France, Germany, and Nuclear Deterrence: Quarrels and Convergences during the Cold War and Beyond 9781800733268

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France, Germany and Nuclear Deterrence

France, Germany and Nuclear Deterrence Quarrels and Convergences during the Cold War and Beyond

Edited by Nicolas Badalassi and Frédéric Gloriant

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

First published in 2022 by Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com © 2022 Nicolas Badalassi and Frédéric Gloriant All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Badalassi, Nicolas, editor. | Gloriant, Frédéric, editor. Title: France, Germany and nuclear deterrence : quarrels and convergences during the Cold War and beyond / edited by Nicolas Badalassi, and Frédéric Gloriant. Other titles: Quarrels and convergences during the Cold War and beyond Description: New York : Berghahn Books, 2022. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021040524 (print) | LCCN 2021040525 (ebook) | ISBN 9781800733251 (hardback) | ISBN 9781800733268 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: France--Foreign relations--Germany. | Germany--Foreign relations--France. | Deterrence (Strategy) | France--Foreign relations--1945- | Germany--Foreign relations--1945- | France--Military policy. | Germany--Military policy. | National security--France--History--20th century. | National security--Germany--History--20th century. | Cold War. Classification: LCC DC59.8.G3 F68678 2022 (print) | LCC DC59.8.G3 (ebook) | DDC 355.02/170944--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021040524 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021040525 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978-1-80073-325-1 hardback ISBN 978-1-80073-326-8 ebook

Contents

List of Abbreviations Introduction Nicolas Badalassi and Frédéric Gloriant

viii 1

Part I. From the Beginning of the Franco-German Strategic Dialogue to the Nuclear Ambiguities of the ‘Adenauer/de Gaulle’ Era Chapter 1 Raymond Aron, Germany and the Atomic Bomb Joël Mouric

27

Chapter 2 France and the Abandoned Dream of a European Bomb, 1954–58 Jenny Raflik

43

Chapter 3 From Bonn to Valhalla? West German Nuclear Ambitions, France and U.S. Nuclear Assistance, 1960–63 Andreas Lutsch Chapter 4 De Gaulle’s Nuclear Policy, West Germany and the Second Berlin Crisis: A Historiographical Reappraisal, 1958–63 Frédéric Gloriant

61

90

Contents

vi

Part II. Ostpolitik and the Franco-German Nuclear Relations in the 1970s Chapter 5 ‘Military Cooperation Is Not in Itself an Instrument of Progress’: The Role of the French Nuclear Deterrent in Early Concepts of Ostpolitik Benedikt Schoenborn Chapter 6 Implicit Convergence? Franco-German Relations, European Security and Nuclear Cooperation in the Era of Ostpolitik, 1969–74 Nicolas Badalassi Chapter 7 French Deterrence, the Defence of Europe and the German Question in the 1970s and 1980s Ilaria Parisi

121

143

175

Part III. The ‘Mitterrand/Kohl’ Era and the End of the Cold War Chapter 8 Evolution of the French Nuclear Strategy towards Germany during Mitterrand’s Presidency Dominique Mongin Chapter 9 France and the FRG during the 1980s: When Strategic Questions Became Political Debates Yannick Pincé Chapter 10 ‘Not a Nuclear Switzerland’: France’s Deterrent Posture and the Federal Republic of Germany in the 1980s Frédéric Bozo

197

214

233

Part IV. Nuclear Uncertainties in the Post-Cold War Era Chapter 11 France, Germany and Nuclear Deterrence since the End of the Cold War: From Estrangement to Rapprochement? Guillaume de Rougé

287

Contents

Chapter 12 Walking Together in Different Directions: Prospects for French-German Cooperation on Nuclear Deterrence and Arms Control after the End of the Cold War Oliver Meier

vii

321

Appendix Figures of the French Nuclear Arsenal and of the U.S. Nuclear Warheads Deployed in NATO-Europe

343

Index

345

Photographs follow page 168

Abbreviations

AAPD

Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (published West German diplomatic documents)

ADN

Arms control, Disarmament and Non-proliferation

AFSOUTH

Allied Forces Southern Europe

ANT

Armes nucléaires tactiques, see TNW

ARRC

[NATO] Allied Rapid Reaction Corps

ASMP

Missile Air-Sol Moyenne Portée (medium-range air to surface missile)

C2

Command and Control

C3i

Command, Control, Communications and Intelligence

CAP

Centre d’analyse et de prévision

CBM

Confidence-building measures

CDU

Christlisch Demokratische Union (Christian Democratic Union)

CEA

Commissariat à l’énergie atomique (French Atomic Energy Commission)

CEMA

Chef d’état-major des armées (chief of staff of French armed forces)

CFE

Conventional Forces in Europe

CSBM

Confidence and Security Building Measures

Abbreviations

ix

CSCE

Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe

CSDP

Common Security and Defence Policy

CSU

Christlich-Soziale Union (Christian Social Union [in Bavaria])

CTBT

Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty

DCA

Dual-Capable Aircraft

DDF

Documents diplomatiques français (published French diplomatic documents)

DDPR

Deterrence and Defence Posture Review

E3/EU+3

E3 (France, Germany, UK), EU + China, Russia, the U.S.

EC/EEC

European Community / European Economic Community

ECSC

European Coal and Steel Community

EDC

European Defence Community

EMU

Economic and Monetary Union

ENA

Ecole Nationale d’Administration (National School of Administration)

EPC

European Political Cooperation

ESDP

European Security and Defence Policy

EU

European Union

Euratom

European Atomic Energy Community

EUTM

European Union Training Mission

FAR

Force d’action rapide (Rapid Action Force)

FARE

Force d’action rapide européenne (European Rapid Reaction Force)

FAS

Forces aériennes stratégiques (Strategic Air Forces)

FATAC

Forces aériennes tactiques (Tactical Air Forces)

FCAS

Future Combat Air System

FDP

Freie Demokratische Partei (Liberal Democratic Party)

FFA

Forces françaises d’Allemagne (French forces in Germany)

F-I-G

France-Italy-Germany

FNC

Framework nation concept

FRG

Federal Republic of Germany

FRUS

Foreign Relations of the United States of America (published U.S. diplomatic documents)

GATT

General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade

Abbreviations

x

GDR

German Democratic Republic

ICBM

Intercontinental-range ballistic missile

IHEDN

Institut des hautes études de défense nationale (Institute for Advanced National Defence Studies)

IISS

International Institute for Strategic Studies

IMS

International Military Staff

INF

Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces

IRBM

Intermediate-Range Ballistic Missile

JCPOA

Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action

LRINF

Longer Range INF Missiles

MBFR

Mutual and Balanced Forces Reductions

MC

Military Committee

MDA

[Anglo-American] Mutual Defence Agreement

MLF

Multilateral Force

MRBM

Medium-Range Ballistic Missile

MRP

Mouvement républicain populaire (Popular Republican Movement)

NAC

North Atlantic Council

NATO

North Atlantic Treaty Organization

NDPP-D

NATO Defence Planning Process Division

NPG

Nuclear Planning Group

NPIHP

Nuclear Proliferation International History Project (Wilson Center)

NPT

Non-Proliferation Treaty

NST

Nuclear and Space Talks

PAL

Permissive Action Links

PCF

Parti communiste français (French Communist Party)

PESCO

EU Permanent Structured Cooperation

PR

Permanent Representatives

RDM

Rotterdam-Dortmund-Munich line

RPF

Rassemblement du Peuple Français (Rally of the French People)

RPR

Rassemblement pour la République (Rally for the Republic)

RRF

Rapid Reaction Force

SACEUR

Supreme Allied Commander Europe

Abbreviations

xi

SALT

Strategic Arms Limitation Talks

SDI

Strategic Defense Initiative

SEAD

Suppression of Enemy’s Air Defences

SHAPE

Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe

SNF

Short-range Nuclear Forces

SNOWCAT Support of Nuclear Operations with Conventional Air Tactics SPD

Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (Social Democratic Party of Germany)

SRINF

Shorter-Range INF Missiles

TNF

Theatre Nuclear Forces

TNW

Tactical Nuclear Weapons

TPNW

Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons

UDF

Union pour la démocratie française (Union for French Democracy)

UN

United Nations

USSR

Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

WEU

Western European Union

WMD

Weapons of Mass Destruction

Introduction Nicolas Badalassi and Frédéric Gloriant

I

n the early 1960s, faced with the emergence of the French ‘force de frappe’, Chancellor Konrad Adenauer candidly questioned the French ambassador François Seydoux: ‘This bomb, I really wonder against whom it is conceived’.1 The suspicious tone of this often-quoted statement sheds light on one of the main sources of bilateral quarrels and misunderstandings between the French and the West Germans as they both entered the nuclear era. Indeed, the legacy of the Second World War and the bipolar division of Europe placed France and the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) on a radically different trajectory with regard to the nuclear issue. Whereas France eventually managed to integrate the club of atomic powers, the hypothesis of a German nuclear bomb remained, according to the famous Gaullist quote, ‘the last casus belli in the world’, stressing the extent to which the Soviets – and, as a consequence, their Western adversaries – feared such a scenario.2 Behind the universal formulation of its clauses, the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT), which was signed in 1968 and became the lynchpin of the bipolar nuclear order, was all about setting in stone the FRG’s irreversible renunciation of the possession of nuclear weapons.3 In return, the FRG would benefit from U.S. extended nuclear deterrence and therefore host ever more numerous and powerful U.S. nuclear weapons on its soil, while having only a marginal role in the command and control of these weapons, exactly like the other European allies hosting such weapons (the United Kingdom, Turkey, Italy, and later Belgium and the Netherlands). By contrast, from the late 1960s to the 1980s, Fifth Republic France managed to develop the world’s third nuclear arsenal, allowing Paris

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to assert more forcefully its divergences with Washington and other European countries regarding the strategy of the Atlantic Alliance.4 From 1959 onwards, the increasing intensity with which France asserted its independence gradually led to its withdrawal from NATO’s integrated command structures in March 1966, at the very same time that the FRG was fostering its strategic cooperation with the U.S. and the UK in the framework of NATO, this dual and contradictory process giving birth to a real taboo regarding nuclear issues between Bonn and Paris.5 In France, the possession of the ‘bomb’ nurtured the partially illusory idea of a fully recovered independence. In West Germany, the absence of a nationally controlled deterrent, coupled with the seemingly insuperable division of the country into two parts, reinforced the perception of an existential dependence on the U.S. This dissymmetry lies at the heart of the divergent French and German nuclear experiences during the Cold War. Nevertheless, a few German political actors, especially Adenauer, Helmut Schmidt and Helmut Kohl, were aware of the advantages that the French independent nuclear deterrent could offer from the West German point of view: increased diplomatic room for manoeuvre vis-à-vis a sometimes bullish U.S. ally, and, more fundamentally, a counterweight to the weakening of the U.S. strategic guarantee in the context of nuclear parity between the two superpowers. Perhaps even more importantly, when France, in the second half of the 1960s, used its independent nuclear deterrent as an instrument to overcome the East–West antagonism by promoting ‘détente, entente et coopération’, this policy prepared in many ways the logic of the ‘Ostpolitik’, thus contributing to the possibility of a German reunification in the long-term future.6 Hence, in spite of mutual misunderstandings and mistrust inherited from history, aggravated by an increasing nuclear structural asymmetry, there has been, at certain ‘privileged moments’ – the Second Berlin Crisis of 1958–63, or the Euromissile Crisis in the 1980s – a fertile strategic dialogue between French and German decision makers, including on nuclear issues.

A Necessary Reappraisal This edited volume brings together young historians, as well as professors and senior experts, from Finland, France, Germany and Italy. Its central objective is to examine the paradoxical character of the nuclear interactions between France and (West) Germany from 1954 to the present day. Is there an insuperable nuclear incompatibility between France and Germany, jeopardizing any genuine project of a strategic Europe?

Introduction

3

Recent research allows us to go further in exploring the various attempts to open up a substantial Franco-German strategic dialogue, the aims that the actors pursued, the lessons that were drawn from the partial failures of these attempts, and the recurring misunderstandings, disagreements and even disputes that hindered the deepening of the nuclear cooperation between the French and the Germans. This collective effort of research has its origins in a series of contributions that were presented at an international conference held at the University of South Brittany, in Lorient (France), from 30 June to 2 July 2016. This conference was initiated in the aftermath of the Stresemann Workshop organized by Andreas Lutsch and hosted by the University of Mainz in 2015, on the diverse forms and expressions of ‘Discontent over Cold War Security Architecture in Europe and the Search for Alternatives’.7 During this workshop, the different alternatives to bipolarity in Europe, the various forms of strategic revisionism of the Cold War era, and their practicability as policy options, were examined. One of the most striking conclusions of the participants was to emphasize the instrumental role played by the German-French strategic and nuclear relationship in defining what was possible or impossible to achieve in terms of revision of the security architecture in the Euro-Atlantic area. True, French and German ideas about structural strategic change and nuclear issues were quite different, sometimes contradictory and apparently incompatible, but also always intertwined and correlated with one another. At certain crucial moments of the Cold War in Europe, they were even convergent, giving way to fruitful diplomatic cooperation. Therefore, we felt the time had come to explore more systematically the history of the nuclear and strategic interaction between (West) Germany and France. In so doing, our hope was to contribute to the ongoing emergence of a German-French reading of the history of the Cold War. This book is indeed a contribution to a broader, approximately fifteenyear-old historiographical trend, which, in an effort to de-bipolarize the narrative of the Cold War, has emphasized the highly constructive and decisive character of the dialogue between the French and the Germans regarding the ‘German question’.8 The issue of Germany’s future, as we know, remained at the heart of East–West relations until the reunification in 1990. It was intrinsically linked to the bipolar contest over the Euro-Atlantic and pan-European security architecture, throughout the Cold War. Let us add that one crucial aspect of the German question was the nuclear status of the FRG, that is, the question of whether the FRG should be allowed to develop, possess, or simply host nuclear weapons controlled by another power (the U.S. as it happened). Therefore, the German question and all its ramifications have generated an abundant

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literature since the last quarter of the twentieth century. Nevertheless, France’s participation in the management and evolution of the German question has often been under-estimated or even misrepresented. Such an observation is all the more surprising since French diplomacy constantly considered, from the aftermath of the Second World War until the reunification in 1990, that the German question was a priority of its foreign policy, if not ‘the central problem of the universe’.9 Admittedly, Paris adamantly defended the 1945 quadripartite regime defined in Potsdam, with the aim of being able to keep an eye on the ultimate destiny of Germany: the quadripartite rights and responsibilities were not only associated with the status of a victorious power, but they were also seen as giving France a form of political ascendency over West Germany. Nevertheless, from the start of European integration in the 1950s to the treaty of Maastricht in 1992, France also determined its European policy by taking into account West German interests, and in close consultation with the FRG government. Thus, at the core of the French policy towards the German question, a dialectical logic can be observed between ascendency and partnership. The problem, however, is that, in most of the historical analyses on France and the German question, the ‘ascendency’ element prevails over the ‘partnership’ one. This phenomenon is even more pronounced with regard to nuclear deterrence: the ‘force de frappe’, the cornerstone of French military power and strategy since de Gaulle’s presidency, seemed to offer the embodiment par excellence of the French desire for superiority. Thus, during the Cold War and in the years that followed its end, the predominant interpretation among historians was that France had been, and still was, anxious to do anything possible to keep its strategic superiority over (West) Germany and to prevent it from becoming again a major political and military power. Similarly, according to this interpretation, from the European Defence Community (EDC) crisis in the 1950s to the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the leaders of the Fourth and Fifth Republics were stubborn defenders of the German division, despite all the rhetoric publicly deployed to convey the opposite message. Their East–West policy was supposedly guided first and foremost by the constant willingness to preserve the German and European status quo. This idea of France as a status quo power during the Cold War has been developed in the writings of such eminent historians as Georges-Henri Soutou and Marc Trachtenberg.10 From the 2000s, a substantial amount of archival material previously classified became accessible, in France and in Germany, but also in the United States and Britain, and permitted a new wave of historical research and publications. These various works led to the emergence of a

Introduction

5

renewed, more balanced, interpretative framework. Relying in particular on unpublished French sources from the Élysée and the Quai d’Orsay, as well as various German archives, this new historiographical impetus led to a major reassessment of France’s positions towards Germany at key moments in the history of East–West relations. Whether it is Charles de Gaulle during the Second Berlin Crisis, Georges Pompidou with Ostpolitik and the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), or François Mitterrand at the end of the Cold War in 1989–90, several recent historical studies have demonstrated that French leaders in fact staunchly supported their West German allies, in word and deed, in their efforts to keep the hope for reunification alive, to gain some room for manoeuvre vis-à-vis the political and territorial status quo of the division, and eventually to achieve the reunification process.11 It is undeniable that this support was manifested above all in the best interest of France and, of course, misunderstandings and ulterior motives were not absent, as in any other bilateral relationship. Similarly, not all French political leaders and diplomats adopted a benevolent attitude towards Germany, and the reciprocal proposition is equally true. Nevertheless, the archives available today and the works that they generated show a fairly constant French comprehension towards the fundamental interests and preoccupations of the Germans with their future. Put simply, it seems that in order to achieve their common ultimate goal of overcoming bipolarity and strengthening European security and unity, Paris and Bonn often favoured different paths. Based on innovative research and new archival evidence, mostly French and German, but also American, this book illustrates this more balanced perspective on the German–French relationship by focusing specifically on the nuclear issues. As already mentioned, during the Cold War, the nuclear domain was central to the overall equilibrium between France and the FRG, but at the same time it remained an extremely delicate subject for the Franco-German bilateral dialogue given all the asymmetries that separated the two countries. A consequence of this paradox is that nuclear issues have remained the poor relation of Franco-German studies and, in the end, very few articles or books have really examined the question thoroughly. Georges-Henri Soutou’s book, L’Alliance incertaine, published in 1996 and the first to be based on archival work using both French and German sources, is a notable exception, but this path-breaking volume has not been translated into English.12 More recent accounts of the Franco-German strategic relationship are also more diluted or limited in scope, and most of the time they address the nuclear question only marginally, reflecting in so doing the common sense view that nuclear deterrence has altogether lost its relevance in

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the post-Cold War world.13 Thus, this book is the first one published in English that is entirely devoted to all aspects of the nuclear and strategic questions in the Franco-German relationship, from the 1950s until today. The in-depth analysis, based on multi-archival work, of the role played by military nuclear power in the Franco-German duo is an emerging project, and the objective of this book is to put forward renewed interpretations that go beyond the stereotypical vision of a nuclear relationship between France and Germany dominated solely by mutual suspicion, and marked by an insuperable incompatibility of their respective nuclear identities and strategies. A reappraisal of the French and German nuclear interwoven histories seemed all the more necessary and timely as, after the referendum in favour of Brexit in the United Kingdom in June 2016, the election of Donald Trump to the post of President of the United States in November of the same year, and in the context of the growing influence of various populist movements across Europe, the deepest foundations of the Euro-Atlantic security architecture seemed to be at flux again. Renewed Russian activism in the international arena, with a distinct emphasis on the nuclear dimension, only reinforced uncertainties and security concerns. In this context, a debate has recently emerged, in Germany, regarding the possibility of a European, or Franco-German, or even national, nuclear deterrent as a response to the new uncertainties.14 This debate, which would have been unthinkable a few years ago (at least before the annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014), reveals the extent to which the election of Trump, a proclaimed detractor of NATO, European integration and all other multilateral institutions, came as a shock for the Germans who, since the end of the Cold War, depend on the U.S. nuclear umbrella to ensure their security.15 This is only one example of the current significance of the Franco-German strategic and nuclear relationship within the broader debate about the future of Euro-Atlantic security architecture. While the victory in November 2020 of the advocate of multilateralism Joe Biden in the U.S. presidential elections came as a relief for most Europeans and NATO, the doubts and controversies that have arisen over Euro-Atlantic security architecture are unlikely to recede.

Main Findings This book, we hope, will contribute to explaining enduring FrancoGerman nuclear disagreements, but also help to reconsider the nuclear relationship between France and Germany from a more balanced, less systematically pessimistic point of view. In particular, the contributions

Introduction

7

of this book reveal a need to challenge still dominant interpretations of the Franco-German nuclear relationship during the Cold War in two complementary directions: on the one hand, the alarmist assessments about West German nuclear ambitions, in the 1950s and 1960s, should be called into question (1); on the other hand, the narrow view of Gaullism (or ‘Gaullo-Mitterrandianism’) as pure nationalism, the French independent nuclear policy being the expression par excellence of this hegemonic aspiration, must also be reconsidered (2).16 In contrast to this kind of double ‘black legend’ that surrounds both French and West German nuclear trajectories, our ambition is to highlight an underlying, nonlinear process of convergence between the French and German nuclear policies, towards what can be called a limited nuclear revisionism (3). This long-term, intermittent trend of convergence seems to have culminated just before the end of the Cold War, in 1987–89, even though it did not lead to an irreversible overcoming of the Franco-German nuclear contradictions (4).

Alarmism about West German Nuclear Ambitions Alarmism about the FRG’s nuclear ambitions during the Cold War was both the result of the geopolitical centrality of Germany within the European bipolar order and a legacy of the past, related to the traumatic memories of Nazism and the Second World War. In such a context, a nuclearized West Germany, which might be tempted to recapture its Eastern territories by force, emerged as a nightmare scenario that may cause a global nuclear conflagration. This fear of a revisionist, nucleararmed Germany largely contributes to explaining why the concerns about nuclear proliferation focused on the particular case of West Germany, rather than that of France. Nevertheless, worries about West German nuclear ambitions, which, as shown by Andreas Lutsch in Chapter 3, peaked in Washington during the Second Berlin Crisis in the early 1960s, often went hand in hand with growing suspicions regarding the geostrategic ambitions of de Gaulle’s France. In order to seduce the Germans and divert them from NATO and the United States, the Machiavellian French president might be tempted to launch a clandestine programme of bilateral nuclear cooperation, before possibly turning to the East and engaging on the risky path of a reversal of alliance.17 Moreover, regardless of the possible collaboration on military nuclear technologies between France and the FRG, U.S. policymakers feared that the mere existence of the French ‘force de frappe’ could increase, to an irresistible level, the pressure in West Germany for the development of an indigenous nuclear weapons programme. In that case the result would have been a ‘domino

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effect’ proliferation, with potentially devastating consequences for all of Europe and the cohesion of the Western camp. Thus, the alarmist interpretation of the West German nuclear trajectory can be traced back to the views expressed by various contemporaries, not only in the Soviet propaganda, eager to denounce the capitalist FRG as a revanchist, warlike and nationalist state, but also in Washington, during the 1960s, under the Kennedy and Johnson administrations. The French were also worried at the time, perhaps more explicitly than ever before under the Erhard government (1963–66).18 Historians and international relations scholars, mainly from the United States, have since then tended to propagate these alarmist views, particularly in the 1990s immediately after the end of the Cold War.19 A recent ramification of the alarmist paradigm regarding West German nuclear aims concerns the reasons why the FRG agreed to set in stone its non-nuclear status by signing the NPT in 1969. A ‘realist’ interpretation tends to emphasize the role of ‘alliance coercion’ in that process, by depicting the FRG as being forced out of the nuclear race, rather than deliberately choosing to renounce any nuclear ambition in the military domain.20 Two contributors to this book, Andreas Lutsch (Chapter 3) and Benedikt Schoenborn (Chapter 5), engage with the fast-growing literature related to the causes of nuclear proliferation, and examine more precisely the factors of West Germany’s persistent choice of an attitude of nuclear restraint. Using different but complementary rationales, both tend to contradict the alarmist interpretation of West German nuclear policy. Lutsch emphasizes, on the one hand, the West German leaders’ rational calculation that made them aware of the extraordinary dangers of any military nuclear endeavour undertaken without the approval of the American ally, either on a national basis or bilaterally with France. Concluding that there was no such thing as a national nuclear ambition under Adenauer, Lutsch also downplays the potential impact of the French nuclear status upon West German nuclear choices: in contrast to the views expressed by most U.S. policymakers in the early 1960s, who were afraid of a domino effect scenario of proliferation, he argues that a U.S. decision to assist the French nuclear military programme would have had no decisive impact upon West German nuclear policy. Schoenborn, on the other hand, underlines the major role that the normative and identity factors played in shaping Willy Brandt’s nuclear concepts, even before he became chancellor and implemented the formal abandonment of any national nuclear ambition through the NPT. In Brandt’s view, because of the Nazi past, the FRG had a specific role to play in the search for peace, which required the explicit choice of a nonnuclear status and an active commitment to disarmament, in order to

Introduction

9

progressively restore the trust of the international community towards the Germans. In the reunified post-1989 Germany, the strength of the German public opinion’s anti-nuclearism came to the fore with a distinct intensity. After the sudden end of the Cold War, nuclear deterrence seemed to have become an irrelevant and embarrassing vestige of the past. The predominance of this non-nuclear, even anti-nuclear, attitude appears as a belated vindication of Brandt’s concepts regarding the international role and identity that Germany should assign to itself. As shown by Guillaume de Rougé and Oliver Meier (Chapters 11 and 12), this attitude has in any case become a major source of divergence with nuclear France, making nuclear cooperation a non-starter for the bilateral dialogue, at least until the annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014.

France’s Nuclear Policy as a Symptom of Hegemonic Aspirations In parallel to the alarmist interpretation of West German nuclear ambitions, France’s nuclear policy during the Fifth Republic – famously called a ‘nuclear monarchy’21 – came to be seen as the most obvious symptom of de Gaulle’s hegemonic nationalism, in particular towards West Germany, and after de Gaulle, of his successors’ wish to maintain a clear margin of political-strategic superiority vis-à-vis Bonn. One plausible origin of this influential interpretation of French nuclear policy towards Germany seems to lie in the complex and awkward relationship between de Gaulle and Raymond Aron, a prominent intellectual figure of post-war France and renowned analyst of strategic issues.22 As shown by Joël Mouric in Chapter 1, Aron never ceased to observe with deep interest the evolving debate about the German question and nuclear strategy. Although he got involved in France Libre in London during the war and then joined the Rassemblement du Peuple Français, the Gaullist political movement, in the late 1940s, one can also find in Aron’s writings a parallel drawn between de Gaulle’s foreign policy conceptions and those of Napoléon Bonaparte or later those of Charles Maurras, the interwar theoretician of ‘integral nationalism’ and anti-Semitic polemicist. This deliberately polemical analogy was used in the second half of the 1960s to depict a de Gaulle engulfed by hubris, conveying the idea that the French president was pursuing an over-ambitious foreign policy and wanted to establish France’s hegemony over the FRG and Western Europe. In the same vein, Aron also criticized de Gaulle’s successors, in particular François Mitterrand, who seemed to be keen to reaffirm as soon as he was elected the main tenets of the Gaullist nuclear doctrine. Similar criticisms against the Gaullist, or to use Védrine’s concept, the

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‘Gaullo-Mitterrandian’ nuclear policy can be found in the writings of a variety of figures, either diplomats, political scientists or historians, all of whom either knew Aron himself personally or were strongly influenced by his thought.23 Thus, what could be called an Aronian ‘school of thought’ on French foreign policy progressively emerged and, according to us, produced an unbalanced description of France’s nuclear policy and strategy, particularly when it came to (West) Germany.24 True, a qualitative asymmetry between West Germany’s and France’s nuclear statuses appeared in the 1960s, and only intensified until the late 1980s with the progressive building of the French nuclear deterrent. Inevitably, it became a source of strategic inequality between Bonn and Paris. It often caused frictions, even conflicts of national interests at certain junctures. However, far from falling into complacency with a situation that left them with a comfortable margin of superiority towards their ally in the strategic domain, the French presidents repeatedly attempted to reduce the potentially negative repercussions of this inequality, by offering compensations, or making an effort to take into account West German interests in adapting French nuclear policy, doctrine and armaments. Furthermore, according to the political scientist Stanley Hoffmann, an unwritten rule at the core of the Franco-German partnership from the 1970s was to maintain ‘a balance of imbalances’: West Germany’s superior financial and industrial power counterbalanced France’s military might and superior diplomatic status, a situation that would last until the end of the Cold War.25 Therefore, according to this analysis, FrancoGerman strategic cooperation was undeniably situated in a long-term equalitarian horizon. Accordingly, even though any form of technological cooperation with the FRG in order to produce nuclear weapons or ballistic missiles was excluded from 1958 onwards, an underlying, long-term objective of the French presidents was to cultivate the spirit of ‘national independence’ among Germans. They tried to find ways of reconciling, as much as possible, the necessary limitation of German military power in the Cold War context with the principle of strategic autonomy that was applicable to Germany as much as to France. De Gaulle recommended, for example, that a German officer be entrusted with the operational conduct of a potential ‘battle of Germany’, in contrast to NATO’s integrated chain of command, led by an American general (SACEUR), as emphasized by Frédéric Gloriant in Chapter 4. As an alternative to the nuclear domain, Giscard d’Estaing and Mitterrand attempted to suggest other areas for military and strategic bilateral cooperation (such as conventional weaponry or spatial technologies). The most recent example of such an approach is the FCAS

Introduction

11

project (Future Combat Air System) that the two countries agreed in 2018 to jointly develop. Although this aircraft is not intrinsically a nuclear weapon, it will be ‘dual-capable’, that is, able to deliver both conventional and nuclear strikes. As such, if both governments took the necessary decisions to move forward, the FCAS could become ‘the first GermanFrench military project with a distinct nuclear dimension’, as mentioned by Oliver Meier in Chapter 12.

Insuperable Nuclear Incompatibility between France and Germany? Coming back to the central question of whether there was during the Cold War, and still is today, an insuperable nuclear incompatibility between France and (West) Germany, preventing the two countries from engaging in substantial strategic cooperation paving the way to the building of an autonomous European strategic unit, the overall answer that can be drawn from the various contributions of this book is a qualified no. True, the depth of the German-French nuclear antinomies that are aptly summed up by Frédéric Bozo’s phrase ‘nuclear conundrum’ is not disputable. In no way is it our goal here to deny that nuclear deterrence was, and remains, a particularly difficult subject for the German-French duo. A striking asymmetry can be noticed in the first place between the French and the Germans in the degree of intellectual curiosity and interest that they respectively manifested for each other’s nuclear policy. Thus, there was no German equivalent of the ‘public intellectual’ Raymond Aron, whose lifelong reflexion on the German question and its nuclear dimensions (in particular whether or not a German bomb should be permitted) demonstrates that the nuclear status of West Germany was key to the strategic and foreign policy debate in France (see Chapter 1 by Joël Mouric); as a matter of fact, West Germany’s nuclear status was also at the heart of the two superpowers’ concerns, as already said. By contrast, in West Germany, the interest in French deterrence and nuclear strategy remained marginal throughout the Cold War, not to mention the post1989 era dominated by indifference that sometimes turned into frank hostility (see Chapters 11 and 12 by Guillaume de Rougé and Oliver Meier). For understandable reasons, most of the nuclear debate among West German strategists during the Cold War focused on NATO and U.S. extended nuclear deterrence, seen as the ultimate guarantee of West German security.26 More generally, apart from a few individual exceptions (Helmut Schmidt and Helmut Kohl), when French nuclear policy occasionally drew some attention in Germany, it was mostly in the shape of diplomatic attempts to normalize it (through a convergence with NATO

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procedures and strategic doctrine), or to neutralize the unpleasant aspects of the French deterrence policy, in particular when it came to the French tactical nuclear weapons, the (too) short-range ballistic missiles Pluton, quite infamous in Germany. According to Frédéric Bozo’s analysis in Chapter 10, the Franco-German ‘nuclear conundrum’ had three dimensions that reinforced one another. Firstly, France’s accession to nuclear military power laid in stark contrast to the non-nuclear status of the FRG, which became part of the global nuclear order via the NPT in the 1970s. Secondly, in strategic terms, France’s uncompromising independent posture within the Western alliance and challenge to U.S. leadership were at loggerheads with Germany’s unconditional Atlanticism and crucial role in the U.S.-led security system in Europe. Most importantly, it was at the military level that the contradiction of national interests seemed to be the most insurmountable: in case of war in Europe, ‘France’s deterrence concept was based … on the defence of the national “sanctuary”’. Would France’s nuclear guarantee also cover the FRG, or would the latter serve as a mere glacis? How could Paris dissipate the unpleasant impression, seen from Bonn, that the French deterrence doctrine involved turning the German territory into a nuclear battlefield, given the limited range of the Pluton (100 km)? In fact, until the early 1980s, the ‘sanctuary/ glacis’ model remained a ‘blind spot’ in the Franco-German relationship. As shown by Ilaria Parisi in Chapter 7, it proved impossible for Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and Helmut Schmidt to relaunch the bilateral dialogue on European defence in the late 1970s in large part because of the dispute over Pluton and the FRG’s demand for a consultation mechanism on French tactical nuclear use. Yet Paris and Bonn actively and repeatedly tried to overcome their nuclear differences and asymmetries, as strong as they were. In an iterative and dynamic process that has too often been overlooked so far, they worked in parallel or even together during several episodes of privileged strategic rapprochement during the Cold War. This book reveals an underlying, non-linear process of convergence between the two countries, based on a limited nuclear revisionism vis-à-vis the bipolar order imposed by the Cold War. Although these dynamics did not lead in the end to an irreversible resolution of the German-French ‘nuclear conundrum’, the mere fact that there were such attempts to deepen the strategic dialogue, including on nuclear matters, provides ample evidence that the nuclear incompatibility between the French and the Germans cannot be described as absolutely insuperable. The term ‘limited nuclear revisionism’ refers to a common, if latent, inclination of the French and West German Cold-War-era foreign policies to call into question the bipolar security architecture.27 In other words,

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the two countries had in common a certain amount of discontent visà-vis the division of Europe (and Germany) into two antagonistic blocs and thus acted with determination to gradually transform the bipolar international order, not necessarily together, but in parallel, and with the same long-term strategic objective: the reunification of Germany and Europe. In many respects, French and German nuclear policies can be better understood by taking into account this revisionist tendency, which Paris and Bonn shared even though it took different forms and intensities in each country. This limited revisionism was in any case a major factor underlying the different phases of German-French strategic and nuclear rapprochement. As far as the FRG was concerned, ‘limited revisionism’ was the logical result of the division of Germany after the defeat of 1945. Thus, it was a moral (and political) imperative for any post-war West German chancellor to make visible efforts to keep alive the hope of reunification, even though there was no question of pursuing this objective either by force or through a rapprochement with Moscow, which would have involved calling into question the FRG’s strategic ties with the West (the so-called Westbindung). In nuclear terms, this limited revisionism took two diverging forms in the history of the FRG: Adenauer’s deliberately cultivated ambiguities regarding the FRG’s nuclear ambitions, and Brandt’s acceptance and formalization of the non-nuclear status of Germany through the signature of the NPT, seen as a precondition for his Ostpolitik. These two contradictory nuclear postures paradoxically derived from the same need to preserve or regain some room for manoeuvre vis-à-vis the two superpowers, so as to prepare for the overcoming of the bipolar division of Europe and Germany, but without undermining the FRG’s fundamental security interests and solidarity with the Western camp. As for France, ‘limited revisionism’ manifested itself through the steadfast solidarity expressed towards West Germany in defence of the long-term horizon of reunification. Keeping this horizon open was deemed indispensable so as not to despair the West Germans and keep them firmly anchored within the Western camp. Thus, in the French conception of the German question, the long-term objective of reunification and the strength of the Westbindung went hand in hand. That is why French leaders and diplomats fought with such obstinacy, most notably during the Second Berlin Crisis, against any tendency to make concessions to Moscow that would have contributed to recognizing the existence of the East German state, and in so doing, to freezing the status quo of the division of Germany into two states. In addition, when in the fall of 1961 the British and Americans suggested discussing with the Soviets the non-nuclear status of the FRG, Paris staunchly resisted this idea, side

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by side with Chancellor Adenauer. The latter wanted indeed to keep this diplomatic card for himself, if one day it became possible to engage in real negotiations on reunification with the Soviets (see Chapter 4 by Frédéric Gloriant). Similarly, in the heyday of détente, during the CSCE in the early 1970s, the French negotiators skilfully defended the notion of peaceful change of borders, demonstrating ‘Paris’s will to stay the course towards reunification of the continent’ and of Germany, as shown by Nicolas Badalassi in Chapter 6. More generally, if French policymakers adamantly opposed any plan for reunification in exchange for a German neutralization (involving a unified Germany outside the Atlantic Alliance), it was absolutely not because they feared a reunified Germany, but because in French eyes such a scheme could not fail to result in a unified, but ‘Finlandized’ Germany, that is to say, a Germany in Moscow’s sphere of influence. In this vein, François Mitterrand’s nuclear policy towards the FRG constantly aimed at ‘neutralizing neutralism’, by taking into account German concerns (see Chapter 8 by Dominique Mongin) and by convincing Bonn that France was not ‘a nuclear Switzerland’. The latter formula meant that France’s ‘vital interests’ could not be limited geographically to the national territory; German territory would be de facto covered by the French deterrent and would not be considered as a mere glacis (see Chapter 10 by Frédéric Bozo).

