudo isso é irrelevante para a realpolitik, para a política do poder (como exercício ou ameaça do exercício da força – o que é, a rigor, uma antipolítica).

Não existe a sociedade como forma de agenciamento autônoma. Como já foi dito anteriormente, a sociedade é um dominium do Estado (na acepção feudal mesmo do termo).

Continua...

sexta-feira, 19 de maio de 2023

"On May 27th Mr Kissinger will turn 100" - Meu "obituário" feito muitos anos atrás, mas ele não morreu ainda - Paulo Roberto de Almeida

Henry Kissinger – CartaCapital

 Ja tinha feito um "requiem" ao metternichiano cínico, muitos anos anos atrás, mas ele ainda não morreu. Minhas saudações ao realista genial.

1894. “O legado de Henry Kissinger”, Brasília, 1 junho 2008, 5 p. Comentários sobre a obra prática e intelectual do estadista americano. Publicado em Mundorama (Brasília, 31/05/2008); em Meridiano 47 (n. 94, maio de 2008, p. 29-31); divulgado no blog Diplomatizzando (11/05/2020; link: https://diplomatizzando.blogspot.com/2020/05/o-legado-de-henry-kissinger-paulo.html). Reproduzido em Via Política (08.06.2008). Ensaio incorporado ao livro: Paralelos com o Meridiano 47: Ensaios Longitudinais e de Ampla Latitude (Hartford, 2015). Relação de Publicados n. 838.


O legado de Henry Kissinger

 

Paulo Roberto de Almeida

 

Não, o velho adepto da realpolitik ainda não morreu. Mas tendo completado 85 anos em maio de 2008, o ex-secretário de Estado e ex-conselheiro de Segurança Nacional dos EUA Henry Kissinger aproxima-se das etapas finais de sua vida. Seus obituários – não pretendendo aqui ser uma ave de mau agouro – devem estar prontos nas principais redações de jornais e revistas do mundo inteiro, e os comentaristas de suas obras preparam, certamente, revisões de análises anteriores para reedições mais ou menos imediatas, tão pronto este “Metternich” americano passe deste mundo terreno para qualquer outro que se possa imaginar (na minha concepção, deverá ser o mundo das ideias aplicadas às relações de poder). 

 Talvez seja esta a oportunidade para um pequeno balanço de seu legado, que alguns – por exemplo Cristopher Hitchens, em The Trial of Henry Kissinger  querem ver por um lado unicamente negativo, ou até criminoso, como se ele tivesse sido apenas o inimigo dos regimes “progressistas” e um transgressor consciente dos direitos humanos e da autodeterminação dos povos. Ele certamente tem suas mãos manchadas de sangue, mas também foi o arquiteto dos acordos de redução de armas estratégicas e da própria tensão nuclear com a extinta União Soviética, além de um mediador relativamente realista nos diversos conflitos entre Israel e os países árabes, no Oriente Médio. Sua obra “vietnamita” é discutível, assim como foi altamente discutível – ou francamente condenável – o prêmio Nobel da Paz concedido por um simplesmente desengajamento americano, que visava bem mais a resolver questões domésticas do que realmente pacificar a região da ex-Indochina francesa. 

Pode-se, no entanto, fazer uma espécie de avaliação crítica de sua obra prática e intelectual, como reflexão puramente pessoal sobre o que, finalmente, reter de uma vida rica em peripécias intelectuais e aventuras políticas. Sua principal obra de “vulgarização” diplomática, intitulada de maneira pouco imaginativa Diplomacia simplesmente, deve constituir leitura obrigatória em muitas academias diplomáticas de par le monde. Seu trabalho mais importante, uma análise do Congresso de Viena (1815), é mais conhecido pelos especialistas do que pelo grande público, mas ainda assim merece ser percorrido pelos que desejam conhecer o “sentido da História”.

 O legado de Henry Kissinger é multifacético e não pode ser julgado apenas pelos seus atos como Conselheiro de Segurança Nacional de Richard Nixon, ou como Secretário de Estado desse presidente e do seguinte, Gerald Ford, quando ele esteve profundamente envolvido em todas as ações do governo americano no quadro da luta anticomunista que constituía um dos princípios fundamentais da política externa e da política de segurança nacional dos EUA. Esse legado alcança, necessariamente, suas atividades como professor de política internacional, como pensador do equilíbrio nuclear na era do terror – doutrina MAD, ou Mutually Assured Destruction –, como consultor do Pentágono em matéria de segurança estratégica, e também, posteriormente a seu trabalho no governo, como articulista, memorialista e teórico das relações internacionais.

A rigor, ele começou sua vida pública justamente como teórico das relações internacionais, ou, mais exatamente, como historiador do equilíbrio europeu numa época revolucionária, isto é, de reconfiguração do sistema de poder no seguimento da derrocada de Napoleão e de restauração do panorama diplomático na Europa central e ocidental a partir do Congresso de Viena (1815). Sua tese sobre Castlereagh e Metternich naquele congresso (A World Restored, 1954) é um marco acadêmico na história diplomática e de análise das realidades do poder num contexto de mudanças nos velhos equilíbrios militares anteriormente prevalecentes. Depois ele foi um fino analista dessas mesmas realidades no contexto bipolar e do equilíbrio de terror trazido pelas novas realidades da arma atômica. Ele se deu rapidamente conta de que não era possível aos EUA manter sua supremacia militar exclusiva, baseada na hegemonia econômica e militar e no seu poderio atômico, sem chegar a algum tipo de entendimento com o outro poder nuclear então existente, a União Soviética, uma vez que, a partir de certo ponto, a destruição assegurada pela multiplicação de ogivas nucleares torna ilusória qualquer tentativa de first strike ou mesmo de sobrevivência física, após os primeiros lançamentos.

Daí sua preocupação em reconfigurar a equação dos poderes – aproximando-se da China, por exemplo – e em chegar a um entendimento mínimo com a URSS, através dos vários acordos de limitações de armas estratégicas. O controle da proliferação nuclear também era essencial, assim como evitar que mais países se passassem para o lado do inimigo principal, a URSS (o que justifica seu apoio a movimentos e golpes que afastassem do poder os mais comprometidos com o lado soviético do equilíbrio de poder). Numa época de relativa ascensão da URSS, com governos declarando-se socialistas na África, Ásia e América Latina, a resposta americana só poderia ser brutal, em sua opinião, o que justificava seu apoio a políticos corruptos e a generais comprometidos com a causa anticomunista. Não havia muita restrição moral, aqui, e todos os golpes eram permitidos, pois a segurança dos EUA poderia estar em jogo, aos seus olhos. 

Ou seja, todas as acusações de Christopher Hitchens estão corretas – embora este exagere um pouco no maquiavelismo kissingeriano – mas a única justificativa de Henry Kissinger é a de que ele fez tudo aquilo baseado em decisões do Conselho de Segurança Nacional e sob instruções dos presidentes aos quais serviu. Não sei se ele deveria estar preso, uma vez que sua responsabilidade é compartilhada com quem estava acima dele, mas certamente algum julgamento da história ele terá, se não o dos homens, em tribunais sobre crimes contra a humanidade. Acredito, pessoalmente, que ele considerava as “vítimas” de seus muitos golpes contra a democracia e os direitos humanos como simples “desgastes colaterais” na luta mais importante contra o poder comunista da URSS, que para ele seria o mal absoluto.

O julgamento de alguém situado num plano puramente teórico, ou “humanista” – como, por exemplo, intelectuais de academia ou mesmo jornalistas, para nada dizer de juízes empenhados na causa dos direitos humanos ou de “filósofos morais” devotados à “causa democrática” no mundo –, tem de ser necessariamente diferente do julgamento daqueles que se sentaram na cadeira onde são tomadas as decisões e tem, portanto, de julgar com base no complexo jogo de xadrez que é o equilíbrio nuclear numa era de terror, ou mesmo no contexto mais pueril dos pequenos golpes baixos que grandes potências sempre estão aplicando nas outras concorrentes, por motivos puramente táticos, antes que respondendo a alguma “grande estratégia” de “dominação mundial”. Desse ponto de vista, Kissinger jogou o jogo de forma tão competente quanto todos os demais atores da grande política internacional, Stalin, Mao, Kruschev, Brejnev, Chu Enlai, Ho Chi-min e todos os outros, ou seja, não há verdadeiramente apenas heróis de um lado e patifes do outro. Todos estão inevitavelmente comprometidos como pequenos e grandes atentados aos direitos humanos e aos valores democráticos.

Não creio, assim, que ele tenha sido mais patife, ou criminoso, do que Pinochet – que ele ajudou a colocar no poder – ou de que os dirigentes norte-vietnamitas – que ele tentou evitar que se apossassem do Vietnã do Sul (e, depois, jogou a toalha, ao ver que isso seria impossível cumprir pela via militar, ainda que, na verdade, os EUA tenham sido “derrotados” mais na frente interna, mais na batalha da opinião pública doméstica, do que propriamente no terreno vietnamita). Ou seja, Kissinger não “acabou” com a guerra do Vietnã: ele simplesmente declarou que os EUA tinham cumprido o seu papel – qualquer que fosse ele – e se retiraram da frente militar.

Seu legado também pode ser julgado como “comentarista” da cena diplomática mundial, como memorialista – aqui com imensas lacunas e mentiras, o que revela graves falhas de caráter – e como consultor agora informal de diversos presidentes, em geral republicanos (mas não só). Ele é um excelente conhecedor da História – no sentido dele, com H maiúsculo, certamente – e um grande conhecedor da psicologia dos homens, sobretudo em situações de poder. Trata-se, portanto, de um experiente homem de Estado, que certamente serviu ardorosamente seus próprios princípios de atuação – qualquer que seja o julgamento moral que se faça deles – e que trabalhou de modo incansável para promover os interesses dos EUA num mundo em transformação, tanto quanto ele tinha analisado no Congresso de Viena.

Desse ponto de vista, pode-se considerar que ele foi um grande representante da escola realista de poder e um excelente intérprete do interesse nacional americano, tanto no plano prático, quanto no plano conceitual, teórico ou histórico. Grandes estadistas, em qualquer país, também são considerados maquiavélicos, inescrupulosos e mentirosos, pelos seus adversários e até por aliados invejosos. Esta é a sina daqueles que se distinguem por certas grandes qualidades, boas e más. Kissinger certamente teve sua cota de ambas, até o exagero. Não se pode eludir o fato de que ele deixará uma marca importante na política externa e nas relações internacionais – dos EUA e do mundo – independentemente do julgamento moral que se possa fazer sobre o sentido de suas ações e pensamento.

Por uma dessas ironias de que a História é capaz, coube a um dos presidentes mais ignorantes em história mundial (Ronald Reagan) enterrar, praticamente, o poder soviético com o qual Kissinger negociou quase de igual para igual durante tantos anos. Ele, que considerava o resultado de Viena um modelo de negociação – por ter sido uma paz negociada, justamente, não imposta, como em Versalhes – deve ter sentido uma ponta de inveja do cowboy de Hollywood, capaz de desmantelar o formidável império que tinha estado no centro de suas preocupações estratégicas – e que ele tinha poupado de maiores “desequilíbrios” ao longo dos anos. Seu cuidado em assegurar o “equilíbrio das grandes potências” saltou pelos ares com o keynesianismo militar praticado por Reagan, um desses atos de voluntarismo político que apenas um indivíduo totalmente alheio às grandes tragédias da História seria capaz. Talvez Kissinger tivesse querido ser o arquiteto do grande triunfo da potência americana, mas ele teve de se contentar em ser apenas o seu intérprete tardio. Nada mau, afinal de contas, para alguém que foi, acima de tudo, um intelectual...

 

Paulo Roberto de Almeida

Brasília, 2 de junho de 2008

Divulgado no blog Diplomatizzando (11/05/2020; link: https://diplomatizzando.blogspot.com/2020/05/o-legado-de-henry-kissinger-paulo.html).

 


quarta-feira, 3 de maio de 2023

Book review and discussion: Klaus Larres: Uncertain Allies: Nixon, Kissinger, and the Threat of a United Europe (H-Diplo)

 H-Diplo Roundtable XXIV-29

Klaus Larres has written a timely and controversial book about the history of the relationship between the United States and the European Union. Focusing particularly on President Richard Nixon and his National Security Adviser, Henry Kissinger, Larres describes how the United States came to see the movement toward a united Europe as a “Frankenstein monster” that the United States should seek to prevent.[1] In Larres’s view, Nixon and Kissinger’s belief that a unified Europe would not be obedient to American strategic designs was at the heart of their opposition, and in taking this stance, Larres argues that they reversed almost two decades of strong American support for the European project. The Nixon and Kissinger approach was a significant turning point in the postwar history of American foreign policy. When President Donald Trump proclaimed the European Union “a foe” of the United States, he was bringing to fruition the policy that Nixon and Kissinger had inaugurated.

Larres’s book has stimulated a spirited debate in this roundtable. All the reviewers agree that the book is thoroughly researched and well written, and the various highlights of their praise are excerpted by Larres himself in the opening paragraph of his response. While Rolf Steininger’s review is largely uncritical and he expresses hope for a German translation of the book, both Daniel Hamilton and Jussi Hanhimäki raise significant questions about the book’s central argument. Hamilton contends that the Larres narrative “attempts to bend history” in its “unconvincing effort to draw a line from Richard Nixon to Donald Trump.” Ignoring the presidential administrations of George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama, Hamilton contends, Larres “overreaches” in his argument, and that overall American policy has been far more supportive of European integration than Larres portrays. He argues further that Larres downplays internal European divisions and writes “as if a unified bloc had already come into being.” Europeans differed on the nature of the European project, and these differences affected American support for European integration.

Hanhimäki’s review, while also acknowledging the book’s scholarship, is also critical, pointing out its relative lack of European sources. He also views the Larres book as part of the “crisis-prone writing” that characterizes accounts of the transatlantic alliance. Hanhimäki makes the case that the entire history of the alliance, even what Larres views as the “golden age” of the 1950s, was replete with conflicts and competition between the United States and its European allies, leading to “a never-ending cycle of crisis and reconciliation.” Yet through it all, Hanhimäki contends, what has been achieved is “an increasingly closer, more dynamic, and more extensively integrated ‘West.’” Even Trump could not overturn the applecart of the thriving transatlantic relationship, and President Joe Biden has renewed it.

In his response, Larres forcefully rejects both the Hamilton and Hanhimäki critiques, pointing to his use of European sources and rejecting the notion that his argument “overreaches” his evidence. Larres argues that in recent years Europeans have indeed come to doubt America’s continuing existence as “democratic country.” In addition, they have witnessed America’s increasing tendency, even under their favorite President, Barack Obama, to “pivot” toward Asia and away from Europe. To Larres, the relationship between the United States and Europe has grown increasingly strained since the end of the Cold War, and Donald Trump’s presidency was the culmination of this trend. Larres expresses a certainty that the US and Europe would have divorced in a second Trump term, and he argues that Hamilton greatly overstates both the Clinton and Obama administrations’ interest in, and support for, European integration. There is something of a psychological element to the Larres view, as he argues that the US has treated Europe in a “master/underling” manner, using its power to bully European countries to follow its lead.

One reviewer takes a different approach. As a diplomatic historian with an expertise in economics, Diane Kunz considers the Larres book with both history and contemporary events in mind. While praising the book as “seminal” reading on the Nixon period, Kunz reminds us that Nixon’s primary concern in dealing with the Europeans was his own re-election concerns. His unilateral moves on economic issues, particularly his August 1971 decision to end the Bretton Woods system of fixed exchange rates and the link between the dollar and gold, as well as imposing tariffs and other trade restrictions, were designed to help Nixon’s standing at home and boost the American economy during the presidential election year of 1972. Nixon’s unilateralism underlined Europe’s weakness in dealing with the US, and greatly encouraged the Europeans, especially the French and Germans, to drive toward greater European integration and the unity that Larres documents. The development of a strong European Union in economic terms helped to create a political rival to the United States and ultimately drew Nixon and Kissinger’s enmity.

The big problem of course, as Kunz dryly notes in a direct reference to Ukraine, is that “economic issues are vitally important until they are not.” Russia’s brutal military invasion, the largest land war in Europe since World War II, revealed the military impotence of Europe, especially Germany, and reaffirmed the significance of both NATO and the United States for providing leadership and ensuring European security. Will it now encourage Europeans to develop a defense capacity to match or rival the US as the EU once did in economic terms? I would not hold my breath waiting, but it is an important question that Uncertain Allies raises.

 

Participants:

Klaus Larres is the Richard M. Krasno Distinguished Professor of History and International Affairs at the University of North Carolina. He also runs the Krasno Global Events Series at UNC. Prior to joining UNC in 2012, he held professorships at Queen’s University Belfast and the University of London. He also held the Henry A Kissinger Chair at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC, and visiting professorships at Yale, Johns Hopkins Univ./SAIS, Schwarzman College/Tshingua University in Beijing, the University of Milan, Italy, and others. He also was Counselor and Senior Policy Adviser at the German Embassy in Beijing and a Visiting Fellow at the German Institute of International and Security Affairs (SWP) in Berlin and the Institute for Advanced Studies at Princeton, NJ. Among his other publications are Churchill’s Cold War: The Politics of Personal Diplomacy (Yale University Press, 2002), Politics of Illusion: Churchill, Eisenhower and the German Question (in German, 1995), The Oxford Handbook of German Politics (co-ed., Oxford University Press, 2022), Dictators and Autocrats: Securing Power Across Global Politics (ed., Routledge, 2022), Terrorism and Transatlantic Relations: Threats and Challenges (co-ed., Palgrave, 2022),German-American Relations in the 21st Century: A Fragile Friendship (co-ed., Routledge, 2019), and many others At present he is working on a book which looks at the different policies of the US and the EU/Germany toward China from the 1980s to the present. Working title: “China as a Cause of Tension in Transatlantic Relations and within Europe from the 1980s to the present.”

Thomas Schwartz is the Distinguished Professor of History at Vanderbilt University. His most recent book is Henry Kissinger and American Power: A Political Biography (New York: Hill and Wang, 2020).

Daniel S. Hamilton has been on the faculty of Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies since 2001, and has served as Richard von Weizsäcker Professor, Austrian Marshall Plan Foundation Professor, and Founding Director of the School’s Center for Transatlantic Relations. For 15 years he served as Executive Director of the American Consortium on EU Studies. He is Senior Fellow of the SAIS Foreign Policy Institute, co-leading the School’s postdoctoral program on “The United States, Europe, and World Order.” He is also a Senior Non-Resident Fellow at the Brookings Institution. He has directed the Global Europe Program at the Woodrow Wilson Center and acted as Senior Associate at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, Richard von Weizsäcker Fellow at the Robert Bosch Academy, and Deputy Director of the Aspen Institute Berlin. He served as US Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for Europe and Associate Director of the Policy Planning Staff for two US Secretaries of State. Recent publications include Paradigm Lost? The European Union and the Challenges of a New World (ed., with Gregor Kirchhof and Andreas Rödder); The Transatlantic Economy 2022 (with Joseph P. Quinlan) and Exiting the Cold War, Entering a New World (ed., with Kristina Spohr).

Jussi M. Hanhimäki is Professor and Chair of International History and Politics at the Graduate Institute of International and Development Studies. He is the author, among other works, of The Flawed Architect: Henry Kissinger and American Foreign Policy (Oxford University Press, 2004) and one of the founding editors of the journal Cold War History. His latest book is Pax Transatlantica: America and Europe in the Post-Cold War Era (Oxford University Press, 2021). He is currently working on a book tentatively titled Afterlife: the Cold War’s Long Shadow.