Bridging the Franco-German Nuclear Gap: A Job Left Unfinished Throughout the Cold War, three phases of strategic rapprochement between France and the FRG with a clear nuclear dimension can be distinguished, each of them being related to an episode during which the security guarantee provided to Europe by the United States was subject to a serious crisis, with the credibility of U.S. extended nuclear deterrence being weakened for various political and strategic reasons. The pattern is striking: every time there is a weakening of the transatlantic link, the response is a rise of German-French solidarity and of strategic ‘Europeanism’. In the aftermath of the Suez Crisis and the launch of the Sputnik satellite by the Soviets, in 1957–58, the F-I-G agreement evoked by Jenny Raflik in Chapter 2 is the one and only example of a project involving Franco-German (as well as Italian) cooperation in order to produce together nuclear weapons and delivery means. However, the project was abandoned in the summer of 1958 as soon as de Gaulle came back to power and brought to an end the nuclear dimension of the F-I-G project. The second phase of Franco-German strategic rapprochement culminated during the era of de Gaulle and Adenauer, in 1961–63, at the

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same time as the Second Berlin Crisis was shaking the Atlantic Alliance on its basis. If the joint production of nuclear armaments was never again seriously envisaged after 1958, a bilateral strategic dialogue developed in the early 1960s that included nuclear matters, both at the political and military levels. Most importantly though, the ‘Continental’ strategic solidarity which de Gaulle had called to since 1960 found an opportunity to materialize on the occasion of the Second Berlin Crisis. Progressively, a German-French common conception emerged regarding this crisis, in which the German question, and in particular the Westbindung and the nuclear status of the FRG, was at stake. This rapprochement resulted in the signature of the Élysée Treaty in January 1963, which foresaw a systematic coordination of the two security and defence policies. The 1963 treaty, however, remained to a large extent a dead letter because of the preamble added by the Bundestag in June 1963 that reaffirmed the primacy of NATO in the defence policy of the FRG. The third phase of German-French strategic rapprochement took place in the midst of the Euromissile Crisis, starting in 1981. During what happened to be the second major Europe-centred nuclear crisis of the Cold War era, the Westbindung, the FRG’s nuclear status, and so the German question, were at stake once again. Building on what had been achieved before, and in an attempt to relaunch the strategic dimension of the Élysée Treaty, Mitterrand and Kohl not only gave the impetus to a renewed strategic dialogue and coordinated their actions to weather the Euromissile Crisis, but they also broke new ground on the most delicate nuclear issues: the use of French tactical (or pre-strategic) nuclear weapons and the question of extending French nuclear protection to German territory. Thus, in the 1980s, the nuclear proximity between Bonn and Paris reached an unprecedented degree, which appears to be even more exceptional in retrospect, compared to the following twenty-five years. Dominique Mongin in Chapter 8 emphasizes the centrality of Germany in Mitterrand’s nuclear strategy and armaments policy. Yannick Pincé in Chapter 9 even argues that nuclear deterrence became, in the shadow of the Euromissile Crisis, a subject of transnational German-French politicization: any decision taken in the nuclear field in France became a subject of domestic debate in Germany, and vice versa, with both Mitterrand and Kohl supporting each other against their respective political opponents. Nevertheless, as already mentioned, these privileged phases of rapprochement did not lead to a final and irreversible resolution of the Franco-German nuclear conundrum. At least three limits hampered the nuclear dialogue between France and the FRG, and were not overcome during the Cold War. First, as is noticeable during the Second Berlin Crisis, even when the two diplomacies pursued the same general

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objective, most of the time they did not act together. At the East–West level for example, they never took major joint initiatives, as de Gaulle suggested more than once. Perhaps West Germany’s (non-)nuclear status and the issue of reunification were subjects of national interest that were too sensitive and existential: it was impossible, even for an admirer of de Gaulle like Adenauer, to let them become the field of experimentation of a still hypothetical joint foreign policy between France and West Germany. Therefore, on nuclear issues and concerning the German question, the actions of French and West German diplomats were frequently parallel, rather than coordinated in advance or even jointly executed. Secondly, as shown by Benedikt Schoenborn in Chapter  5, France’s and West Germany’s nuclear identities were to a large extent a legacy of the past, and history did not have the same normative consequences for the French and the West Germans. According to Brandt, the Nazi past compelled Germany to renounce any access to nuclear weapons, if only to give some credibility to its new peaceful identity, which was not the case for France. Therefore, after the FRG joined the NPT in the 1970s, France and West Germany had adopted once and for all two divergent forms of nuclear identities, based on grandeur and national independence in one case, and on nuclear restraint and faith in the U.S. security guarantee in the other. These contradictory roles in themselves did not exclude cooperation between France and Germany, but they could not fail to produce disagreements on certain topics (to begin with, disarmament and arms control) and make it more difficult to establish the kind of bilateral strategic partnership that de Gaulle had in mind when signing the Élysée Treaty. The third limit was related to the nuclear dimension of European defence, in other words, the scenario of a Europeanization of the French nuclear deterrent. This topic was raised more than once, in particular in the 1970s (see Nicolas Badalassi’s Chapter 6 and Ilaria Parisi’s Chapter 7), but an agreement between Paris and Bonn proved out of reach, even under Mitterrand and Kohl. According to Frédéric Bozo’s analysis in Chapter 10, the bilateral negotiation that had begun in 1986 to set up a consultation mechanism regarding the possible use of French pre-strategic weapons (the Plutons and Hadès) on, or from, German territory had not been far from success in April 1989. True, the Germans had insisted on retaining a veto right against the possible deployment of the Hadès onto German territory, while the French had refused the idea of targeting restrictions, which amounted in their view to a joint targeting policy, in other words an unacceptable infringement on France’s sacrosanct autonomy of decision. However, in the same period of time, the French

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were also contemplating a major reduction of the number of Hadès to be produced, which was ‘in essence untying the Gordian knot’. As for the Germans (Egon Bahr in particular), they were not far from recognizing the possibility of a European defence system based on the French deterrent. ‘The end of the Cold War came too soon’, concludes Frédéric Bozo, and in many respects the failed negotiation of April 1989 on nuclear consultation can be considered a missed opportunity to lay the basis for a Franco-German and European deterrent posture.

Book Outline and Acknowledgements This book is chronologically organized. The first three parts deal respectively with a different period of the Cold War: (I) the beginning of the Franco-German strategic dialogue until the era of de Gaulle and Adenauer; (II) the emergence and development of Ostpolitik; and (III) the Euromissile Crisis and the end of the Cold War. Part IV focuses on the most contemporary controversies on nuclear deterrence and arms control and shows how deep the remaining divergences between the French and German nuclear perceptions are. This volume would not exist without the support of the CERHIO (Centre de recherche en histoire de l’Ouest) of the University of South Brittany (Lorient), which hosted the original conference in June–July 2016. In particular, we would like to thank Sylviane Llinares, head of the CERHIO, Eric Limousin, dean of the faculty of Lettres, Langues et Sciences Humaines, and Christophe Cerino, director of the submarine base and museum of Keroman. We are also grateful to the Nuclear Proliferation International History Program (NPIHP) of the Woodrow Wilson Center (Washington DC), and in particular to the two co-directors of the NPIHP, Christian Ostermann and Leopoldo Nuti, who personally contributed to the success of the 2016 conference through their amicable advice at each step of the process, their indispensable intellectual input and financial support. Many thanks also to the research team ICEE (Intégration et coopération dans l’espace européen) of the University Paris III Sorbonne Nouvelle, and particularly Christine Manigand and Frédéric Bozo, who encouraged, supported and funded our project from its inception. Finally, we would like to express our gratitude to our colleague and friend Guillaume de Rougé for his invaluable help and for being one of the initiators of this project, to Christine Leah and Elmar Hellendorn for their enthusiastic participation in the Lorient conference, and most importantly, to all the contributors to this book, whose flexibility and rigour have made it a truly collective scientific endeavour.

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Nicolas Badalassi is Associate Professor of Contemporary History at the Institut d’Etudes politiques of Aix-en-Provence. He holds a PhD from the University Sorbonne Nouvelle (2011). His focus is on French foreign policy, Cold War history and the Helsinki process. His book publications include: En finir avec la guerre froide: La France, l’Europe et le processus d’Helsinki, 1965–1975 (PUR, 2014); Les pays d’Europe orientale et la Méditerranée, 1967–1989 (Cahiers Irice, 2013, co-edited with Houda Ben Hamouda); The CSCE and the End of the Cold War: Diplomacy, Societies and Human Rights, 1972–1990 (Berghahn Books, 2019, co-edited with Sarah B. Snyder); Reconstructing Europe 45 Years after Yalta: The Charter of Paris (1990) (CTHS, 2020, co-edited with Jean-Philippe Dumas). Frédéric Gloriant is Associate Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Nantes, at the CRHIA (Centre de recherches en histoire internationale et atlantique). He obtained his PhD in 2014 with the dissertation The Great Schism: France, Britain and the Euro-Atlantic Issues, 1957–1963, at Sorbonne Nouvelle (Paris III), and worked in 2017–18 as a postdoctoral researcher at the Centre for Nuclear and Strategic Studies (CIENS) in the École Normale Supérieure (Paris-Ulm). His research interests mainly focus on the Franco-British relationship during the Cold War, strategic and nuclear issues, and European integration history.

Notes  1. F. Seydoux de Clausonne, Mémoires d’outre-Rhin (Paris: B. Grasset, 1975), 225.  2. A. Peyrefitte, C’était de Gaulle. Vol. 1 (Paris: de Fallois, 1994), 346.  3. A. Lutsch, The Persistent Legacy: Germany’s Place in the Nuclear Order, Nuclear Proliferation International History Project Working Paper no. 5 (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 2015).  4. F. Bozo, Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001).  5. H. Haftendorn, ‘The NATO Crisis of 1966–1967: Confronting Germany with a Conflict of Priorities’ and F. Bozo, ‘The NATO Crises of 1966–1967: A French Point of View’, both in H. Haftendorn, G.-H. Soutou, S.F. Szabo and S.F. Wells Jr. (eds), The Strategic Triangle: France, Germany, and the United States in the Shaping of the New Europe (Washington/Baltimore: Woodrow Wilson Center Press/The John Hopkins University Press, 2006), 77–102 and 103–26.  6. On the analogies and differences between de Gaulle’s détente and Brandt’s Ostpolitik, see B. Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée: De Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969 (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2007), 319–23.  7. See A. Lutsch’s report: ‘Stresemann Workshop 2015: Illusionary Visions or Policy Options? Discontent over Cold War Security Architecture in Europe and the Search for Alternatives, 05.07.2015–08.07.2015 Mainz’, www.hsozkult.de/conferencereport/ id/tagungsberichte-6152 (accessed 17 November 2019).

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 8. This approach is perfectly illustrated by the recently published book edited by F. Bozo and C. Wenkel, France and the German Question, 1945–1990 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2019).  9. C. de Gaulle, Discours et messages, vol. 1, Pendant la guerre (Paris: Plon, 1970), 483 (speech to the Consultative Assembly, Paris, 22 November 1944). 10. M. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945– 1963 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999); M. Trachtenberg, ‘The de Gaulle Problem’, Journal of Cold War Studies 14(1) (2012), 81–92; G.-H. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996); G.-H. Soutou, La guerre froide de la France, 1941–1990 (Paris: Tallandier, 2018). See also the review of the latter book by N. Badalassi in Relations internationales 178(2) (2019). 11. F. Gloriant, Le grand schisme: La France, la Grande-Bretagne et les problèmes euroatlantiques, 1957–1963, PhD thesis, Université Sorbonne Nouvelle – Paris 3, 2014; Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée; N.  Badalassi, En finir avec la guerre froide: La France, l’Europe et le processus d’Helsinki, 1965–1975 (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014); C. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou: La politique européenne de la France et de l’Allemagne entre crise et renouveau (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2016); D. Möckli, European Foreign Policy during the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity (London: I.B. Tauris, 2009); F. Bozo, Mitterrand, the End of the Cold War and German Unification, trans. Susan Emanuel (New York: Berghahn Books, 2009). 12. See note 10. The only books in English which tackle similar questions are S.A. Kocs, Autonomy or Power? The Franco-German Relationship and Europe’s Strategic Choices, 1955–1995 (Westport, CT: Praeger, 1995), which does not rely on archives but on open sources, and encompasses all aspects of the defence and security bilateral relationship; and B.  Heuser, NATO, Britain, France and the FRG: Nuclear Strategies and Forces for Europe, 1949–2000 (New York: MacMillan Press, 1999), the perspective of which is not focused on the bilateral Franco-German relationship, but rather examines each of the three main West European players separately. 13. See for example U. Krotz and J. Schildt, Shaping Europe: France, Germany, and Embedded Bilateralism from the Élysée Treaty to Twenty-First Century Politics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), in particular chapter IX simply entitled ‘Foreign and Security Policy’, 212–33; and B. Irondelle and R. Kempin, ‘Convergence croissante ou divergence persistante? La coopération franco-allemande en politique de sécurité et de défense’, in R.  Marcowitz and H. Miard-Delacroix (eds), 50 ans de relations franco-allemandes (Paris: Nouveau Monde, 2013), 111–43. In these two books only one chapter is devoted to foreign and security policy issues, and in both cases the nuclear dimension is marginal, to say the least. See also, in German, J. Leonhard (ed.), Vergleich und Verflechtung: Deutschland und Frankreich im 20. Jahrhundert (Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag, 2015), in which the contribution by U. Lappenküper, ‘Die deutsch-französische Sicherheitspartnerschaft zwischen Kommerz, Kontrolle und europäischer Einigung’, 79–104, offers an interesting panoramic overview of the politico-strategic relationship between France and (West) Germany from 1945 to 2013, and emphasizes the significant, if not decisive role of the nuclear question in the final failure of the French project to establish a solid German-French defence partnership at the core of an autonomous European strategic unit. 14. For a summary of this rapidly aborted debate, see T. Volpe and U. Kühn, ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education: Why a Few Elites Are Testing a Taboo’, The Washington Quarterly 40(3) (2017), 7–27. See also Oliver Meier’s chapter in this volume. 15. Z. Laïdi, ‘L’Europe au défi du moment gaullien’, Le Débat 206(4) (2019), 48–59; see also R. Cohen, ‘Europe to Mike Pence: No, Thank You’, New York Times, 18 February

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17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24.

25. 26.

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2019, an op-ed with the very telling subtitle, ‘The Trump administration manages to turn Germans into Gaullists, ready to flirt with Russia and contemplate strategic independence’. ‘Gaullo-Mitterrandianism’ is a neologism created in the 1980s by Hubert Védrine, Mitterrand’s diplomatic adviser and then Secretary General to the Presidency, in order to underline the common principles on which were based both de Gaulle’s and Mitterrand’s foreign policy conceptions, in contrast to Atlanticism or what would later be called ‘Occidentalism’. Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée; O. Bange, The EEC Crisis of 1963: Kennedy, Macmillan, de Gaulle and Adenauer in Conflict (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000). Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée, 162–66, 368 and 380; Trachtenberg, ‘The de Gaulle Problem’. This is the case, among historians, of Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace. As for political scientists, a series of articles were published in the early 1990s by eminent U.S. scholars of the ‘neo-realist’ school, who gloomily predicted, in post-Cold War Europe, a return to pre-1914 balance-of-power strategies and national rivalries: K. Waltz, ‘The Emerging Structure of International Politics’, International Security (Fall 1993), 44–79; J. Mearsheimer, ‘Back to the Future: Instability in Europe after the Cold War’, International Security (Summer 1990), 5–56; C. Layne, ‘The Unipolar Illusion: Why New Great Powers Will Arise’, International Security (Spring 1993), 5–51. All argued that Germany would inevitably develop a national nuclear weapons arsenal, since ‘for a country to choose not to become a great power [would be] a structural anomaly’ (Waltz, ‘The Emerging Structure’, 66). On this ‘neo-realist’ view of the plausible nuclear trajectory of the reunified Germany, see the summary and critical remarks by Kocs, Autonomy or Power, 1–14. G. Gerzhoy, ‘Alliance Coercion and Nuclear Restraint: How the United States Thwarted West Germany’s Nuclear Ambitions’, International Security 39(4) (2015), 91–129. S. Cohen, La monarchie nucléaire: Les coulisses de la politique étrangère sous la Cinquième République (Paris: Hachette, 1986). N. Baverez, ‘Le grand fossé: Aron et de Gaulle’, Revue de Politique française 2 (1999), 67–77, https://www.parutions.com/pages/1-4-7-1598.html (accessed 17 November 2019). Among others, the philosopher and political scientist Pierre Hassner, the diplomat Jean-Marie Soutou, and the historian (and son of the latter) Georges-Henri Soutou. This ‘Aronian’ interpretation of Gaullism found an echo in the United States, in the works of Marc Trachtenberg, particularly in his article ‘The de Gaulle Problem’, already cited. To provide a more complete picture of the diverse strands of Aronianism, it should be added here that a few other French and American scholars, also deeply influenced by Aron’s thought, sympathized with certain aspects of de Gaulle’s foreign policy (Pierre Manent, Stanley Hoffmann, Daniel J. Mahoney). S. Hoffmann, ‘La France dans le nouvel ordre européen’, Politique étrangère 55(3) (1990), 503–12 (504). The expression in French is ‘équilibre des déséquilibres’. There were a few exceptions though, such as Lothar Rühl, who did his PhD thesis in Paris in ‘Sciences-Po’, on the defence policy of the Fifth Republic, under the supervision of the well-known specialist of German-French relations Alfred Grosser: La politique militaire de la Cinquième République (Paris: Presses de la Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, 1976). Rühl then became a journalist for Die Welt and a senior official in the Bundesministerium der Verteidigung (the FRG ministry of defence) in the 1980s. The notion of ‘limited nuclear revisionism’ is borrowed from A. Lutsch, ‘In Favor of “Effective” and “Non-Discriminatory” Non-Dissemination Policy: The FRG and the

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NPT Negotiation Process (1962–1966)’, in R. Popp, L. Horovitz and A. Wenger (eds), Negotiating the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty: Origins of the Nuclear Order (London: Routledge, 2017), 36–57 (here 38). In Lutsch’s article, the concept refers specifically to the FRG’s willingness, in the 1960s, ‘to achieve incremental enhancements to Germany’s position and influence within the nuclear order – but on a limited scale, that is without becoming an atomic power’ and by staying firmly anchored within the NATO framework. In this introduction, the scope of this notion is much larger in time and space, encompassing both France and West Germany, throughout the whole duration of the Cold War.

Bibliography Badalassi, N. En finir avec la guerre froide: La France, l’Europe et le processus d’Helsinki, 1965–1975. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014.  . ‘Note de lectures [on G.-H. Soutou, La guerre froide de la France, 1941–1990. Paris: Tallandier, 2018]’. Relations internationales 178(2) (2019), 145–47. Bange, O. The EEC Crisis of 1963: Kennedy, Macmillan, de Gaulle and Adenauer in Conflict. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000. Baverez, N. ‘Le grand fossé: Aron et de Gaulle’. Revue de Politique française 2 (1999), 67–77. https://www.parutions.com/pages/1-4-7-1598.html (accessed 17 November 2019). Bozo, F. Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001.  . ‘The NATO Crises of 1966–1967: A French Point of View’, in H. Haftendorn, G.-H. Soutou, S.F. Szabo and S.F. Wells Jr. (eds), The Strategic Triangle: France, Germany, and the United States in the Shaping of the New Europe (Washington/ Baltimore: Woodrow Wilson Center Press/The John Hopkins University Press, 2006), 103–26.  . Mitterrand, the End of the Cold War and German Unification, trans. Susan Emanuel. New York: Berghahn Books, 2009. Bozo, F., and C. Wenkel (eds). France and the German Question, 1945–1990. New York: Berghahn Books, 2019. Cohen, R. ‘Europe to Mike Pence: No, Thank You’. New York Times, 18 February 2019. Cohen, S. La monarchie nucléaire: Les coulisses de la politique étrangère sous la Cinquième République. Paris: Hachette, 1986. De Gaulle, C. Discours et messages, vol. 1, Pendant la guerre. Paris: Plon, 1970. Gerzhoy, G. ‘Alliance Coercion and Nuclear Restraint: How the United States Thwarted West Germany’s Nuclear Ambitions’. International Security 39(4) (2015), 91–129. Gloriant, F. Le grand schisme: La France, la Grande-Bretagne et les problèmes euroatlantiques, 1957–1963, PhD thesis. Université Sorbonne Nouvelle – Paris 3, 2014. Haftendorn, H. ‘The NATO Crisis of 1966–1967: Confronting Germany with a Conflict of Priorities’, in H. Haftendorn, G.-H.  Soutou, S.F.  Szabo and S.F. Wells Jr. (eds), The Strategic Triangle: France, Germany, and the United States

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in the Shaping of the New Europe (Washington/Baltimore: Woodrow Wilson Center Press/The John Hopkins University Press, 2006), 77–102. Heuser, B. NATO, Britain, France and the FRG: Nuclear Strategies and Forces for Europe, 1949–2000. New York: MacMillan Press, 1999. Hiepel, C. Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou: La politique européenne de la France et de l’Allemagne entre crise et renouveau. Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2016. Hoffmann, S. ‘La France dans le nouvel ordre européen’. Politique étrangère 55(3) (1990), 503–12. Irondelle, B., and R. Kempin. ‘Convergence croissante ou divergence persistante? La coopération franco-allemande en politique de sécurité et de défense’, in R. Marcowitz and H. Miard-Delacroix (eds), 50 ans de relations franco-allemandes (Paris: Nouveau Monde, 2013), 111–43. Kocs, S.A. Autonomy or Power? The Franco-German Relationship and Europe’s Strategic Choices, 1955–1995. Westport, CT: Praeger, 1995. Krotz, U., and J. Schildt. Shaping Europe: France, Germany, and Embedded Bilateralism from the Élysée Treaty to Twenty-First Century Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013. Laïdi, Z. ‘L’Europe au défi du moment gaullien’. Le Débat 206(4) (2019), 48–59. Lappenküper, U. ‘Die deutsch-französische Sicherheitspartnerschaft zwischen Kommerz, Kontrolle und europäischer Einigung’, in J. Leonhard (ed.), Vergleich und Verflechtung: Deutschland und Frankreich im 20. Jahrhundert (Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag, 2015), 79–104. Layne, C. ‘The Unipolar Illusion: Why New Great Powers Will Arise’. International Security (Spring 1993), 5–51. Lutsch, A. ‘Stresemann Workshop 2015: Illusionary Visions or Policy Options? Discontent over Cold War Security Architecture in Europe and the Search for Alternatives, 05.07.2015–08.07.2015 Mainz’, www.hsozkult.de/ conferencereport/id/tagungsberichte-6152 (accessed 17 November 2019).  . The Persistent Legacy: Germany’s Place in the Nuclear Order, Nuclear Proliferation International History Project Working Paper no. 5. Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, 2015.  . ‘In Favor of “Effective” and “Non-Discriminatory” Non-Dissemination Policy: The FRG and the NPT Negotiation Process (1962–1966)’, in R. Popp, L. Horovitz and A. Wenger (eds), Negotiating the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty: Origins of the Nuclear Order (London: Routledge, 2017), 36–57. Mearsheimer, J. ‘Back to the Future: Instability in Europe after the Cold War’. International Security (Summer 1990), 5–56. Möckli, D. European Foreign Policy during the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity. London: I.B. Tauris, 2009. Peyrefitte, A. C’était de Gaulle. Vol. 1. Paris: de Fallois, 1994. Rühl, L. La politique militaire de la Cinquième République. Paris: Presses de la Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, 1976. Schoenborn, B. La mésentente apprivoisée: De Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2007. Seydoux de Clausonne, F. Mémoires d’outre-Rhin. Paris: B. Grasset, 1975.

Introduction

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Soutou, G.-H. L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996. Paris: Fayard, 1996.  . La guerre froide de la France, 1941–1990. Paris: Tallandier, 2018. Trachtenberg, M. A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999.  . ‘The de Gaulle Problem’. Journal of Cold War Studies 14(1) (2012), 81–92. Volpe, T., and U. Kühn. ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education: Why a Few Elites Are Testing a Taboo’. The Washington Quarterly 40(3) (2017), 7–27. Waltz, K. ‘The Emerging Structure of International Politics’. International Security (Fall 1993), 44–79.

Part I

From the Beginning of the Franco-German Strategic Dialogue to the Nuclear Ambiguities of the ‘Adenauer/de Gaulle’ Era

Chapter 1

Raymond Aron, Germany and the Atomic Bomb Joël Mouric

Introduction

I

n 1950 Raymond Aron was already a prominent French intellectual and an influential columnist, acknowledged for his articles on foreign policy published in Le Figaro, as well as for his criticism of totalitarian ideologies and his anti-communist stance. In his essay The Century of Total War, written at the beginning of the Korean War, Aron told his readers why European unity mattered and why Germany was of paramount importance: What is essential in the European idea as it was propagated in recent years? To my mind, it is a simple and obvious proposal, which Mr Churchill immediately grasped and which propagandists and intellectuals have since obscured, namely, that Western Europe must build up its military strength, and that strength can only emerge from a reconciliation between France and Germany. … The European idea is useless, sterile, if it does not foster that dialogue.1

In more than one sense, Germany played a pivotal role in Aron’s own life: it was there that he discovered, in the last years of the Weimar Republic, the works of Max Weber and conceived his criticism of the philosophies of history. It was also the place where he witnessed the rise of Nazism and the first months of Hitler’s tyranny. However, after Hitler was gone, and as the atomic bomb and the new balance of power turned Aron’s attention towards the United States, why did Germany remain

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at the centre of his attention? And how could the fate of a disarmed and occupied territory be related to the atomic bomb? It will be argued in this chapter that Aron immediately grasped the importance of Germany with regard to the stability of Europe. For Aron, Germany should neither remain in a political vacuum nor be absorbed in the Soviet sphere of influence. Simultaneously, he understood that the atomic bomb might prevent the outbreak of a new hyperbolic war. As Aron put it as early as 1947, the situation of the Cold War, which he called the ‘bellicose peace’, could be summed up as ‘peace impossible, war improbable’.2 To understand Aron’s singular position, one has to remember that he was both a scholar, and as such most interested in theoretical debates, and a ‘committed observer’ (spectateur engagé), an indefatigable publicist who intended to defend the existence of a liberal democratic society in Western Europe. The first section of this chapter deals with his understanding of the situation of divided Germany and Europe at the beginning of the nuclear age. The second section is about ‘the Great Debate’ that arose in the mid-1950s: should Europeans access nuclear weapons, and how? Aron doubted the efficacy of small national nuclear forces and envisioned a European deterrent with West German participation. The third section describes Aron’s strong support for the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) and for its strategic commitment to NATO in the troubled times of the 1970s and early 1980s.

Divided Germany and Europe in the Nuclear Age While many French leaders and commentators believed that German unity should be undone once and for all, Aron always had the vision of a united Germany.3 What he feared most, indeed, was what he called ‘balkanization’, that is, the civil wars that would engulf European nationstates as a consequence of the ideological conflict between the two great powers. The model was provided by Thucydides in his description of sectarian violence among the Corcyreans during the Peloponnesian War.4 ‘1945’, wrote Aron, ‘is the 1815 of Germany’.5 In his view, Germany’s unmitigated defeat had put an end to the German threat, and a stable Europe without a German state was unthinkable. Aron would make that plea several times, either in front of his students at the Ecole Nationale d’Administration (National School of Administration) – the new-born cradle of the French political elite – or within the Gaullist Rassemblement du Peuple Français (Rally of the French People), in which he played an important part from its inception in 1947.6 Therefore, Raymond Aron would do his best to support Franco-German reconciliation, to prevent

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the Germans from the temptation of neutrality and to foster their integration into the Western alliance. As for the atomic bomb, Aron was soon convinced that its existence might not be tantamount to the inevitability of a new hyperbolic war. To avoid a new war, the essential prerequisite was the American commitment to the defence of Western Europe. Aron did not see in the Berlin blockade an immediate risk of war, because he was confident that the U.S. atomic monopoly, backed by the impressive power of the American economy, would deter Stalin from using his military in Europe.7 In 1949, he supported the Atlantic pact against those who, like the scholar Étienne Gilson, questioned its usefulness.8 Aron even converted de Gaulle himself to the value of the Atlantic alliance.9 Indeed, de Gaulle originally doubted the value of the American commitment in Europe because he believed that, eventually, isolationism would prevail. Aron’s article on the Atlantic pact convinced him that the mere threat of American intervention embedded in the pact would be enough to deter Stalin and prevent war. Likewise, in April 1950, Aron strongly opposed Leo Szilard’s vision of a neutralized Europe: given the ideological nature of the Soviet regime, nothing would appease Stalin.10 While Aron was not afraid of an atomic war, because none of the contenders was likely to run the risks of what such a war entailed, he also understood that the division of Europe caused by the Cold War would endure. Indeed, the mere existence of nuclear weapons froze the situation that had existed since 1945. This is what he told German students in Frankfurt in June 1952: as German reunification was beyond reach for an unforeseeable future, the best they could do was to go on with European and Atlantic integration. Aron’s speech, later remembered for the vibrant Europeanism in its conclusion, was primarily intended to counter the impact of the notes published by Stalin in April, in which the Soviet leader proposed a reunified but neutralized Germany.11 Even though Aron’s first appraisal of the FRG was disdainful – he called it ‘a rump Germany’ or a ‘caricature’ of Germany – he gradually showed more respect for the Bundesrepublik and Chancellor Adenauer.12 By 1956, Aron would name the democracy of Bonn an ‘appeased democracy’, compared to the regime of Weimar, but also to French politics characterized by everlasting civil strife, in particular under the Fourth Republic in the early years of the Cold War.13 He would then even praise the FRG as a model of liberal democracy. By contrast, as early as 1946, Aron had condemned the Sovietization of the Eastern zone. Far into the 1960s, he would deny the East German state any kind of legitimacy, referring to the ‘so-called GDR’ (German Democratic Republic) in the very words of the Hallstein doctrine.14 In the meantime, the uprising of

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17 June 1953, in which the people of East Berlin had rebelled against the communist leadership, had shown that the GDR lacked popular support. Without the intervention of Soviet tanks, the communist regime led by Walter Ulbricht might have been overthrown. Simultaneously, the European Defence Community (EDC) had not materialized. The EDC, also known as the Pleven Plan, was the French answer to the American insistence on rearming West Germany in the context of the Korean War. To avoid again setting up a German military, less than ten years after the occupation of France by the Wehrmacht, the French government proposed the creation of a European army that would include West German soldiers. From the beginning of this project, Aron presumed the EDC would not work. First, he doubted the efficiency of an army without a government. Moreover, he objected that West Germany and France had diverging interests. While the former was obsessed with the idea of reunification and looked towards the East, the latter was still an imperial power with responsibilities in the Far East and the Mediterranean. In the end, Aron was relieved by the demise of the EDC and the creation of the Bundeswehr within the framework of NATO. Aron went so far as to say that the failure of the EDC could be seen as the death certificate of Jean Monnet’s overall project.15 Nevertheless, with the development of Soviet nuclear capabilities, the question of a European deterrent was now raised: indeed, would the U.S. risk its own cities to defend Western Europe? Aron was well informed about nuclear issues by General Gallois, with whom he had frequent meetings.16 At the same time, he had read Clausewitz thoroughly and concluded that the thought of the Prussian general might still be relevant in the nuclear age. For Aron, Europe was the place where nuclear strategy mattered more than anywhere else: indeed, a war in Europe would necessarily be nuclear, and Europe was the only place in the world in which the problem of ‘graduated’ response existed.17 Indeed, the all-or-nothing alternative apparently implied by the existence of nuclear weapons did not satisfy Aron: it might either lead to annihilation if war were to happen, or to submission and tyranny if the fear of war precluded any defensive action. In his essay On War, Aron outlined his reading of Clausewitz, based on the primacy of the political.18 Contrary to the common interpretation which focuses on escalation, Aron’s vision emphasized restraint and prudence. As an epigraph to On War, Aron had put a quote from Clausewitz, the relevance of which was obvious to the European situation: ‘The art of war will shrivel into prudence, and its main concern will be to make sure that the delicate balance is not suddenly upset in the enemy’s favour and that the half-hearted war does not become a real war after all’.19 However, it remained essential to show

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a willingness to fight, first of all by developing the capabilities to wage war if need be.

A European Deterrent with West German Participation? By the end of the 1950s, the UK had built up a national deterrent based on the V-bombers and was working on the Blue Streak, a land-based ballistic missile.20 In 1957, Duncan Sandys had published a White Book based on a strategy of massive retaliation, with significant cuts in conventional forces. Aron objected to this kind of all-or-nothing strategy, because he considered it barely credible. To him, the idea of banning war through the threat of thermonuclear war had become irrelevant. As early as 1956, on the contrary, he claimed that it would be wiser for the Europeans to ‘save war’, and to rely on conventional forces as well as tactical nuclear weapons to show their willingness to defend themselves.21 Moreover, Aron believed that a credible nuclear deterrent was too expensive for a single European nation-state. This led him to emphasize the relevance of a European deterrent. Accordingly, when the treaties of Rome were signed, Aron was more interested in Euratom than in the EEC. While he criticized the ambiguity of the latter (a political project embedded in a common market), he saw Euratom as the means towards European nuclear autonomy and access to atomic weapons. ‘Should the Europeans renounce nuclear energy’, he wrote, ‘they would sentence themselves to complete powerlessness’.22 Even though Aron never mentioned the French-German-Italian agreement on developing nuclear weapons, he de facto shared the concerns of Chancellor Adenauer and his defence minister Franz-Josef Strauß.23 They all resented an unlimited dependence vis-à-vis the U.S. and considered the atomic weapon a necessary attribute of sovereignty which, however, in Aron’s view, could not be attained by the Europeans at the national level.24 Nonetheless, the prospect of a European deterrent faded away when de Gaulle returned to power. Confronted with the nuclear policy of the new chief of state, Aron questioned the relevance of the French strike force in the same way that he had previously objected to the British deterrent: based on the vulnerable Mirage IV bombers, the French deterrent would be tantamount to an ‘atomic Maginot line’.25 Neither France nor the UK would be able to survive a massive nuclear strike. Aron, who had discussed nuclear issues with the main American strategists in Harvard in 1960, tried to bridge the atomic divide between de Gaulle’s national deterrent and Kennedy’s vision of a multilateral force. While Aron saw the bomb as a deterrent on a global level, de Gaulle considered it a

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means of regaining sovereignty. Aron went as far as to suggest that de Gaulle, thanks to the nationally owned atomic weapon, might be willing to revive the idea of ‘France alone’, once theorized by the nationalist thinker Charles Maurras in the context of the French defeat in 1940.26 Aron was ironical about de Gaulle’s European grand design: ‘Europe, which should, someday, reach the Ural, may eventually be limited to the size of the Hexagon’.27 For Aron, Europe was made of nation-states and he never believed in a federal union. However, he was committed to upholding the Atlantic alliance and feared that de Gaulle’s policies might drive the Old Continent back to the dangerous rivalries of 1914. In a debate with Michel Debré, Aron – whom the idea of a West German nuclear armament did not worry – asked the former prime minister whether the French government intended to provide West Germany with atomic weapons within the framework of the FrancoGerman axis.28 The question remained unanswered.29 Did Aron himself really envision West German nuclear weapons? Marc Trachtenberg, in A Constructed Peace, explains that the Cold War in Europe was more about the Soviet fear of a nuclear Germany than the ideological dispute in itself.30 Though he does not refer to Aron in the course of his book, in one of his supplements he cites the correspondence between McGeorge Bundy and Aron in May 1962. McGeorge Bundy wrote to Aron that the Germans insisted that they should be given ‘equal treatment in all fields’. ‘Wasn’t it likely that this would apply to the nuclear area as well?’31 What was then at stake was the creation of the French national deterrent. The Kennedy administration was reluctant to help the French or the British for fear that the Germans would ask for equal treatment. Because Aron did not believe in the credibility of small deterrents – and in the French nuclear strategist General Gallois’s notions of ‘the equalizing power of the atomic bomb’ and ‘weak-to-strong deterrence’ – he wanted the U.S. to cooperate with its European allies who might otherwise waste huge resources in developing technologies that the Americans had already mastered. In Aron’s view, the nuclear age required anticipation, cooperation and joint contingency planning in peacetime. The idea of allied countries remaining militarily independent until the first day of war was obsolete.32 On signing the Paris Agreements in 1954 which, after the rejection of the EDC by the French parliament, allowed the FRG to join NATO and rearm within an Atlantic framework, Adenauer had made a pledge not to produce atomic weapons. Although he did not comment on this pledge in his Figaro articles, Aron discussed the general principle pacta sunt servanda in his book Peace and War. He insisted that, although treaties should be respected, the nature of international relations, based on the

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sovereignty of states, implied that treaties could suffer breaches. Quoting the German-Prussian historian Treitschke, Aron went on to emphasize that states usually add qualification to the treaties they sign, with the formula ‘rebus sic stantibus’ (things thus standing).33 In other words, the advent of a new situation could make a treaty void. In the case of Germany after the Paris Agreements, there was not even an official German pledge embedded in the agreements, but only a mere declaration pro forma. Such a declaration could hardly be seen as definitively binding. Trachtenberg explains on the one hand that, according to Adenauer, John Foster Dulles had told the German chancellor that there would be limits to the validity of this pledge and that its importance should not therefore be exaggerated.34 On the other hand, Trachtenberg also emphasizes that Dulles certainly did not want a national German nuclear deterrent to be built up, and that Adenauer was the one who, later on, in the context of the early 1960s, insisted that the pledge made in 1954 was no longer binding. There are two possibilities to explain Aron’s decision not to comment on the 1954 pledge: on the one hand, he certainly did not want to confuse his readers with something that could divide Western public opinion, particularly in France where anti-German resentment was still very strong; on the other hand, he did not believe that the pledge was essential. The important thing was that the Paris Agreements would solve the problem of Western European defence.35 Thus, when Aron asked Michel Debré whether he would accept a West German nuclear armament, he actually suggested that France should cooperate with its main ally, or be alone. As has been shown above, Aron had grown increasingly respectful of the FRG and its chancellor. Even though we do not know much about his knowledge of West German nuclear ambitions – Trachtenberg shows how Adenauer was willing to deceive the Americans in that field – we can interpret his endorsement of a West German nuclear armament as a calculated risk.36 He knew that the Germans insisted on being treated as equal allies, thus erasing the discrimination they had faced since 1945. In The Great Debate, published in 1963, Aron stated: The Republic of Bonn has taken the pledge, through the Paris Agreements, not to build nuclear weapons (neither chemical nor biological ones). It does not have any territory to test atomic or thermonuclear weapons. Located near the Soviet Bloc, depending for its security on the huge but remote might of the U.S., it must provide a substantial number of divisions. Unless it were willing to increase drastically its military expenses – which is unthinkable under the present circumstances – it does not have the resources required by an atomic military programme, which, in turn, would incur the double veto of the USSR and the United States.37

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Later in the same book, Aron drew specific conclusions from his correspondence with Bernard Brodie and McGeorge Bundy. In sharp words, he now insisted that the renunciation of nuclear weapons that had accompanied the Paris Agreements of 1954 was definitively binding, not necessarily for legal reasons, but because of the geopolitical balance of power. Aron went even further, emphasizing the political impossibility of a West German national deterrent: The Kennedy administration readily insisted, in private, that if they were willing to make France benefit from the McMahon Act which authorizes the sharing of nuclear secrets with some countries, it would be more difficult for them, in the future, to reject a similar demand from Germany. The argument has never convinced me since, for fear of creating a discrimination between France and the Federal Republic, it creates another one between Britain and France. Moreover, the Federal Republic has forbidden itself, through the Paris Agreements, to build nuclear weapons. It would take many years to do so, it does not have any testing ground and could not, without indulging in a truly Hitlerite madness [emphasis added], get around the vetoes of the Soviet Union and the United States.38

In light of what Aron had been saying about the FRG since 1956, those harsh words simply mean that he did not suspect the German chancellor of such madness. Beyond his criticism of the totalitarian Nazi ideology, Aron considered Hitler a poor strategist. In The Century of Total War, he had called Hitler an adventurist: when he proved unable to take Britain out of the war in the summer of 1940, he came to a dead end, and could not imagine any other option but to expand war and wage it on too many fronts.39 While Hitler represented limitless ambitions and a self-destructive hubris, Konrad Adenauer, on the contrary, epitomized political wisdom with limited aims, based on a clear awareness of the geopolitical constraints. Furthermore, Aron did not believe in a Soviet pre-emptive strike against a European deterrent including West Germany. Either the U.S. would support the European deterrent and the Soviets would tolerate it, or they would not and neither the British nor the Germans would join it. Trachtenberg insists that the ‘European Settlement’ that took shape in 1963 was largely based on the Soviet trust in the American commitment as a stabilizing factor for Europe. He adds that still in 1990, the American guarantee was a major incentive for the Soviets to accept German reunification.40 For Aron, the existing balance of power in the early 1960s did not allow the FRG to make any move towards an independent military nuclear capability. Whatever the economic and technological potential of West Germany, its strategic and political dependence

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vis-à-vis the United States was such that it was impossible for Bonn to engage in a policy conceived against the will of Washington. When the Franco-German Élysée Treaty was signed, Aron’s comments made clear that de Gaulle’s grand strategy based on the Franco-German axis was doomed from the beginning: ‘No German government shall ever choose France against the United States’, wrote Aron six days after the signing of the Franco-German treaty.41 He added that ‘no French government, unless moved by immoderate ambition, should ignore the limits of the Franco-German duo’s power’, and this was before the German Bundestag decided, under American pressure, to add a preamble to the treaty which reaffirmed the priority of the West German commitment to NATO and thus deprived the Élysée Treaty of much of its strength and political significance.42 Marc Trachtenberg claims that Adenauer had ‘grossly misjudged the situation’ and that the U.S. had enough leverage in Bonn to get him removed from office by his own party in October 1963.43 Aron, who would not rub salt in the wound, made no comment on the retirement of the German chancellor. Aged eighty-seven, Adenauer was approaching the end of a long political career. However, the course of events, with the FRG sticking eventually to its NATO commitment and the American umbrella, against the attempt of a Franco-German strategy, was exactly what Aron had predicted.

In Defence of the FRG and Its NATO Commitment With the ‘Great Debate’ over, Aron then focused on a more theoretical approach of strategic issues. Germany was no longer at the core of his analyses. As far as we know, he did not comment on the German Luftwaffe’s Pershing Ia rockets armed with American nuclear warheads, probably because those weapons, integrated as they were into the Atlantic alliance, did not raise any political issues. In 1976, Aron nevertheless showed a renewed interest in Germany with his last masterpiece, Clausewitz, Philosopher of War, in which he claimed that ‘the bills of deterrence’ had to be paid when crises happened – and in that case, the showdown had to be won.44 Consequently, he warned the Europeans not to say ‘farewell to arms’.45 In the same year, Aron paid a vibrant tribute to Chancellor Adenauer in a memorial volume published for the centenary of his birth.46 Aron’s Clausewitz, which portrayed the author of On War as a liberal conservative and a passionate but moderate thinker, was interpreted as a friendly move by most German intellectuals and by the authorities of the FRG. In 1979, Aron was awarded the Goethe Prize

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and one year later the cross of the Verdienstorden der Bundesrepublik. Besides, Aron had vigorously taken sides with the government of the FRG when it had been confronted with the terrorist threat. Though essential, the nuclear balance was not the only aspect of the Cold War.47 Its very existence implied other kinds of confrontation and those had to be addressed as well. Although Aron never believed that France would ever let West Germany access nuclear weapons on its own, he concluded his 1963 essay The Great Debate: An Initiation to Atomic Strategy with the following statement: ‘Military independence may still be a good thing, but it is not the essential one. Morally as well as materially, integration in an alliance is better than loneliness, provided it contributes to increasing the chances of peace’.48 Aron, whose priority had always been the cohesion of the Atlantic alliance, would go on to criticize the principles of a strictly national deterrent, based on the idea of ‘nuclear sanctuarization’.49 According to him, the French doctrine implied that the sanctuary should be limited to the national territory alone. Would the French First Army stationed in the FRG take part in the defence of the German territory, or would it only fight to protect the approaches of France? The question was raised when France decided to leave NATO’s integrated military command in 1966 and partly solved through the Ailleret-Lemnitzer agreement in 1967. It was revived when the Pluton rockets were deployed in the mid-1970s.50 Based in France and having a short range, they could only be fired at targets located in Germany. Moreover, they epitomized a nuclear strategy at odds with NATO’s: while NATO intended to raise the nuclear threshold, the French were determined to do exactly the opposite. Again, Aron would write in support of the Atlantic alliance. Under the presidency of Valéry Giscard d’Estaing (1974–81), some public statements were made towards the idea of ‘extended deterrence’, but the concept never materialized, and when Mitterrand was elected in 1981, France seemed to come back to the traditional doctrine of the national sanctuary.51 Consequently, in June 1982, Aron wrote a preface to Colonel Manel’s essay L’Europe sans défense, in which the latter proposed a European deterrent, based on 324 mobile medium-range ballistic missiles, equipped with enhanced radiation warheads. It gave Aron the opportunity to reaffirm his commitment to the Atlantic alliance, based on his conviction that ‘the defence of France, if it means the defence of the country’s freedom, cannot be separated from the defence of Europe’. Moreover, Aron emphasized the discrepancy between the French doctrine of deterrence, based on the national sanctuary, and the premise of infallible deterrence: ‘How strange is the dialogue between the French and their chief. Mitterrand

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the candidate reassured his fellow citizens by telling them he would push the button, of which they were not afraid, ready to admit that the enemy would not doubt their president’s resolve, in which they do not believe’.52 When the USSR deployed the SS-20 missiles in the late 1970s, Aron supported NATO’s double track decision, made in 1979: should negotiations for the withdrawal of the SS-20s fail, NATO would deploy 572 Euromissiles to counter them, including 108 highly accurate PershingIIs. However, Aron was lukewarm about Mitterrand’s speech at the Bundestag in January 1983, in which the French president supported the deployment of the U.S. missiles, thus helping Chancellor Helmut Kohl confronted with widespread pacifist demonstrations. Maybe Aron knew that Mitterrand was in fact reinstating the French doctrine of the national sanctuary. He nevertheless intended to resist the Peace Movement’s campaign against the Pershings, that had become the symbol of the trial of strength between Europe and the USSR. The demonstration in Vincennes was in his view ‘a masterstroke’ of the communists.53 On 17 October 1983, when Aron suddenly died, the crisis had not yet been overcome.

Conclusion Georges-Henri Soutou, in his foreword to the book by Christian Malis, Raymond Aron et le débat stratégique français, claims that Aron ‘was not really an Atlanticist’.54 In December 1964, Aron had explained his position in an article against the nascent French strike force: ‘The defence of Europe may become, someday, strictly European. Yet, it shall become so only after a long phase of Atlanticism’.55 As a matter of fact, Aron was closer to the American conceptions than to the French or German nuclear concerns. Perhaps because he had been fascinated by the intellectual refinements of nuclear strategy discussed with the American elite during his stay at Harvard University in 1960, he then under-estimated de Gaulle’s need to reassert France’s status within the Atlantic alliance. While Aron claimed that France should be treated exactly like the United Kingdom, he certainly under-estimated the American determination to counter de Gaulle’s Franco-German design. The polemical comparison with Maurras was unfair, because the pragmatism of the great statesman had nothing in common with the doctrinaire theoretician of integral nationalism. Similarly, even though Aron showed some empathy with the Germans’ concern about a limited nuclear war happening on their soil, he nevertheless endorsed the strategy of flexible response because his paramount aim, from 1947 to 1983, was always the cohesion of the Atlantic alliance.56

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Joël Mouric

Joël Mouric teaches history in Brest (France). He is an associate researcher at the University of Western Brittany. His thesis, Raymond Aron et l’Europe (Presses Universitaires de Rennes), was awarded the Raymond Aron prize in 2011.

Notes  1. R. Aron, Les Guerres en chaîne (Paris: Gallimard, 1951), 413. Emphasis added.  2. R. Aron, Le Grand Schisme (Paris: Gallimard, 1948), 32. Aron, ‘Les alternances de la paix belliqueuse’, Le Figaro, 26 February 1948. The foreign policy articles published in Le Figaro were reprinted in three volumes: Aron, Les Articles du Figaro, edited and presented by G.-H. Soutou, vol. 1: La Guerre froide 1947–1955 (Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 1990); Vol. 2: La Coexistence 1955–1965 (Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 1994); Vol. 3: Les Crises 1965–1977 (Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 1997). Aron, Le Grand Schisme, 13.  3. As early as 1945, Aron vehemently opposed those who, like Wladimir d’Ormesson, were envisioning a dismemberment of Germany. He could identify three positions on Germany in the French press: the first, following the legacy of Maurras or Bainville, was to take advantage of Germany’s defeat to undo Bismarck’s achievement of German unity. The second was inherited from Barrès or Poincaré. It consisted in seeking guarantees either by annexations or occupation of the Rhineland. It was still the position of the Gaullists. The third position was represented by Léon Blum: it was based on Franco-German reconciliation, once a democratic Germany was re-established. While Aron supported the idea of reconciliation, he also knew that it would take some time. In his eyes, the second position, more realistic, might be the right one, but he warned that Poincaré’s mistakes in the aftermath of the First World War should not be repeated. He concluded that a middle way had to be found between ‘the untimely dream of a reconciliation’ and ‘the anachronistic memory of the former German states’. See R. Aron, ‘Remarques sur la politique étrangère de la France’ (June 1945), reprinted in Chroniques de guerre: La France Libre (Paris: Gallimard, 1990), 963–64. For a historical view of the French post-1945 debate regarding Germany, see G. Maelstaf, Que faire de l’Allemagne? Les responsables français, le statut international de l’Allemagne et le problème de l’unité allemande, 1945–1955 (Paris: Ministère des affaires étrangères, Direction des archives, 1999); M. Creswell and M. Trachtenberg, ‘France and the German Question, 1945–1955’, Journal of Cold War Studies 5(3) (2003), 5–28; F. Bozo and C. Wenkel (eds), France and the German Question, 1945–1990 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2019).  4. Thucydides, The Peloponnesian War, trans. Martin Hammond (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), III, 82–84.  5. R. Aron, ‘Nouvelle carte du monde’, Point de vue, 4 May 1945.  6. Aron Papers, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, NAF 28060, box 1, ‘Perspectives sur l’avenir de l’Europe’ (Lectures at the ENA, November 1946); on Aron’s role within the RPF, see L. Bonfreschi, Raymond Aron et il gollismo 1940–1969 (Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino, 2014).  7. R. Aron, ‘De Berlin à Nankin’, Le Figaro, 4 December 1948.  8. R. Aron, ‘Le Pacte atlantique’, Liberté de l’esprit, no. 3, April 1949; É. Gilson, ‘L’alternative’, Le Monde, 2 March 1949; Gilson, ‘L’équivoque’, Le Monde, 6–7 March 1949.  9. C. Mauriac, Un autre de Gaulle, journal 1944–1954 (Paris: Hachette, 1970), 342 (22 March 1949). 10. L. Szilard, ‘Shall We Face the Facts?’, Bulletin of Atomic Scientists 5(10) (October 1949), 269–73; R. Aron, ‘The Atomic Bomb and Europe’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 6(4) (April 1950), 110–14.

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11. R. Aron, ‘Discours aux étudiants allemands par Raymond Aron’, Preuves 18–19 (August–September 1952), 3–9. The Stalin notes, released from March to August 1952, were aimed at undermining the cohesion of the Western alliance. They were based on the proposal, made to the FRG, that the Soviet Union might accept German reunification if the new unified Germany were to be neutral. See R. Steininger, The German Question: The Stalin Note of 1952 and the Problem of Reunification (New York: Columbia, 1990). 12. Aron, Les Guerres en chaîne, 245 and 394. 13. R. Aron, Espoir et peur du siècle (Paris: Gallimard, 1957), 59–61. 14. Formulated in 1955 by a key figure of the West German Foreign Office, Walter Hallstein, this doctrine stipulated that the FRG would neither establish nor maintain diplomatic relations with any state recognizing the existence of the GDR (with the exception of the Soviet Union). 15. R. Aron and D. Lerner (eds), La Querelle de la CED: Essais d’analyse sociologique (Paris: Armand Colin, Cahiers de la Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, 1956), 209–12. 16. C. Malis, Pierre-Marie Gallois: Géopolitique, histoire, stratégie (Paris: L’Âge d’homme, 2009). 17. Aron, Espoir et peur du siècle, 310–11: ‘Therefore, the problem of “proportionality” (graduation) between retaliation and action only exists about Europe. It is in Europe that the all-or-nothing alternative endures’. Aron made a difference between the ‘great deterrent’ and the ‘graduated deterrent’. He is arguably one of the forerunners of the flexible response. See C. Malis, Raymond Aron et le débat stratégique français, 1930–1966 (Paris: Economica, 2005), 443–48; R. Aron, ‘A l’âge atomique, peut-on limiter la guerre?’ (1955), reprinted in Etudes politiques (Paris: Gallimard, 1972), 479–94. 18. On War is the third part of Espoir et peur du siècle. 19. C. von Clausewitz, On War, ed. and trans. Michael Howard and Peter Paret (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976), VIII, 6A. 20. R. Aron, ‘La leçon du “Rayon Bleu”’, Le Figaro, 5 May 1960. 21. Aron, Espoir et peur du siècle, 270. 22. R. Aron, ‘Pour faire aboutir l’Euratom’, Le Figaro, 23 January 1956. 23. C. Barbier, ‘Les négociations franco-germano-italiennes en vue de l’établissement d’une coopération militaire nucléaire au cours des années 1956–1958’, Revue d’histoire diplomatique 1–2 (1990), 81–113. See also Jenny Raflik’s chapter in the current volume. 24. H. Möller, Franz-Josef Strauß, Herrscher und Rebell (Munich: Piper, 2016), 184–204: ‘Atomwaffen in der Bundesrepublik?’, in ch. 9. 25. R. Aron, ‘Ligne Maginot de l’ère atomique’, Le Figaro, 5 October 1956; ‘La querelle de la force de frappe. Pour une solution de compromis’, Le Figaro, 21 November 1960: ‘Indeed, the few dozen Mirage IVs, carrying A bombs, represent by no means a deterrent’. 26. R. Aron, ‘Maurrassisme et gaullisme’, Le Figaro, 17 December 1964. See also G.-H. Soutou (ed.), Entre la vieille Europe et la seule France: Charles Maurras, la politique extérieure et la défense nationale (Paris: Economica, 2009). 27. R. Aron, ‘Y a-t-il un grand dessein gaullien?’, Le Figaro, 8 and 11 February 1963. 28. Malis, Raymond Aron et le débat stratégique français, 684. 29. R. Aron, ‘La France est-elle isolée?’, Le Figaro, 5 November 1963. 30. M. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999), viii–ix, 401. 31. Appendix VI: http://www.sscnet.ucla.edu/polisci/faculty/trachtenberg/appendices/ appendixVI.html. Bundy to Aron, 24 May 1962, NSF/71a/France. General/JFK Library. 32. Aron, ‘La France est-elle isolée?’. 33. R. Aron, Paix et guerre entre les nations (Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1962), 575. 34. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 234.

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35. R. Aron, ‘Les accords de Paris’, Le Figaro, 25 October 1954, in Les articles du Figaro, I, 1300–06. 36. On the controversial topic of West German nuclear intentions, see Andreas Lutsch’s chapter in this volume. 37. R. Aron, Le Grand Débat (Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1963), 107–8. 38. Ibid., 188–89. 39. Aron, Les Guerres en chaîne, 50–54. 40. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 401–2. 41. R. Aron, ‘Les paradoxes ne sont pas tous à Paris’, Le Figaro, 28 January 1963, in Les articles du Figaro, I, 1141. 42. On the diplomatic crisis following the signature of the Élysée Treaty, see B. Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée: De Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969 (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2007), 29–67 and 143–53. 43. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 377. 44. R. Aron, Penser la guerre, Clausewitz, vol. I L’âge européen, vol. II L’âge planétaire (Paris: Gallimard, 1976), II, 139–40. 45. Aron, Penser la guerre, Clausewitz, II, 286. 46. R. Aron, ‘Das außenpolitische Konzept Konrad Adenauers’, in H. Kohl (ed.), Konrad Adenauer 1876–1976 (Stuttgart: Belser, 1976), 30–36. 47. R. Aron, ‘Nous sommes tous des cochons allemands’, L’Express, 24 October 1977. 48. Aron, Le Grand Débat, 273. 49. Aron, Penser la guerre, Clausewitz, II, 178–79 and 241. The concept of sanctuary is always related, though tacitly, to the nuclear strategy of Pierre Marie Gallois. 50. R. Aron, ‘Fusées Pluton: le choix symbolique’, Le Figaro, 18 July 1975. 51. For a more detailed view of Mitterrand’s reinterpretation of the concept of sanctuary, see in particular Ilaria Parisi’s, Dominique Mongin’s and Frédéric Bozo’s chapters in this volume. 52. R. Aron, preface to M. Manel, L’Europe sans défense (Paris: Berger-Levrault, 1982), 15. 53. R. Aron, ‘Imposture du pacifisme’, L’Express, 24 June 1983. 54. Malis, Raymond Aron et le débat stratégique français, 11. 55. R. Aron, ‘La loi-programme militaire. J’aurais voté contre’, Le Figaro, 7 December 1964. 56. R. Aron, ‘Le débat atlantique: les conceptions allemandes’, Le Figaro, 2 January 1963.

Bibliography Primary Sources Aron Papers, Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, NAF 28060, box 1, ‘Perspectives sur l’avenir de l’Europe’ (Lectures at the ENA, November 1946). Letter of Bundy to Aron, 24 May 1962, NSF/71a/France. General/John Fitzgerald Kennedy Library.

Literature Aron, R. ‘Nouvelle carte du monde’. Point de vue, 4 May 1945.  . ‘Remarques sur la politique étrangère de la France’ (June 1945), reprinted in Chroniques de guerre: La France Libre (Paris: Gallimard, 1990).  . Le Grand Schisme. Paris: Gallimard, 1948.

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 . ‘Le Pacte atlantique’. Liberté de l’esprit, no. 3, April 1949.  . ‘The Atomic Bomb and Europe’. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 6(4) (April 1950), 110–14.  . Les Guerres en chaîne. Paris: Gallimard, 1951.  . ‘Discours aux étudiants allemands par Raymond Aron’. Preuves 18–19 (August–September 1952), 3–9.  . ‘A l’âge atomique, peut-on limiter la guerre?’ (1955), reprinted in Etudes politiques (Paris: Gallimard, 1972), 479–94.  . Espoir et peur du siècle. Paris: Gallimard, 1957.  . Paix et guerre entre les nations. Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1962.  . Le Grand Débat. Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1963.  . Penser la guerre, Clausewitz, vol. I L’âge européen, vol. II L’âge planétaire. Paris: Gallimard, 1976.  . ‘Das außenpolitische Konzept Konrad Adenauers’, in H. Kohl (ed.), Konrad Adenauer 1876–1976 (Stuttgart: Belser, 1976), 30–36.  . ‘Nous sommes tous des cochons allemands’. L’Express, 24 October 1977.  . Preface to M. Manel, L’Europe sans défense (Paris: Berger-Levrault, 1982).  . ‘Imposture du pacifisme’. L’Express, 24 June 1983.  . Les Articles du Figaro, ed. and presented by G.-H. Soutou, vol. 1: La Guerre froide 1947–1955; vol. 2: La Coexistence 1955–1965; vol. 3: Les Crises 1965–1977. Paris: Éditions de Fallois, 1990, 1994, 1997.  . ‘Les alternances de la paix belliqueuse’. Le Figaro, 26 February 1948.  . ‘De Berlin à Nankin’. Le Figaro, 4 December 1948.  . ‘Les accords de Paris’. Le Figaro, 25 October 1954.  . ‘Pour faire aboutir l’Euratom’. Le Figaro, 23 January 1956.  . ‘Ligne Maginot de l’ère atomique’. Le Figaro, 5 October 1956.  . ‘La leçon du “Rayon Bleu”’. Le Figaro, 5 May 1960.  . ‘La querelle de la force de frappe. Pour une solution de compromis’. Le Figaro, 21 November 1960.  . ‘Le débat atlantique: les conceptions allemandes’. Le Figaro, 2 January 1963.  . ‘Les paradoxes ne sont pas tous à Paris’. Le Figaro, 28 January 1963.  . ‘Y a-t-il un grand dessein gaullien?’. Le Figaro, 8 and 11 February 1963.  . ‘La France est-elle isolée?’. Le Figaro, 5 November 1963.  . ‘La loi-programme militaire. J’aurais voté contre’. Le Figaro, 7 December 1964.  . ‘Maurrassisme et gaullisme’. Le Figaro, 17 December 1964.  . ‘Fusées Pluton: le choix symbolique’. Le Figaro, 18 July 1975. Aron, R., and D. Lerner (eds). La Querelle de la CED: Essais d’analyse sociologique. Paris: Armand Colin, Cahiers de la Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, 1956. Barbier, C. ‘Les négociations franco-germano-italiennes en vue de l’établissement d’une coopération militaire nucléaire au cours des années 1956–1958’. Revue d’histoire diplomatique 1–2 (1990), 81–113. Bonfreschi, L. Raymond Aron et il gollismo 1940–1969. Soveria Mannelli: Rubbettino, 2014. Bozo, F., and C. Wenkel (eds). France and the German Question, 1945–1990. New York: Berghahn Books, 2019.

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Clausewitz, C. von. On War, ed. and trans. Michael Howard and Peter Paret. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1976. Creswell, M., and M. Trachtenberg. ‘France and the German Question, 1945– 1955’. Journal of Cold War Studies 5(3) (2003), 5–28. Gilson, É. ‘L’alternative’. Le Monde, 2 March 1949  . ‘L’équivoque’. Le Monde, 6–7 March 1949. Maelstaf, G. Que faire de l’Allemagne? Les responsables français, le statut international de l’Allemagne et le problème de l’unité allemande, 1945–1955. Paris: Ministère des affaires étrangères, Direction des archives, 1999. Malis, C. Raymond Aron et le débat stratégique français, 1930–1966. Paris: Economica, 2005.  . Pierre-Marie Gallois: Géopolitique, histoire, stratégie. Paris: L’Âge d’homme, 2009. Mauriac, C. Un autre de Gaulle, journal 1944–1954. Paris: Hachette, 1970. Möller, H. Franz-Josef Strauß, Herrscher und Rebell. Munich: Piper, 2016. Schoenborn, B. La mésentente apprivoisée: De Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2007. Soutou, G.-H. (ed.). Entre la vieille Europe et la seule France: Charles Maurras, la politique extérieure et la défense nationale. Paris: Economica, 2009. Steininger, R. The German Question: The Stalin Note of 1952 and the Problem of Reunification. New York: Columbia, 1990. Szilard, L. ‘Shall We Face the Facts?’ Bulletin of Atomic Scientists 5(10) (October 1949), 269–73. Thucydides. The Peloponnesian War, trans. Martin Hammond. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009. Trachtenberg, M. A Constructed Peace. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999.

Chapter 2

France and the Abandoned Dream of a European Bomb, 1954–58 Jenny Raflik

Introduction

S

hortly after the creation of the Atlantic Alliance in 1949, relations between NATO allies rapidly deteriorated, especially due to the ‘German issue’: as soon as the Americans suggested rearming Germany in 1950, the French turned towards a European option to avoid integrating the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) into NATO, and developed the project for a European Defence Community (EDC). Other factors destabilized the Alliance, such as the United States’ refusal to come to France’s rescue in Dien Bien Phu in 1954. But it was especially the United States’ pressure on France to ratify the EDC, and most notably its threat of an ‘agonizing reappraisal’ of American policy, as John F. Dulles put it – that is, the U.S. preference for Germany over France – that slowly, and progressively, undermined France’s confidence in its American allies. The Suez Crisis only confirmed the shortcomings of transatlantic solidarity, and illustrated the differences between the Europeans’ and Americans’ positions.1 The combination of Russian nuclear threats and American economic, political and military pressures forced the French and the British to accept the ceasefire. The United States had clearly made their choice, preferring third-world rather than transatlantic solidarity. Paris immediately learned certain lessons. The first concerned NATO’s inefficacy. The French trusted false information leaked by the Americans through NATO headquarters and services. Moreover, the operational record revealed the inadequacies of joint training programmes, even

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though such programmes had been carried out within NATO by the French and the British for several years. Hence, the second lesson: the credibility of the U.S. nuclear deterrence was on the wane in the eyes of the Allies. Faced with a risk of nuclear confrontation, the fear of American withdrawal became increasingly stronger. The American nuclear force alone was not sufficient to protect Europe. Doubts increased in 1957, through the combined effect of an Anglo-American rapprochement in terms of nuclear weapons and the launch of Sputnik by Moscow. The entire geostrategic dynamic had changed. But more interesting yet, the Germans came to the same conclusion and also questioned the limits of U.S. commitment in Europe. From this Franco-German convergence on the shortcomings of transatlantic cooperation emerged the project for a European nuclear bomb.

An Assessment Shared by France and Germany: The Shortcomings of Transatlantic Cooperation The unease was fuelled by the Anglo-American monopoly on nuclear weapons within the Alliance, and the resulting uncertainties. The nuclearization of the Atlantic strategy exacerbated these uncertainties. France did not refuse such nuclearization. The Alliance’s lack of conventional forces seemed to make it inevitable. How would it be possible to stand up against the Soviet armoured divisions with the forces available to NATO? The issue was not so much whether to use nuclear arms, but rather Europeans’ lack of knowledge about the weapons and the possibilities of using them. Hence, in 1954, the French asked their Anglo-American allies for a tripartite exchange of views on atomic weapons, outside of the Atlantic Council.2 This exchange took place through the Standing Group. In August 1954, the Standing Group officially concluded that the atomic bomb must be a key element of any military action in a major conflict. NATO allies’ atomic and thermonuclear action had to be unconditional and instantaneous. Atomic capabilities had to be integrated into the coalition’s armed forces.3 This did not solve the question of who controlled those capabilities. Should they be entrusted to NATO or remain under the control of the American government? In addition, General Jean Étienne Valluy, who succeeded General Paul Ély as head of the French delegation to the Standing Group, stressed that Western Europe, which would become a base capable of launching atomic strikes, would therefore also become the primary target for Soviet atomic strikes, without any control over its

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own defensive capabilities in the nuclear domain:4 ‘Obviously, unconditional and immediate recourse to nuclear arms did not mean that higher commands would, in times of peace, have the right to initiate, by their own authority, a response with nuclear arms’.5 It would thus be necessary to study in much finer detail the conditions for using such arms in order to respond as quickly as possible in case of sudden attack, while still guarding against any abuse or potential error. This would not be possible as long as the McMahon Act was in effect in the United States. Tensions over the nuclear issue suddenly grew in 1957 due to the combined effect of British-American rapprochement and the Sputnik crisis. After the Suez Crisis, France and Germany had recognized the need to gain autonomy from the United States; the British, on the other hand, decided to embrace their so-called ‘Special Relationship’ even more closely, beginning with nuclear weapons. In March 1957, the Bermuda Agreement confirmed the cooperation between the United States and Great Britain on the issue of nuclear weapons. On 15 May, the British exploded their first H-bomb. In April of the same year, the White Paper transformed the very foundation of British policy on defence. By formulating a strategy of nuclear deterrence, the paper announced a simultaneous and progressive reduction of troops, especially those stationed in Germany. Not only did these measures reinforce the one-to-one relationship between the Americans and the British that the French feared and had been combatting since the Second World War, but they also rekindled the fear that British and American forces would physically leave the continent. The situation lent credence to the theory of an Anglo-American return to a peripheral strategy in which the European continent would be abandoned to the Soviets and to nuclear attacks. In October, the Sputnik crisis finalized the transformation of the geostrategic context: The Americans had shuddered at the idea that the USSR, armed with the absolute weapon and guaranteed a crushing superiority over the U.S., could one day contemplate a preventive attack, focusing their intercontinental missiles upon the U.S., while ignoring Europe, which was not yet a part of the external nuclear deterrent and was being held at bay by the threat of invasion. And in this hypothesis, the fear was that this residual Europe would fall into the Soviet orbit even before the United States was completely defeated.6

Indeed, even before the confidence crisis provoked by the launch of Sputnik, Dwight D. Eisenhower had already announced to Congress in January 1957 his decision to establish new nuclear-armed commands in support of allies, without specifying where they would be located.