Diane B. Kunz is Scholar in Residence at the Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law, as well as the Executive Director of the Center for Adoption Policy. She is an historian and a lawyer and is currently working on a history of US international adoption. 

Rolf Steininger, Professor Emeritus, was from 1984–2010 head of the Institute of Contemporary History at the University of Innsbruck; and from 2008–2018 at the Free University of Bolzano; European Union Jean Monnet Professor, Senior Fellow of the Eisenhower Center for American Studies at the University of New Orleans, and is author of numerous books, articles and international award-winning TV and film documentaries.

The early 1970s represented a pivotal moment in the US relationship with Europe. Klaus Larres tells this story in a fascinating and highly readable manner. His tale is strongest when he focuses on his two major protagonists, President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, especially their evolving views on the significance and potential consequences of west European efforts to create an ‘ever closer union’ through deeper integration within the evolving European Community. Larres delves deeply into the personal experiences and professional interactions of Nixon and Kissinger with their European counterparts. He draws on unclassified documents, interviews, and extensive reading of the literature to explain how the Nixon administration turned decisively against two decades of relatively benign US support for west European integration, and planted seeds of concern that would influence US administrations over the succeeding four decades. 

When Nixon assumed the presidency in January 1969, he and Kissinger, who was originally his national security advisor before also becoming Secretary of State, believed that it was up to the six west European member states of the European Community to decide whether to move forward with deeper integration. They initially treated the issue as a sideshow, focused as they were on domestic economic challenges, the escalating Vietnam War, and great-power relations with the Soviet Union and China, and given ongoing ambivalence among the west Europeans themselves about their integration project. 

Over time, however, transatlantic tensions over monetary issues, trade affairs, and approaches to the Soviet Union, the Middle East and energy flows led the Nixon administration to adopt a more confrontational stance. By April 1973, after Kissinger confided that he was “no longer so sure that European integration is all that much in our interest,” Nixon replied, “Oh, I am not so sure of it at all.” He expressed his “opposition to any solution that brought the Common Market countries closer together.” Otherwise, Nixon exclaimed, “we will create in Europe, a Frankenstein monster, which could be highly detrimental to our interests in the years ahead.”[2]

The first and most serious break came in August 1971, when the Nixon administration set its allies adrift by abruptly de-pegging the dollar from gold, which led to the demise of the Bretton Woods system that had framed the international monetary system since the end of World War II. While that tale has been told in great detail elsewhere,[3] Larres adeptly weaves the story into his larger geopolitical narrative. In this book the brutal unilateralist is not Kissinger but US Treasury Secretary John Connolly, who famously told the Europeans that the dollar was “our currency, but your problem.”[4] Other leading members of the Nixon administration, as well as key members of Congress, had also become concerned that reflexive US support for Europe’s economies was beginning to work against US interests. 

It was Kissinger, however, who articulated the essential US concern. For decades, Washington had gotten its priorities backwards. The US had “made the Europeans depend on us in defense, which even works against our economic interest, and given them a free hand in the economic field,” which ran against US interests. “You really got it on the head there,” Nixon replied. “I agree with that.”[5] They ditched US support for west European unity in favor of divide et impera.

Not everyone on the Nixon team was convinced. Differing views were offered by prominent personalities such as Arthur Burns, the Federal Reserve Chairman, and George Shultz, at the time director of the Office of Management and Budget, and later Connolly’s successor as Treasury Secretary. But Kissinger was Nixon’s Euro-whisperer. 

Larres’s tale is less captivating, and less convincing, when it strays from the main story line. “US interest in European integration and the creation of a united Europe would not return,” he claims. “The mutual trust and closeness that had once been taken for granted in transatlantic relations would never come back” (272). In his unconvincing effort to draw a line from Richard Nixon to Donald Trump, Larres’s narrative attempts to bend history. Certainly, Trump’s label of the EU as a “foe” that “treats us worse than China”[6] echoed Nixon’s concern about the “Frankenstein monster.” And the George W. Bush administration’s policy of “disaggregation”[7]—playing European countries off against one another—resembled Nixon administration tactics. 

But Larres ignores three other administrations—that of Republican George H.W. Bush, and of Democrats Bill Clinton and Barack Obama—that arguably were far more supportive of European integration. Bush Sr., after all, helped to manage the peaceful end to Europe’s divisions and set the entire continent, not just its western European half, on the road to integration. Clinton built on those decisions, working with EU partners to expand the integrated space of democratic stability in Europe where war simply did not happen, and forging an ambitious US-EU New Transatlantic Agenda that went considerably beyond other frameworks for bilateral cooperation—in terms of ambition, formality, and institutional procedures—than either partner had with any other party anywhere in the world. And while Obama was less personally interested in the arcana of EU processes, he clearly expected a more capable European partner to step up to tackle together with the United States a host of challenges ranging far beyond Europe’s borders. He castigated the British for their Brexit decision. Together with EU partners, he began negotiations on a Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP)—arguably the most ambitious US -EU initiative ever. The fact that TTIP was not realized does not obviate the fact that the Obama administration supported a strong, internally coherent and outward-looking European Union. The Biden administration’s approach to European integration is much closer to that of these administrations than to those of Trump, George W. Bush, or Nixon. 

Larres is not wrong that the Nixon administration was decisive in terms of Washington’s approach to the European integration process. But in the broader sweep of seven decades of postwar history, it was a sharp turn on what had already been, and continues to be, a long and winding road, not the off-ramp from a deeply intertwined future. In the end, what is problematic about Larres’s account is not the book’s headline story, which he treats with detail and insight, it is how Larres situates the Nixon-Kissinger interlude in this longer and more twisted tale.

Larres writes nostalgically about a golden age of transatlantic cooperation in which US leaders regarded closer west European integration as an end in itself, worthy of US support. Jussi Hanhimäki’s recent history of the transatlantic relationship offers a useful corrective. He shows how the ‘transatlantic community’ born after World War II was more often than not a community of strife, punctuated by major internal conflicts over President Charles de Gaulle’s diffidence and France’s decision to exit NATO’s unified military command, disputes over burden-sharing, nuclear deterrence, out-of-area engagements, discriminatory subsidies, and trade preferences. Far from threatening the transatlantic alliance, Hanhimäki argues that these disputes were sources of vibrancy and dynamism. The United States and Europe “thrived” on competition and disagreement. Indeed, the West’s success has been “its ability to remain united while being perpetually divided.”[8]

Successive postwar US administrations welcomed the idea of west European integration; none regarded it as an unalloyed good. US support for European integration has always been that of conditional acceptance. Broad rhetorical support for the principle of integration has always been accompanied by dogged attention to the implications of any particular European initiative for US interests. 

For the United States, the mere fact of integration has always been less important than its nature. And the struggle to define the nature of the European project has been a never-ending drama. Today, the European integration project is seen as driven by Europeans, and the Atlanticist project as driven by Americans. In the 1950s it was arguably the other way around.[9]Larres emphasizes how pro-integration Washington was in those early years, and laments how the Nixon administration adopted a more confrontational stance. He devotes less attention to how pro-Atlanticist western Europe was at the beginning, and how this changed before the advent of the Nixon Administration, which in turn affected American attitudes to the European project. 

In retrospect, there were two realignments. The first, arguably, came in Europe, not in America. The 1960s were marked by intra-European disputes over the nature of integration—was the budding European Community to be America’s counterpart, or its counterweight? The ongoing clash between Gaullist and Atlanticist visions of an integrated Europe, which is still so evident in contemporary debates, was key to setting in motion an intellectual and political realignment in US policy that took shape during the Nixon-Kissinger era and that ebbs and flows with America’s political tides today. 

Larres writes with verve on the realignment of US policy; his book offers less insight into how intra-European debates influenced US views. While parsing the nuances of US interagency debates, Larres consistently refers to “the Europeans” as if a unified bloc had already come into being. Intra-European strains are given relatively short shrift. The reality, of course, was—and is—that Europeans themselves are deeply divided over the nature of their common project, and that ongoing ambivalence affects US approaches to integration’s ups and downs.  

Kissinger himself was conflicted, as Larres acknowledges. While railing at times against west European failures to consult, he also acted to tamp down more extreme US reactions.  Striking out some confrontational passages in a State Department action memo, he commented that “I don’t want us to push unity but we should not oppose it either.”[10]

In short, US inconsistencies are related to the uncertainties Europeans themselves feel about their grand experiment.[11]Despite ambitions of unity, Europeans struggle to find a single voice. The European Union remains a work in progress, with uneven capabilities. Deep cleavages among member states can be found on issues large and small. From time to time, US actors do take advantage of those differences to shape outcomes favorable to US interests. Often, however, obstacles to effective transatlantic coordination have less to do with US reluctance to engage or support the EU as a strategic partner than with the limits of European capability, consensus, and political will.[12]

The result is that the US-EU relationship struggles to be strategic. Priorities are often mismatched: the US looks for efficiency and concrete outcomes; the EU seeks legitimacy and symbolic US validation of the ongoing process of European integration. Relations are beset by competitive impulses, underlying questions of trust, and mutual doubts about relative commitment and capacity—not only across the Atlantic, but within the United States and within the EU as well.[13]

Robert Zoellick, who at the end of the Cold War played such an important role in the integration of the European continent beyond its western European half, expressed mainstream US sentiment well when he said that while he believed the United States could continue to support the dream of peaceful European integration, he also believed that European integration had “advanced to such a stage that the United States should be increasingly discriminating about the content, form, and resulting outlook” of the European Union.[14] Klaus Larres’s book helps us to understand why. 