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But the United States already had delivery systems on French soil capable of carrying out nuclear strikes: the jet fighter aircraft F-100 Super Sabres. And in early 1957, the American ambassador informed the Quai d’Orsay of a project for an exchange of letters, by which France would authorize the United States to introduce non-conventional weapons on the French territory. The 1952 Schuman-Dunn agreement formally banned such a move. The French government did not oppose the requested revision, but intended to set their conditions. On 2 May 1957, before the North Atlantic Council gathered in Bonn, the French minister of foreign affairs Christian Pineau explained that nuclear stockpiles would be the first target of any attackers. If these arsenals were located within Europe, the governments of the countries in question must have a right to inspection and control. He thus asked that these stockpiles be placed under the authority of SACEUR – that is, under the control of NATO – which would represent a measured form of multilateralism, since SACEUR was automatically an American general. But although the request was nuanced, it created a division within the American military. SACEUR himself, General Lauris Norstad, was in favour of a NATO-controlled nuclear stockpile, but the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff considered it dangerous to relinquish this control, even though it would be to an American general.7 The response to the launching of Sputnik was nearly immediate. On 25 October 1957, following a three-day meeting in Washington, Eisenhower and British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan published a ‘Declaration of Common Purpose’ in which they reaffirmed their solidarity and their role in defending the West: ‘for our part we regard our possession of nuclear weapons power as a trust for the defense of the free world’.8 At the same time, Eisenhower announced a revision of the McMahon Act, in order to authorize the U.S. government to share nuclear secrets with allies. First of all, it stated that other friendly countries – and not only Great Britain – could take advantage of this revision. Even though the change gave hope to the French, it likewise reminded them that the ‘Special Relationship’ between the British and the Americans was strengthening and that the two countries had discussed nuclear issues in a bilateral context. Moreover, France was once again experiencing a ministerial crisis. However, on 29 October, the French ambassador Jean Chauvel sent a telegram from London: according to Macmillan, the Americans would agree to cooperate on nuclear matters with their European allies through the Western European Union (WEU).9 Chauvel reiterated the comment on 31 October, but this time insisted on the fact that pressure should be maintained.10 American overtures offered hope for transatlantic cooperation on the nuclear issue. The North Atlantic Council, which met from 16 to 19

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December under the chairmanship of Paul-Henri Spaak (who succeeded Lord Ismay as the secretary-general of NATO), would discuss the topic. The French head of government Félix Gaillard declared that France, Germany and Italy condemned any discrimination concerning modern weapons, and announced that the three countries had agreed to collaborate in this domain; but he carefully avoided mentioning that agreements had already been signed, as we will see below. He offered extensive cooperation to all other NATO members and presented a French project for a large Western foundation dedicated to fundamental scientific research in the area of security (which had already been proposed in the United States in November).11 The North Atlantic Council did not adopt a position on the French proposals, which were overshadowed by Dulles’ official announcement that the United States was planning to install intermediate-range ballistic missiles (IRBMs) on the territories of NATO member countries: If the Council accepts, the United States is prepared to supply intermediaterange missiles to NATO member countries and to use them in compliance with SACEUR’s plan in order to strengthen NATO’s deterrent capability. The nuclear warheads of these IRBMs will be part of NATO’s nuclear system. The installation of these IRBMs will be carried out once an agreement has been concluded between, on the one side, SACEUR and the host country, and on the other side, the United Sates and the country concerned.12

The United States was willing to provide NATO allies with Thor and Jupiter missiles. At that time, Washington was counting on these IRBMs with a range of 2,400  km, to neutralize Soviet intercontinental missiles capable of reaching American soil. It was an interim solution, before the U.S. finalized their own ICBMs (intercontinental-range ballistic missiles). The terms were strict. Only the delivery systems (i.e. the missiles themselves) would be given to allied armies. In accordance with the McMahon Act, nuclear warheads would remain under American control and would only be entrusted to SACEUR in case of war. At the same time, Dulles offered to provide atomic-powered submarines to any NATO countries who requested them. The North Atlantic Council’s final communiqué applied this principle: The Soviet leaders, while preventing a general disarmament agreement, have made it clear that the most modern and destructive weapons, including missiles of all kind, are being introduced in the Soviet armed forces. … We are therefore resolved to achieve the most effective pattern of NATO military defensive strength, taking into account the most recent developments in weapons and techniques.

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To this end, NATO has decided to establish stocks of nuclear warheads, which will be readily available for the defence of the Alliance in case of need. In view of the present Soviet policies in the field of new weapons, the Council has also decided that intermediate range ballistic missiles will have to be put at the disposal of the Supreme Allied Commander Europe. The deployment of these stocks and missiles and arrangements for their use will accordingly be decided in conformity with NATO defence plans and in agreement with the states directly concerned.13

For the time being, this public statement was merely an exercise in purely declaratory deterrence. Indeed, before the nuclear stockpiles could be effectively deployed and dispersed among the allies’ territories, studies by NATO states would be necessary, followed by negotiations between the United States and concerned nations. Jacques ChabanDelmas, France’s minister of defence, did not hide the fact that he found these statements dangerous, as they could not be immediately put into action. The French government, nonetheless, took the American proposals into advisement. As it happens, in December 1954, the French head of government Pierre Mendès France had decided to construct a nuclear submarine. But the project (called ‘Q 244’) was based on a heavy water reactor utilizing natural uranium, a system that posed large technical difficulties. In this context, the American proposal offered an alternative to the French stalemate. As for establishing nuclear stockpiles in continental Europe, on 6 February 1958, the French National Defence Committee approved the exchange of letters requested by the Americans in mid-1957. But, following the advice of the Committee, Félix Gaillard’s government imposed certain conditions: the French government must be informed of the location of the stockpiles; the weapons may only be used by mutual agreement; and Franco-American nuclear cooperation must be developed in the military sphere, which appeared to be possible with the announcement of a revised McMahon Act. In addition, Gaillard wanted these future stockpiles to be for the use of all armed forces assigned to NATO – that is, for the French as well as the Americans. In sum, the French government rejected the Anglo-American monopoly on atomic weapons and was proposing NATO-wide cooperation. In response, on 19 March 1958, General Norstad submitted a new text concerning the deployment of these arms in France, but the French government hesitated and delayed their decision. In April, Norstad specified the American offer: Thor and Jupiter missiles, with a range of 2,400  km, would be provided for free, with only the installation of a launching platform to be paid for by the recipients.

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However, in 1957–58, rumours about the presence of American nuclear weapons on French soil began to spread. The French press published critical statements, sometimes strongly worded, on the subject. Moreover, the campaign led by the Communist and Gaullist parties compounded the situation. Circumstances combined to foster a climate of suspicion, which hindered the decision-making process in France. Moreover, the amendment to the Atomic Energy Act, announced by Eisenhower in October 1957 and enacted on 2 July 1958, stipulated that only countries having already made substantial progress in the development of nuclear weapons could benefit from the offer. The restrictive wording of the amendment appeared to put an end to any French hopes of cooperating with the United States in the nuclear domain.

Overcoming the Transatlantic Crisis through a Renewed European Initiative? The 1956 Report of the Committee of Three established a relationship between European integration and Atlantic cooperation: Adherence to NATO is not exclusive or restrictive. Nor should the evolution of the Atlantic Community through NATO prevent the formation of even closer relationships among some of its members, for instance within groups of European countries. The moves toward Atlantic cooperation and European unity should be parallel and complementary, not competitive or conflicting.14

Nevertheless, when they had proposed a European Defence Community (EDC) in October 1950 and subsequently, the French had often perceived the European framework as a means of coping with excessive American pressure. Their logic was simple: if France could not impose its views alone in face of the U.S. government, it would have to go beyond the scope of bilateral discussions with Washington. There were two ways to do so: multilateralism within NATO (but the Americans’ ubiquitous presence in all transatlantic bodies made this hypothesis decreasingly viable) or the European framework. By presenting itself as a leader of the European nations – that is, by speaking not in its own name, but as a representative of a European bloc within the Alliance – France hoped to lend credence to its own voice. Therefore, without creating an actual break with the United States, Europeanism was fuelled by crises within the transatlantic community, especially in 1954, the year of the final failure of the EDC, and in 1956, with the Suez Crisis.

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After the failure of the EDC, the WEU became a mere expedient to provide a framework for West German rearmament and to accompany the FRG in its integration into NATO. The 1954 failure showed that political and military integration was not the easiest route for advocates of a united Europe. The only path left was economic. Thus was the conclusion of the meeting of the six ECSC (European Coal and Steel Community) member states’ foreign ministers in Messina, on 1–2 June 1955. Their resolution stressed this point: ‘The moment has come to go a step further towards the construction of Europe. … This step should first of all be taken in the economic field’.15 Jean Monnet quickly came up with the idea of creating a new community that would pool their nuclear capabilities in the civil sector. Another idea also circulated: that of a common market with a harmonization of social policies. Following the conference in Messina, a preparatory conference composed of delegations from the six member states of the ECSC met under the chairmanship of the Belgian minister of foreign affairs, Spaak. As a first step, the delegations completed a report, on 21 April 1956. The ministers of foreign affairs of the six countries, who met at the Venice Conference on 29 and 30 May 1956, approved the general principles of the report and ordered the Brussels Conference to draw up two treaties based on the text: one dedicated to the economic matters, and the other to issues related to nuclear energy. This time, the conference was intergovernmental. In France, general elections in January 1956 produced a pro-European majority in the National Assembly. It should be noted, however, that there was a permanent ambivalence between this process of European integration and transatlantic policy. Hence, at the congress in Montrouge in May 1956, a foreign policy motion, voted in by the MRP (‘Popular Republican Movement’), mentioned the party’s ‘wholehearted commitment to the principles of a European policy, an essential complement for the Atlantic Alliance or for a future Atlantic community’.16 In the same period, the NATO Committee of Three was working to develop cooperation among NATO allies in the non-military sector. There was obvious hope of seeing the transatlantic community become something more than just a military alliance. The Suez Crisis had a catalytic effect on the negotiation of the Treaties of Rome. On the European Atomic Energy Community (‘Euratom’), for example, negotiations were at a standstill on the issue of the military applications of atomic energy. France wanted to obtain the possibility of developing a military programme independently of the Community, while the five other European states were very reticent on this subject. During Chancellor Adenauer’s trip to Paris, on 6 November 1956, as the

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Suez Crisis was coming to an end, the German leader made an essential concession: he accepted that fissile material intended for military programmes of member states be excluded from control by the Community. He was thus acknowledging the legitimacy of the French nuclear programme. By casting doubt among Europeans on the Americans’ willingness to defend Europe, the Suez Crisis had helped make compromise easier among the Six and had accelerated the process of negotiation. The treaties were signed in Rome on 25 March 1957: Broadly speaking, we can distinguish three large subdivisions: an institutional part that establishes the common institutional structure of the European Economic Community, the European Atomic Energy Community and the existing European Coal and Steel Community. … The substantive provisions, in terms of the European Economic Community, that establish a general common market for all goods and services, capital, and people. … The substantive provisions, in terms of the European Atomic Energy Community, that establish the economic and other regulations related to the common development of atomic energy by the six countries.17

At that very moment, the Anglo-American monopoly on nuclear weapons was putting a strain on transatlantic solidarity. The implementation of the European Atomic Energy Community was a first response. Its aim was to ‘create joint coordinated research, a sufficient exchange of information, joint programmes, and, if required, joint ventures that guarantee necessary investment, but in a way that does not hinder individual effort, which, in a fast-growing field such as the nuclear field, is even more essential than in other economic sectors’.18 It focused on the civilian uses of nuclear energy, of course, but the military domain was never totally absent, given the dual nature of many technologies in that area.

Conquering the Atom in Order to Wield Influence in the Alliance? On 7 April 1954, in a press conference, General Charles de Gaulle had already declared: [France] must have a policy that is its own, and not simply a unilateral adaptation of its action to the policy of others. It requires a system of defence that is, of course, proportionate to its resources and associated with that of its allies, but is also autonomous and balanced. It must also be an atomic power. That is why I created the High Commission [i.e. the French Atomic Energy Commission or CEA] in 1945. Thanks to the work it has accomplished, it is up to us to acquire nuclear weapons, and thus to afford ourselves the ability to

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provide assistance in defence by responding to an attack, to be empowered to offer, with the required authority, the controls and limitations without which cosmic cataclysm cannot be averted.19

The French General Pierre Marie Gallois published articles in line with this statement in the Revue de Défense Nationale in 1955 and 1956.20 In an op-ed article in Le Monde, published on 7 December 1956, Félix Gaillard explained the necessity for a French atomic policy. France needed to be able to resort to a nuclear threat in any given conflict if the United States was reluctant to do so, by playing the card of dissuasion du faible au fort (‘weak-to-strong deterrence’) – that is, by letting the Soviets know that the destruction they would incur from a European nuclear weapon would not be compensated by the conquest of a Europe ravaged by war. It was vital for national security. But under what conditions should France obtain an atomic weapon? Could it do it alone? Marshal Alphonse Juin repeatedly declared that France could not afford it. Could France do it within NATO? We have already seen that the United States was hardly enthusiastic about sharing their secrets with the French. But what about within a European framework? With which partners?

Early National Ambitions France’s efforts in the nuclear domain started very early. In 1952, Gaillard, who had learned a lot about nuclear issues from Bertrand Goldschmidt – a French nuclear scientist and one of the creators of the CEA – pushed for the first five-year plan, which was passed under the Pinay government. The plan foresaw the construction of two graphite-moderated reactors and one plutonium extraction facility. It was aimed at developing the civilian uses of nuclear energy, but did not exclude the possibility of a military programme. Studies were also conducted by the French armed forces, in competition with the CEA. Yet their goal was more to study ways of protecting against nuclear weapons than to determine how to acquire them. These military studies were first conducted by the Service des poudres and the Enseignement militaire supérieur scientifique et technique. In 1950, the Section technique de l’armée de Terre (the technical unit of the army) created the ‘groupement Y’, especially intended for the study of nuclear issues. In 1951, the Direction des études et fabrications d’armement created an atomic department. Then, in 1952, the Commandement des armes spéciales became responsible for coordinating all the work being done by the different bodies within the army.

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In 1954, the studies took a different turn, due to the combined effect of the defeat at Dien Bien Phu, the failure of the EDC, and the adoption of a strategy of massive retaliation by the United States. The geostrategic gap between nuclear powers and the other states became overwhelming. How could one wield influence in the nuclear age without possessing nuclear weapons? Therefore, Mendès France’s government decided to construct a nuclear submarine and the atomic bomb. Mendès France created the Comité des explosifs nucléaires by decree on 4 November 1954, under the chairmanship of Jean Crépin, then secretary-general for national defence.21 After Mendès France’s cabinet fell, Edgar Faure’s government continued work only on the submarine. According to Bertrand Goldschmidt, there were at that time vague rumours about a possible European bomb.22 But the idea of a national atomic bomb persisted. Gaston Palewski, the deputy minister in charge of nuclear questions, doubled the budget of the five-year plan passed in 1952. In 1956, Guy Mollet’s government secretly authorized the CEA to prepare experimental atomic explosions. But the construction alone of an isotope separation plant would cost 60 billion francs. The funds required were considerable, especially given the ongoing Algerian War. In that difficult economic climate, Euratom was essential. European nuclear cooperation in the civilian sector helped simultaneously increase financial resources and technical abilities. With research being done in Chatillon, Saclay or Marcoule, France alone had two thousand engineers and scientists at work on the subject, compared to fifteen thousand in the United States. But it was important that Euratom not hinder the future French military programme. The Suez Crisis raised awareness of the urgent need to obtain the nuclear weapon. On 30  November 1956, Maurice Bourgès-Maunoury, minister of defence, and Georges Guille, the secretary of state responsible for atomic energy, allocated the duties between the CEA and existing organizations in the army, entrusting the leading role in the implementation of the military nuclear programme to the CEA. On 5 December, the Comité des applications militaires de l’énergie atomique, presided over by the Chief of Staff of National Defence, was created to coordinate the activities of the CEA and the army. Previously, in February 1956, a ‘weaponry’ cabinet had been put in place in the Ministry of Defence and entrusted to General Gaston Lavaud. France was organizing efforts to pursue its nuclear programme in the best way possible. The second five-year plan was passed in July 1957 and included the construction of an isotope separation plant. Immediately afterwards, the decision was made to locate the nuclear test site in Reggane, in the Sahara Desert. Finally, by decree on 11 April 1958, Gaillard, who had

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been responsible for the first five-year plan, decided to purchase land in Pierrelatte, and set the date of France’s first nuclear test for the first quarter of 1960.

Europe-Wide Nuclear Cooperation? What is particularly interesting is that these national initiatives were being carried out at the same time as negotiations with Washington to establish IRBMs in Europe – for which the French were requesting an exchange of information with the Americans on nuclear programmes – and as efforts towards increased Europe-wide cooperation. Indeed, at the same time as Eisenhower was announcing before Congress his intention to create new nuclear commands within NATO, Franz Josef Strauss, the West German minister of defence, met with his French counterpart, Bourgès-Maunoury; on 17 January 1957, in ColombBéchar, the two signed a secret agreement for bipartite collaboration (the Colomb-Béchar protocol). The aim of this text was to put into place ‘close cooperation in terms of military doctrine and armaments and, to this end, … to coordinate their resources and their scientific, technical and industrial means’.23 In order to develop this cooperation, the two ministers created a Franco-German military committee. According to General Lavaud: The role of this committee [was] to establish a programme of action aimed at: – harmonizing the military doctrines of both countries regarding the organization, rules of engagement, and armament, of their armed forces, especially with respect to new weapons [i.e. nuclear weapons], and creating the means of combat needed to implement these doctrines; – immediately carrying out joint studies on armaments that meet the general characteristics approved by both parties, as well as technical research in fields that are jointly recognized to be of interest in the development of new equipment, and, for this to happen, formalizing implementing agreements between the two governments, including in the area of research and development; – promoting a joint armaments programme.24

The Colomb-Béchar protocol covered all military programmes, either conventional or nuclear. It was very general. All that remained was to steer its implementation. After the ministerial crisis of October 1957, Jacques Chaban-Delmas replaced Bourgès-Maunoury as minister of defence. Strongly opposed to cooperation with the United States and determined that France obtain the atomic bomb, he met his German counterpart on 20 November.25 Chaban-Delmas proposed to Strauss that

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German researchers come and work with French scientists in the existing organizations in France. The 1954 Paris Agreements indeed banned the FRG from manufacturing nuclear arms in its own territory, but there was no such ban against collaborating on the manufacturing of these arms in a neighbouring country. West Germany’s concern was to maintain utmost secrecy – domestically, since pacifist movements were strong, and abroad, because the West German leaders involved were fearful that both the Soviets and the Anglo-Americans would strongly object to any West German involvement in a military nuclear programme. As for the French, their concern was to keep control of the works being done. Chaban-Delmas’ proposal satisfied all involved. The two ministers agreed on a method and the schedule. The first step would be an immediate meeting of the bilateral military committee as agreed upon at Colomb-Béchar. Next would come a trilateral agreement to be signed with the Italians, who were also interested in nuclear programmes. In his speech at the December 1957 NATO summit, Félix Gaillard would reaffirm the principle of non-discrimination among members of NATO in terms of new weaponry. Then, a secret meeting could be arranged with the British and the Americans to discuss the possibility of sharing nuclear information.26 Summarizing the meeting between Chaban-Delmas and Strauss to his ambassadors, Christian Pineau wrote: Only after the NATO meeting and depending on the response that will be made, will we be able to determine in which areas studies and manufacturing may be carried out in collaboration with our Anglo-Saxon allies, and in which areas this may, and should, be done only at the European level.27

Did Pineau hope that the Americans and British would agree to help the Europeans, and to establish the large Western foundation for fundamental research that Gaillard also wanted to propose to NATO allies at the December council? Perhaps. If so, the Franco-German core would naturally be inserted in the transatlantic bloc. However, when Pineau met Dulles in New York on 19 November, he did not mention at all the ongoing discussions with the West Germans.28 On 25 November, Gaillard talked to Macmillan about equality within NATO and about potential Franco-British cooperation on nuclear issues.29 Macmillan objected to the French proposals by evoking the restrictions imposed by the McMahon Act; and once again, Gaillard made no mention of the Franco-German agreements, or of the trilateral agreement that was signed that very day by France, Italy and Germany (often called the F-I-G agreement).

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This agreement repeated the same terms as the Colomb-Béchar protocol, but made them more specific, in particular by explicitly referring to nuclear weapons.30 The three countries committed to operating within the double context of the WEU and NATO, but emphasized the ‘specific problems of the European countries within the Alliance’. Their cooperation concerned, first and foremost, aircraft, missiles and the ‘military applications of nuclear energy’. This wording was sufficiently vague to cover, in case the agreement was leaked, an array of possibilities, from a nuclear bomb to, for example, merely modes of propulsion for submarines. The trilateral agreement included provisions for informing NATO and the WEU regarding the future developments of this cooperation, but only on the basis of a reciprocal exchange of information. The provisions were thus consistent with calls for equal status among NATO members in this regard. All in all, the agreement was very broad and helped make the creation of a true European strategic community conceivable. These intra-European discussions were taking place in a more general context of international negotiations on disarmament. Nikolai Bulganin, Premier of the Soviet Union, had sent a new message to Western nations on 14 December 1957. The F-I-G discussions were thus top secret, so as not to impact the disarmament negotiations or negatively influence public opinion. In their meeting on 17 January 1958, Pineau at last spoke to British Secretary of State Selwyn Lloyd about the 25 November protocol, but assured him that it did not cover nuclear weapons. Adenauer and Strauss affirmed the same thing to the Americans, and similar denials were offered in response to questions from WEU partners on 12 February.31 The agreement was eventually shown to the WEU and to NATO only on 16 April, but without the section on nuclear weapons.32 One reason may be because, in early March 1958, Dulles had warned the French ambassador in Washington, Hervé Alphand, that the United States was ready to accept putting an end to nuclear testing as part of global disarmament negotiations, which Selwyn Lloyd confirmed. Such a move would compromise French-German-Italian efforts. Just mentioning the idea was enough to deepen the discontent of the French with the Americans: this ‘concession’ made to the Soviets looked like a specific attempt to prevent other countries from joining the nuclear weapons club. European collaboration thus progressed with the next logical step of the tripartite protocol: the signature in April 1958 of the Strauss–ChabanDelmas–Taviani secret agreements for an isotope separation plant. The agreements laid out the funding: 45 per cent for France, 45 per cent for Germany and 10 per cent for Italy. This decision was extremely important. It potentially marked the first step towards the H-bomb.

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Conclusion At that point in 1958, the Fourth Republic had pushed hard in its efforts for European nuclear cooperation, opening the way for a European bomb. But it had also ensured it could go it alone, thanks to steps it had taken since the Second World War. All the initiatives implemented by the governments of the Fourth Republic regarding nuclear matters thus reveal a strong continuity of purpose. Even Guy Mollet, who was initially hostile to the building of a French atomic bomb, participated in the process, and actually hastened it when he rose to power. It is also important to note that the leaders of the Fourth Republic never considered the building of French or European nuclear weapons as incompatible with Atlantic and European integration. On the contrary, they saw European cooperation on nuclear issues and the conquest of the atom as ways of strengthening Europe’s voice within NATO and of saving the Alliance from a possible American withdrawal. De Gaulle’s rise to power marked a departure from these policies only insomuch as he abruptly ended cooperation in the nuclear sector with Italy and West Germany. He preserved only what concerned conventional weapons in the previously signed agreements. Little by little, France set out to build the bomb alone. De Gaulle also ended discussions with the United States on the deployment of IRBMs. In the end, only three NATO countries accepted the 1957 American proposal: Great Britain, Turkey and Italy. All the others refused. Here again, one must qualify the break between Gaullist policies and the Fourth Republic as a whole, because negotiations on IRBMs between Paris and Washington had stalled since December 1957, and the various French governments had so far ceded nothing. Jenny Raflik is Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Nantes. She is a specialist in security and defence issues. Her book publications include Terrorisme et mondialisation (Gallimard, 2016) and La République moderne: la IVe République, 1946–1958 (Points, 2018).

Notes  1. For French intervention in Suez, see G. Elgey, ‘Le gouvernement Guy Mollet et l’intervention de Suez’, in M. Vaïsse (ed.), La France et l’opération de Suez de 1956 (Paris: CEHD, 1997), 27–28. For the nuclear consequences of Suez and the naval operations, see J. Sokolosky, Seapower in the Nuclear Age: The U.S. and NATO 1949–1980 (Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1991).

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 2. Note from Service des Pactes to the president, regarding the tripartite conversation on atomic weapons, très secret, 14 April 1954, General Ély, 1K233-28, Service historique de l’armée de terre (hereafter SHAT), Vincennes.  3. Letter from Général de corps d’armée Valluy, head of the French delegation to the Standing Group, to the Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army, Washington, no. 542DFGP/ TS, très secret, 13 August 1954, DPMF/CED2, Institut Pierre Mendès France (hereafter IPMF), Paris.  4. Letter from Général de corps d’armée Valluy, head of the French delegation to the Standing Group, to the Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army, regarding the consequences for France if adopting the ‘plan des possibilités’ established by SACEUR, no. 729DFGP/TS, très secret, 4 November 1954, 1R182/1, SHAT.  5. Telegram from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to the French Embassies in Washington and London, 20 November 1954, DPMF/CED3, IPMF.  6. A. Juin, Mémoires, vol. 2: Libération de la France, avènement de la IVe République (1944– 1947), Maroc (1947–1951), Alliance atlantique (1951–1958) (Paris: Fayard, 1960), 312.  7. O. Pottier, Les bases américaines en France (Paris: l’Harmattan, 2003), 72.  8. Documents on American Foreign Relations, 1957 (New York: Harper, 1958), 135.  9. Telegram from Chauvel to Pineau, no. 5941-5951, 29 October 1957, Documents diplomatiques français (hereafter DDF), 1957-II, 609–12. 10. Telegram from Chauvel to Pineau, no. 5974-5983, 31 October 1957, DDF, 1957-II, 617–19. 11. Telegram from Etienne de Crouy-Chanel to Christian Pineau, no. 50529, DDF, 1957-II, 929–31. 12. Documents on American Foreign Relations, 1957, 102. 13. Final communiqué of the North Atlantic Council, convened on 16–19 December 1957, and chaired by P.H. Spaak, NATO, www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_17551. htm (accessed 4 August 2021). 14. C-M(56)127, ‘Report of the Committee of Three on Non-Military Co-Operation in NATO’, 13 December 1956, NATO, www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_17481.htm (accessed 4 August 2021). 15. Resolution adopted by the six Foreign Ministers of the ECSC Member States, Messina, 3 June 1955, ‘Négociations des traités instituant la CEE et la CEEA (1955–1957)’, vol. CM3, Archives historiques du Conseil de l’Union européenne, Brussels (available online on the CVCE site, www.cvce.eu/obj/resolution_adopted_by_the_foreign_ministers_of_the_ecsc_member_states_messina_1_to_3_june_1955-en-d1086bae-0c134a00-8608-73c75ce54fad.html, accessed 4 August 2021). 16. ‘Foreign policy motion’, vol. 350AP29, French National Archives (FNA), Pierrefittesur-Seine, quoted by J.-P. Brunet, ‘Le MRP et la construction européenne, 1955–1957’, in S. Berstein, J.-M. Mayeur and P. Milza (eds), Le MRP et la construction européenne (Brussels: Complexe, 1993), 242. 17. C.F. Ophüls (Ambassador of the FRG), ‘La relance européenne’, in Conseil de l’Europe, Annuaire européen (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1958), 3–19, http://www.cvce.eu/ viewer/-/content/315497e0-d8ca-4cd4-8129-40a8cea529a8/en. 18. Ibid. 19. C. de Gaulle, Discours et messages, vol. IV (Paris: Plon, 1970), 284. 20. P.M. Gallois, ‘Défense aéronucléaire’, Revue de Défense Nationale (May 1955), 603–13; ‘Limitation des armes à grand pouvoir de destruction’, Revue de Défense Nationale (December 1956), 1485–96. 21. D. Mongin, ‘Genèse de l’armement nucléaire français’, Revue historique des armées 262 (2011), 9–19, http://rha.revues.org/index7187.html. 22. B. Goldschmidt, Le complexe atomique (Paris: Fayard, 1980), 116.

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23. Series ‘Secrétariat Général’, vol. 63, Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs (AFMFA), La Courneuve, quoted by G.-H. Soutou, ‘Les accords de 1957 et 1958: vers une communauté stratégique nucléaire entre la France, l’Allemagne et l’Italie?’, Matériaux pour l’histoire de notre temps 31 (1993), 3. 24. Général de Division Lavaud to the Secrétaires d’état Air, Mer et Terre and to the Chief of the General Staff of the Armed Forces, 2 February 1957, no. 001560/DN/CAB/ARM. TS, E 2905, Service historique de l’armée de l’air (SHAA), Vincennes, quoted by G. Bossuat, L’Europe des Français, 1943–1959: la IVe République aux sources de l’Europe communautaire (Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1997), 343. 25. Telegram from Pineau to the ambassadors of France in Bonn and Rome, no. 46784685/2871-2878, 20 November 1957, DDF, 1957-II, 717–18. 26. Soutou, ‘Les accords de 1957 et 1958’, 1–12. 27. Ibid. 28. Telegram from Hervé Alphand to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, no. 50169-50178, 19 November 1957, DDF, 1957-II, 711–13. 29. Minutes of Franco-British conversations on 25–26 November 1957, meeting between Félix Gaillard and Harold Macmillan, DDF, 1957-II, 770–77. 30. Protocol among the Minister of the Defence and the Armed Forces of the French Republic, the Minister of the Defence of the FRG, and the Minister of the Defence of the Italian Republic, très secret, Paris, 25 November 1957, DDF, 1957-II, 762–63. 31. Soutou, ‘Les accords de 1957 et 1958’. 32. C. Barbier, ‘Les négociations franco-germano-italienne en vue de l’établissement d’une coopération militaire nucléaire au cours des années 1956–1958’, Revue d’histoire diplomatique 104(2) (1990), 110–11.

Bibliography Primary Sources Documents on American Foreign Relations, 1957. New York: Harper, 1958. Documents diplomatiques français, 1957, t. II. Institut Pierre Mendès France, Paris. Service historique de l’armée de terre, Vincennes.

Literature Barbier, C. ‘Les négociations franco-germano-italienne en vue de l’établissement d’une coopération militaire nucléaire au cours des années 1956–1958’. Revue d’histoire diplomatique 104(2) (1990), 81–113. Bossuat, G. L’Europe des Français, 1943–1959: la IVe République aux sources de l’Europe communautaire. Paris: Publications de la Sorbonne, 1997. Brunet, J.-P. ‘Le MRP et la construction européenne, 1955–1957’, in S. Berstein, J.-M. Mayeur and P. Milza (eds), Le MRP et la construction européenne (Brussels: Complexe, 1993), 233–50. De Gaulle, C. Discours et messages, vol. IV. Paris: Plon, 1970. Elgey, G. ‘Le gouvernement Guy Mollet et l’intervention de Suez’, in M. Vaïsse (ed.), La France et l’opération de Suez de 1956 (Paris: CEHD, 1997), 27–42.

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Gallois, P.M. ‘Défense aéronucléaire’, Revue de Défense Nationale (May 1955), 603–13.  . ‘Limitation des armes à grand pouvoir de destruction’, Revue de Défense Nationale (December 1956), 1485–96. Goldschmidt, B. Le complexe atomique. Paris: Fayard, 1980. Juin, A. Mémoires, vol. 2: Libération de la France, avènement de la IVe République (1944–1947), Maroc (1947–1951), Alliance atlantique (1951–1958). Paris: Fayard, 1960. Mongin, D. ‘Genèse de l’armement nucléaire français’. Revue historique des armées 262 (2011), 9–19. http://rha.revues.org/index7187.html. Pottier, O. Les bases américaines en France. Paris: l’Harmattan, 2003. Sokolosky, J. Seapower in the Nuclear Age: The U.S. and NATO 1949–1980. Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1991. Soutou, G.-H. ‘Les accords de 1957 et 1958: vers une communauté stratégique nucléaire entre la France, l’Allemagne et l’Italie?’. Matériaux pour l’histoire de notre temps 31 (1993), 1–12.

Chapter 3

From Bonn to Valhalla?

West German Nuclear Ambitions, France and U.S. Nuclear Assistance, 1960–63 Andreas Lutsch

Introduction

I

n the early 1960s, the necessity of accurately interpreting the nuclear ambitions of the leaders of the Federal Republic of Germany posed a complicated and crucial challenge to ‘Western’ policymakers, diplomats, military leaders and intelligence officers. Developing a non-erroneous understanding was significant. Various understandings emerged over time, and people had to make up their minds in one way or another. There was much confusion about German nuclear ambitions, and ambiguities were at times also played up if deemed useful. This was the case, for example, when British Prime Minister Harold Wilson during an Anglo-American summit in late 1965 once again sought to protect the British ‘independent’ deterrent and undermine the idea of a NATO collective nuclear force with German participation by the subtly malicious comment: ‘We were all guessing as to what the Germans really wanted’.1 Some officials and leaders in ‘Western’ governments were better informed and more knowledgeable about German nuclear ambitions than others, given the ways in which bureaucracies worked, intelligence informed policy and leaders interacted. As decision-making processes unfolded, particularly during the uncertain international environment of the Berlin Crisis, the thinking of the better informed was pushed and pulled back and forth by a clutter of assumptions, arguments, counterarguments, speculation, estimates, gossip, hearsay, suspicions and emotions.