In the massive literature on President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger’s reordering of American foreign policy priorities, the discussion of transatlantic relations has generally been overshadowed by Vietnam, détente, the opening to China, and the October 1973 War in the Middle East. If anything, the focus has been on the deceptive significance of Kissinger’s ‘Year of Europe’ speech and the crisis it seemingly or unnecessarily provoked. Yet relatively little has recently been published on the ways in which the reinvigoration of European integration was regarded—positively or negatively—and influenced by policymakers bent on reshaping America’s relations with the United States’ major adversaries in the early 1970s.[15]

Within this context alone, Klaus Larres’s carefully researched study is a welcome addition to existing scholarship. But beyond filling the specific gap in the literature, Larres has also provided an interpretation that helps us make sense of the acrimony that, over the last five decades, has clouded transatlantic relations, making it seem as though the Atlantic Ocean were becoming wider and wider with every crisis over trade or tariffs and each disagreement about NATO burden-sharing. In short, while focusing on a specific and relatively limited period in transatlantic relations, the implications of Larres’s thesis reach into the post-Cold War era and all the way to the present. This is the one problematic aspect of Uncertain Allies; I discuss it below.

There is a lot to be said in favor of Uncertain Allies. Larres’s main argument is clear enough and the research supporting it is solid. While recognizing the signs of decline in America’s global influence, Nixon and Kissinger were bent on dominating the transatlantic relationship, on making sure that Europeans remained subservient to and supportive of the United States’ broader foreign policy goals. The administration worried that previous decades of US support for European integration had created a Frankenstein monster. With the January 1973 accession of Britain (as well as Denmark and Ireland), the European Economic Community (EEC) was, as a Time magazine cover summed it up on its cover: “America’s New Rival.”[16][DL1] Moreover, within the context of the global turmoil of the early 1970s—the weakening of the Bretton Woods System, the continuing war in Vietnam, the manifold dilemmas related to decolonization, the uncertainty of energy imports from the Persian Gulf—the Atlantic bond was increasingly important for America’s global influence. Yet, as the Nixon administration continued to insist upon American primacy over Europe, and on the overriding significance of strengthened Atlanticism instead of further European integration, the transatlantic relationship deteriorated further, a reality on display when Kissinger grandly announced the ‘Year of Europe’ in April 1973.

It was in the early 1970s, therefore, that the simmering transatlantic distrust turned into a structural fact. From the 1970s onwards, the Europeans became increasingly distrustful of American leadership, while successive US administrations would never return to the unqualified US support for European integration. In other words, on Nixon and Kissinger’s watch, the golden age of transatlantic relations—which Larres places in the 1950s—was lost and replaced by an endless series of ups and downs, recurrent crises over trade and tariffs further clouded by disagreements about NATO’s mission and purpose. The cycle was evidently on display almost five decades later during the Trump administration when the American president declared NATO obsolete and European Union a foe that was cheating the United States on trade. As Larres concludes: “It was in the early 1970s that the foundation was laid for the ever-widening rift in transatlantic relations that characterized the subsequent decades and culminated in the twenty-first century” (273).

Although the book provides a readable and well-researched account of Nixon and Kissinger’s transatlantic policy, there are a few problematic issues. I will focus on two. First, the research is unfortunately limited in its perspective. While thorough in his use of American archives, Larres has unfortunately not ventured into the multiple national, EU, or NATO archives that, for the 1970s, are accessible. This may in part be justifiable: the book focuses on American perceptions and decision-making processes. Yet, one is still left wondering: was there anything to the threat of a united Europe? Did Europeans really see the United States as a threat to their much-yearned for unity—and, if so, which Europeans. Was European unity a mirage rather than a threat or challenge to the United States? In short, was there a ‘European’ vision or merely a series of policies that saw integration as a vehicle to serve more narrow national interests? Or, most likely, a never-ending mix of both?

Which brings me to the second point. For all its virtues, the book overreaches in making an analogy between the 1970s and the recent past. Perhaps because of the context in which Uncertain Allies was written (the Trump era), Larres aims to drive home a point of historical continuity between the foreign policies of the president who resigned and the one who was twice impeached. It is, though, difficult to find anything resembling a symmetry if only because of Nixon’s evident acumen on foreign policy and international affairs when compared to Donald Trump’s, well, somewhat less obvious understanding and appreciation of same.

In fact, the analogy that one is tempted to make about the two eras and the state of transatlantic relations is one of ‘crying wolf.’ There was tension and distrust on the American side about Europe in the 1970s, with some analysts predicting that the end of the transatlantic partnership was nigh. Likewise, there was tension and distrust in 2016-2020 with many commentators driven to panic about the imminent dissolution of NATO. Yet somehow the worst—in the form of transatlantic disintegration—did not come to pass in the 1970s. In fact, as Piers Ludlow among others has pointed out, in 1973-75 the United States and its west European allies (and Japan) collaborated in several new frameworks, including the International Energy Agency (IEA) and the Group of Seven (G7). NATO countries collaborated closely in the context of the Conference on Security and Co-operation in Europe (CSCE). The shift in the nature of the transatlantic relationship in the 1970s reflected the broad transformation that was taking place in inter-allied relations in the 1970s.[17]

By the same token, no divorce was in the cards during the Trump presidency despite the alarm that spread across the transatlantic space as the White House’s occupant called NATO obsolete and charged Europeans for having taken advantage of America’s good will for much too long. Whether Trump truly wanted to abandon the United States’ commitment to European security or start an all-out trade war with the EU is of course impossible to discern. But when President Joe Biden claimed that America was ‘back’ he was, actually, overstating the point. America had never ‘left’ the majority of the cooperative transatlantic frameworks that were in place when Trump assumed the presidency in January 2017. For example, NATO’s latest enlargement happened on Trump’s watch when North Macedonia joined the alliance in 2020.[18]

Uncertain Allies is in many ways an outstanding work of scholarship. It offers an in-depth account of the reassessment of US strategy towards Europe in the early 1970s, something that has been somewhat absent from the otherwise massive ‘Nixinger’ literature. But the book also continues a long tradition of crisis-prone writing about the transatlantic relationship. In fact, conflict has always been a popular framework among analysts who write about post-1945 European-American interactions, to the point that we seem to have lost sight of the reality of the other side of the coin: an increasingly closer, more dynamic, and more extensively integrated ‘West.’ If anything, the history of the transatlantic relationship is one of a never-ending cycle of crisis and reconciliation underpinned by enlargement (NATO and the EU), deepening economic ties, and broadly similar political systems and trends.

Ultimately, the coexistence of community and conflict has been and is likely to remain the most enduring characteristic of the transatlantic relationship. It is largely an outgrowth of the success of the relationship and its increasingly complex and multilayered nature that opens infinite possibilities for both cooperation, rivalry, and re-assessment. The recurrence of crises, rather than undermining the transatlantic relationship has, time and again, illustrated its resilience. This, in the end, is what transpired during the period examined in Uncertain Allies. In fact, paradoxical as it may seem, the disagreements themselves have been and remain one of the greatest strengths of the relationship between America and Europe.

As Kissinger, probably the most famous European-born American statesman of all time, wrote at the start of the Nixon administration:

Thus, we face the root question of a multipolar world. How much unity should we want? How much diversity can we stand? These questions never have a final answer within a pluralistic society. Adjusting the balance between integration and autonomy will be the key challenge of Atlantic relations.[19]

It was thus in 1969 and the years that followed. It remains so in 2022 and beyond.

In October 1973 Secretary of State Henry Kissinger reportedly said, “I do not care what happens to NATO, I am so disgusted.”[20] Klaus Larres’s new book, Uncertain Allies: Nixon, Kissinger, and the Threat of a United Europe, provides the key to understanding why America’s top diplomat could be so undiplomatic. Following the oft-quoted dictate of German historian Leopold von Ranke to record “what actually happened,” Larres recounts, in fascinating detail, the history of American and European diplomacy during the formative years of the European Union.[21] Historians and political scientists on both sides of the Atlantic will find this volume seminal reading, not the least because of Larres’s excellent use of both European and US sources.

In May 2022, speaking about the Ukraine war, Kissinger opined that “the outcome of any war and the peace settlement, and the nature of that peace settlement, will determine whether the combatants remain permanent adversaries, or whether it is possible to fit them into an international framework.”[22] As Larres amply demonstrates, Kissinger professed, and tried to cultivate, just such a policy during the period between 1969 and 1974, when he and President Richard Nixon guided US foreign policy. But Western Europeans allies did not passively acquiesce to Nixon and Kissinger’s attempts to ‘fit’ them into a changing US foreign policy framework, in which European integration was to play a less favored role. Instead, French President George Pompidou, West German Chancellor Willy Brandt, and British Prime Minister Edward Heath not only resisted such molding but, responding to what they saw as American bullying tactics, formed closer economic and political ties among themselves.

When Nixon assumed the office and powers of president, on January 20, 1969, he faced a society that was cracking at the seams. As the New York Times’ leading columnist James Reston wrote, the cities were “broke and overwhelmed,” the universities were embroiled by confrontations, there were “dramatic local controversies over race, religion, and education,” and the “question of the day” was how to deal with “militant extremists.”[23] The international situation was, if anything, worse. On inauguration day the United States had 535,000 troops in Vietnam.[24] Although campuses throbbed with anti-war action, broad public opinion was split down the middle. The Democratic Party had lost Congress and the presidency in the 1952 election (when Nixon was elected vice president) because the United States had failed to win the Korean War; Nixon had no intention of falling into the same trap. Indeed, all his actions need to be judged against his obsession with winning the 1972 election. Nixon knew that he needed to shore up his political position. He was a minority president, having only won 43.4 percent of the vote. Moreover, he never forgot that he had quite possibly been cheated of victory in the 1960 presidential election. A major step on the road to electoral victory was ‘Vietnamization,’ a policy enunciated in the eponymous Nixon Doctrine which allowed Washington to extricate US forces from Vietnam while continuing to support Saigon militarily and economically. 

Nixon and Kissinger, however, understood that domestic considerations had be balanced against the overarching global Cold War.[25] While Western European leaders also answered to their domestic audiences, they had far fewer global constraints. The period after 1969 was one of Western European retrenchment. During the nineteen sixties, Britain and France had shed most of their colonies, while in 1970 West Germany recognized the Oder-Neisse border, thereby accepting the post-Second World War settlement. By contrast, the United States remained burdened with its formal and informal empire responsibilities. It is instructive that Nixon’s introduction of what would become the Nixon Doctrine was made during his whirlwind 1969 global reassurance trip. Larres rightly references former French president Charles De Gaulle’s skepticism about the relationship between Vietnam and the international credibility of the United States (“It would be better to let go than to try and stay”), but that was not the message Nixon heard from southeast Asian and Pacific allies (55). Both the Johnson and Nixon administrations resented the refusal of western European governments to support the American rationale for its Vietnamese war at a time when the United States had stationed in excess of 250,000 troops in Europe. [26]  

But with the Soviet Union showing no signs of weakening its hold on Eastern Europe, a ‘Europeanization’ of the US NATO commitment was not on the table. Having created this entangling alliance in 1949, Washington could not turn its back on the continent during the tense years of the 1970s. What Nixon and Kissinger were able to do, however, was to construct a Metternichian superstructure, triangulating the Soviet Union against China. Their master stroke was designed not only to stabilize the international order, but to allow them to concentrate on extricating the United States from Vietnam with some semblance of honor. Within this framework, the administration would judge its Western European allies by how much these countries accommodatingly ‘fit in’ with Washington’s policy goals rather than detracting from them.

Nowhere was this dynamic clearer than in the realm of economics. Nixon believed that he needed to jump-start the slumping US economy in 1971 to reap benefits during the 1972 electoral cycle. But the 1944 Bretton Woods international agreements, which had enshrined US economic dominance, only worked insofar as the United States was willing to continue as the system’s banker of last resort.[27] In his opinion, Western European nations were benefiting from artificially low exchange rates, putting tariffs on US goods, and shirking their defense bills, freeloading off of the US taxpayer. As Kissinger put it, “the priorities have been wrong….,” the US had “made the Europeans depend on us in defense, which even works against our economic interest, and given them a free hand in the economic field” (191). 

Growing US trade deficits and general economic weakness in 1971 led to intensifying pressure on the dollar and with the electoral clock ticking, the administration unilaterally jettisoned the Bretton Woods agreements and delinked the dollar from gold in August 1971. To the president, the ‘Nixon shock,’ which upended the world economy was a necessary corollary to the Nixon Doctrine. What Nixon and Kissinger failed to consider was how “the brutal unilateralism” of the decisions revealed on August 15, 1971 had, as Kissinger later admitted, “mortgaged relations” with Western European nations “for many years to come” (247). In that regard, Washington gave the French and West German leaders, who were eager for a truly federal Europe, an enormous gift. Nixonomics demonstrated that for West Germany, France, and their neighbors, in order to have a meaningful voice in world economic decisions, they would have to further integrate economically and politically and, eventually, create a cohesive federal Europe.  

Nixon and Kissinger did attempt to pacify NATO partners by calling 1973 “the Year of Europe.” But as Larres puts it, their “insisti[ng] on a great degree of military burden sharing” a “‘quid pro quo’ linkage between economic and security concerns,” and western European compliance with American demands during the 1973 Yom Kippur war, provided further evidence to West German and French leaders, as if any more was necessary, that only by strengthening internal ties would European nations achieve autonomy (212-213).

Yet as long as the Cold War continued, the ability of European nations to create an independent entity that could compete with the United States would always be limited by geopolitical realities. When it came down to it, the Cold War distribution of military forces dictated that western European nations could not do without US nuclear and conventional military protection. It is instructive that the three times when nuclear war was most imminent, in 1962, 1973, and 1983, West Germany, France, and Britain played no determinant role. 

And that raises the question of whether the course of the 1970s would have been appreciably different if the movement toward European integration had begun in the 1980s instead of the 1950s. For all the talk about European unity, in the 1970s Europe was a fragmented and truncated entity. Half of Europe was dominated by the Soviet Union, while West Germany and France, the key players in the European Union, clashed as much as they cooperated. Great Britain, for its part, only became a European Union member in 1973 and even then, its politicians spent the next two years squabbling over whether its membership was a temporary gesture or a permanent decision.[28] As long as the Cold War persisted, western Europe’s steps toward continent-wide unity remained limited, as the timeline of the late 1970s and 1980s demonstrated. That the final dissolution of the Soviet Union on December 25, 1991, and the signing of the Maastricht Treaty on February 7, 1992, occurred within six weeks of each other is instructive. An integrated and enlarged European Union could only safely contemplate brushing off the United States when it faced an emasculated Russia, as opposed to the cold-war era Soviet Union, which included Ukraine and Belarus among its constituent republics, and controlled satellite nations abutting Western Europe. 

For its part, the administration of George H.W. Bush encouraged European integration in a manner, as Larres proves, that Nixon and Kissinger did not. One of the reasons that the United States stood aside during the initial disintegration of Yugoslavia and the subsequent Balkan Wars was that European leaders convinced the Bush administration that the EU should be given the lead role in conducting relations with this former Soviet bloc country.[29] Bush and his secretaries of state, first James Baker and then Lawrence Eagleburger, agreed that it was vital to allow the EU nations to use this opportunity to prove their effectiveness as an independent power. 

Indeed, in the thirty years since Maastricht, the 27 EU members established an articles of confederation-level European super-nation. In so doing, the original EU founding states greatly contributed to European stability. Eastern European nations would have found shedding their Soviet pasts far more difficult if not for EU technical and financial assistance. The successful introduction of the Euro empowered European nations to expand their outreach efforts to non-European countries as well as to Russia itself. And Germany, Europe’s largest economy and its dominant player, effectively led the EU through the 2008 financial crisis, the Greek economic meltdown, and the 2015 refugee crisis. One can only hope that Larres writes another volume, extending his granular analysis through the first decades of the twenty-first century, when a ‘European foreign policy’ became a reality rather than an aspiration.

The American government, with the exception of the period 2017-2021, looked benignly on the European integration project, remaining willing to fund NATO expenditures at a rate that remained disproportionate to the contributions of other members, especially that of Germany. But the Russian attack on Ukraine upended accepted verities. For one thing, the German government had based much of its post-Cold War economic and foreign policy on the dubious proposition that economic ties with Russia would lead to stronger diplomatic and democratic relations. It was this policy that US Secretary of State Cordell Hull had advocated in the 1930s, with the same dismal denouement that occurred in 2022. Economic issues are vitally important until they are not. And they are particularly unimportant in countries run by dictators; men like Russian president Vladmir Putin can only be convinced to change course by military, not economic, deterrence.[30]

Moreover, the Ukraine invasion has once again put front and center the NATO alliance, which French President Emmanuel Macron in 2019 labeled “brain dead,”[31] When Volodymyr Zelenskyy came with his begging bowl to western capitals, his most urgent request was for arms and military support. Only the United States was in the position to meaningfully supply these needs. But with the world economy eerily resembling that of the early 1970s, complete with stagflation and sky-high energy costs, US leaders may soon be walking in the unilateral footsteps Nixon and Kissinger laid down fifty years ago. 

At one point before he became US president, Richard Nixon claimed that “he had always supported the idea of a European Community and NATO ever since he had come to Europe as a young Congressman” in 1947 (xi). Twenty-six years later, as president, he concluded that the European Community was a “Frankenstein monster,” hostile to its US creator, and Secretary of State Henry A. Kissinger gave the advice “to throw a monkey wrench into the Common Market machinery” (252). Was this the “turning point” (251) in Washington’s policy toward the European unity process? This is Klaus Larres’s thesis. How could this have happened? In six chapters of his constructive, succinct and well-researched book, Larres leads us to this point to find an answer to this question.

Chapter 1 explores the “Golden Age,” the years of post-World War II reconstruction, asking the overall question, ‘What to do with Germany?’ US diplomat John Foster Dulles gave this answer as early as 1942: “Germany ought to be integrated into a unified Europe,” but with “no special privileges,”[32] since Germany was a “conquered enemy country,” as President Harry S. Truman put it in 1946 (10).

The Cold War changed everything. There was the Marshall Plan, with Larres offering the different views of Milward, Hogan and van der Beugel. There was no European unity, but there was still the German problem. In June 1949, the State Department put it this way: “Even if there were no reason at all for European unity, Europe would need it anyway, in order to solve the German problem.”[33] German integration into the West was the “most important ultimate goal,” the “ever prime and urgent necessity of the moment,” as future Secretary of State Dean Acheson added. 

The first step on this road was the Schuman Plan. Larres shows that Washington “never wavered in its strong support for the further development” of this plan (16): for Acheson it was the last chance to avoid “Russian or German, or perhaps Russian-German domination,”[34] for Dulles it was the way “to solve the most dangerous problem of our time, namely the relationship of Germany’s industrial power to France and the West” (15).

The next step was the military integration of West Germany, first within the European Defense Community, and when that failed, within NATO. The policy is known as ‘double containment,’ i.e., to contain the Russians, and the Germans, so that the Germans “could not break loose” and should never again be in a position to blackmail other states with “meet my terms or else” as President Dwight Eisenhower put it in 1953. The British saw it slightly differently: the sole purpose of integrating Germany was “to prevent, so far as humanly possible, a Soviet-German alignment.” And NATO was there “to keep the Russians out, the Germans down, and the Americans in.”[35]

Even in the early 1960s there was still the German danger. The Western powers did not trust the Germans. As Germany’s influence grew ever stronger within the European Economic Community, the Americans and the British acted. Washington wanted the participation of the UK in the European Economic Community (EEC). This would help “to bind Germany more firmly to the West.” And if the EEC showed signs of breaking up, Great Britain would be able to exert a powerful influence at the critical moment “to prevent NATO from disintegration and Germany from throwing in her lot with the Soviet Union.” The Kennedy administration attached “great importance to the political cohesion of Europe and was prepared to put up with discrimination against their own exports as the necessary price.”[36] After reading Larres’s book we can see how this changed with the Nixon administration.