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Interpretations of German nuclear ambitions held by individual officials formed the basis for consideration and implementation of various policies, particularly American policies, which were related to German nuclear ambitions in two ways. First, policies could be designed to directly aim at and proactively shape these ambitions. An example of this variant was the American attempt to reassure European allies, particularly non-nuclear allies and especially Germany, by transforming NATO into a ‘nuclear alliance’. Pursuant to the seminal decisions taken by the North Atlantic Council in December 1957, a NATO Atomic Stockpile was established, intermediate-range ballistic missiles (IRBMs) were to be deployed on the European continent, and the U.S. promised to support a European production programme for mobile IRBMs.2 Though this transformation was motivated by several factors, including the need to balance against the Soviet Union more robustly in light of a rapidly growing Soviet nuclear threat, one factor was that U.S. allies were to be offered an incentive for not pursuing national nuclear weapons programmes. The second variant was that potential or actual policies were assessed or pursued in light of their indirect bearing on German nuclear ambitions as anticipated by policymakers and officials. A major example was the issue of how German nuclear ambitions would be affected if the U.S. government – despite a profound tendency of American reservation against the possession of nuclear weapons by any state other than the United States of America – helped Britain to stay in or France to join the nuclear club more quickly and at a lower cost by granting either or both of them some sort of American ‘nuclear assistance’. As the evidence indicates, this was a sensitive issue in the late 1950s and early 1960s in particular. The question of whether to help France was usually seen as being much more sensitive than the U.S. policy of assisting Britain. Unlike Britain, France did not control a nuclear capability before 1964 and was not yet a ‘thermonuclear power’. With the Gerboise Bleue test of 13 February 1960, France had commenced the testing of nuclear weapons. But France had, in the eyes of many in the U.S. government during the Eisenhower and Kennedy years, not yet made ‘substantial progress in the development of atomic weapons’ required to qualify for U.S. nuclear assistance.3 At the same time, it remained a matter of legal and political interpretation which forms of potential or actual help could or had to be seen as assistance to the French effort to acquire nuclear forces. More specifically, it remained a matter of exegesis whether certain forms of help amounted to direct assistance to the French nuclear weapons programme even if they did not relate to nuclear bombs or warheads as such but, for example, to delivery vehicles. Hence, the meaning of the concept of ‘nuclear assistance’ itself was subject to exploration, though the Anglo-American ‘special

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relationship’ appeared to reveal a potential template for what ‘nuclear assistance’ might mean more generally. Though U.S. policy vis-à-vis the French nuclear weapons programme at times conveyed an appearance of opposition, a complexity-sensitive understanding is warranted: France was not fully exempted from the U.S. policy of not assisting states to become nuclear powers.4 Yet, particularly from 1960 onwards, a chorus of voices within the U.S. government reached a crescendo, claiming that, in the case of France, the ‘substantial progress’ proviso should be looked at less restrictively or that at least assistance should be granted that would be relevant to a French nuclear capability, though not to the production of nuclear weapons. A basic question at the time pertained to potential second order effects of any such U.S. assistance. Most importantly: what impact would U.S. nuclear assistance to France have on German nuclear ambitions? In retrospect, the question is: what impact did ‘Western’ leaders and officials expect that American ‘nuclear assistance’ to France would have on German nuclear ambitions? The spectrum of answers ranged from allclear signals – ‘an insignificant impact’ – to red flags – ‘Germans will ask for similar or equal treatment’. This chapter seeks to offer a parsimonious analysis of this sensitive and convoluted issue. It is focused on assessments between 1960 and 1963 and is divided into three parts. Part one argues that, in thinking about German nuclear ambitions at the time and in retrospect, it was and remains important to anchor analyses of these ambitions in a certain presumption of basic rationality. Part two, the main part of the chapter, sketches contours of relevant ‘Western’ assessments between 1960 and 1963, with a focus on American assessments. Part three concludes the chapter. Scholars who have examined the question as to why states build nuclear weapons usually stress that ‘multicausality’ is key to explaining individual cases.5 Depending on the case and the approach of scholars, the emphasis is put on domestic politics, norms such as desire for prestige and, most importantly, security concerns such as a nuclear threat posed by an enemy or loss of confidence in the nuclear protection provided by a patron ally like the United States of America. Yet, the important question – How does nuclear assistance granted by a nuclear power to an allied nuclear power in-the-making impact on the nuclear ambitions of other non-nuclear allies? – has not been made the subject of systematic investigation in the scholarship on the causes of nuclear proliferation, nuclear deterrence, assurance of allies, alliances and the Cold War. Historical accounts emphasize the major political difficulties between France and the U.S. in the early 1960s in moving towards a more cooperative relationship in strategic deterrence.6 Other accounts focus on the specifics

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and limitations of the blossoming Franco-American nuclear cooperation relationship in the post-de Gaulle era.7 Analytic accounts on the option of nuclear-armed states like the U.S. to provide nuclear assistance to emerging or existing nuclear powers are rare.8 Recent accounts examined responses of the U.S. governments under Eisenhower and Kennedy to the French nuclear weapons programme.9 These works contributed to an erosion of the ‘notion of France as a fully independent nuclear power’.10 Thus far, the issue of potential second order effects of such cooperation on other non-nuclear states and Germany in particular has not been made the subject of specific investigation.11 Moreover, the issue of how nuclear assistance to an allied nuclear power in-the-making impacts on the nuclear ambitions of non-nuclear allies apparently plays very little role in the so-called demand-side analyses of the causes of nuclear proliferation, that is, analyses that seek answers to the question of what motivates states to build nuclear weapons.12 Nevertheless, this issue is relevant to the debate about whether nuclear proliferation begets nuclear proliferation, for example, in the sense of a chain reaction or a domino effect, especially in regional contexts.13 One can ask whether the further spread of nuclear weapons, particularly in an alliance context, will be more likely if a nuclear power or a proliferator (a nuclear power in-themaking) receives nuclear assistance from an ally.

A Presumption of Basic Rationality A candid U.S. Department of Defense paper of autumn 1962 observed that thinking within the U.S. government about the spread of nuclear weapons leaned strongly towards the ‘axiomatic’ view that the spread was enormously dangerous and that it had to be prevented. Other strands of government opinion cautioned that a breakdown of NATO – a worst-case scenario, but by no means an irrelevant one, given widespread doubts especially about U.S. nuclear protection – would be much more dangerous than a certain spread of nuclear weapons within the alliance. Second, it was an ‘exaggeration’ to say that an ‘accidental or willful explosion of a nuclear weapon anywhere would necessarily trigger all weapons in a global holocaust’. Finally, American allies were ruled by ‘responsible governments which have everything to lose and nothing to gain should nuclear war ever break out on the continent’.14 This perceptive logic could be read as though it was meant to apply to the potential case of West Germany and not just to France on its way to acquiring a nuclear deterrent. The paper ended with an ambiguous statement. It suggested that Germany’s incentives to acquire nuclear weapons

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were lower than often alleged. But it also insinuated that it may well not trigger the end of the world if Germany were to become a nuclear power: Views about the Germans are clouded by much emotionalism from the two world wars and by clichés about the willingness of Germans to follow any powerful leader to Valhalla. … [C]onsidering the political forces which have become dominant in West Germany since 1945, the vast change since the 1930s in the power context in which any German political leadership must operate, and the manifestly suicidal character of any reckless policy, the chances seem very good that West German policy will continue to be cautious and responsible.15

Put differently, the paper claimed that a certain presumption of basic rationality also applied to West German decision-making and nuclear ambitions. It seemed contradictory to suggest that German leaders would risk going to ‘Valhalla’ for the sake of seeking nuclear weapons; it also seemed strangely unreal to hint that, if the latter was wrong, Germans would ‘follow’ their ‘leader’; and it seemed overconcerned not to rule out the worry that Germany ‘does not see its interests’ and might hence act ‘irrationally’.16 A presumption of basic rationality implied at least two things. First, in light of West Germany’s interests, the division of Germany and the structure of the Cold War, the disadvantages of seeking nuclear weapons may well outweigh potential advantages in the West German case. This sort of assessment seemed to be reflected in the many public and confidential signals sent out by German leaders such as Chancellor Konrad Adenauer when they denied an interest in transforming West Germany into a nuclear power unless circumstances changed fundamentally.17 Second, the Western experience of West German policy since 1945 and the surmise that West Germans were capable of weighing policy options dispassionately suggested that, even if and when Germans felt compelled by fundamental changes (for example, in the international environment) to seek nuclear arms, the incentives for German ‘responsibility’ and the disincentives to ‘adventurism’ would be phenomenal. Thus, seeking prior allied agreement on the acceptability of German proliferation seemed to be a central requirement of ‘responsible’ German policy. The rationality presumption suggested that this must also be the way West Germans viewed this hypothetical situation. Power realities also dictated that Germany must view the U.S. as Germany’s most important ally in this respect. In other words, estimates at the time seemed compelling when they judged that ‘it is highly unlikely, for both military and political reasons, that Germany would take a decision to produce or acquire nuclear weapons against American wishes’.18 A central issue as

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to why West Germany in particular would want to secure some sort of prior consensus with its allies, and first and foremost with the United States, was ‘transition instability’, that is, the danger of strategic instability during a transitional phase until West Germany controlled survivable nuclear forces of a certain size and composition.19

Costs of Cutting Costs? The issue of how German nuclear ambitions would be affected if the U.S. government helped France to join the nuclear club more quickly and at a lower cost by granting it some sort of American ‘nuclear assistance’ posed a central policy question to ‘Western’ – and particularly to American – policymakers and officials particularly between 1960 and 1963. In the case of the Anglo-American ‘special relationship’, the issue of U.S. nuclear assistance was much less controversial with regard to potential second order effects of the aforementioned kind. Still, amendments to U.S. atomic energy legislation and the subsequent Anglo-American Mutual Defence Agreement (MDA) of 3 July 1958 created incentives for non-nuclear U.S. allies like France to consider the view that America might ultimately accept and manage a certain spread of nuclear weapons within NATO, provided that the allied nation in question was determined to acquire nuclear weapons anyway. The U.S. policy option of managing allied proliferation also entailed the possibility that the U.S. might grant U.S. nuclear assistance at some point, not as an act of charity but of national interest and hence perhaps in return for certain quid pro quos. All of this had to be seen in the context that U.S. policy was based on a central preference: ‘The United States was by no means anxious to encourage the proliferation of nuclear weapons states and would have preferred that neither France nor the United Kingdom develop nuclear forces’.20 The question of potential U.S. nuclear assistance to France became more urgent from early 1960. France had tested a first nuclear fission device on 13 February 1960. Several nuclear tests followed in the early 1960s. However, France was still far away from a position of controlling nuclear forces. In view of the high priority that France assigned to the nuclear enterprise, failure in acquiring a strategically exploitable nuclear capability seemed unlikely but possible with a low probability, especially in the absence of U.S. assistance. In this context, the discussion about U.S. nuclear assistance was indicative of seemingly paradoxical trends. Given the division of Europe, the novel situation of an intensifying Soviet challenge to NATO over Berlin,

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a rapidly growing Soviet nuclear threat, the increased importance of containment also in a military sense, and an expectation of future nuclear parity between the superpowers, the United States became more politically dependent on and militarily entrenched in Europe. At the same time, Europe’s and also Britain’s military dependence on America was greater in the early 1960s than at any point in the past. As Alastair Buchan observed in 1961, for all the nostalgia and rhetoric of national pride in Europe, particularly in countries like France or Britain, one cannot avoid the conclusion that the strategic pre-eminence of the United States … is likely to increase whatever the strategic policy of Britain, France or the other European NATO allies, and whatever their leaders may feel or say about the impossibility of being dependent on another country for their ultimate survival.21

In other words, whether nuclear-armed or not, American allies in Europe had to depend on NATO and U.S. nuclear protection to ensure their survival and strategic stability in Europe, while it remained in the American interest to balance against the Soviet Union by cooperating with European states which contributed substantially to collective defence. The majority of French policymakers, for example, realized ‘quite clear[ly] that the force de frappe offers France no possibility of becoming independent of the protection of the U.S. nuclear deterrent’.22 However, because the U.S. felt compelled by the strategy of containment to play the role of the extraregional and vastly superior hegemon in Europe, it appeared vindicated in the case of NATO to think that ‘the spread of nuclear weapons among members of an alliance changes relations among them without breaking alliances apart’.23 Seen through this lens, the spread of nuclear weapons in the alliance could neither overturn the bipolarity of the international system into a ‘multipolar’ one, nor could it alter the nuclear balance into one that was no longer dominated by the superpowers, nor could it ‘end’ a more attenuated U.S. hegemony in NATO. These structural considerations suggested that an Nth country ally’s policy of acquiring nuclear weapons may have less radical implications for the polarity of the international system, the military balance between East and West, and U.S. hegemony within NATO than it may prima facie appear. Hence, the spread of nuclear weapons may appear to ‘nuclear capable’ non-nuclear NATO allies as a phenomenon with very incisive but structurally attenuated, not incalculable, and even positive consequences regarding the Western defence posture. What is more, the rise of such a perception may be encouraged if non-nuclear allies – for example, Germany – witnessed if and when a nonnuclear power on its way to becoming a nuclear power – for example,

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France – received U.S. nuclear assistance to acquire nuclear forces more quickly and at a lower cost. Did or could this logic apply to the unique case of West Germany? Apart from the structural developments sketched above, it seemed natural to assume that the pressure on Germany to consider acquiring nuclear weapons was growing – at least perhaps from a purely military point of view. There was not only a general debate, particularly in the early Kennedy years, about the credibility of U.S. extended nuclear deterrence in the face of a massively growing Soviet threat. In light of the British and French allegedly ‘wasting money’ on strategic deterrence, there was also the question of why it should be the best choice for West Germany as a frontline state to expand the conventional role of the Bundeswehr, so that dependence on nuclear strategy – the real guarantor of German security – might be reduced, while a flexible response strategy, including the spectre of limited nuclear war, would become more plausible.24 If U.S. President John F. Kennedy was right when he hypothesized that ‘the logical course for each country was to have its own deterrent’, why would Germany be an exception to the rule?25

1959/60 U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower seemed to have viewed the French nuclear weapons programme as a legitimate effort of self-defence by a traditionally close ally, liberal democracy and sovereign state that had to rely on America for its survival at least in the next few years. Because Britain and France were determined to control nuclear weapons anyway, Eisenhower accepted these realities, even if he remained ‘loath to see independent nuclear forces’.26 The U.S. unsuccessfully attempted to ‘dissuade France from producing nuclear weapons’ by offering France the NATO Atomic Stockpile, including U.S. nuclear weapons in France for use by French forces under NATO command. Deploying IRBMs in France turned out to be impossible. Under de Gaulle, France was committed to making progress in its nuclear weapons programme, refused to allow the storage of U.S. nuclear weapons in France, was unwilling to take part in NATO’s integrated air defence system under SACEUR command, challenged existing command and control arrangements of Western naval forces in the Mediterranean, and signed a Program of Cooperation with the U.S. on 27 July 1961 which only regulated the supply of U.S. nuclear weapons to French army and air force units under NATO command in West Germany.27 By and large, the French programme had to be undertaken as a national effort. Nevertheless, President ‘de Gaulle was … interested in obtaining

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assistance from the United States to accelerate the French atomic effort’.28 Even de Gaulle wanted ‘to save time and money’.29 There was, therefore, a persistent French interest in acquiring a range of items such as materials (e.g. highly enriched uranium), delivery vehicle components (e.g. missile system components), equipment (e.g. nuclear submarine propulsion reactors) as well as classified information on weapons systems or weapons components. These and other assets could be gleaned from the United States (and to some extent even from Britain) in theory, but not yet in practice. As the French interest in assistance grew, the AngloAmerican MDA of 1958, including the proviso obliging Britain not to transfer assets originating from Anglo-American cooperation to third parties unless so authorized by the U.S., increasingly appeared as an element of ‘inequality’ in the American treatment of Britain and France. At the same time, the MDA also signalled an American willingness to provide nuclear assistance to selected allies, though the MDA did not necessarily appear as a desired model for American-French cooperation. Various difficulties blocked the evolution towards a more cooperative U.S.-French relationship. A U.S. policy of granting nuclear assistance to France did not materialize. Some enriched uranium for use in French submarine propulsion plants was sold by the U.S. in 1959, but the purchase of a submarine propulsion plant and the transfer of classified information relating to this were not forthcoming.30 Agreement in NATO on a NATO MRBM force did not come about either. This was also because the U.S. insistence on American custody and control of nuclear weapons in those MRBMs and on the preference of deploying MRBMs in France was not accepted by France, whereas the French position – France can hardly participate in a NATO MRBM programme ‘which does not include [the] virtually concurrent creation [of an] independent French missile capability’ – encountered American displeasure.31 By late 1960, the U.S. had oscillated to suggesting the alternative and vague concept of a ‘multilateral’ structure of a potential NATO MRBM force, which was even more unattractive to the French government. Despite a realization that it seemed infeasible to railroad such drastic policy change through the U.S. Congress until the end of President Eisenhower’s tenure, the period of 1959/60 showed that an increasingly influential school of thought within the U.S. government made the case for being less restrictive in defining the ‘substantial progress’ proviso of the Atomic Energy Act and for assisting the French nuclear programme by ‘exchanging information, materials, and weapons’.32 One argument was to thereby ‘maximize the degree of influence that the United States could exert over the proliferation of independent nuclear capabilities’.33 The counterarguments prevailed for the time being. Central

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counterarguments were that the general U.S. policy of not encouraging the further spread of nuclear weapons and long-range ballistic missiles would be massively undermined if the U.S. made an exception for France. Specifically, such a reversal of policy would make it difficult for West Germany ‘to resist getting into this field’.34 Hence, the concern about second order effects on German nuclear ambitions was salient and an important element to justify the U.S. ‘hands-off policy toward France’.35

1961/62 American-French struggles about NATO reform, the transatlantic partnership and ‘grand designs’ for Europe intensified massively in the first two years of the Kennedy presidency. The U.S. government was now more conflicted about the degree to which (not yet existing) French nuclear weapons and nuclear forces would pose risks or enhance the security of the ‘West’. It also seemed that France ‘combat[ted] American influence wherever possible’.36 Disagreements on the management of the Berlin Crisis, the German question, military strategy and non-dissemination diplomacy between the superpowers led to a sense of mutual frustration and estrangement. Fundamental tensions also encroached on the relations between France and Britain.37 Franco-German relations, by contrast, at least appeared to flourish despite the failure of the Fouchet plans and the idea of establishing a European Political Union. One of the questions before the new U.S. government was whether a less restrictive American approach to the nascent force de frappe, including provision of nuclear assistance, would be beneficial, for example, in changing relations with France for the better and opening up possibilities for a closer alignment of national priorities on other matters such as the reform of NATO. Dean Acheson, who led a team with the task of advising Kennedy on U.S. NATO policy, concluded that this question was not the most important regarding the assistance issue; rather, the question of second order effects on Bonn was. As he revealed to Prime Minister Macmillan, who remained ‘skeptical of Acheson’s opinions’, the dilemma was that, if we helped the French, the Germans would insist on equal treatment. If we did not and the French persisted, they could only succeed by calling in the Germans. In either event the Germans would acquire nuclear power. Such a development would be very dangerous. It was not desired by Dr Adenauer.38

Kennedy’s initial policy directive stated accordingly that ‘the U.S. should not assist the French to attain a nuclear weapons capability’ and should not transfer long-range missiles to individual allies as components of a

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NATO MRBM force.39 As a general preference, it also stated ‘that use of nuclear weapons by the forces of other powers in Europe should be subject to U.S. veto and control’, while it was ‘desirable [over the long run] if the British decided to phase out of the nuclear deterrent business’.40 This policy directive had the potential of amounting to a campaign against British and French nuclear policy, if implemented aggressively. Macmillan, on the other hand, made the suggestion that Britain, with U.S. approval, approach France and offer a certain kind of assistance valuable to the French. Kennedy declined, questioning whether the U.S. Congress would be open to considering that and whether France was able to bear the full cost of acquiring a meaningful nuclear capability.41 Apart from these arguments, he appeared to be strongly influenced by pessimistic assumptions on second order effects on Germany. Kennedy explained in a letter to Macmillan: If we were to help France acquire a nuclear weapons capability, this could not fail to have a major effect on German attitudes. The fact that the Germans are not now tempted to join or imitate the French program is due, in small part, to US opposition to Nth country programs and to the uncertain prospect of the French (or any other) program in the absence of US aid. If we were now to provide aid to France, and thus signify a major reversal in our opposition to Nth country programs, the likelihood that the Germans would eventually wish to acquire a nuclear weapons capability would be significantly increased.42

In a very similar fashion, Kennedy informed de Gaulle in late 1961: What troubles us, decisively, in the case of a specifically French nuclear capability, is that if we should join in that effort, we would have no ground on which to resist certain and heavy pressure from the Germans for parallel treatment. Yet it is imperative that the Germans not have nuclear weapons of their own; memory is too strong, and fear too real for that.43

Did Kennedy mean it? Pessimistic assumptions on second order effects on Germany were unmistakably mentioned by Kennedy as a crucial factor in his calculus to refuse granting nuclear assistance to France. That, in turn, suggested that the president was in fact rather deeply concerned about the evolution of German nuclear policy. Throughout 1961, Kennedy also remained unmoved when the U.S. Ambassador to France, General James M. Gavin, repeatedly made the case for changing policy and assisting France in one way or another.44 But from early 1962 onwards, as the danger of a more acute Berlin Crisis seemed to recede gradually, more concrete discussion on potential U.S. nuclear assistance to France was permitted to continue. By this time, the mood on either side of the Atlantic was already stressed. It deteriorated further throughout

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1962. Even senior French officials complained bitterly that France was ‘tired’ of the ‘patronizing attitude’ of the U.S. government. American hints at the German problem in regard to potential U.S. nuclear assistance to France were apparently conceived as an obnoxiously easy excuse: France was not a little country to be pushed around. Why threaten it with German nuclear arms? … [T]he constant American harping on the peril of German nuclear arms was either childish or disloyal.45

Senior French officials agreed that America must not place France ‘on the same level with Germany’, that ‘German national possession of nuclear weapons’ would be ‘extremely dangerous’, but that, ‘as an argument against the U.S. helping France’, it was ‘irrelevant because Germany was so completely different from France’.46 Against this background, General Gaston Lavaud, the previous Chef d’État-Major des armées, ‘led a French purchasing mission to Washington in March 1962’. New rounds of reconsideration of U.S. assistance policy vis-à-vis the French nuclear weapons programme preceded and followed the visit.47 Throughout the spring of 1962, more detailed consideration of the issue with much back and forth on smaller and greater packages, American concessions, provisos and French quid pro quos, apparently did not succeed in producing a consistent or conclusive position within the U.S. government. Nevertheless, Kennedy had obviously permitted this round of elastic reconsideration, which was obviously in tension with the rigidity of his policy line since 1961. But for the time being, he continued to follow the advice of those who urged him not to change the U.S. policy of not ‘reducing the price of entry into the nuclear field’.48 As McGeorge Bundy condensed it, ‘nuclear help to France now is wrong, in the deepest sense of political error’.49 One of the main points made by defenders of present U.S. policy remained that, even if it was ‘probably right that for the immediate future an American decision to cooperate with France would not produce irresistible pressures from Germany’, such pressures might well arise at a later stage.50 Yet, in spite of Kennedy’s tendency and the rhetoric chosen by U.S. Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara in his speeches in Athens and Ann Arbor, which were apparently phrased with an eye to eliciting a rather misleading appearance of an outright political attack against British and prospective French nuclear forces, it transpired in mid-1962 that ‘the U.S. government was authorizing the Boeing Aircraft Company to sell France a dozen KC-135 jet tanker planes, to be used to refuel the Mirage IV bombers of the French force de frappe’.51 Leaving aside the fascinating question as to whether it appeared as such at the time (and

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to whom), this was obviously not a nuclear but a non-nuclear type of ‘nuclear assistance’ for the purpose of directly supporting the build-up of the French nuclear force. A correlation with regard to the general political context at the time was that U.S. leaders sought to smoke out in conversations with German counterparts how the latter seemed to react on the spot if directly confronted. In Athens, for example, McNamara asked whether, if the U.S. were to give nuclear information to the French, there would be increased pressure from the Germans to have nuclear weapons of their own. [Minister of Defence Franz J.] Strauss said there would not, certainly for the foreseeable future. There might be some immediate reaction but it would quickly die down. Germany does not want to own nuclear weapons. The Germans realize that in nuclear matters they should not be on the same level as France and the U.K.52

A second correlation was that, in mid-June 1962, another round of internal review at the highest level of the U.S. government had produced interim conclusions which could be read as though they weakened what Kennedy in his request of these reviews had called ‘the chief argument against the French having nuclear information’ [of U.S. origin], namely, ‘the effect it would have on the Germans, encouraging them to desire the same’. Kennedy asked: ‘Are we certain that cooperation with the French will have that effect?’53 The perceived importance of the ‘chief argument’ was by no means radically diminished in these reviews, but the ‘chief argument’ was somewhat relativized by understanding it within the broader context of a more specific and rigorous analysis. Kennedy’s National Security Advisor concluded in a summary of these reviews: On balance, it remains right not to make an offer of nuclear cooperation to the French at this time. … The danger of heavy pressure for a German national nuclear deterrent is not the central justification of our current policy toward France. … In the long run, the Germans will want full equality, but they could live with a French national force for a considerable time, as long as their own defense seemed assured. … For this they will look to the U.S., for a very long time to come.54

Here again, one must ask: did Bundy mean it when he predicted that Bonn ‘will want full equality in the long run’? In comparison to what Kennedy himself had claimed in 1961 vis-à-vis Macmillan and de Gaulle, these interim conclusions seemed to sober perspectives at the highest level of U.S. government at least to some extent: alarmism about current German nuclear ambitions seemed as unwarranted as mechanistic pessimism regarding at least the immediate impact on these ambitions of

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even sensitive nuclear types of U.S. assistance to France. Still, the general question of how German nuclear ambitions would be affected if the U.S. government helped Britain to stay in or France to join the nuclear club more quickly and at a lower cost by granting either or both of them American ‘nuclear assistance’ remained a major source of concern to the U.S. government and to U.S. President John F. Kennedy personally. But the vehemence of this concern appeared to decline to some extent.

Mitigating Fallout from Nassau It took almost two years in office for Kennedy to really cross the Rubicon on the assistance issue at an Anglo-American summit held in Nassau in late 1962. The U.S. effort of developing reliable air-launched ballistic missiles of the SKYBOLT type at acceptable cost – a missile promised by the U.S. government to Britain in 1960 – had encountered technical problems. Cancelling SKYBOLT without offering Britain a good substitute could easily be misrepresented as an American ‘effort to cut off the British national deterrent’.55 At Nassau, Kennedy agreed to sell POLARIS MRBMs (less warheads, less penetration aids) to Britain, provided that both sides ‘work out a solution in regard to POLARIS which would move Europe away from national deterrents’, including some sort of ‘multilateral’ nuclear force in NATO.56 Kennedy seemed to view this proviso to a large degree in the sense of appearance and management of German perceptions and less in the sense of substance. Macmillan, on the other hand, ‘dismissed the German problem out of hand’.57 In any case, crossing this threshold – namely, agreeing to sell modern ballistic missiles to Britain to help this ally maintain an ‘independent’ nuclear deterrent – also compelled Kennedy to trespass on a second threshold at the same time. This step was even more dramatic. Kennedy made a ‘similar’ offer to France. In so doing, Kennedy sought to signal to France that he was willing to offer not the same, but substantially more to France, so that American nuclear assistance to Britain and to France could at some point level off at ‘equivalent’ levels.58 This was an unheard-of U-turn in American policy. The perceived need of allowing the United Kingdom to purchase POLARIS had created a new context in which Kennedy apparently dreaded disastrous political consequences if he did not break with the approach that U.S. governments had inconsistently pursued vis-à-vis France until then. As Kennedy explained at the summit: We had not supported the French in this field and this had soured our relationship with General de Gaulle. The reason for this was Germany. … If we should assist the French, this would not change de Gaulle at all, but pressure in

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Germany would rise. If we helped the French it meant that any other country which became an atomic power would expect help from us. … If we gave the French POLARIS submarines, we would save them a good deal of money and some time.59

Thus, when U.S. policy radically switched course in late 1962 – ‘at the drop of a hat’, as Adenauer complained60 – it seemed to be key, difficult though it would be politically, to win France over, consolidate a trilateral entente of the three nuclear powers of the ‘West’, and mitigate the consequences of U.S.-assisted British strategic deterrence and French nuclear proliferation primarily in view of Germany. Concern about German reactions was obviously too weak to obstruct the results of the Nassau summit. But because Britain and France were determined to remain and become nuclear powers respectively, and given the odd and fluid situation America now found itself in, mitigating the fallout of Nassau was seen as being decisively important. First, the ‘independent’ strategic nuclear forces of Britain – and later ideally those of France too – were to be ‘integrated’ under NATO command with an escape clause: it was British policy, acknowledged by the U.S. government, ‘that except where H.M.G. may decide that supreme national interests are at stake, these British forces will be used for the purposes of international defense of the Western Alliance in all circumstances’.61 A not implausible appearance of ‘nuclear integration’ was what seemed to matter vis-à-vis Germany. Second, a real (or seemingly not unreal or surreal) prospect of establishing a ‘collective’ NATO nuclear force comprising a ‘multilateral’ component with at least British and German participation had to be held out to the Germans and other non-nuclear NATO allies. A decodable bogus proposal to establish such a component was not enough. At least the basic outcomes of the subsequent and most complicated episode of early 1963 are known. France under President Charles de Gaulle valued the notion of ‘independence’ much more than Britain, rejected the U.S. offer, and blockaded the first British application to join the European Economic Community. France continued to develop nuclear forces largely on a national basis, in a relationship of dependence on U.S. nuclear protection and NATO, and with the ambition of achieving a measure of strategic autonomy. By signing the Élysée Treaty on 22 January 1963, de Gaulle also sought to move to a closer political-strategic entente with Germany as a non-nuclear and hence inferior partner. The U.S. government, in turn, came close to overreacting to what appeared to be the nucleus of a Franco-German challenge to America’s hegemony in Western Europe. Political pressure from Washington was mostly felt and most effective in Germany. As a consequence, a controversy about

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the Élysée Treaty ensued in Bonn, which became mixed up with the issue of who would succeed Adenauer in office. Finally, Ludwig Erhard was selected as successor (23 April 1963) and the Bundestag ratified the Élysée Treaty (16 May 1963) with a unilaterally added preamble asserting Bonn’s ‘NATO first policy’. De Gaulle and a minority of the West German foreign policy establishment, including the outmanoeuvred Adenauer, viewed the potential of the treaty as being devalued. The majority in Bonn, including future chancellor Erhard, felt that the potential of the treaty was adjusted to the Atlantic necessities of Germany’s position in the U.S.-led coalition of states.62 As is little understood, France’s move towards a closer politicalstrategic entente with Bonn, culminating in the Élysée Treaty, was also preceded by French attempts since December 1962 to sound out Germany’s openness to (unascertainable) forms of ‘atomic cooperation’.63 Yet, despite the Nassau tendencies towards ‘discrimination’ of Germany, numerous members of the German government sought to assure the Kennedy administration that Germany would not engage in ‘atomic cooperation’ with France even if asked; that Germany would not engage in an ‘adventure’ in the field of nuclear weapons; that Germany’s security could only be provided by NATO and U.S. nuclear protection; and that Germany was eager to establish and participate in a seaborne ‘multilateral’ MRBM force within NATO (MLF), as proposed by the U.S. government and proffered by the communiqué prepared at the Anglo-American summit meeting in Nassau.64 It turned out that in 1963, in contrast to Kennedy, vast parts of the U.S. government and most ardent MLF advocates in the U.S. Department of State, the British government remained wary of the wisdom of the MLF project and of the lines of argumentation that supported American policy. In ‘British official circles, where German nuclear ambitions were more widely doubted’, pessimistic tendencies in American thinking about these ambitions and the American appreciation of the MLF project as the best imaginable cure to the German nuclear problem were very much questioned.65 By default or design, the governments of Britain and France marched separately but struck together against the MLF project. They advanced a principal argument to oppose the MLF: instead of satiating and putting a cap on German nuclear ambitions, the MLF ‘will start the Germans on the road to nuclear power’.66 Yet, despite this opposition, which was openly hostile on the part of France, and despite de Gaulle’s earlier rejection of the U.S. offer of nuclear assistance, the U.S. government once again tried to win over de Gaulle with a ‘similar offer made in July 1963’. De Gaulle also rejected this one.67

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Kennedy continued to be exposed to both pessimistic and more realistic assumptions about German nuclear ambitions. He remained torn in 1963 about whether to prioritize the MLF project and apply pressure on Britain to be constructive or let MLF diplomacy simmer and see how things shaped up without rushing to concrete results for the time being. Apparently cherishing no illusions about Britain’s basic preferences regarding the MLF, Kennedy clearly leaned towards the second option – letting MLF diplomacy simmer – despite the fact that he remained very much concerned about German nuclear ambitions.68 Despite his actual policy, he thus still seemed to be strongly influenced by rather pessimistic assumptions about these ambitions. The remarkable wording of a letter to Macmillan in late May 1963 was indicative of Kennedy’s concerns: The Germans are at the heart of the problem, and I simply cannot escape the conclusion that of the courses available to us in dealing with them, the MLF is the only safe one. If it fails the Germans are bound to move in much more dangerous directions. In the long run even toward some partly clandestine arrangement with the French or, if this should not work, toward independent nuclear effort in Germany – not now but in time. The more immediate alternative would be a heavy demand for a new bilateral relation with us – probably with land-based strategic missiles in Germany… .69

Conclusion This chapter has sought to offer a parsimonious analysis of the question as to the impact that ‘Western’ – and particularly American – leaders and officials between 1960 and 1963 expected American ‘nuclear assistance’ to France would have on German nuclear ambitions. I conclude with three observations. First, it was and remains important to anchor analyses of the nuclear ambitions of West Germany in a presumption of basic rationality even if the question remains unresolved as to whether states can accurately understand the intentions of other states. States nevertheless go to great lengths to reduce uncertainty about the intentions of others. The accuracy of assessments can vary considerably. It may well be the normal state when there is no fundamental, ironclad or conclusive agreement within such assessments. The issue of second order effects on German nuclear ambitions was reconsidered especially by the U.S. government at various stages in the early 1960s. Though the assessment process was shaped by different leaders and officials with standpoints that were at times hardly reconcilable with each other, a more sober and hard-nosed view was on

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the rise in the U.S. government, particularly from early 1962. According to this view, pessimism was unwarranted in the case of Germany, at least in the short term. Recurrent reviews of the issue tended to erode the importance of the assumption that U.S. nuclear assistance to France would likely amount to a fundamental change and increase pressure on Germany to demand similar or equal treatment and become a nuclear power. Thus, the assessment process helped to narrow down, specify and enhance the degree of realism in the U.S. government about a very sensitive and complicated issue. Second, the empirical part of this analysis strongly indicates that nuclear assistance granted to an allied nuclear power in-the-making was at the time expected to be of profound importance for the question of what causes nuclear proliferation. Even if other factors – security interests, declining faith in U.S. nuclear protection, interest in prestige and international influence – had a stronger bearing on French decisionmaking to acquire nuclear weapons before and after de Gaulle’s return to power in 1958, the mere possibility of U.S. assistance was widely assumed to significantly impact on the calculations of France during its nuclear acquisition phase. On the one hand, it represented a great incentive for France to continue. On the other hand, the worsening of Franco-American political frustrations over restrictions and conditionality in the initially volatile U.S. approach to potential nuclear assistance to France further encouraged de Gaulle to dig in his heels and continue the policy of acquiring nuclear forces largely on a national basis. Moreover, on the issue of second order effects, it seemed incontestable to argue, like U.S. Under Secretary of State George W. Ball did, that ‘US aid is likely to encourage Germany, and refusal of U.S. aid to France is probably one of the factors that discourages Germany’ from imitating France.70 Taken together, the issue of whether U.S. nuclear assistance would be granted to France as an allied nuclear power in-the-making was assessed as being profoundly important overall, though it clearly appeared to be less important for the calculations of France – a state that was determined to acquire nuclear arms anyway – than for the calculations of Germany. Finally, it should be assumed in hindsight that the variable U.S. nuclear assistance to Britain or France was not important enough to have a decisive, game-changing or all-pervasive impact on the West German calculus before, during and after the early 1960s about whether to seek a national nuclear weapons capability. To assume the contrary would be a reductionist and misleading oversimplification. The German calculus on the conditions under which the country might wish to change course and seek to become a nuclear power was much broader in scope. It encompassed a variety of other factors, some of which were much more

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important; indeed, it had to take into account a spectrum of risks, costs, potential benefits, known unknowns (e.g. the reaction of West Germany’s allies or of the Soviet Union) and unknown unknowns. In considering the pros and cons of U.S. nuclear assistance in the early 1960s, second order effects pessimists, if nothing else, lost sight of the fact that Germany lived with the reality that the U.S. had provided the most sensitive type of nuclear assistance to France for years: U.S. nuclear protection. In other words, irrespective of the question of whether America provided more, less or no nuclear assistance to France in addition to U.S. nuclear protection – for example, KC-135 jet tanker planes, highly enriched uranium, POLARIS missiles and so on – other and also more important factors influenced the German calculus. This remained centred on the view that the disadvantages of seeking nationally-controlled nuclear weapons outweighed the advantages.71 However, that does not mean that the Adenauer government would not have been tempted to insist on other concessions from the U.S. government, such as the deployment of an MRBM capability under NATO command or German-American nuclear sharing cooperation regarding MRBMs within such a NATO force. Nor does it mean that an alternative policy of transforming West Germany into a nuclear power would not have appeared to be potentially less costly, if the U.S. had adopted a less restrictive policy on assisting the French nuclear programme.72 The empirical findings of this chapter should also give pause to those who claim, without compelling evidence, that West Germany at least under Chancellor Adenauer was committed to acquiring nuclear weapons despite the obviously great risks and dangers which this policy – that was almost certainly never pursued – implied. This chapter suggests that not even extensive U.S. nuclear assistance to French nuclear proliferation would have been enough to trigger a change in West Germany’s nuclear policy. This, in turn, points to a sense of how shock-resistant Germany’s policy of eschewing national nuclear weapons was, at a time of deep uncertainty, great danger, existential fear during the Berlin and Cuban missile crises, strategic disagreements during the Great Debate in NATO, questions about the robustness of U.S. nuclear protection in the medium term, and a substantial decline of hope that the division of Germany and Europe might be overcome. Dr Andreas Lutsch is a junior professor of intelligence analysis at the Federal University of Administrative Sciences, Faculty of Intelligence, Department of Bundesnachrichtendienst, Berlin. A historian by training, he previously held the position of assistant professor in the Department of History, University of Würzburg. He was also a nuclear

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security postdoctoral fellow at the Center for International Security and Cooperation, Stanford University, and a Research Fellow in the Department of History, University of Mainz.