When the UK applied for membership in 1963, French President Charles de Gaulle said no and in his openly anti-US-policy withdrew three years later from NATO’s integrated military command. This angered Washington, but, as President Johnson’s acting National Security Adviser Robert Comer put it: “The real problem is not France, but Germany.”[37] And the Germans still had this “incipient appetite for the nuclear,” as British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan put it.[38]Presidents John Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson offered the Multilateral Force (MLF) under the US-controlled nuclear umbrella. The MLF failed, de Gaulle called it a “Multilateral Farce.”

In connection with the so-called offset payments, Larres recalls the famous “Johnson treatment”—with Chancellor Erhard the victim. US ambassador McGhee had warned the president that Erhard would “throw himself on the president’s mercy” and “the government will fall: Germany and America will tend to drift apart.” Johnson did not care and demanded from Erhard “You’ve got to keep your commitment to me to reimburse me for every dime I spend.” Larres quotes Kissinger, who later referred to the whole episode as a great “fiasco” (36).

In Chapter 2 Larres tells us something of Nixon’s and Kissinger’s priorities with regard to “Europe and beyond.” This is not particularly new but nevertheless makes for interesting reading. We learn that on Nixon’s list of foreign policy issues Western Europe came fifth after East-West relations, and US policy toward the Soviet Union, China, and Eastern Europe. It is no surprise that Larres’s analysis is particularly strong on Kissinger. Larres was the first to hold the Henry A. Kissinger Chair in Foreign Policy and International Relations at the Kluge Center of the Library of Congress. In eight long interviews Kissinger answered Larres’s questions. It speaks to the objectivity of Larres as a first class historian that he characterizes Kissinger as follows: “initially he was a rather subservient and fawning, if not sycophantic, underling” (47). The former secretary of state will probably not be amused. Kissinger was “very difficult to deal with,” as Brent Scowcroft told Larres in an interview (49). 

Nixon was definitely not interested in European integration. J. Robert Schaetzel, US ambassador to the European Community in Brussels from 1962 to 1972, stated: “In its isolation in Brussels the US-Mission might as well have been located on the upper reaches of the Orinoco.”[39] Nixon was not anti-European. And yet, in 1973 he talked of Europe as “a Frankenstein monster, which could prove to be highly detrimental to our interests in the years ahead” (251). 

It was all about Germany again, as we learn in Chapter 3, “Special Relationships.” It was a very special relationship with the new Chancellor Willy Brandt and his aide Egon Bahr. Nixon and Kissinger felt nothing but contempt for them. Larres starts off with an unpleasant—to say the least—conversation between Nixon and Kissinger about the tumor on Brandt’s vocal cords. Kissinger: “Unfortunately, it’s not malignant. Now, that’s a terrible thing to say.” Nixon cut in: “I know what you mean...You mean, unfortunately, he’s in very good health.” Kissinger agreed: “Unfortunately, he’s likely to hang on in there, yea.” Nixon added: “Well, I’m afraid, he’s dangerous. I really have to agree with you. I agree” (109). And it goes on like this. For Nixon, Brandt was more than once a “son of a bitch,” “not too reliable,” “a weak man,” “dumb and presumptous,” and the government was a disaster, “any non-socialist government would be better.” Kissinger saw it exactly the same way, calling the 1969 election result “the worst tragedy,” “a disaster,” and describing Bahr as “oily,” “a reptile,” “totally unreliable,” “a slippery fellow.” Even the moderate Secretary of State William Rogers called Bahr “a reptilian. I would not trust him as far as I could throw him.” The ‘Dear Egon’ and ‘Dear Henry’ letters were a farce, not even Realpolitik.

It was all very personal. ‘Ostpolitik’ for Nixon and Kissinger was“a disaster.” Kissinger on later occasions explained that he had thought Brandt was no match for the Russians, “gave them everything,” would lose control and thus weaken the Western alliance. But this was not honest. He used Ostpolitik for his Vietnam and SALT-policy. Brandt had started his Ostpolitik without asking Kissinger for permission. That was unforgivable. Ostpolitik was detente, but detente was Kissinger’s job, and only Kissinger’s job. In a rare statement he made this clear to Under-Secretary of State in Bonn’s Foreign Office, Paul Frank: “I tell you this. If there should be, indeed, detente with the Soviet Union, then we do it.”[40]Nixon and Kissinger demanded that the Europeans consult them. But that was a one-way policy. The 1973 Yom Kippur War is a good example: When Nixon made the decision for an airlift of arms to Israel and Kissinger put the US nuclear forces on DEFCON 3, Europe and NATO were kept in the dark. US ambassador to NATO Donald Rumsfeld later explained that there had been no time for consultation (270). When the US Army loaded Israeli ships with armaments in a German port, the Germans were not even informed.

Relations with Nixon and Kissinger were strained. The White House in January 1974 on very short notice invited European leaders for the Energy Conference in Washington to test the spirit of cooperation between the US and its closest allies. When French Foreign Minister Michel Jobert insisted to keep the dignity of Europe alive, Kissinger took it personally; he was “very bitter“ and accused Jobert that France was working day after day all over the world against Washington. When at the same time the nine EC countries arranged a conference with the Arab states without consulting Washington, Kissinger called it “European masochism,” a “stab in the back” to derail his Middle East peace policy, and called German Foreign Minister Walter Scheel a “dope.”[41]

Not everything in this book is new. There are numerous excellent books about Nixon and Kissinger on the market, plenty of documents have been declassified and are available, but the skillful way Larres binds this together to build his thesis that the Nixon era was a turning point in US-European relations, a “watershed” is excellent and makes fascinating reading. All his experience and well-founded insight and archival work come together. Another strength of his book are the almost 50 interviews Larres conducted between 2001 and 2017 with former politicians and officials (see the impressive list on 369), and which are evident at times throughout the book. Altogether a must read book (hopefully in a not too distant future in a German translation).

Does Larres’s thesis hold water? Towards the end of the Nixon administration, European-US relations were in bad shape. There was outright hostility toward Europe on the part of both Nixon and Kissingert. They both had to grapple with the fact that this ‘new’ Europe of the Nine was no longer the Marshall-aid-paid-Europe, and that the “Golden Age” of European integration and the “empire by invitation” (253) had come to an end. There would soon be the infamous “phone number” for Europe that Kissinger rhetorically requested (77). Larres shows in detail why it was hard for Nixon and Kissinger to accept how Secretary of State Dean Rusk had explained US interest in Europe: “Not the Europeans wanted us there but because we believe our presence is essential to the defense of the U.S.”[42] In a way the Nixon era was a ‘turning point,’ and a ‘watershed.’ But Europe of course never turned into a “Frankenstein’s monster” that was hostile to the US, as Nixon feared. Of course, there were always problems, but not until President Donald Trump did any US president call Europe a foe of the United States.

I am much obliged to the reviewers of my book, Uncertain Allies: Nixon, Kissinger and the Threat of a United Europe, for having commented so kindly and generously on it. Diane Kunz is impressed by the “fascinating details” and believes the volume is “seminal reading.” Jussi Hanhimäki writes that the “carefully researched study is a welcome addition to existing scholarship.” He thinks that the book “is in many ways an outstanding work of scholarship.” Daniel Hamilton refers to a “highly readable” book and believes that I “adeptly weave” into the volume’s “larger geopolitical narrative” the story of the financial and monetary crisis in the 1970s, which led to the famous August 1971 Camp David meeting and the eventual and highly controversial demise of the Bretton Woods system. Rolf Steininger also talks of a “constructive, succinct and well-researched book.” He argues that I skillfully bind the documents and the existing literature together to support my argument “that the Nixon era was a turning point in US-European relations.“ Steininger believes that my thesis of a watershed moment in transatlantic relations in the early 1970s “is excellent and makes fascinating reading.” I am flattered and very grateful for all of these and other very positive comments. I am also much obliged to Thomas Schwartz for having written the introduction to this roundtable discussion of my book.

Naturally, the reviewers also take issue with some of my arguments and this is what any good reviewer should do. While I agree with some of the points I disagree with others. For instance, I’m surprised that Hanhimäki wonders whether I have paid sufficient attention to the European view of Washington’s transatlantic and monetary policies in the 1970s. Based on a multitude of documents and the secondary literature, I believe I make it pretty clear that the European Community (EC) Six (Germany, France, Italy, Benelux countries) viewed National Security Advisor and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger’s unilateral and non-consultative policies as a huge threat to European unity. How could they possibly tolerate or view Kissinger’s high-handed transatlantic policy, which I outline in multiple examples throughout my book of over 400 pages, with equanimity? And as far back as the 1957 Rome treaties European economic and political unity was the vision of most though not all western European countries. President Charles de Gaulle’s France and the UK, apart from the period under Prime Minister Edward Heath, were the exceptions. While my book is mostly about US policy toward the European Economic Community (EEC)/EC (rather than the other way around) I also pay a great deal of attention to the debates within the EEC/EC though less so than to the discussions within the US. 

Hanhimäki and Hamilton are above all skeptical of my main thesis that the “turning point“ of the early 1970s in transatlantic relations which I identify has had a deep impact on European-American relations ever since. I argue that the transatlantic suspicion which developed during the Nixon-Kissinger era, particularly in the years 1971-74, never went away again until it reached its anti-European and anti-transatlantic climax during the Trump years. Both Hamilton and Hanhimäki believe, however, in Hanhimäki’s words, that I overreach “in making an analogy between the 1970s and the recent past.” Obviously I do not agree that I am “overreaching” and I am happy to briefly outline why I profoundly disagree with the two scholars. 

First, the current relative harmony in transatlantic relations, which has been mostly brought about by Russia’s war on Ukraine but also to some extent by China’s increasingly assertive policies, should not make us overlook the deep structural suspicion and skepticism among most of the European allies regarding the future of the transatlantic alliance, including NATO. This tendency began to develop in the course of the 1960s, as I make clear in the first two chapters of my book, before reaching a crescendo of skepticism, animosity and even at times outright hostility during the Nixon-Kissinger years. 