Notes  1. Extract from meeting held at the British Embassy, Washington, 17 December 1965, The National Archives, Kew [TNA], PREM 13/799.  2. M. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999), 194 argues that this was ‘perhaps the most important policy initiative ever undertaken by the Eisenhower administration’.  3. The U.S. Atomic Energy Act in its amended version of 2 July 1958 limited ‘the transfer of non-nuclear components to nations that had made substantial progress in nuclear weapons’: R.J. Watson, History of the Office of the Secretary of Defense, Vol. IV: Into the Missile Age 1956–1960 (Washington, DC: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1997), 468. See U.S. Congress, House, Amendment to the Atomic Energy Act of 1954, as Amended, 85th Cong., 2nd Sess., 5 June 1958, H. Report no. 1849 to accompany H.R. 12716. The Joint Committee on Atomic Energy (JCAE) of the U.S. Congress held that the ‘substantial progress’ proviso ‘intended that the cooperating nation must have achieved considerably more than a mere theoretical knowledge of atomic-weapons design, or the testing of a limited number of atomic weapons. It is intended that the cooperating nation must have achieved a capability on its own of fabricating a variety of atomic weapons, and constructed and operated the necessary facilities, including weapons research and development laboratories, weapon-manufacturing facilities, a weapontesting station, and trained personnel to operate each of these facilities’ (ibid., 12).  4. National Security Action Memorandum 294 of 1964, for example, stated: ‘It is the policy of this government to oppose the development of nuclear forces by additional states, other than those whose forces would be assigned as a part of a NATO nuclear force, targeted in accordance with NATO plans and, except when supreme national interests are at stake, used only for the defense purposes of the Alliance’: NSAM 294, 20 April 1964, Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, Yorba Linda, CA, National Security Council Files, Box 676, France vol. V, 1 Feb 70–Apr 70. NSAM 148 ordered U.S. officials to deny ‘news reports that the U.S. is moving toward the provision of assistance to the French national MRBM and nuclear effort’: NSAM 148, 18 April 1962, John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, Boston, MA [JFKL], National Security Files [NSF], Meetings and Memoranda [MM], Box 336. NSAM 148 of 18 April 1962 lapsed in consequence of the Nassau summit of late 1962: W.S. Poole, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy Vol. VIII: 1961–1964 (Washington, DC: Office of Joint History, 2011), 197.  5. S.D. Sagan, ‘Why Do States Build Nuclear Weapons? Three Models in Search of a Bomb’, International Security, 21(3) (1996/97), 54–86, here 85.  6. Watson, History; L.S. Kaplan et al., History of the Office of the Secretary of Defense, Vol. V: The McNamara Ascendancy 1961–1965 (Washington, DC: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 2006); Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace; F. Bozo, Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001); E.R. Mahan, Kennedy, de Gaulle and Western Europe (New York: Palgrave, 2002), 67–84; S. Maddock, Nuclear Apartheid: The Quest for American Atomic Supremacy from World War II to the Present (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009), 155–59.

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 7. R. Ullman, ‘The Covert French Connection’, Foreign Policy, no. 75 (1989), 3–33; W. Burr (ed.), ‘U.S. Secret Assistance to the French Nuclear Program, 1969–1975: From “Fourth Country” to Strategic Partner’, Wilson Center, 2011, http://stage-wilson. p2technology.com/publication/us-secret-assistanceto-the-french-nuclear-program1969-1975-fourth-country-to-strategic; V. Nouzille, Des secrets si bien gardés: Les dossiers de la Maison-Blanche et de la CIA sur la France et ses présidents 1958–1981 (Paris: Fayard, 2009), 291–316; J. Villain, La Force stratégique française: L’aide des États-Unis (Paris: Institut de Stratégie Comparée, 2014); J. Lewis and B. Tertrais, ‘U.S.-French Nuclear Cooperation: Its Past, Present and Future’, Recherches & Documents 04/2015 (Paris: Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique, 2015); N. Roche, Pourquoi la dissuasion (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2017), 101.  8. S.E. Miller, ‘Assistance to Newly Proliferating Nations’, in R.D. Blackwill and A. Carnesale (eds), New Nuclear Nations: Consequences for U.S. Policy (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1993), 97–134; M. Kroenig, Exporting the Bomb: Technology Transfer and the Spread of Nuclear Weapons (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2010) focuses on the provision of ‘sensitive nuclear assistance’: ‘States provide sensitive nuclear assistance when they assist nonnuclear weapon states in the design and construction of nuclear weapons; transfer significant quantities of weapons-grade fissile material to nonnuclear weapon states; or assist non-nuclear states in the construction of facilities to produce weapons-grade fissile material’ (ibid., 11). On assistance from China, see H.S. Hiim, China and International Nuclear Weapons Proliferation: Strategic Assistance (London: Routledge, 2018). Concerning the case of France through the 1960s, Miller argues that the U.S. ‘refused to utilize significant pressure against France’ and ‘often signaled a desire to aid the French [nuclear] weapons program’. Hence, ‘France had little incentive to restrain its program, despite its dependence on the United States’. N.L. Miller, Stopping the Bomb: The Sources and Effectiveness of U.S. Nonproliferation Policy (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2018), 166–67.  9. T.P. McDonnell, ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way: America, France, and the Challenges of Allied Pursuit of Nuclear Weapons, 1958–63’, The Nonproliferation Review (2020), doi :10.1080/10736700.2020.1778907; M. Jones, ‘Prelude to the Skybolt Crisis: The Kennedy Administration’s Approach to British and French Strategic Nuclear Policies in 1962’, Journal of Cold War Studies 21(2) (2019), 58–109. 10. Lewis and Tertrais, ‘U.S.-French Nuclear Cooperation’, 5. 11. In some accounts, the issue was taken into account: McDonnell, ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way’; Jones, ‘Prelude’. 12. S.D. Sagan, ‘The Causes of Nuclear Weapons Proliferation’, Annual Review of Political Science 14 (2011), 225–44; J.E.C. Hymans, ‘The Study of Nuclear Proliferation and Nonproliferation: Toward a New Consensus?’, in W.C. Potter and G. Mukhatzhanova (eds), Forecasting Nuclear Proliferation in the 21st Century, Vol. 1: The Role of Theory (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010), 13–37; R. Rauchhaus, M. Kroenig and E. Gartzke (eds), Causes and Consequences of Nuclear Proliferation (London: Routledge, 2013); A. Debs and N.P. Monteiro, Nuclear Politics: The Strategic Causes of Proliferation (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017). 13. F.J. Gavin, ‘Same as It Ever Was: Nuclear Alarmism, Proliferation, and the Cold War’, International Security 34(3) (2009/10), 7–37 tends to see such logics as forms of hardly warranted ‘nuclear alarmism’ (ibid., 17–19). N.L. Miller, ‘Nuclear Dominos: A SelfDefeating Prophecy?’, Security Studies 23(1) (2014), 33–73, here 35, posits that ‘scholars have gone too far in rejecting the prevalence of reactive proliferation’. 14. ‘An Alternative U.S. Policy toward NATO’, paper for a Department of Defense [DoD]/ Department of State [DoS] conference on defense policy, attached to memorandum Klein, 9 November 1962, JFKL, NSF, Regional Security Files [RSF], Box 224, NATO: General: Second Defense Policy Conference, 30 November 1962.

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15. Ibid. 16. To the question of whether German leaders might not see Germany’s interests, the U.S. Ambassador to Bonn George ‘McGhee says no’, noted Seymour Weiss (DoS) in a memorandum of 10 February 1966. Weiss agreed: ‘the basic power balance of today’s world deters the FRG from seeking a national nuclear force and will continue to deter this as far as we can see into the future’. Hoover Institution Archives, Stanford CA, Weiss Papers, Box 8, Jan–Mar 1966. 17. See, e.g. MemCon Adenauer, de Gaulle, 21 January 1963, Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1963, doc. 5. 18. U.S. Embassy Bonn Airgram, 12 April 1966, National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, MD [NARA], RG 59, Subject-Numeric Files 1964–1966, INT 2-2. In a paper of 20 October 1965, the Embassy had noted: ‘…any covert development program initiated would certainly become known. … The Germans must realize that this act, if undertaken without our consent, would also invalidate the basis of U.S. security guarantees for Germany, and would lead to removal of U.S. forces from Germany. We could never permit our troops to remain here as a hostage to a German government adventurous in the nuclear field’ (italics added). NARA, RG 59, Bureau of European Affairs, NATO and Atlantic Politico-Military Affairs, NATO 1959–1966, Box 6, Def 12 Nuclear NATO 1963–1965. In other words, if the West German government felt that vital interests required Germany to acquire nuclear weapons, it would be ‘highly unlikely that the German government would embark on a covert nuclear weapons program’ – covert meaning without prior agreement between the FRG and its allies, most importantly the United States. A covert programme would be a breach of Germany’s international obligations and thus entail ‘open defiance’ of Germany’s allies. ‘This change would involve the sacrifice of postwar respectability, the loss of U.S. favor and a high risk of forfeiting U.S. protection, strong Soviet hostility and possible retaliation, and the alienation of all the European states. In essence, Germany would be playing a lone hand against the world. Domestic opinion is almost universally opposed to such a course…’. National Intelligence Estimate 23-66, 28 April 1966, doc. 11 in W. Burr (ed.), The Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty and the German Nuclear Question Part II, 1965–1969, National Security Archive, 2018, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/nuclear-vault/2018-03-21/ nuclear-nonproliferation-treaty-german-nuclear-question-part. 19. A rule of thumb may have been: ‘If the United States maintains its current nuclear guarantee during the German weaponization programme, Germany can develop nuclear weapons without opening a window of vulnerability’. E. Gholz, D.G. Press and H.M. Sapolsky, ‘Come Home, America: The Strategy of Restraint in the Face of Temptation’, International Security 21(4) (1997), 5–48, here 19. 20. S.R. Sloan, Defense of the West: NATO, the European Union and the Transatlantic Bargain (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2016), 63. 21. A. Buchan, The Evolution of NATO, Adelphi Paper 1 (London: IISS, 1961), quoted from the reprint in The Evolution of Strategic Thought: Classic Adelphi Papers (London and New York: Routledge and IISS, 2008), 37. 22. Memorandum Enthoven (paraphrasing the views of several leading persons in the French scene such as François de Rose with whom he had conversations in Paris), 17 April 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, Eight questions to May 24, 1962; see also de Gaulle’s letter to Kennedy of 11 January 1962, Foreign Relations of the United States [FRUS] 1961–1963, vol. 14, doc. 263, and the summary of Maurice Couve de Murville’s statements in conversation with Dean Rusk: telex Dixon to FO, 23 June 1962, TNA, DEFE 5/223. 23. K.N. Waltz, The Spread of Nuclear Weapons: More May Be Better, Adelphi Paper No. 171 (London: IISS, 1981), 10.

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24. For a critique along these lines, see D. Krüger, ‘Schlachtfeld Bundesrepublik? Europa, die deutsche Luftwaffe und der Strategiewechsel der NATO 1958 bis 1968’, Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 56 (2008), 171–225. 25. MemCon in the President’s Office, 18 February 1963, U.S. Declassified Documents Online, doc. CK2349487351, http://tinyurl.galegroup.com/tinyurl/6mFQK7. 26. F.J. Gavin, ‘Strategies of Inhibition: U.S. Grand Strategy, the Nuclear Revolution, and Nonproliferation’, International Security, 40(2) (2015), 9–46, here 35. 27. Watson, History, 509; Bozo, Two Strategies, ch. 1 and 2; Roche, Pourquoi la dissuasion, 94. 28. W.L. Kohl, French Nuclear Diplomacy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971), 64. De Gaulle did not want to appear as a ‘demandeur. But his government officials requested such assistance from the United States on several occasions’ (ibid., 217). 29. Lewis and Tertrais, ‘U.S.-French Nuclear Cooperation’, 6. 30. Watson, History, 468; Roche, Pourquoi la dissuasion, 98. 31. Telex Nolting, 4 June 1960, Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene, KS [DDEL], NP, Box 89, MRBM-1960 thru 30 June (1). 32. Watson, History, 577. Struggling against the DoS and SACEUR Norstad, the Joint Chiefs of Staff became the ‘principal advocates of assisting France and other “selected” NATO countries’ (ibid., 469). 33. Ibid., 577, 582; B.R. Fairchild and W.S. Poole, History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy Vol. VII: 1957–1960 (Washington, DC: Office of Joint History, 2000), 111. 34. Norstad’s point: MemCon, Herter, Douglas et al., 2 August 1960, DDEL, NP, Box 89, MRBM-1960 1 July–31 Dec (3). The chairman of the U.S. Atomic Energy Agency, John A. McCone, concurred: ‘it would raise the pressures from the Germans’, MemCon, Gates, Dillon et al., 24 August 1960, DDEL, NP, Box 85, Atom Nuclear Policy 60 (1). 35. McDonnell, ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way’, 9. 36. Kohl, French Nuclear Diplomacy, 140. 37. F. Gloriant, ‘To Adapt to the Cold War Bipolar Order? Or to Challenge It? Macmillan and de Gaulle’s Rift in the Face of the Second Berlin Crisis’, Cold War History 18(4) (2018), 465–83. See also the next chapter of this volume by the same author. 38. Record of a meeting held at the White House, 5 April 1961, TNA, CAB 133/297. 39. NSAM 40, 21 April 1961, FRUS 1961–1963, XIII, doc. 100. 40. Ibid. 41. M. Jones, The Official History of the UK Strategic Nuclear Deterrent, Vol. I: From the V-Bomber Era to the Arrival of Polaris, 1945–1964 (London: Routledge, 2017), 249f. 42. Letter Kennedy to Macmillan, 8 May 1961, TNA, PREM 11/3319. 43. Quote from a letter Kennedy to de Gaulle of 31 December 1961: Memorandum Ball, 26 February 1963, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226A, NATO Weapons Cables, Germany, FRGFrench nuclear cooperation. 44. Jones, ‘Prelude’, 66f.; McDonnell, ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way’, 11f. 45. François de Rose in a conversation with Kissinger, Gen. Puget, Gen. Martin, J. Laloy and J.D. Jurgensen on 5 February 1962. Martin said German nuclear weapons were ‘prohibited by the Paris Treaty’. MemCon, JFKL, NSF, Country Files [CF], Box 71, France-General 2/1/62-2/9/62. 46. Memorandum Enthoven, 17 April 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, Eight questions to May 24, 1962. 47. Based on open-source information, Kohl, French Nuclear Diplomacy, 217f. reported that Lavaud ‘presented a “shopping list” totalling about $250 million. It was said to include information on the gaseous diffusion plant, missile guidance packages, propellants, and other missile parts’. The list apparently ‘contain[ed] many non-nuclear items not prohibited by the 1958 legislation’. Based on declassified information, McDonnell, ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way’, 14 reports that Lavaud’s ‘list included specialized

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49. 50. 51.

52.

53. 54. 55. 56.

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compressors for a gaseous-diffusion uranium-enrichment plant, as well as ballistic missile systems, re-entry vehicles, and guidance systems’. Rusk’s point: ‘If we should now be willing to help the French we should be blackmailed into helping others when they reach the point of heavy financial pressure, and in effect we should be reducing the price of entry into the nuclear field’. MemCon, Kennedy, Rusk, McNamara, Bundy, 16 April 1962, FRUS, 1961–1963, XIII, doc. 133, 378. Kaplan et al., History, 372–73 note: ‘By the spring of 1962 the NSC had made nonproliferation of nuclear weapons a fundamental article of U.S. policy. … The apparent dogged perseverance of French defense officials in exploring all possible avenues of nuclear assistance from the United States suggested the extent of France’s needs’. On NSAM 148, see note 4. Memorandum Bundy n.d., Nuclear and Nuclear-missile help to France, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, Eight questions to May 24, 1962. Letter Bundy to Aron, 24 May 1962, JFKL, NSF, CF, Box 71, France-General 5/19/60-5/26/62. Kohl, French Nuclear Diplomacy, 222 in relation to a report in Le Monde of 15 June 1962 (the day before McNamara’s Ann Arbor speech) and a report in the New York Times of 22 September 1962. The U.S. government’s authorization ‘represented active assistance to the development of a French independent nuclear capability’ (ibid., 223). The KC-135Fs were delivered in 1964. They were of value for inflight refuelling of French Mirage IV bombers so as to increase the chances that bombers would be able to penetrate to targets in the Soviet Union (ibid., 180). ‘McNamara attempted to make clear [to the British] that the Athens and Ann Arbor strictures did not apply to the RAF’s [Royal Air Force’s] nuclear force, already integrated into the defense plans of the alliance’ (Kaplan et al., History, 314). Still, the speech fuelled not just French but also ‘British suspicions’ that the U.S. government sought to ‘force [even] the British out of the nuclear business’, which was at least not intended by McNamara (Jones, ‘Prelude’, 59f.). Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 321 argues that the seeming U.S.  rhetorical opposition to small nuclear forces, controlled nationally by European states, was not ‘adopted because people like Kennedy and McNamara were opposed in principle’ to British or French nuclear forces. ‘The real issue had to do with Germany…’. In order to make the idea of a German nuclear capability appear less attractive in the eyes of Germans and because they ‘could not be discriminated against too directly’, the government opted for ‘policies that applied to Britain and France as well as to Germany and which had a formal and plausible strategic rationale’. MemCon, McNamara, Nitze, Strauß, 3 May 1962, NARA, RG 200, Box 133, MemCons with Germany I-II, Vol. I, Sect. 1. Asked by Kennedy, Strauß said he ‘did not think there would be any immediate demand for a German nuclear force if the U.S. helped France’. MemCon, Kennedy, Strauß et al., 8 June 1962, JFKL, NSF, CF, Box 75A, Germany General 6/62. Memorandum Kennedy, 25 May 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, Eight questions to May 24, 1962. Italics added. Memorandum Bundy, 17 June 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, Eight questions to May 24, 1962. See also the analysis by McNamara and Ball, ibid., Kennedy’s remarks: MemCon, Kennedy, Macmillan et al., 19 December 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 228, NATO, weapons, Nassau agreement, 3/29/60–1/31/63 (3 of 4). Ibid. On the deliberately ambiguous wording of the Nassau communiqué of 21 December 1962 (and of the Anglo-American ‘Statement on Nuclear Defense Systems’, in particular) and on the complex process of ‘integration’ of British strategic nuclear forces under NATO command from 1963 on, see Jones, The Official History, ch. 10.

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57. R.E. Neustadt, Report to JFK: The Skybolt Crisis in Perspective (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1999), 91. 58. See especially the two telegrams by U.S. Ambassador Charles Bohlen of 4 January 1963 on his conversation with de Gaulle: FRUS 1961–1963, XIII, doc. 263 and JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 228A, NATO, weapons, Nassau agreement, cables, 11/21/62–3/25/63 (2 of 3). Neustadt, Report to JFK, 97: ‘To offer France the “same” terms on POLARIS was insulting. Britain had the nuclear technology to build warheads and submarines; the French did not. … We offered Britain missiles; to give France no more was to give less. But giving an equivalent meant moving toward direct support for French nuclear programs’. To offer France ‘similar’ terms was thus meant to signal that even U.S. nuclear assistance on things like weapons design, warheads and submarines was on the cards, provided that France would agree to a political formula similar to the one accepted by Britain, that is, ‘NATO assignment’ of strategic forces and an escape clause. A comparable account of Kennedy’s intentions was given by Theodore C. Sorensen, Kennedy (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), 573. 59. Kennedy’s remarks: MemCon, 19 December 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 228, NATO, weapons, Nassau agreement, 3/29/60–1/31/63 (3 of 4). 60. Quote from MemCon Stikker, Adenauer, Strauß et al., 4 January 1963, Nationaal Archief, Den Haag [NAD], Stikker papers [SP], Box 56. 61. Para. 8, Statement on Nuclear Defense Systems, 21 December 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 228, NATO, weapons, Nassau agreement, 3/29/60–1/31/63 (2 of 4). 62. Inter alia: T. Geiger, Atlantiker gegen Gaullisten: Außenpolitischer Konflikt und innerparteilicher Machtkampf in der CDU/CSU 1958–1969 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2008), ch. V. 63. Harvard Professor Henry A. Kissinger noted on his conversation with Gen. Hans Speidel on 10 January 1963: ‘He told me that early in December [1962] the French had made an offer of atomic cooperation to Germany and that Adenauer had asked his advice. … Speidel then showed me in strictest confidence a personal memorandum he had written to Adenauer. The main point was that Germany could not depend on French atomic support. … He therefore urged extreme reserve with respect to the French offer’. Note Kissinger, 25 January 1963, JFKL, NSF, MM, Box 321, Staff Memoranda: Henry Kissinger 2/1963. Specifics are unknown. One may infer from Kissinger’s note that this ‘offer’ concerned security and military issues, including nuclear deterrence. Besides this French ‘offer’ of early December 1962, there was a second ‘French initiative’ which – according to German sources reporting to U.S. authorities (gainsaid by French authorities) – was ‘taken in December 1962 during a visit to the German Atomforum by an 18-man group from the French Atomforum’. Reportedly, ‘French representatives had sought German financial participation in the French gaseous diffusion plant at Pierrelatte’. Memorandum Hughes, 6 June 1963, doc. 22 in W. Burr (ed.), ‘Preoccupations with West Germany’s Nuclear Weapons Potential Shaped Kennedy-Era Diplomacy’, National Security Archive, 2018, https:// nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/nuclear-vault/2018-02-02/german-nuclear-questionnonproliferation-treaty. It is unclear what Hughes meant by ‘French Atomforum’. The ‘German Atomforum’ (‘Deutsches Atomforum e.V.’) was a registered association of corporations, research institutions and individuals which sought to promote the peaceful use of atomic energy in the Federal Republic of Germany. The initiative mentioned by Hughes was the second known French initiative to feel out Germany’s willingness to contribute financially to the uranium enrichment site at Pierrelatte. It appeared to be less formal than the first French initiative, which was launched by the French government in late 1957 and had marked the beginning of the F-I-G episode in late 1957/early 1958. 64. On ‘discrimination’: Franz J. Strauß, who had resigned in late 1962 due to the so-called Spiegel affair, was among those who were sensitive to this perception. He let NATO

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65. 66. 67.

68.

69. 70. 71. 72.

Secretary General Stikker know that he was concerned about ‘American nuclear policies and the idea of limited war in Europe … It was unthinkable that it [Germany] would remain without atomic armaments if the United States, the United Kingdom and even France possessed nuclear weapons’. MemCon, 29 January 1963, NAD, SP, Box 56. On the assurance that Germany would not engage in an ‘adventure’ (J.F. Kennedy) in the field of nuclear weapons, see Memorandum Bundy of 27 January 1963 on a conversation between Kennedy and Minister of Defence Kai-Uwe von Hassel on the same day. Kennedy asked von Hassel ‘whether the Federal Republic would join with France in a joint nuclear program or whether there was strong pressure for the Federal Republic to develop its own nuclear force’. Von Hassel denied. Bundy noted Kennedy’s personal comment: ‘His assurances were flat’. JFKL, NSF, NSSM, Box 391, NSAM 241. On Germany’s eagerness to establish the MLF, see the Adenauer-Kennedy correspondence in JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 228, NATO, weapons, Nassau, Basic documents, 12/19/62–2/7/63. Quote from Jones, The Official History, 431. Memorandum de Zulueta, 16 May 1963, TNA, PREM 11/4161. ‘U.S. Nuclear Relations with France’, attached to a March 1969 Draft Presidential Memorandum on NATO strategy and force structure, Library of Congress, Washington, DC, Nitze Papers, Box 225, Subject File, 10. The U.S. offered in early 1963 ‘to sell POLARIS minus warheads – together with a suggestion of possible cooperation in development of the warhead for the missile’. For the opposing interpretation that Kennedy practically changed his estimate of German nuclear ambitions between 1961 and 1963 because he developed ‘growing confidence in his ability to manage the German nuclear problem through coercion’: McDonnell, ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way’, 18. Letter Kennedy to Macmillan, 29 May 1963, TNA, CAB 21/6044. Memorandum Ball, 17 June 1962, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, Eight questions to May 24, 1962. A. Lutsch, Westbindung oder Gleichgewicht? Die nukleare Sicherheitspolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland zwischen Atomwaffensperrvertrag und NATO-Doppelbeschluss (1961–1979) (Munich: de Gruyter, 2020). For a comparable view, see the perceptive counterfactual analysis ‘May 1961: Nuclear help to France’, 17 May 1963, JFKL, NSF, RSF, Box 226, NATO Weapons Cables, France, 7/62–5/63 (3 of 3).

Bibliography Primary Sources Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland 1963. Ed. R.A. Blasus, M. Lindemann and I.D. Pautsch. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1994. Burr, W. (ed.). ‘Preoccupations with West Germany’s Nuclear Weapons Potential Shaped Kennedy-Era Diplomacy’. National Security Archive, 2018, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/nuclear-vault/2018-02-02/ german-nuclear-question-nonproliferation-treaty.  . ‘The Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty and the German Nuclear Question Part II, 1965-1969’. National Security Archive, 2018, https://nsarchive.gwu.edu/briefing-book/nuclear-vault/2018-03-21/ nuclear-nonproliferation-treaty-german-nuclear-question-part.

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 . ‘U.S. Secret Assistance to the French Nuclear Program, 1969–1975: From “Fourth Country” to Strategic Partner’. Wilson Center, 2011, http://stagewilson.p2technology.com/publication/us-secret-assistanceto-the-frenchnuclear-program-1969-1975-fourth-country-to-strategic. Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, Abilene, KS. Foreign Relations of the United States 1961–1963, XIII: Western Europe and Canada. Ed. E.C. Keefer, C.S. Sampson and J.E. Miller. Washington, DC: United States Government Printing Office, 1994. Hoover Institution Archives, Stanford, CA. John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, Boston, MA. Library of Congress, Washington, DC. National Archives and Records Administration, College Park, MD. Richard M. Nixon Presidential Library and Museum, Yorba Linda, CA. Sorensen, T.C. Kennedy. New York: Harper and Row, 1965. The National Archives, Kew. U.S. Congress, House, Amendment to the Atomic Energy Act of 1954, as Amended, 85th Cong., 2nd Sess., 5 June 1958, H. Report no. 1849 to accompany H.R. 12716.

Literature Bozo, F. Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001. Debs, A., and N.P. Monteiro. Nuclear Politics: The Strategic Causes of Proliferation. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2017. The Evolution of Strategic Thought: Classic Adelphi Papers. London and New York: Routledge and IISS, 2008. Fairchild, B.R., and W.S. Poole. History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy Vol. VII: 1957–1960. Washington, DC: Office of Joint History, 2000. Gavin, F.J. ‘Same as It Ever Was: Nuclear Alarmism, Proliferation, and the Cold War’. International Security 34(3) (2009/10), 7–37.  . ‘Strategies of Inhibition: U.S. Grand Strategy, the Nuclear Revolution, and Nonproliferation’. International Security 40(2) (2015), 9–46. Geiger, T. Atlantiker gegen Gaullisten: Außenpolitischer Konflikt und innerparteilicher Machtkampf in der CDU/CSU 1958–1969. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2008. Gholz, E., D.G. Press and H.M. Sapolsky. ‘Come Home, America: The Strategy of Restraint in the Face of Temptation’. International Security 21(4) (1997), 5–48. Gloriant, F. ‘To Adapt to the Cold War Bipolar Order? Or to Challenge It? Macmillan and de Gaulle’s Rift in the Face of the Second Berlin Crisis’. Cold War History 18(4) (2018), 465–83. Hiim, H.S. China and International Nuclear Weapons Proliferation: Strategic Assistance. London: Routledge, 2018. Hymans, J.E.C. ‘The Study of Nuclear Proliferation and Nonproliferation: Toward a New Consensus?’, in W.C. Potter and G. Mukhatzhanova (eds), Forecasting Nuclear Proliferation in the 21st Century, Vol. 1: The Role of Theory (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010), 13–37.

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Jones, M. The Official History of the UK Strategic Nuclear Deterrent, Vol. I: From the V-Bomber Era to the Arrival of Polaris, 1945–1964. London: Routledge, 2017.  . ‘Prelude to the Skybolt Crisis: The Kennedy Administration’s Approach to British and French Strategic Nuclear Policies in 1962’. Journal of Cold War Studies 21(2) (2019), 58–109. Kaplan, L.S., et al. History of the Office of the Secretary of Defense, Vol. V: The McNamara Ascendancy 1961–1965. Washington, DC: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 2006. Kohl, W.L. French Nuclear Diplomacy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971. Kroenig, M. Exporting the Bomb: Technology Transfer and the Spread of Nuclear Weapons. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2010. Krüger, D. ‘Schlachtfeld Bundesrepublik? Europa, die deutsche Luftwaffe und der Strategiewechsel der NATO 1958 bis 1968’. Vierteljahrshefte für Zeitgeschichte 56 (2008), 171–225. Lewis, J., and B. Tertrais. ‘U.S.-French Nuclear Cooperation: Its Past, Present and Future’, Recherches & Documents 04/2015. Paris: Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique, 2015. Lutsch, A. Westbindung oder Gleichgewicht? Die nukleare Sicherheitspolitik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland zwischen Atomwaffensperrvertrag und NATODoppelbeschluss (1961–1979). Munich: de Gruyter, 2020. Maddock, S. Nuclear Apartheid: The Quest for American Atomic Supremacy from World War II to the Present. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2009. Mahan, E.R. Kennedy, de Gaulle and Western Europe. New York: Palgrave, 2002. McDonnell, T.P. ‘Figuring It Out the Hard Way: America, France, and the Challenges of Allied Pursuit of Nuclear Weapons, 1958–63’. The Nonproliferation Review (2020), doi:10.1080/10736700.2020.1778907. Miller, N.L. ‘Nuclear Dominos: A Self-Defeating Prophecy?’ Security Studies 23(1) (2014), 33–73.  . Stopping the Bomb: The Sources and Effectiveness of U.S. Nonproliferation Policy. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2018. Miller, S.E. ‘Assistance to Newly Proliferating Nations’, in R.D. Blackwill and A. Carnesale (eds), New Nuclear Nations: Consequences for U.S. Policy (New York: Council on Foreign Relations, 1993), 97–134. Neustadt, R.E. Report to JFK: The Skybolt Crisis in Perspective. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1999. Nouzille, V. Des secrets si bien gardés: Les dossiers de la Maison-Blanche et de la CIA sur la France et ses présidents 1958–1981. Paris: Fayard, 2009. Poole, W.S. History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff: The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy Vol. VIII: 1961–1964. Washington, DC: Office of Joint History, 2011. Rauchhaus, R., M. Kroenig and E. Gartzke (eds). Causes and Consequences of Nuclear Proliferation. London: Routledge, 2013. Roche, N. Pourquoi la dissuasion. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2017. Sagan, S.D. ‘Why Do States Build Nuclear Weapons? Three Models in Search of a Bomb’. International Security 21(3) (1996/97), 54–86.  . ‘The Causes of Nuclear Weapons Proliferation’. Annual Review of Political Science 14 (2011), 225–44.

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Sloan, S.R. Defense of the West: NATO, the European Union and the Transatlantic Bargain. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2016. Trachtenberg, M. A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945– 1963. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999. Ullman, R. ‘The Covert French Connection’. Foreign Policy, no. 75 (1989), 3–33. Villain, J. La Force stratégique française: L’aide des États-Unis. Paris: Institut de Stratégie Comparée, 2014. Waltz, K.N. The Spread of Nuclear Weapons: More May Be Better, Adelphi Paper No. 171. London: IISS, 1981. Watson, R.J. History of the Office of the Secretary of Defense, Vol. IV: Into the Missile Age 1956–1960. Washington, DC: Office of the Secretary of Defense, 1997.

Chapter 4

De Gaulle’s Nuclear Policy, West Germany and the Second Berlin Crisis A Historiographical Reappraisal, 1958–63 Frédéric Gloriant

Introduction

A

n influential, if not predominant, historiographical school, represented by Marc Trachtenberg and Georges-Henri Soutou, has highlighted the ambiguities of the policy on Germany implemented by the first president of the French Fifth Republic, a policy portrayed as deeply hostile to the reunification of the two German states.1 De Gaulle’s stance in this regard is all the more crucial since the alliance with the FRG was the cornerstone of his foreign policy, at least until 1963. Thus, his policy towards West Germany is key to any general interpretation of Gaullism as a doctrine of foreign policy. Indeed, if de Gaulle had effectively been hostile to the unity of Germany, which was nevertheless France’s main ally, then Gaullism would be subject, in the words of one of its most important French contemporary critics, Pierre Hassner, to the contradiction of ‘any conception of international order based on nationalism: its generalisation would involve its failure’.2 In Hassner’s view, far from being transferable to and practicable by West Germany, the Gaullist doctrine actually aimed at exercising hegemony over Germany and Western Europe. The French nuclear policy during de Gaulle’s presidency apparently confirms this nationalist reading of Gaullism. Indeed, de Gaulle never seriously engaged in a policy of nuclear sharing with West Germany, choosing instead to affirm an entirely independent nuclear policy for France that culminated in 1966 in the withdrawal of French troops from

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the integrated military structure of NATO and resulted in the building of an independent nuclear deterrent. From this nuclear perspective, the dissymmetric and unequal nature of the Franco-German alliance seems inescapable. Based on this argument, Trachtenberg goes as far as to depict de Gaulle’s nuclear policy towards Germany as hesitant, unstable, and even hypocritical; this policy thus becomes the irrefutable proof that de Gaulle actually had no consistent grand design such as ‘overcoming Yalta’, but only the more limited, pragmatic aim of maximizing French national interest.3 This chapter will engage in a critical discussion of what could be called the ‘Soutou-Trachtenberg’ interpretation of de Gaulle’s nuclear policy towards West Germany. It will be demonstrated that in spite of its restrictive character – de Gaulle never envisaged such a thing as nuclear sharing with West Germany, at least in the immediate or medium terms – de Gaulle’s nuclear policy towards Germany was part of a consistent foreign policy paradigm, oriented towards an ultimate objective of equal partnership between France and Germany. On the one hand, nuclear equality between France and Germany, which would have implied, strictly speaking, an independent German nuclear deterrent, was clearly rejected as unrealistic in the context of the Cold War. On the other hand, de Gaulle promoted, as much as possible, a transformation of the bipolar structure of international relations, a prerequisite before the German people could regain their unity and full sovereignty, and tried to reinforce a spirit of national independence among Germans.4 In other words, if strategic equality was not an immediately practicable aim, it was nonetheless present at the core of the Franco-German partnership, as a regulative ideal, to use a Kantian concept.5 De Gaulle’s German policy, including its nuclear dimension, was as equalitarian as it could be in its own historical context, and was in many respects more equalitarian than the policy practised by Germany’s other two main allies, Britain and the United States. To prove this last point, the Second Berlin Crisis will constitute a particularly revealing case study.

De Gaulle’s Restrictive Nuclear Policy towards Germany There is no reason to contest the fact that de Gaulle constantly rejected the option of a sovereign nuclear West Germany or any Franco-German nuclear cooperation to produce nuclear weapons. Evidence of this fact has been well established. First, just after coming to power, in the summer of 1958, de Gaulle abruptly put an end to the nuclear dimension of the triangular cooperation

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in armament production that had been previously negotiated between the French, Italian and German ministers of defence.6 Furthermore, in his Memoirs of Hope, de Gaulle claims that he had been perfectly clear with German Chancellor Adenauer during their first oneon-one meeting in Colombey-les-deux-Églises (September 1958) about the fact that the FRG would have to remain a non-nuclear state – although the incomplete French minutes of the Colombey meeting do not reveal such clear-cut statements.7 It appears that de Gaulle as a writer wanted to leave an unambiguous message for posterity: that West Germany should not become a nuclear state, and that his policy towards Germany had always been clear in this regard. To justify this restrictive position, de Gaulle cited two main reasons: he was still suspicious of Germany, which, according to him, was historically prone to immoderation and brutality. For example, the French president clearly mentioned this argument in his talk with American Ambassador Charles Bohlen, in January 1963, to justify his refusal of a nuclear Germany.8 This sense of innate German hubris, inherited from the two world wars, never totally disappeared; and it played a role in de Gaulle’s nuclear policy, which aimed to exorcise the trauma of the 1940 defeat by making a repetition of this disaster simply impossible.9 However, there was also a more profound geopolitical rationale, according to which, in de Gaulle’s words, ‘a German nuclear bomb [was] the last casus belli in the world, or one of the last. War would break out just for that’.10 When he invited Adenauer in January 1963 for the signature of the Élysée Treaty, de Gaulle elaborated on this idea: after explaining that if the nuclear arms race continued indefinitely, ‘Germany would eventually be willing to produce its own bombs’ and that he could ‘understand’ this evolution, he warned Adenauer against ‘the most serious consequences of this decision, from the European and Atlantic Alliance perspectives, as much as from the American and Eastern European points of view’.11 A nuclear Germany would reinforce the already existing tendency of Americans to disentangle themselves from Europe. As for the Eastern adversary, ‘any possibility of an arrangement with them would be lost, as the Russians, the Polish, the Czech, etc., would then become irreconcilable’, due to their fear of German military power. Thus, in de Gaulle’s reasoning, a West German bomb, far from being a solution to the German question and a way of accelerating the process of reunification, would exacerbate the Russian-German antagonism and make the ultimately necessary revision of the post-Second World War East-West bipolar division of Europe even more difficult. Thus, German nuclear sovereignty, à la française, was both extremely dangerous and counterproductive, even from the point of view of Germany’s own best national interests.

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De Gaulle’s Strategy for West Germany Even though de Gaulle’s nuclear policy towards West Germany was undeniably restrictive, it should not be considered as evidence of the hegemonic character of de Gaulle’s policy towards Germany in general. To provide a broader and more nuanced picture of de Gaulle’s thinking about the West German politico-strategic identity, attention should be drawn to the fundamental role that de Gaulle imagined for Germany in his vision of a radically reformed Atlantic Alliance. Comprised within de Gaulle’s attempt to build a ‘European Europe’ (i.e. a European strategic unit, capable of acting independently of the Americans) was a complete transformation of the military structure of NATO that would no longer be based on military integration under American command. De Gaulle wanted to establish a truly multipolar Alliance, based on the mutually beneficial cooperation between four (or five) main players, whom de Gaulle called the ‘pillars’ of the Alliance: West Germany, France, England and the United States, mentioned to Adenauer in that order in July 1960 (although de Gaulle sometimes added Italy).12 For de Gaulle, all four of these players were ‘great states’ with ‘a strong national personality, centuries-old international experience, and a powerful position in the world, whether politically, economically or culturally’. Therefore, each of them had to constitute, in and of itself, a self-sustaining ‘pillar’, with a distinct strategic role adapted to its nature, geography and history. Let us now quote extensively what de Gaulle told Adenauer in July 1960 about the specific role of these four pillars within the reformed Alliance: In the collective defence of the West against the East, Germany is the advance guard and has to be organised accordingly. France is placed a bit in the background, which is due to the nature of things. It constitutes, in brief, the second line and, as is said in military terms, the central position. Nevertheless, it should stick together with and remain linked to Germany, on the same field for one and the same battle. France also plays another role, which is the defence of the Mediterranean and Africa. … As for England, it is not, by nature, a fighter of the Continent. It may have certain of its forces here. However, its essential role is not here. This role consists in providing a cover for Europe in the seas of the North and a protection for maritime communications. It is made for this task. That is its nature. The United States has huge power today, but this may not last forever. Besides, the United States is far from Europe. Its nature does not urge it to engage immediately in the first line. It constitutes the reserve, the arsenal. It is not as absorbed by Europe as we are, being distracted by what is going on in the Pacific Ocean and in South America.13

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Two dimensions of de Gaulle’s strategic vision should be emphasized here: 1. In the age of the thermonuclear bomb and intercontinental ballistic missile, France and Germany were de facto on the same battlefield, in contrast to America and, to a lesser extent, Britain. The factor of geographic proximity is crucial to justifying Franco-German strategic cooperation.14 In case of a war with the Soviet Union, both would be entirely engaged in the Continental theatre of war, in contrast to the two other pillars, Britain and the U.S., who would be only partially engaged at the beginning (maybe only conventionally or with nuclear strikes limited to the European theatre of war). The U.S. would not necessarily unleash strategic strikes immediately. That is why German and French national interests were deeply convergent in this context, whereas there was an incontrovertible divergence of interests between (Continental) Europe and America.15

While de Gaulle sometimes distinguished two battles – ‘the battle of Germany’ and ‘the battle of France’ as he called them – this should not be taken as evidence of a purely national strategy or of a temptation to abandon Germany in case of confrontation with the Eastern adversary. For de Gaulle, the strategic decoupling between France and Germany was simply impossible, as he said in February 1963: ‘if the battle of Germany, the first battle of the war, turned badly, whether the battle had been more or less nuclear or even not nuclear at all, instantly the destruction or the invasion of France would follow’.16 To Adenauer, in January 1963, he declared: France is resolved to use all its means, with no delay and with no exception, to defend Europe. The defence of Germany is linked to our defence, for there would be no hope for France after the capture of Germany. No doubt can exist then about the use of our means; and we are not, in this regard, in the same situation as the Americans, who are separated by the ocean from a potential adversary.17

One could not make it any clearer that the destiny of France would immediately be at stake were the battle of Germany to be engaged. That is also why the mere existence of a French nuclear deterrent was an element of reassurance for Germany. The French deterrent, de facto, had a European dimension because it would be nationally owned and operated independently of the U.S. It would be launched as soon as there was a vital threat to France and Europe, which was not necessarily the case of the American nuclear umbrella.

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2. In addition to this principle of Continental solidarity, there is in this exposé an underlying political axiom that de Gaulle applied equally to France and to Germany: if the Atlantic Alliance continued to be based on integration – that is to say under American command without taking into account each country’s strategic personality – the peoples of Europe would lose all interest in their own defence. As he said in January 1963 to Bohlen, the principle upon which the organization of the Alliance should be based should be the following: ‘every country that is deemed capable, by itself, of providing for its own national defence should be allowed to do so, and Germany should of course be counted among such countries’.18

What does this axiom mean in the Cold War era, during which, as already mentioned, a fully sovereign and nuclear-armed West Germany was considered both impossible and extremely dangerous by de Gaulle himself? How can we reconcile the principle of strategic autonomy that de Gaulle apparently wanted to apply to Germany as much as to France, and the necessary limitation of German military power? How could de Gaulle nourish the spirit of Germany’s national independence without making it a nuclear state? To find a way out of this contradictory situation, de Gaulle had in mind a precise proposal, which he shared with Bohlen in January 1963 and with Adenauer a few weeks later:19 • first, in case of war, any battle in Germany was to be fought under German leadership, just as any battle in France should be fought under French leadership; consequently, all the allied forces stationed in Germany should be placed under a common, German-led command; • secondly, and perhaps even more importantly, although German troops would not have nuclear bombs at their disposal in peacetime, nuclear allies (the Americans, the French and perhaps the British) would provide the German-led command with units equipped with nuclear bombs as soon as the battle in Germany began.

Because of the Transatlantic and European crisis unleashed in January 1963 by de Gaulle’s double veto of British entry into the European Community and of the UK-U.S. proposal of a nuclear partnership with France, de Gaulle’s vision of a Franco-German defence never materialized during his presidency. Nor did his idea of a German-led chain of command for the battle in Germany, since, after Adenauer’s demise,

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the FRG irremediably chose an Atlanticist foreign and security policy firmly anchored within NATO.20 Nevertheless, despite the immediate failure of the defence dimension of the Élysée Treaty, de Gaulle’s concept of German-French strategic cooperation, based as much as possible on equality between these two pillars of European defence, did not remain a vague idea without tangible consequences. It had concrete and positive results, including from the point of view of West German interests.

De Gaulle’s Vision of the Second Berlin Crisis What is often overlooked in this regard is the degree of German-French diplomatic cooperation throughout the Second Berlin Crisis, and the extent to which de Gaulle translated into action his idea of an inevitable strategic solidarity between Paris and Bonn when the West was confronted with Khrushchev’s threats.21 The Soviet leader unleashed this crisis in November 1958, when he brutally called for the evacuation of Western troops from West Berlin. If no negotiated solution were found with the three Western occupying powers – the U.S., the UK and France – within six months, he threatened to sign a separate peace treaty with the East Germans, transferring them ipso facto control of traffic between the FRG and West Berlin. The spectre of the 1948–49 blockade came back to haunt the Western diplomats for many years, with a crucial aggravating factor: the U.S. nuclear monopoly had since disappeared and given way to a mutual deterrence relationship between the two superpowers. This is one of the reasons why, from a Western perspective, the crisis was so dangerous: under the protection of his supposedly expanding nuclear means, Khrushchev engaged in an exercise in nuclear blackmail and hoped to extract major political concessions from the West, in the form of a more or less formal recognition of the East German state and of the division of Germany.22 In the long diplomatic battle for West Berlin, which was, after all, a Western enclave without any strategic significance per se and was in no way defendable by conventional means in the event of a war, de Gaulle adopted an unapologetically tough stance towards the East. He was ready to use the language of nuclear deterrence without hesitation when faced with Khrushchev’s threats.23 For de Gaulle, Khrushchev was engaged in a game of poker and was not prepared to go to war.24 The crisis could become dangerous only if the Western powers hesitated. Indeed, excessive concessions to the Soviets regarding the status of Berlin could have had a massive impact on West German public opinion, which was of permanent concern to de Gaulle.25 ‘If German opinion

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deemed that their alliance with us brought them nothing, I cannot be sure what they would do. We would then have Moscow on the Rhine, which would be extremely serious’, explained de Gaulle.26 The striking expression ‘Moscow on the Rhine’ referred to the situation that would emerge if the West Germans, driven to despair by the attitude of the West, drifted towards the East and agreed to exchange with the Soviets their own neutrality for reunification. Such an arrangement would not fail, according to de Gaulle, to lead to a strategic alignment of West Germany with the Soviets. Therefore, de Gaulle was convinced that, regarding the issue of Berlin, the strategic interests of France and the FRG were fundamentally inseparable. West Berlin had a symbolic value and could not be separated from the German question in general: the whole balance of power between East and West could be upset if, in the worst-case scenario, the FRG came to an agreement with Moscow in which reunification was obtained in exchange for neutrality. This meant that the fate of not only Germany, but also France and the whole Western camp, was at stake with Berlin.27 In the complex, multi-layered interaction between the U.S., Britain, France and the FRG to determine the Western response to Khrushchev’s challenge on Berlin, the French knew they were engaged in a struggle against British influence.28 Macmillan was convinced that an agreement about Berlin was possible if it was negotiated directly with Khrushchev. Consequently, ‘going to the summit’ became a panacea for Macmillan. In February–March 1959, he did not hesitate to undertake a personal tenday visit to the Soviet Union. By contrast, a summit with Moscow never became a top priority for de Gaulle, despite the extraordinary amount of diplomatic activity devoted to the Berlin Crisis. The French leader did not believe in the Soviets’ sincere willingness to reach an acceptable agreement and, therefore, progressively asserted in late 1959 his preference for a slow rhythm in the way discussions were carried out with the Soviets.29 To cope with Khrushchev’s nuclear blackmail, de Gaulle actively advocated Western cohesion around Adenauer’s Germany. He sought to strengthen Western unity by promoting two privileged formats of discussions: first, a tripartite Franco-Anglo-American discussion, to develop a common strategy and agree on practical measures to react swiftly and adequately in case of new Soviet provocations and obstruction to Western access to West Berlin;30 and second, an intensive German-French consultation, based on complete solidarity between Paris and Bonn that de Gaulle asserted in the early stage of the crisis.31 The French president then organized consultations with the Germans before every significant international meeting regarding Berlin.32 The unconditional solidarity between France and Germany was carefully staged and publicized. This

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effort of mise-en-scène was part of de Gaulle’s Berlin policy, the aim of which was to demonstrate to the Soviets that their efforts to divide the Western alliance and isolate West Germany were doomed to fail.33 During the first phase of the Berlin drama, in 1958–60, under Eisenhower’s presidency, the French diplomats efficiently managed to act as a counterweight to the British attitude in favour of concessions to Moscow. In this regard, in December 1959, during the Western summit organized in Rambouillet to determine Western policy in the run-up to the summit of May 1960 with Khrushchev, Eisenhower revealingly told de Gaulle in an aside, after an exchange with Macmillan: ‘England declared that they would not fight a war for Berlin. I’ll tell the Chancellor that as far as we [Americans] are concerned, we do not fight a war unless principles are at stake. Berlin indeed symbolizes such a principle’.34 Eisenhower had deemed it necessary to go out of his way to assure de Gaulle that there was a major difference between the American and British positions regarding Berlin. This is evidence that de Gaulle scored significant points in his diplomatic battle with Macmillan. French influence on the overall Western position regarding Berlin arguably reached its apex in May 1960, when de Gaulle hosted the aborted East-West summit in Paris and impressed both Adenauer and Eisenhower through his stoical resolution vis-à-vis Khrushchev’s outbursts.35

The Break-up of Western Unity: A Result of De Gaulle’s Machiavellian Stage Setting? This equilibrium in the quadrilateral game among Bonn, Washington, Paris and London was relatively favourable to de Gaulle’s (and Adenauer’s) attitude of steadfastness with regard to Moscow, but it evolved when John Fitzgerald Kennedy came to power. Beginning in the summer of 1961, Kennedy launched a new ‘double-barrelled’ policy on Berlin, based on two complementary dimensions: first, a major military build-up, both in the U.S. and in NATO-Europe, was announced on 25 July, to demonstrate American determination to defend Europe, and West  Berlin in particular; second, a diplomatic initiative towards Moscow was prepared and launched after the Berlin Wall was erected, to find possible common ground with the Soviets to settle the Berlin issue. The U.S.’s new Berlin policy was both more open to direct negotiation with Moscow and more unilateral vis-à-vis European allies than under Eisenhower’s presidency. There was now a clear American willingness to find new ways of settling the Berlin issue, without waiting for those in Europe who did not want to compromise (i.e. de Gaulle or Adenauer).

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Not surprisingly, de Gaulle’s and Macmillan’s reactions to Kennedy’s repositioning were diametrically opposed. On the one hand, the British highlighted their doubts on the usefulness of the U.S. military build-up (Macmillan even described the military measures taken to defend Berlin as ‘militarily absurd’), but welcomed the new American propensity to engage in dialogue with the Soviets.36 On the other hand, the French fully endorsed the American military measures, but refused the idea of immediately opening negotiations with Moscow: according to Couve de Murville, it was crucial not to rush into talks with the Soviets, so that the military measures taken by Washington could produce the intended ‘effect of intimidation’ among the Russians.37 The new American diplomatic posture resulted, during the tripartite (UK-U.S.-French) and quadripartite (UK-U.S.-French-German) ministerial meetings on 5–7 August 1961 in a first head-on Franco-American confrontation between Maurice Couve de Murville and Secretary of State Dean Rusk, supported by his British counterpart, Alec Douglas-Home.38 On 8 August, de Gaulle received Rusk and abruptly took note of the fundamental disagreement that had emerged between the French and the Americans over the diplomatic tactics to be used vis-à-vis the Soviets.39 Observing that, in contrast to the U.S., France ‘did not have an ocean to protect itself’, de Gaulle, from that point on, never stopped underlining the fundamental divergence of interests between ‘Anglo-Saxons’ and ‘Continentals’ in the Berlin affair. To illustrate this divergence, he decided France would in no way participate in the exploratory talks that the Americans and the British wanted to undertake with the Soviets.40 To overcome this intra-Western divergence, a second ministerial conference occurred in mid-September, to no avail.41 Consequently, a first series of exploratory talks took place in New York and Washington, from 21 September to 10 October, without France.42 What could be called France’s ‘Empty Chair’ policy revealed the gap that now separated the American and French attitudes towards Berlin, with the U.S. policy appearing to be in line with London’s willingness to negotiate with the USSR. Two interlocking historiographical debates should now be clarified. The first concerns the degree of convergence between British and Americans regarding Berlin in 1961: some have downplayed this convergence (Marc Trachtenberg), while others, such as Nigel Ashton and Toshihiko Aono, specialists of the ‘Special Relationship’, have instead highlighted the discreet but real influence exercised by British diplomats upon Washingtonian decision-making.43 The second problem has to do with the interpretation of de Gaulle’s attitude in 1961: in Soutou’s depiction, the French leader did not hesitate to ‘manipulate’ and ‘over-dramatize’ the crisis in order to promote his double project of a transformation

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of the Atlantic Alliance and the constitution of a European confederacy, for the greater benefit of France.44 He deliberately exaggerated the divergence between French and American policies regarding Berlin and, at the same time, instilled doubt in West German minds about Kennedy’s determination to resist Khrushchev. In so doing, he sought, thanks to the crisis, to get the upper hand over the FRG by claiming that France was the only reliable ally and by lumping together the Americans and the British. One can see how the two debates are correlated. Did de Gaulle exaggerate the ‘British’ character of Kennedy’s policy on Berlin? How relevant was the dichotomy between ‘Anglo-Saxons’ and ‘Continentals’ that de Gaulle increasingly used in his diplomacy after the summer of 1961? To what extent was there manipulation on his part? Trachtenberg also downgrades the significance of the Anglo-American convergence regarding Berlin. In his view, Kennedy was determined, if need be, to act militarily in favour of West Berlin, including through the use of nuclear weapons, and this was a crucial difference from Macmillan.45 Therefore, despite appearances, American and French policies were highly similar until the end of 1961; and Trachtenberg concurs with Soutou’s view that de Gaulle exaggerated the differences between them.46 This interpretation, however, tends to overlook the diplomatic side of American ‘double-barrelled’ policy. Studying the episode from an AngloAmerican perspective, Aono and Ashton shed light on the emergence, in a few months, of a solid consensus between Macmillan and Kennedy on the necessity to engage in negotiations with the Soviets.47 They also highlight the close diplomatic coordination between Washington and London, from the summer of 1961 onwards, that was aimed at ‘managing’ both the allies (France, the FRG, and the other NATO members) and the enemy (the USSR), with whom ‘exploratory talks’ were led in parallel by the Americans and the British. Last but not least, Aono is right to point out the increasing convergence of the two leaders regarding the inclusion of the issue of West  Germany’s (non-)nuclear status in direct negotiations with Moscow.48 Through the notions of ‘European security’ or ‘nondissemination’, the idea was to get the Soviets interested in a settlement of the Berlin affair by linking it to a guarantee that the FRG would never get independent control over nuclear weapons. This involved exerting strong pressure on Adenauer to persuade him to accept a non-nuclear status for his country. Such a status would have been agreed upon, more or less formally, in a direct negotiation between the two superpowers, in the absence of the FRG or any other European country – a scenario that likewise was immediately rejected by de Gaulle (as will be later explained in detail). Thus, there was an unprecedented convergence

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between London and Washington after the summer of 1961; in order to understand de Gaulle’s attitude at that time, one must not underestimate the ‘British’ side of the American policy on Berlin. Indeed, until late July 1961, the French head of state and his diplomats expressed a nuanced judgement on Kennedy’s policy, taking care to distinguish between American and British attitudes.49 If afterwards, de Gaulle’s denunciation of the ‘Anglo-Saxon’ policy towards Berlin intensified, it is because the British and the Americans were actually working together in order to initiate negotiations with Moscow, and pressuring Adenauer to yield ground, against his will, by aligning with their position of conciliation. Thus, the Anglo-American side of the last episode of the Berlin Crisis helps bring nuance to Soutou’s (and Trachtenberg’s) vision of de Gaulle as being manipulative, and as having shrewdly exaggerated the degree of Anglo-American convergence. It becomes even more necessary, however, to look at these events through a German-French lens in order to produce a balanced interpretation. A detailed, German-French-focused analysis of the diplomatic game that subsequently developed after the summer of 1961 between the four Western powers and the Soviet Union regarding Berlin will be presented here. It will serve, first, to measure the degree of concrete cooperation between French and West German diplomats and, second, to precisely evaluate the impact of the joint resistance by de Gaulle and Adenauer against the U.S.-UK policy of expanded negotiation with the Soviets.

German-French Resistance to Concessions (Autumn 1961) In the middle of the first round of U.S.-UK exploratory talks with the Soviets in late September–early October 1961, the West Germans became deeply worried. Just after a joint meeting with Rusk, the West German ambassador to Washington, Wilhelm Grewe, in a private conversation with Hervé Alphand, his French counterpart, spoke of ‘the emotion aroused in Bonn’ by the last conversation between Rusk and Andrei Gromyko on 30 September.50 ‘The slippery slope on which the [American] Secretary of State seemed to be engaged by mixing questions of European security with the problem of Berlin’ appeared to be particularly disturbing. On 11 October, German Foreign Minister Heinrich von Brentano, in a meeting with Couve de Murville, seemed even more distressed and extended his criticisms to Kennedy himself.51 Analyses coming from the Quai d’Orsay, although with a more dispassionate tone, concurred with West German assessments. On the one hand, the American and British representatives in the Washington Ambassadorial Group – respectively,

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Foy D. Kohler, Assistant Secretary of State for European Affairs, and Samuel Hood, Minister of the British Embassy – welcomed the new and possibly ‘fruitful’ openness shown by Gromyko on 30 September towards negotiating a general ‘understanding’ with the West on access to West Berlin.52 This could be done prior to the signature of a separate peace treaty between the Soviet Union and East Germany, which Gromyko seemed to postpone with no explicit deadline. On the other hand, the French underlined ‘the considerable compensations’ that Mr Gromyko demanded ‘in order to sell us a horse (i.e. West  Berlin) that already belongs to us’: recognition, even de facto, of the sovereignty of the East German state and of its borders; shutdown of the relations between West Berlin and the FRG; and renunciation of the possibility of transferring nuclear arms to Germany.53 All this was, in the words of French Ambassador Alphand, ‘an exorbitant price’.54 It was all the more worrying since discussions with Gromyko about ‘European security’, a subject at the core of West German (and French) anxieties, had gone ‘much further than expected’.55 Jean Laloy, the leading expert on Berlin at the Quai d’Orsay, noticed that, on 30 September, Rusk had ‘himself raised the problem of European security’ by mentioning ‘reduction in “confrontations” in Central Europe, non-dissemination of nuclear arms, prevention of surprise attacks, mutual assurances between NATO and the Warsaw Pact’. Laloy emphasized, above all, that ‘for the first time, these ideas [had] been presented without any link to disarmament, nor to unification of Germany’ and ‘therefore, [had] interested to the highest degree the Soviet minister’.56 Indeed, in the Western agreed positions for talks with Moscow, European security measures had, until then, always been linked to the settlement of broader political questions, in particular German reunification, a linkage that the West Germans deemed crucial and the Soviets sought to undermine.57 In this context, Rusk’s initiative marked a significant gesture of flexibility that did not go unnoticed by Gromyko (and Bonn!).58 Worse yet from a German point of view, the British and American experts now argued that the four Western powers should be prepared to discuss with Moscow two questions related to ‘European security’: namely, ‘mutual engagements between Atlantic countries and Warsaw Pact countries’ (such as a non-aggression pact) and the ‘interdiction of the transfer and production by Germany of nuclear arms and missiles’.59 This Anglo-American readiness to expand discussions with the Soviets to the subject of European security was all the more striking, since it emerged only a few days after a quadripartite working group on this very topic had been gathered in Washington on 29 September and then rapidly suspended. The divergences that had appeared between the British and

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American conception on the one hand and the West German and French conception on the other were such that the UK and U.S. experts had deemed it preferable not to persist in trying to write a joint document.60 The German expert, Richard Balken, who had been ‘reluctant from the beginning’, had kept ‘close contact with [the French] delegation’ – who themselves had received almost as restrictive instructions from Paris, and supported him.61 Finally, the working group on European security was adjourned sine die on 19 October, which was symptomatic of the high political sensitivity of the subject.62 In the meantime, strong reactions against the new American flexibility towards Moscow had been expressed on both the French and German sides. Strikingly, whereas warning bells had started to sound in Bonn, Alphand led the first assault within the Washington Ambassadorial Group against U.S.-UK diplomatic innovations. The axe fell on 13 October, in the absence of Grewe, who had been recalled to Bonn for consultations.63 Speaking on instructions established ‘at the top level’ – meaning that the decision had been made by de Gaulle – Alphand observed that ‘President Kennedy had informed Gromyko that Ambassador [Llewellyn E.] Thompson would pursue the exploratory talks in Moscow’ in which substantial matters would begin to be tackled. This announcement had taken place ‘without any consultation of the Allies’, Alphand said. As such, it was denounced as a unilateral decision, one that France strongly condemned. Alphand then announced that France would not participate in the high-level U.S.-UK-French-German meeting that the British and Americans had planned on 19 October in London for the purpose of elaborating joint guidelines for a second round of talks with the Soviets. Paris was against such a conference, as ‘it could produce the impression that Western powers were preparing together a mandate for Thompson [the U.S. ambassador in Moscow]’, which was out of the question. The unexpected cancellation of French participation in the London conference had significant repercussions. For the West German diplomats, confronted with growing pressure from the Americans, it recreated some room for manoeuvre. France’s head-on criticism of the emerging Soviet-American dialogue acted as a sort of diplomatic lightning rod for the West German government. Even though, on 23 October, Grewe, back from Bonn, defended restrictive positions regarding the future negotiations with Moscow – they should deal exclusively with the problem of access and begin with the West’s formulating ‘offensive’ proposals, so as to permit a partial withdrawal without prejudice to the vital interests of the West – the West German posture still appeared moderate in comparison to that of the French.64 In contradiction to Kohler and Hood’s faith in the possible success of future negotiations, Grewe could candidly

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admit that Bonn accepted further exploratory talks exclusively for tactical reasons, so as ‘to put the blame on the Soviets’ in the most likely case of a failure. After Alphand’s outspoken criticisms, it still appeared as a constructive, middle-ground position!65 Thus, French intransigence had the effect of putting Bonn back into the centre of the diplomatic game regarding Berlin: as early as 23 October, Kohler, in a conversation with Grewe, suggested the idea of an intervention by Adenauer to persuade de Gaulle to change his mind.66 The German ambassador leapt at the chance to repeat West German demands: such an intervention would be contemplated only if the objective of the discussions in Moscow was precisely delimited. This is an example of how French inflexibility helped West Germans to impose limits on the future conversations in Moscow. To avoid pushing West Germans into de Gaulle’s arms, the Americans had to take their views better into account. De Gaulle’s categorical ‘no’ and the less visible but still tenacious West German reservations towards the pursuit and enlargement of Moscow conversations caused not only irritation in Washington and London, but also a certain degree of surprise.67 Indeed, these positions were far from foregone results of internal debate and dynamics, both in France and in West Germany. In Paris, de Gaulle’s refusal of the London conference idea on 13 October had not been anticipated even by Laloy, who, until that day, had seemed convinced that France would be taking part.68 German archives even reveal that Laloy continued afterwards to defend a point of view that was closer to the Germans’ actual attitude (based on the conditional acceptance of conversations with Moscow, on a narrow basis) than to de Gaulle’s line: he went so far as to suggest a direct intervention by the FRG government ‘to impress upon the French government’ – that is, on his own authorities, Couve de Murville or de Gaulle – the need for a more pragmatic posture.69 In mid-November, French diplomats in charge of the Berlin affair (Charles Lucet, Jean Laloy and Jean-Marie Soutou) still seemed to regret France’s self-imposed exclusion from the ongoing preparation of Thompson’s conversations in Moscow.70 As for the internal situation in the FRG, it was even more complicated and unstable. A severe moral crisis had followed the building of the Berlin Wall, and the general elections in September had considerably weakened Adenauer’s position: it took weeks to form a government coalition with the Liberal Party (Freie Demokratische Partei), and Adenauer was forced to agree to leave the chancellery halfway through his term of office.71 In addition, he had to accept as the head of the Auswärtiges Amt Gerhard Schröder, whose policy would prove to be substantially different from his own. In this regard, as early as 11 October, Vice Chancellor Ludwig Erhard expressed, in a meeting with de Gaulle, a much more conciliatory

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line regarding Berlin than the policy advocated by Adenauer so far or by Brentano on the same day!72 Internal divisions between West Germans would subsequently only get worse, making the FRG all the more sensitive to external Anglo-American pressures and subject to repeated confidence crises regarding its security and the reliability of its alliances.73 Nevertheless, France and West Germany’s parallel attitudes of resistance to Anglo-American flexibility vis-à-vis the Soviets, if not totally convergent or unanimous within each country, had concrete consequences at the East-West level. As Grewe himself observed during his conversation with Kennedy on 24 October, the Americans ‘now avoid[ed] open confrontation with us’ regarding substantial points of disagreement, such as European security.74 This ‘provisional retreat’ could be used tactically by the Germans ‘to put certain limits on the upcoming conversations with the Soviets’. That is exactly what happened in autumn 1961. In accordance with the principle that Couve de Murville had formulated on 11 October, and against American wishes, no formal or even informal mandate was given to Thompson to pursue conversation in the name of the four Western powers.75 In Kennedy’s words on 24 October, ‘in present circumstances [i.e. French obstruction], Thompson could hardly lead substantial conversations’ and would therefore be instructed ‘to behave so as not to completely sever the thread of the conversation with the Soviets’.76 In contrast to the U.S. initial plan, according to which Thompson’s conversations in Moscow should not lose momentum and needed to begin in the wake of the first round of exploratory talks – that is, before the end of October – the process was de facto suspended until early January 1962 due to the lack of Western consensus.77

Unsuccessful Western Summitry Following a pattern similar to what had happened in the discussions at the working level among diplomats, a quadrilateral game subsequently developed at the top level, with a series of bilateral summits aiming at recreating a consensus among the four Western powers before Thompson’s conversations. Adenauer and Kennedy met in Washington on 20–22 November; next, Macmillan received de Gaulle at Birch Grove, his country house, on 24–25 November; and finally, Adenauer visited de Gaulle in Paris on 9 December, before the Western ministerial conference in Paris in mid-December. The central issue of this series of meetings was whether de Gaulle would eventually withdraw his veto against French participation in the conversations with the Soviets.