Despite the Biden administration’s recent moderate success in the November 2022 mid-term elections and the fortunate defeat of most Trumpists, the fear is widespread in Europe that the future of the US as a democratic country is highly uncertain. The huge majority of Europeans, both governments and the general public, also regard it as equally uncertain, perhaps even more so, whether or not the US will stay deeply engaged in European affairs beyond the Biden presidency. The consensus in Europe is that had it not been for Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine, Washington’s turn toward Asia and the containment of China would have been even more pronounced than has been the case so far. 

In fact one could argue that it was not the anti-European, semi-isolationist Trump administration but the pro-integrationist and cooperative Biden administration which has become the exception to the rule with regard to US foreign policy and transatlantic relations. A quick look at many of the views expressed in Congress confirms this. And this development truly began in the early 1970s, as I outline in great detail and based on the relevant documents and secondary literature in chapters 4-6 of my book.

Hanhimäki writes that “no [transatlantic] divorce was in the cards during the Trump presidency.” I respectfully and strongly disagree. I share the view held by most analysts on both sides of the Atlantic that a brutal transatlantic divorce was just around the corner during the Trump years. The transatlantic allies only narrowly avoided such a deep split; a second Trump administration in all likelihood would have brought it about, including a US withdrawal from NATO. All the documentation we have already about the Trump presidency, including multiple memoirs and first-hand accounts, point into this direction, as does the real Angst of both abandonment and a seriously damaging transatlantic trade war felt by German Chancellor Angela Merkel, French President Emmanuel Macron, EU leaders Jean-Claude Juncker and Donald Tusk and many others.[43]

It is of course correct that ‘crying wolf’ has been a pastime of European leaders ever since the Schuman Plan of 1950. But it is nevertheless obvious that the strong pro-European unity policy of the US, which we can see during the Truman and Eisenhower administrations and Washington’s strong support for the Schuman Plan, the failed European Defence Community (EDC) and the 1957 Rome Treaties—the golden age of transatlantic relations as I call it—became increasingly weaker in the course of the 1960s, in particular during the Johnson years. During the Nixon-Kissinger era the US could not care less whether or not there ever would be a united Europe. Once the Russian threat had become much weaker by the early 1970s—not least due to Nixon and Kissinger’s own successful policy of détente—and the EC countries, in particular West Germany and France, were developing into serious economic competitors, US policy toward Europe changed fundamentally and forever. (The renewed Russian threat also explains the realignment, possibly only a temporary one, which occurred recently during the Biden era.)

In the context of the prolonged financial and monetary crises of 1971-73, which seemed to have the potential to undermine Richard Nixon’s re-election in 1973, Kissinger in particular became openly hostile and opposed to the development of a truly united Europe, as I explain in particular in chapters 4 and 5 of my book. For instance, in April 1973 Nixon continued to express his “opposition to any solution [to the western monetary crisis] that brought the Common Market countries closer together,” by for instance the creation of a European monetary system. Kissinger concurred. “What we had to do,” the national security adviser informed the president, as noted in the secret diary of Federal Reserve Chairman Arthur Burns, was “to throw a monkey wrench into the Common Market machinery, for European unity in the economic area would definitely work against U.S. interest.”[44] Burns and Treasury Secretary George Shultz, however, were alarmed by Nixon and Kissinger’s plan “to corrupt the monetary system because of some scheme of theirs, not clearly thought through, of breaking up—or at least causing difficulties for the Common Market” (193-94).[45] Nixon and Kissinger were clearly no longer thinking of supporting Europe’s unity project
 

Second, Dan Hamilton is not persuaded by the line I draw from the skeptical anti-European unity policy of Nixon and Kissinger to Trump. He believes that my “narrative attempts to bend history.” Naturally, I am a little puzzled by this interpretation. It seems to be rather exaggerated, not least as I hardly talk about this issue in my book except in a rather summarizing way in one paragraph at the end of the introduction (7) and in a slightly longer paragraph at the very end of my conclusion (272-73). I refer briefly to the pro-European governments led by presidents Gerald Ford and George H.W. Bush as notable exceptions to a generally Euro-skeptic course in US foreign policy after the Nixon years and mention in passing the Euro-skeptic governments of presidents Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan and, somewhat more concretely, George W. Bush and Donald Trump as prime examples of the opposite. Hamilton notes that I do not mention the Clinton and Obama administrations in this context. Yet, at the end of the introduction and the conclusion I did not mean to have a detailed discussion about the transatlantic policy of all US governments since Nixon. It hardly made sense to go into the policies of the ‘middle-of-the-road’ administrations led by Bill Clinton and Barack Obama, neither of which were particularly supportive nor hostile to the European unity project. I am happy to expand a little on this now. 

But perhaps the obvious also needs to be stated: the anti-European policy of the Nixon administration did not continue in an uninterrupted linear way. History seldom proceeds in such a way. As noted, George H.W. Bush in particular was no less pro-European unity than presidents Harry Truman and Dwight Eisenhower and he proved this in the tumultuous years 1989/90. While not hostile to the European unity project, the Clinton and Obama administrations were much more skeptical than was the administration led by Bush senior. 

Despite Clinton’s US-EU New Transatlantic Agenda which Hamilton refers to, Clinton feared the development of a formidable European economic fortress that would discriminate against US products. He was also fearful, if not highly afraid of—and thus largely opposed to—the creation of a common European currency, the Euro, and feared its consequences for the US and the future of the dollar as the global reserve currency. Clinton also only most reluctantly and much too late became involved in the Yugoslavian civil wars, which began in the mid-1990s, although this first war on European soil since World War II very much endangered the European unity project and severely undermined European stability. 

Rightly or wrongly the Clinton administration started by supporting the expansion of NATO while attempting only half-heartedly to make Russia a proper part of Europe and bring about a truly ‘Common European Home.’ It missed a unique opportunity to strengthen the European integration project to the benefit of all Europeans, including Russia. 

Obama’s epic financial battle with the Europeans about the right solution to overcoming the ‘Great Recession’ of 2008-12 and ensuring the survival of the Euro and thus the very existence of the EU and the Euro zone are well known. Unlike Trump, Obama was indeed highly opposed to Brexit. And the Obama administration did begin negotiations on the Transatlantic Trade and Investment Partnership (TTIP), as Hamilton points out. But these negotiations, which commenced in 2013, were conducted so slowly and with such a great lack of enthusiasm that by the end of the Obama years the talks were still continuing with no end in sight. This clearly displayed an obvious absence of pro-EU sentiments. To be fair, changing US domestic views influenced Obama; Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton even turned against TTIP (and more clearly against TPP, the Trans-Pacific Partnership) in her own presidential campaign. Still, because of Obama’s lack of enthusiasm for vigorously pursuing TTIP it was then fairly easy for Trump to ditch it altogether. It is true, of course, that unlike Nixon and Kissinger, Clinton and Obama never set out to deliberately undermine the project of the Europeans to achieve a truly united Europe. 

Still, both Clinton and Obama were much more skeptical and less convinced of the value of the European integration project than for instance Truman and Eisenhower had been. It was also in particular during the Obama years that the decision was taken in Washington to focus more on Asia and China than on Europe, which led to deep concerns within the EU. 

During the preceding Reagan administration and the George W. Bush administration, transatlantic relations were notoriously bad for a multitude of economic and security-related reasons. During both administrations there was little left of America’s initial pro-European integration policy. In fact, in the context of the Iraq war and its chaotic aftermath, the relations of the George W. Bush administration with the EU—in particular with France and Germany, the EU’s driving forces—were not a great deal better than those during the Trump administration, although they improved in Bush’s second term.

While indeed, as Hamilton writes, the European project “has been a never-ending drama” and “remains a work in progress,” it is a little disingenuous to argue that the US and Europe “thrived on competition and disagreement.” At least from a European point of view, most Europeans would have greatly preferred to have had much more harmonious relations with the US throughout the post-war period. The EC and later the EU needed all their energy to focus on building their own continent and developing their own grand vision for the future rather than on also having to make frequent efforts to appease the ‘Big Brother’ in Washington. The idea of European integration was only welcomed and supported by some US governments—above all by Truman, Eisenhower, Ford to some extent, George H.W. Bush, Joe Biden—while most others were skeptical to varying degrees (Carter, Reagan, Clinton, Obama) or outright hostile (Nixon, Trump). 

Moreover, neither the Nixon nor the Trump administration or the other US governments that I refer to in passing in my book had a consistent policy toward the EU; depending on the issues at hand they often wavered between a somewhat more positive and a more skeptical or even hostile policy toward European unity. This also applied to Kissinger. In his mind his famous “Year of Europe” speech of April 1973 was actually a serious attempt to mend fences, even if the incompetent way he went about it badly misfired and led to even more resentment and transatlantic acrimony. As I mention in my book, in his memoirs and in various conversations I was fortunate to conduct with him over the years, Kissinger even largely admits this (210-223). 

There was, however, one attitude which was a persisting characteristic of all US governments, one which they were unable to shake off. The US was never able to desist from treating the EC/EU as the underling in a partnership that was clearly dominated by the American master. Hamilton writes quite correctly that American support for the European integration process “has always been that of conditional acceptance.” But this was the problem. It points to the unequal master/underling relationship the US preferred—and perhaps still prefers—in its dealings with the European continent. It deeply annoyed the Europeans and led to much resentment. What gave the US the right to only extend “conditional acceptance” to a friendly continent’s fundamental political vision and strategy for its own future? This high-handed attitude toward Europe is exactly what characterized the Nixon/Kissinger policy toward the Europeans, and it contributed a great deal to the transatlantic animosity in the 1970s and indeed beyond right up to the present day. 

Despite differences regarding some of the details I put forward in Uncertain Allies, all the reviewers agree that transatlantic relations both past and present were and are of essential importance to both sides of the Atlantic. I am most grateful to the four reviewers’ engagement with my arguments in my book, their detailed reading of my account and, of course, their overall conclusion that—in the words of Hamilton—I deal with the important transatlantic policies and controversies of the 1960s and 1970s “with detail and insight.” Referring to Kissinger Diane Kunz believes that my book also “provides the key to understand why America’s top diplomat could be so undiplomatic.” I do hope, however, that her conclusion that “US leaders may soon be walking in the unilateral footsteps Nixon and Kissinger laid down fifty years ago” may not come true after all.

 

[1] I have used the same term in an article I wrote. “‘A Frankenstein Monster’: Henry Kissinger, Richard Nixon, and the Year of Europe,” Journal of Transatlantic Studies, Vol. 17 (1) 2019, 110-128.

[2] Nixon to Kissinger, draft memorandum, dated March 10, 1973, and Conversation between Nixon, Kissinger, and Shultz, March 3, 1973, both in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969-76Vol. XXXI: Foreign Economic Policy, 1973-1976 (Washington, DC: US  Government Printing Office, 2009). Cited in Larres, 38 and 188. 

[3] See, for example, Robert Solomon, The International Monetary System, 1945-1981, updated and expanded edition (New York: Harper and Row, 1982);  Jeffrey E. Garten,  Three Days at Camp David: How a Secret Meeting in 1971 Transformed the Global Economy(New York: HarperCollins, 2021); Barry Eichengreen, Globalizing Capital: A History of the International Monetary System (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996); Frank J. Gavin, Gold, Dollars and Power: The Politics of International Monetary Relations, 1958-1971(Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004).

[4] Larres (261), drawing on quotation in Harold James, International Monetary Relations Since Bretton Woods (Washington, DC/Oxford: International Monetary Fund/Oxford University Press, 1996, 210. Also Paul A. Volcker and Toyoo Gyohten, Changing Fortunes: The World’s Money and the Threat to American Leadership (New York: Times Books, 1992), 81.

[5] Conversation between Nixon, Kissinger, and Shultz, March 3, 1973, op. cit.

[6] Paul Dallison, “Trump: ‘Europe treats us worse than China’,” Politico, June 26, 2019,  https://www.politico.eu/article/trump-europe-treats-us-worse-than-china/; CBS News, “‘I think the European Union is a foe,’ Trump says ahead of Putin meeting in Helsinki,” July 15, 2018, https://www.cbsnews.com/news/donald-trump-interview-cbs-news-european-union-is-a-foe-ahead-of-putin-meeting-in-helsinki-jeff-glor/

[7] The Economist, “Divide and rule?” April 24, 2003, https://www.economist.com/europe/2003/04/24/divide-and-rule

[8] Jussi M. Hanhimäki, Pax Transatlantica: America and Europe in the Post-Cold War Era (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2021), 33-34; See also Jussi Hanhimäki, Barbara Zanchetta and Benedikt Schoenborn. Transatlantic Relations since 1945: An Introduction (London: Routledge, 2012).

[9] See Hanhimäki; Daniel S. Hamilton, “Creating the New Atlantic Community,” in Jeffrey Gedmin, European Integration and American Interests (Washington, DC: American Enterprise Institute, 1997); Ronald D. Asmus, “New Plumbing, New Purposes—Rebuilding the Transatlantic Alliance,” American Interest, November/December 2008.

[10] Action memorandum from the Assistant Secretary for European and Canadian Affairs (Hartman), “Your Comment on my EC Talking Points,” April 22, 1974, attached to a memorandum from the counselor (Helmut Sonnenfeldt) to Secretary of State Kissinger, April 24, 1974, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1969-76, Vol. E-15, Part 2 (Washington, DC: US  Government Printing Office, 2009), 235. Cited in Larres, 247.

[11] See Nathalie Tocci, “Europe’s anxieties about Biden are really anxieties about itself,” Politico, September 6, 2021, https://www.politico.eu/article/europe-joe-biden-anxiety/; Daniel S. Hamilton, “The Lisbon Treaty and Relations between the European Union and the United States,” in Federiga Bindi and Irina Angelescu, eds., The Foreign Policy of the European Union: Assessing Europe’s Role in the World (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution Press, 2012), 215-236.

[12] See Asle Toje, “The Consensus–Expectations Gap: Explaining Europe's Ineffective Foreign Policy, Security Dialogue, Vol. 39, No. 1 (February 2008): 121-141, https://www.jstor.org/stable/26299666.

[13] See Simon Serfaty, ed., Visions of Europe and America: September 11, Iraq, and Transatlantic Relations (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2004); Daniel S. Hamilton, “Transatlantic Challenges: Ukraine, TTIP and the Struggle to be Strategic,” Journal of Common Market Studies, vol. 52 (2014): 25-39.

[14] Robert B. Zoellick, “Foreword,” in Mark M. Nelson and G. John Ikenberry, Atlantic Frontiers: A New Agenda for US -EC Relations. A Report of the Carnegie Endowment Study Group on US -EC Relations, Robert B. Zoellick, Chairman (Washington, DC: Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1993.

[15] Some notable exceptions include: Luke A. Nichter, Richard Nixon and Europe: The Reshaping of the Transatlantic World(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015); Joseph Siracusa and Hang Thi Thuy Nguyen, Richard M. Nixon and European Integration: A Reappraisal (Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018); Claudia Hiepel, Europe in a Globalising World: Global Challenges and European Responses in the ‘Long’ 1970s (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2014); and Catherine Hynes, The Year That Never Was: Heath, the Nixon Administration and the Year of Europe (Dublin: University College Dublin Press, 2009).

[16] “America’s New Rival, ” Time, March 12, 1973.

[17] N. Piers Ludlow, “The Real Years of Europe? US-European Relations during the Ford Administration,” Journal of Cold War Studies, 15, no. 3 (2013): 136-161.

[18] For further detail see Jussi M. Hanhimäki, Pax Transatlantica: America and Europe in the Post-Cold War Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 2021).

[19] Henry Kissinger, American Foreign Policy: Three Essays (New York, 1969), 78.

[21] The “European Union” or “EU” is used consistently herein, although at various times it was known as the European Coal and Steel Community, the European Economic Community, and the European Communities, not to mention the “Common Market.” 

[22] Henry Kissinger, “These are the main geopolitical challenges facing the world right now,” Davos 2022, May 23, 2022, https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2022/05/kissinger-these-are-the-main-geopolitical-challenges-facing-the-world-right-now/.

[23] James Reston, “The Conflicts of America, “ New York Times, January 26, 1969, https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1969/01/26/issue.html

[25] Richard M. Nixon, “Address to the Nation on the War in Vietnam,” November 3, 1969, Nixon Foundation, https://www.nixonfoundation.org/2017/09/address-nation-war-vietnam-november-3-1969/

[26] “The U.S. Military Presence in Western Europe Has Been Declining For Thirty Years-Ukraine May Reverse That Trend,” The Conversation, January 5, 2022, https://theconversation.com/the-us-military-presence-in-europe-has-been-declining-for-30-y...

[27] See Diane B. Kunz, Butter and Guns: America’s Cold War Economic Diplomacy(New York, The Free Press, New York, 1996).

[28] In 1975, Great Britain held an unprecedented referendum on whether to remain in the EU. The “yes” vote triumphed until the 2016 Brexit vote reversal.

[29] Eagleburger interview with Diane Kunz, 1994.

[30] See, e.g. Kunz, The Economic Diplomacy of the Suez Crisis (Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1991).

[31] Charles Bremner, Times (UK) iPad edition, September 6, 2022.

[32] Quoted in Pasqualina Winant, Eisenhower, Kennedy, and the United States of Europe (London: Macmillan 1993), 7.

[33] Quoted in Klaus Schwabe, “Der Marshall-Plan und Europa“, in: Histoires des Débuts de la Construction Européenne, ed. by Raymond Poidevin (Brüssel 1986), 64.

[34] Secretary of State to the Embassy in France, 19 October 1949, Foreign Relations of the United States [FRUS], Vol. IV(Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1949), 469.

[35] Lord Salisbury to Churchill, 17 August 1953. The National Archives, London, FO 371/103673. For detailed documentation see Rolf Steininger, The German Question. The Stalin Note of 1952 and the Problem of Reunification (New York: Columbia University Press 1990).

[36] The Prime Minister’s talks in Washington. Economic Questions. The National Archives, London, PREM 11/3318.

[37] FRUS, 1964–1968, vol. XIII, 16 March 1966, 337. 

[38] Personal. Macmillan to Foreign Secretary Lord Home, 12 April 1963. The National Archives, London, PREM 11/4221.

[39] J. Robert Schaetzel, The Unhinged Alliance: America and the European Community. (New York: Harper & Row 1975), 60. 

[40] Paul Frank, “Eines will ich Ihnen sagen, wenn schon Entspannungspolitik gemacht werden soll, dann machen wir sie,”Entschlüsselte Botschaft. Ein Diplomat macht Inventur. Stuttgart: dva 1981, 287; my translation; emphasis is in the original; Larres’s translation on 107.

[41] Steininger, Deutschland, 532.

[42] Quoted in Rolf Steininger, Die USA und die Integration Europas. Vom Zweiten Weltkrieg bis zur Gegenwart, in: Michael Gehler/Günter Bischof/Ludger Kühnhardt/Rolf Steininger (eds.), Towards A European Constitution. Historical and Political Comparison with the United States (Wien-Köln-Weimar: Böhlau, 2005), 163–184.

[43] For instance, see Bob Woodward’s accounts of the Trump administration Fear: Trump in the White House (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2018), Rage (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2020), The Trump Tapes (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2022); and the memoirs of Trump’s former National Security Adviser John Bolton, The Room Where it Happened: A White House Memoir (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2020).

[44] Arthur Burns, Inside the Nixon Administration: The Secret Diary of Arthur Burns, 1969-1974, ed. by Robert F. Ferrell (Lawrence, Ks: University Press of Kansas, 2010), 94 (diary entry, April 3, 1973).

[45] Burns, Inside the Nixon Administration, 95 (diary entry, April 3, 1973). For more details, see Larres, Uncertain Allies, 193-94.