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Under pressure from Kennedy, Adenauer agreed that the exploratory talks should proceed, with a narrow basis to the negotiations (i.e. limited to Berlin).78 However, on one crucial question, Adenauer had obtained guarantees: the non-nuclear status of West Germany should not be evoked at all with Moscow, under the guise of European security. The chancellor wanted to keep for himself the question of whether or not Germany would be allowed to acquire and possess nuclear weapons, if only so that he could use it as a diplomatic asset if the time came to negotiate with the East on reunification. Therefore, accepting a formal commitment with the Soviets in the nuclear domain was out of the question. Yet, some public statements from London made it clear that the British intended to eventually include the FRG’s nuclear status in expanded discussions with the Soviets.79 Despite Macmillan’s hope to rally de Gaulle to the cause of negotiations with the East, the Anglo-French meeting at Birch Grove totally failed in this regard.80 When the discussion came to European security, the French head of state seized the opportunity to make a stand against any French participation in a guarantee made by the Western nuclear powers not to transfer nuclear weapons to third countries (such as West Germany). As already explained, such ideas had been discussed in the aftermath of the controversial 30 September conversation between Rusk and Gromyko. The French diplomats had maintained an extremely cautious attitude and supported German reservations. The principle of French policy in this field was simple: West Germany, as the country concerned in the first place, should be entitled to ‘indicate the limits of the measures that it could possibly envisage’.81 At Birch Grove, de Gaulle clarified the crucial political and strategic meaning attached to the restrictive attitude displayed by French diplomats towards the idea of an agreement between the two superpowers on non-dissemination of nuclear weapons. His words were extremely carefully chosen: As for France, it cannot associate itself with such a guarantee nor recognise, in the current situation, that it has in any case given up on a Franco-German atomic defence. No such project exists today, but it is not possible for France to admit that the defence of the Elbe and of the Rhine will depend forever and exclusively on the atomic weapons of the United States, when faced with such a serious threat as the Soviet Union.82

Thus, de Gaulle refused, at that time, to give the Soviets any formal guarantee not to provide nuclear weapons to West Germany, a step that he considered equivalent to renouncing in advance the option of ‘a Franco-German atomic defence’, independent of the American nuclear umbrella.83 This was a crucial divergence with the Anglo-American

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tendency to develop, in their discussions with the Soviets, a linkage between the settlement of the Berlin Crisis and the non-dissemination of nuclear weapons by nuclear powers to non-nuclear third countries.84 By contrast, at Birch Grove, de Gaulle had basically advocated a position parallel to Adenauer’s, against Kennedy and Macmillan, clearly illustrating the diplomatic and strategic solidarity that now existed between France and West Germany on the subject of Berlin: for Adenauer as for de Gaulle, it was out of the question that the non-nuclear status of West Germany should serve as a bargaining chip to solve the Berlin Crisis. Adenauer, in turn, attempted on 9 December to persuade de Gaulle to support the middle-ground tactics he had determined with Kennedy in Washington.85 The German chancellor still had a vision of the crisis that was essentially the same as de Gaulle’s, but he was deeply worried about the potentially disastrous repercussions of the division between Western powers. He expressed to de Gaulle his wish to see France join the common front vis-à-vis Moscow. The French leader responded with a categorical refusal, which caused an unusual moment of tension between the two men.86 De Gaulle then exposed an idea that had remained implicit thus far, but that went to the core of the rationale on which his inflexibility was founded: French abstention made it possible to ‘hold back the Anglo-Saxons’ and thus imposed certain limits on the ongoing U.S.-Soviet discussions. The result was a division of tasks in which the ‘Anglo-Saxons’ put out feelers, whereas France assumed the role of keeper of the flame, avoiding any dangerous abandonment. In this way, French policy contributed not only to preserving the strategic interests of the ‘Continentals’, but also to reinforcing the tactical position of the ‘Anglo-Saxons’ in their dealings with Khrushchev.87 De Gaulle was convinced that French abstention would prove ‘constructive’ in the end.88 Consequently, during the ministerial meeting of the four Western powers in December 1961, France maintained its refusal to take part in the talks with the Soviets, alone and against all others, including German Foreign Minister Schröder.89 Discussions between ministers rapidly reached a deadlock, and a telephone call was needed between President Kennedy and President de Gaulle to conclude negotiations on the wording of the communiqué. Nevertheless, the U.S.-French disagreement quickly re-emerged afterwards. At that moment, intra-Western, and especially Franco-American, tension reached its apex. On this occasion, de Gaulle turned out to be ‘more German than the Germans’, as Ashton so eloquently put it.90 This phenomenon was related to the way de Gaulle interpreted Adenauer’s concessions to Kennedy at the end of November 1961: according to de Gaulle, Adenauer had been ‘mainly driven by the desire to take into account the wishes expressed by

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President Kennedy and by [Macmillan]’, which was to a large extent an adequate description of reality.91 In other words, de Gaulle downplayed the significance of Adenauer’s consent to Anglo-American exploratory conversations with Moscow. The underlying idea was that de Gaulle, by sticking to his inflexible attitude, pursued the policy that the Germans themselves should have pursued if they had not had ‘their backs politically broken’, according to the striking words used at Birch Grove.92 In so doing, France took it upon itself to act as a spokesperson for Continental Europe, doing what Europeans should have done if they had had the courage to defend their own interests.93

Conclusion In the early days of 1962, American Ambassador Thompson initiated (at last) a second round of exploratory talks with Gromyko in Moscow. In Paris, a few days later, Laloy observed with satisfaction that the line taken by the American diplomat had been much clearer and firmer than Rusk’s in late September.94 It was certainly not the end of GermanFrench concerns over the U.S. Berlin policy: a second ‘alert’ occurred between March and May 1962, when the State Department envisaged far-reaching proposals to the Soviets. Admittedly, there was no joint high-profile French-German initiative to counter the U.S. manoeuvre, such as de Gaulle had suggested to Adenauer in February 1962.95 But the two leaders once again adopted parallel attitudes and the American drift towards concessions was soon blocked, for all practical purposes.96 Franco-German resistance was certainly not the only factor in play. The Soviets returned to a tougher attitude at the end of April, and it was a major cause of the failure in the U.S. diplomatic openings. In any case, events regarding Berlin seemed to vindicate de Gaulle’s refusal to make concessions to Moscow, as Rusk himself recognized in June 1962, followed by Macmillan in December.97 Thus, the Berlin factor contributed clearly to creating, between the French president and the German chancellor, an unswerving bond of trust that served as the foundation of what Hans-Peter Schwarz called Adenauer’s strategic ‘turn to France’; this phase, beginning in the summer of 1962, resulted in the signature of the Élysée Treaty in January 1963.98 Indeed, the two elder statesmen had managed to go through one of the most dangerous nuclear crises of the Cold War era together. Although they had not necessarily acted in unison, they had conducted parallel policies. De Gaulle’s ‘Empty Chair’ policy gave Adenauer considerable leverage. Pushed to certain unwanted concessions by

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American pressure in November 1961, he then took advantage of French resistance to regain some room for manoeuvre in the following months, particularly regarding the issue of the nuclear status of the FRG. In this regard, Adenauer and de Gaulle skilfully resisted any concession that would have created a discriminatory status for West Germany, strategically speaking. True, the ultimate aim of this resistance was not necessarily the same for all parties concerned: de Gaulle was thinking of the need to preserve the perspective of a Franco-German defence and of the ideal of an independent defence of Europe, whereas the Germans had primarily in mind the option of making NATO the fourth nuclear power, through nuclear sharing arrangements from which they would benefit as a Western ally.99 Nevertheless, it is undeniable that France at that moment led a policy regarding the diffusion of nuclear weapons that both compelled the American government to take West German strategic interests more into account, and kept the horizon open for a more equal relationship between France and Germany. Therefore, the thesis according to which de Gaulle used the Berlin Crisis in a Machiavellian way, by exacerbating tensions between Americans and West Germans, must be called into question. Indeed, if the last episode of the Berlin affair allowed de Gaulle to promote his vision of Franco-German strategic solidarity and European autonomy, was it not because he had correctly anticipated the United States’ movement towards a more unilateral relationship with Europeans, and towards an approach that paid less attention to the fundamental strategic interests of the ‘Continentals’?100 The French leader suspected that the Americans would tend to yield some ground to the Soviets’ theses regarding the German question, since U.S. and European interests in this matter did not entirely coincide. This suspicion actually began to materialize as of August 1961. This development progressively gave more weight to many of de Gaulle’s basic geopolitical concepts: the dichotomy between ‘Anglo-Saxons’ and ‘Continentals’; and the idea of a fundamental strategic solidarity, of a ‘Continental’ nature, between the French and the Germans, who would necessarily be engaged ‘on the same field for one and the same battle’ in the event of a war with the Soviets.101 Thus, the main factor that pushed Adenauer to embrace de Gaulle’s vision for Europe was not de Gaulle’s manipulation of the Berlin Crisis to fulfil hegemonic projects in Europe, but Kennedy’s own shift towards an attitude of conciliation with Moscow regarding Berlin and the German question. This trend became more and more visible in late 1961 and in 1962, and contributed to undermining Adenauer’s confidence in the United States’ reliability.

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Frédéric Gloriant is Associate Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Nantes, at the CRHIA (Centre de recherches en histoire internationale et atlantique). He obtained his PhD in 2014 with the dissertation The Great Schism: France, Britain and the Euro-Atlantic Issues, 1957–1963, at Sorbonne Nouvelle (Paris III), and worked in 2017–18 as a postdoctoral researcher at the Centre for Nuclear and Strategic Studies (CIENS) in the École Normale Supérieure (Paris-Ulm). His research interests mainly focus on the Franco-British relationship during the Cold War, strategic and nuclear issues, and European integration history.

Notes  1. G.-H. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996); M. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999).  2. P. Hassner, ‘Une France aux “mains libres”’, Preuves, February 1968, 48–57.  3. M. Trachtenberg, ‘The de Gaulle Problem’, Journal of Cold War Studies 14(1) (2012), 81–92.  4. On the revisionism of de Gaulle’s foreign policy, see F. Bozo, ‘France, “Gaullism”, and the Cold War’, in M.P. Leffler and O.A. Westad (eds), The Cambridge History of the Cold War, Vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 158–78 and G. Martin, ‘Conclusion: A  Gaullist Grand Strategy?’, in C. Nünlist, A. Locher and G. Martin (eds), Globalizing de Gaulle: International Perspectives on French Foreign Policies, 1958–1969 (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2010), 291–308; on the same topic, in the particular context of the Second Berlin Crisis, see F. Gloriant, ‘To Adapt to the Cold War Bipolar Order? Or to Challenge It? Macmillan and de Gaulle’s Rift in the Face of the Second Berlin Crisis’, Cold War History 18(4) (2018), 465–83.  5. A regulative ideal, in Kant’s philosophy of history, is a concept that must serve as a guide for human action, even if it must never be attained. ‘Perpetual peace’, for example, is a regulative ideal.  6. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 136–39.  7. C. de Gaulle, Mémoires d’espoir, t. 1, le Renouveau, 1958–1962 (Paris: Plon, 1970), 187. Compare with ‘PV de l’entretien du général de Gaulle et du chancelier Adenauer le 14  septembre 1958, à Colombey-les-deux-Églises’, Documents diplomatiques français (published documents of the French Foreign Ministry – hereafter DDF), 1958-II, no. 155; analytical minutes of the meeting between de Gaulle and Adenauer, f. 274–77, Secrétariat Général – Entretiens et messages (hereafter SGE), vol. 5, Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs (AFMFA), La Courneuve.  8. Conversation between de Gaulle and Charles Bohlen, 4 January, DDF, 1963-I, no. 10.  9. On 1940 and de Gaulle’s nuclear policy, read P.H. Gordon, ‘Charles de Gaulle and the Nuclear Revolution’, in J. Gaddis, P. Gordon, E. May and J. Rosenberg (eds), Cold War Statesmen Confront the Bomb (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 216–35. 10. A. Peyrefitte, C’était de Gaulle. Vol. 1 (Paris: de Fallois, 1994), 346 (statement made in early January 1963). 11. Franco-German conversations in Paris (21–23 January), DDF, 1963-I, no. 38, part I. 12. Franco-German meeting in Rambouillet (29–30 July), DDF, 1960-II, no. 54, part III. De Gaulle had already provided an outline of his vision to Macmillan a few months earlier (Franco-British meeting in Rambouillet, 13 March, DDF, 1960-I, no. 109; for the

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13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21.

22.

23. 24. 25. 26. 27.

28. 29. 30.

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British transcript, ‘Points discussed with General de Gaulle at Rambouillet on March 12–13, 1960’, PREM 11/2998, United Kingdom National Archives – hereafter UKNA, Kew). He also did so when he received Kennedy in Paris (conversation on 1 June, DDF, 1961-I, no. 265, part IV). Franco-German meeting in Rambouillet (29–30 July), DDF, 1960-II, no. 54, part III. De Gaulle referred to the argument of proximity at the very beginning of the Berlin Crisis, during his second meeting with Adenauer, in Bad-Kreuznach, on 26 November (DDF, 1958-II, no. 370, part III); see also de Gaulle-Kennedy conversation in Paris on 1 June, DDF, 1961-I, no. 265, part IV. For one of the clearest presentations of this strategic rationale, read the ‘notes au sujet de l’Europe’, 17 July 1961, §3, in C. de Gaulle, Lettres, notes et carnets, juin 1958–novembre 1970 (hereafter DG-LNC) (Paris: R. Laffont, 2010), 381–82. Speech at the Ecole militaire, 15 February 1963, in C. de Gaulle, Discours et messages, IV (Paris: Plon, 1970), 84–87. Franco-German conversations in Paris (21–23 January), DDF, 1963-I, no. 38, part I. Conversation between de Gaulle and Charles Bohlen (U.S. ambassador), 4 January, DDF, 1963-I, no. 10. Ibid.; see also conversations Adenauer/de Gaulle in Paris (21–23 January), DDF, 1963I, no. 38, part I. On this topic, see B. Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée: de Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969 (Paris: PUF, 2007) and T. Geiger, Atlantiker gegen Gaullisten: Außenpolitischer Konflikt und innerparteilicher Machtkampf in der CDU/CSU 1958–1969 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2008). This part of the chapter and the following ones, devoted to a case study on the Second Berlin Crisis, are based in part on the author’s PhD thesis, Le grand schisme: La France, la Grande-Bretagne et les problèmes euro-atlantiques, 1957–1963 (University of Paris IIISorbonne Nouvelle, 2014). On Khrushchev’s policy and strategy regarding the Berlin Crisis, see G. Wettig, Chruschtschows Berlin-Krise 1958 bis 1963: Drohpolitik und Mauerbau (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006); M. Uhl, Krieg um Berlin? Die sowjetische Militär- und Sicherheitspolitik in der zweiten Berlin-Krise 1958 bis 1962 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2008). Conversations between de Gaulle and Vinogradov, 2–6 March, DDF, 1959-I, no. 120 and 136. Meetings at Bad-Kreuznach, 26 November, DDF, 1958-II, no. 370, part III. For de Gaulle’s concern about West German morale, see, e.g., Blankenhorn (Paris) to Auswärtiges Amt, no.  1031, 24 November 1958 (conversation with de Gaulle), B130, vol. 8411A, Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts, Berlin (hereafter PA AA). Franco-British conversations in Paris, de Gaulle/Macmillan, 9–10 March, DDF, 1959-I, no. 146, part II. See Couve de Murville’s statement in the North Atlantic Council, in Schröder to Auwärtiges Amt, 13 December, Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (published documents of the German Foreign Ministry – hereafter AAPD), 1961-III, no. 546. See for example Franco-German conversations in Bonn (Debré, Couve de Murville/ Adenauer, Brentano), 6 May, DDF, 1959-I, no. 270. On the contrast between French and British policies, see Gloriant, ‘To Adapt to the Cold War Bipolar Order’. On de Gaulle’s proposal for an Anglo-Franco-American tripartism, see F. Gloriant, ‘Londres et la proposition gaullienne de “directoire nucléaire tripartite” de septembre 1958: réception, conséquences, symbole’, in C. Jurgensen and D.  Mongin (eds), Résistance et Dissuasion: Des origines du programme nucléaire français à nos jours (Paris: O. Jacob, 2018), 235–58.

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31. Blankenhorn (Paris) to Auswärtiges Amt, no.  1031, 24 November 1958 (conversation with de Gaulle), B130, vol. 8411A, PA AA. 32. Before the UK-U.S.-French-Soviet ministerial conferences in Geneva (11 May–5 August 1959), meetings Adenauer/Debré in Bonn, 6 May, DDF, 1959-I, no. 270; at the beginning of the 1960 summit with Khrushchev in Paris, conversation de GaulleAdenauer, 14 May, DDF, 1960-I, no. 221, part I; before the Khrushchev-Kennedy summit in Vienna in June 1961, meetings de Gaulle/Adenauer in Rhöndorf and Bonn, 20 May, DDF, 1961-I, no. 249, and at the height of East-West tensions in summer 1961, summit of the Six EEC countries in Bonn, 18 July, DDF, 1961-II, no. 36, part II, during which de Gaulle exhorted his European partners to act in ‘absolute solidarity’ with the FRG; before the Western ministerial conference of mid-December 1961, meeting de Gaulle/Adenauer in Paris, 9 December, DDF, 1961-II, no. 211. 33. Conversations between de Gaulle and the President of the FRG Heinrich Lübke, Paris, 20–23 June, DDF, 1961-I, no. 300. 34. Conversation de Gaulle/Eisenhower, Western summit conference, 19–21 December, DDF, 1959-II, no. 295, part II. 35. According to U.S. Secretary of State Christian A. Herter, ‘As [a] result [of the] role De Gaulle has played during these days, it is widely thought here that France’s international prestige has not been higher in a long time’ (Foreign Relations of the United States – hereafter FRUS, 1958–1960, vol. IX, no. 189, telegram to the Department of State, 18 May 1960); see also E.-M. Fredrich-Kihm, Akteure der zweiten Reihe: die Rolle Frankreichs und der DDR im Verlauf der zweiten Berlinkrise, 1958–1963 (Hamburg: Dr. Kovac, 2011). 36. Cabinet meeting of 28 July 1961, CAB 128/35/45, UKNA. On Macmillan’s reluctance towards military contingency planning regarding Berlin, see J.P.S. Gearson, Harold Macmillan and the Berlin Wall Crisis, 1958–1962: The Limits of Interests and Force (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998), 180–96. 37. De Gaulle to Kennedy, 27 July 1961, DG-LNC, 388–89; meetings of the Western ministers of foreign affairs, 5–7 August, DDF, 1961-II, no. 61, part I (Rusk/Home/Couve de Murville, 5 August). 38. Ibid., parts I–IV. 39. Meeting de Gaulle/Rusk, Paris, 8 August, DDF, 1961-II, no. 63. 40. Letter to Kennedy, 26 August 1961, DG-LNC, 398–99. 41. Meetings of the Western ministers of foreign affairs in Washington, 14–16 September, DDF, 1961-II, no. 112. 42. These discussions were led at different levels, by Adlai E. Stevenson (U.S. Permanent Representative to the United Nations), Rusk and Kennedy on the American side, and Home and Macmillan on the British side. 43. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 283–351; N. Ashton, Kennedy, Macmillan, and the Cold War: The Irony of Interdependence (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 48–63; T. Aono, ‘“It is Not Easy for the United States to Carry the Whole Load”: AngloAmerican Relations during the Berlin Crisis, 1961–1962’, Diplomatic History 34 (2010), 325–56. 44. G.-H. Soutou, ‘Paris als Nutznießer des erfolglosen Wiener Gipfels’, in S. Karner (ed.), Der Wiener Gipfel 1961: Kennedy - Chruschtschow (Innsbruck: Studien-Verlag, 2011), 185–203. 45. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 264 and 295. 46. Ibid., 268. 47. Aono, ‘“It is Not Easy”’, goes as far as to claim that the British diplomats exercised a subtle influence in Washington during the months preceding the reformulation of the U.S. policy on Berlin (between April and July 1961), and managed to get their idea progressively accepted that the massive U.S. military build-up should be

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48. 49. 50.

51. 52.

53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61.

62. 63. 64. 65.

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accompanied by a renewed attempt to negotiate with Moscow. The aim was to keep the other NATO allies on board, who, in contrast to de Gaulle or Adenauer, were favourable to a policy of dialogue with Moscow. Ibid., 343, 345–49, 353. Trachtenberg admits that the Kennedy administration evolved towards a broader basis for discussions with Moscow, but underestimates the role of the British in this process (A Constructed Peace, 328, 342–45). Blankenhorn (Paris) to Brentano, 27 June 1961 (conversation with Jean Laloy on 26 June), B130, vol. 8434A, PA AA; meeting de Gaulle/Lübke, Paris, 20–23 June, DDF, 1961-I, no. 300. Alphand (Washington) to Paris, 3 October 1961 (tel. no. 5302-04), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. For the Soviet-American conversation on 30 September, see Rusk to Paris, 2 October 1961, FRUS, 1961–1963, vol. XIV, no. 164, and the report that was made to the British, French and German ambassadors, in Grewe (Washington) to Brentano, 2 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 392 and Alphand to Paris, 2 October 1961 (tel. no. 5254-74), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Conversation between Brentano and Couve de Murville, Paris, 11 October, DDF, 1961-II, no. 135–36. Alphand (Washington) to Paris, 2 October 1961 (tel. no. 5254-74), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. The Washington Ambassadorial Group consisted of the U.S. assistant secretary of state, the British and French ambassadors, and, beginning in the summer of 1961, the West German ambassador; it was the senior forum for tripartite, and then quadripartite, consultation regarding Berlin. Paris (Direction des Affaires Politiques – hereafter AP) to Washington, 3 October 1961 (tel. no. 15584-90); Paris (AP, Laloy) to Washington, 7 October 1961 (tel. no. 15884-99), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Alphand (Washington) to Paris, 7 October 1961 (tel. no. 5446-49), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Paris (AP) to Washington, 3 October 1961 (tel. no. 15584-90), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Paris (AP, Laloy) to Washington, 7 October 1961 (tel. no. 15884-99), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Alphand to Paris, 29 September 1961 (tel. no. 5236-39), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408 (in subfolder ‘European security and German peace plan’ – hereafter ESG), AFMFA. See Kohler’s report of the 30 September conversation, in Alphand (Washington) to Paris, 2 October 1961 (tel. no. 5254-70), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Alphand (Washington) to Paris, 11 October 1961 (5530-40), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Alphand to Paris, 3 October 1961 (tel. no. 5306-07), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408 – ESG, AFMFA. Alphand to Paris, 29 September 1961 (tel. no. 5236-39); Alphand to Paris, 3 October 1961 (tel. no. 5308-10); ‘Rapport du groupe de travail de Washington sur la sécurité européenne (29 septembre–3 octobre 1961’, containing a copy of the instructions of 26 September, 9 October (AP, Disarmament), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408 – ESG, AFMFA. Alphand (Washington) to Paris, 19 October 1961 (tel. no. 5691-93), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408 – ESG, AFMFA. Lilienfeld (Washington) to Auswärtiges Amt, 13 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 436. Grewe (Washington) to Auswärtiges Amt, 23 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 458. The same dynamics can be observed in the meeting with Kennedy, Bohlen and Kohler on the following day (Grewe to Auswärtiges Amt, 24 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 459); having just received a letter from de Gaulle (letter to Kennedy, 21 October 1961, DG-LNC, 418–20), the tone of which was more inflexible than ever, Kennedy was

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66. 67.

68.

69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

82.

83.

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then confronted with Grewe’s frank criticisms towards the U.S. policy on Berlin and Germany. Nonetheless, half of the conversation was devoted to de Gaulle’s ‘totally negative attitude’ and its consequences. See conversation Grewe/Kohler, Washington, 23 October, AAPD, 1961-III, 1817-18, note 10. See, e.g. Lilienfeld (Washington) to Auswärtiges Amt, 13 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no.  436; Lilienfeld (Washington) to Auswärtiges Amt, 20 October, AAPD, 1961-III, 1766, note 8, regarding Kennedy’s growing impatience with the German posture on Berlin. Lilienfeld to Auswärtiges Amt, 12 October; Blankenhorn to Auswärtiges Amt, 13 October, AAPD, 1961-III, 1734, notes 3 and 5. On 13 October, Laloy suggested that the London conference would need to be sufficiently long, since ‘it would not be easy to dissuade the Americans from certain ideas’. See Knoke (Paris) to Auswärtiges Amt, 23 October, and Carstens to Blankenhorn (Paris), 24 October, in AAPD, 1961-III, 1767-1768, notes 17–18. Conversations of Carstens in French Ministry of Foreign Affairs on 15 November, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 503. H.-P. Schwarz, Adenauer: Der Staatsmann, 1952–1967 (Stuttgart: DVA, 1991), 671–710. Compare the conversation between de Gaulle and Erhard with that between Brentano and Couve de Murville, on 11 October, DDF, 1961-II, no. 134–35. See for example the reactions in West German newspapers after the 30 September meeting between Rusk and Gromyko, in Seydoux (Bonn) to Paris, 5 October 1961 (tel. no. 4621-24), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408, AFMFA. Grewe to Auswärtiges Amt, 24 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 459 (conversation with Kennedy), 1820. Conversation Brentano/Couve de Murville, 11 October, DDF, 1961-II, no. 135. Grewe to Auswärtiges Amt, 24 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 459 (conversation with Kennedy). On the initial U.S. plan, see Thompson’s remark in Grewe to Auswärtiges Amt, 10 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 424, 1684. Meetings Kennedy/Adenauer in Washington, 20–22 November 1961, FRUS, 1961– 1963, vol. XIV, no. 216–19 and 221 and AAPD, 1961-III, no. 508 and 511–14. Chauvel (London) to Paris, 5 December 1961 (tel. no. 3975-77), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 409, AFMFA. Chauvel to Couve de Murville, 29 November, DDF, 1961-II, no. 196. Quote from ‘instructions complémentaires de la délégation française au groupe de travail sur la sécurité européenne’, 11 October 1961, Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408 – ESG, AFMFA. See also Grewe to Auswärtiges Amt, 10 October, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 424, 1695-96 and Alphand to Paris, 24 October 1961 (tel. no. 5758-65), Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408 – ESG, AFMFA. Meetings at Birch Grove, de Gaulle/Macmillan, 24–25 November, DDF, 1961-II, no. 192 (in French: ‘La France ne peut pas, en ce qui la concerne, s’associer à une garantie de cet ordre et reconnaître dans une situation comme celle où nous nous trouvons qu’elle-même renonce, en tout cas, à une défense atomique franco-allemande. Aucun projet de ce genre n’existe actuellement, mais il n’est pas possible pour la France d’admettre que la défense de l’Elbe et du Rhin dépende pour toujours des seules armes atomiques des Etats-Unis devant une menace aussi grave que celle de l’URSS’). It should be noted that de Gaulle’s position on whether the FRG’s non-nuclear status should be discussed with the Soviets evolved during the second part of his presidency, due to various factors: first, the Berlin Crisis receded and the possibility emerged to embark on the path of détente; second, the bond of trust that

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existed between de Gaulle and Adenauer could not be prolonged with his successor Ludwig Erhard, whose nuclear policy in favour of the MLF (Multilateral Force) was strongly disapproved by the French and deemed both Atlanticist and contradictory to what should be the real priority of Bonn, namely reunification. In this evolving context, from 1965 onwards, de Gaulle included in his conversations with the Soviet leaders the acceptance by the FRG of a non-nuclear status, as a precondition for German reunification – a long-term objective that he always maintained. On this, see Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée, 160–68 and 277–323. 84. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace, 379–98. 85. Conversations between de Gaulle and Adenauer, Paris, 9 December, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 542–43 and for the French version, DDF, 1961-II, no. 211. 86. ‘Compte-rendu de l’entretien entre le général de Gaulle et le Chancelier Adenauer’ by Laloy, 9 December 1961, f. 300–306, SGE, vol. 15, AFMFA. 87. Alphand also observed and explained this paradoxical result of France’s non-participation in the talks with Moscow (Alphand to Couve de Murville, 29 March, DDF, 1962-I, no. 110). 88. De Gaulle repeated it several times to his German interlocutors in 1962: see GermanFrench meetings in Baden-Baden, 15 February, DDF, 1962-I, no. 55; in Paris, 3–5 July, DDF, 1962-II, no. 4, parts III–IV; and the conversation between de Gaulle and Lübke, in the FRG, 4 September, DDF, 1962-II, no. 67, part I. 89. Quadripartite ministerial meetings in Paris, 11–12 December, and conversation de Gaulle/Rusk, 13 December, DDF, 1961-II, no.  217–18; NATO ministerial session on Berlin, 13 December 1961, f. 365–76, SGE, vol. 15, AFMFA. 90. Ashton, Kennedy, Macmillan, and the Cold War, 62. 91. Quote from a letter to Macmillan, 12 December 1961, DG-LNC, 431–32; on Adenauer’s attitude, see his conversation with the U.S. ambassador in Bonn Dowling, 18 December, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 554: visibly relieved by the fact that Thompson’s talks in Moscow had been postponed until January 1962, he also defended de Gaulle, saying that the latter could not be blamed for not wanting his ambassador in Moscow to participate in talks with the Soviets about Berlin. 92. The French expression is ‘les reins cassés’ – literally, ‘broken kidneys’. 93. In the same vein, see Couve de Murville’s statement in a meeting with Schröder in Paris, 16 April, DDF, 1962-I, no. 130. 94. Notes for Couve de Murville about the instructions given to Thompson and his second meeting with Gromyko, Paris, 11 and 20 January 1962, f. 13–19, Cabinet du Ministre, vol. 373, AFMFA. 95. German-French meetings in Baden-Baden, 15 February, DDF, 1962-I, no. 55. 96. The impact of French objections and Adenauer’s obstructionist manoeuvres in April–May 1962 is well documented in the subfolder ‘Berlin. Négociations russoaméricaines (et entretiens Rusk-Dobrynine). Avril 1962–avril 1963’, Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 409, AFMFA; see also Couve de Murville to Alphand, 12 April, DDF, 1962-I, no. 125. 97. Conversation de Gaulle/Rusk, Paris, 19 June, DDF, 1962-I, no. 186, part II; meeting de Gaulle/Macmillan, Rambouillet, 15 December, DDF, 1962-II, no. 200, part I. 98. Schwarz, Adenauer: Der Staatsmann, 727–69. 99. Strauß (defence minister) to Carstens, 13 November, AAPD, 1961-III, no. 497. 100. Conversation de Gaulle/Macmillan, Rambouillet, 28 January, DDF, 1961-I, no. 42. 101. Franco-German meeting in Rambouillet (29–30 July), DDF, 1960-II, no. 54, part III.

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Bibliography Primary Sources Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, La Courneuve, AFMFA: – Secrétariat Général – Entretiens et messages (SGE), vol. 5 and 15 – Pactes, 1961–70, vol. 408–409 – Cabinet du Ministre, vol. 373 Archives of the FRG’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Politisches Archiv des Auswärtigen Amts), Berlin, PA AA: – B130, vol. 8411A and 8434A United Kingdom National Archives, Kew, UKNA: – PREM 11/2998 – CAB 128/35/45 Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland, AAPD (published documents of the FRG Foreign Ministry): – vol. 1961-III Documents diplomatiques français, DDF (published documents of the French Foreign Ministry): – all volumes for the years 1958–63 Foreign Relations of the United States, FRUS (published documents of the U.S. State of Department): – 1958–1960, vol. IX – 1961–1963, vol. XIV

Literature Aono, T. ‘“It is Not Easy for the United States to Carry the Whole Load”: AngloAmerican Relations during the Berlin Crisis, 1961–1962’. Diplomatic History 34 (2010), 325–56. Ashton, N. Kennedy, Macmillan, and the Cold War: The Irony of Interdependence. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002. Bozo, F. ‘France, “Gaullism”, and the Cold War’, in M.P. Leffler and O.A. Westad (eds), The Cambridge History of the Cold War, Vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 158–78. De Gaulle, C. Discours et messages, IV. Paris: Plon, 1970.  . Mémoires d’espoir, t. 1, le Renouveau, 1958–1962. Paris: Plon, 1970.  . Lettres, notes et carnets, juin 1958–novembre 1970. Paris, R. Laffont, 2010. Fredrich-Kihm, E.-M. Akteure der zweiten Reihe: die Rolle Frankreichs und der DDR im Verlauf der zweiten Berlinkrise, 1958–1963. Hamburg: Dr. Kovac, 2011. Gearson, J.P.S. Harold Macmillan and the Berlin Wall Crisis, 1958–1962: The Limits of Interests and Force. Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1998.

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Geiger, T. Atlantiker gegen Gaullisten: Außenpolitischer Konflikt und innerparteilicher Machtkampf in der CDU/CSU 1958–1969. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2008. Gloriant, F. Le grand schisme: La France, la Grande-Bretagne et les problèmes euroatlantiques, 1957–1963, PhD thesis. University of Paris III-Sorbonne Nouvelle, 2014.  . ‘To Adapt to the Cold War Bipolar Order? Or to Challenge It? Macmillan and de Gaulle’s Rift in the Face of the Second Berlin Crisis’. Cold War History 18(4) (2018), 465–83.  . ‘Londres et la proposition gaullienne de “directoire nucléaire tripartite” de septembre 1958: réception, conséquences, symbole’, in C. Jurgensen and D.  Mongin (eds), Résistance et Dissuasion: Des origines du programme nucléaire français à nos jours (Paris: O. Jacob, 2018), 235–58. Gordon, P.H. ‘Charles de Gaulle and the Nuclear Revolution’, in J. Gaddis, P. Gordon, E. May and J. Rosenberg (eds), Cold War Statesmen Confront the Bomb (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 216–35. Hassner, P. ‘Une France aux “mains libres”’, Preuves, February 1968, 48–57. Martin, G. ‘Conclusion: A Gaullist Grand Strategy?’, in C. Nünlist, A. Locher and G. Martin (eds), Globalizing de Gaulle: International Perspectives on French Foreign Policies, 1958–1969 (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2010), 291–308. Peyrefitte, A. C’était de Gaulle. Vol. 1. Paris: de Fallois, 1994. Schoenborn, B. La mésentente apprivoisée: de Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969. Paris: PUF, 2007. Schwarz, H.-P. Adenauer: Der Staatsmann, 1952–1967. Stuttgart: DVA, 1991. Soutou, G.-H. L’alliance incertaine: les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996. Paris: Fayard, 1996.  . ‘Paris als Nutznießer des erfolglosen Wiener Gipfels’, in S. Karner (ed.), Der Wiener Gipfel 1961: Kennedy - Chruschtschow (Innsbruck: Studien-Verlag, 2011), 185–203. Trachtenberg, M. A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945– 1963. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999.  . ‘The de Gaulle Problem’. Journal of Cold War Studies 14(1) (2012), 81–92. Uhl, M. Krieg um Berlin? Die sowjetische Militär- und Sicherheitspolitik in der zweiten Berlin-Krise 1958 bis 1962. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2008. Wettig, G. Chruschtschows Berlin-Krise 1958 bis 1963: Drohpolitik und Mauerbau. Munich: Oldenbourg, 2006.

Part II

Ostpolitik and the Franco-German Nuclear Relations in the 1970s

Chapter 5

‘Military Cooperation Is Not in Itself an Instrument of Progress’ The Role of the French Nuclear Deterrent in Early Concepts of Ostpolitik Benedikt Schoenborn

Introduction

W

illy Brandt’s Ostpolitik was a milestone in the post-war history of Europe.1 The treaties Brandt’s government signed with the East between 1970 and 1973 permanently eased the tensions resulting from the absence of a peace treaty at the end of World War II, and the ensuing East-West rapprochement significantly changed the overall political climate in Europe. While France was clearly in the ascendancy during the de Gaulle era, in the early 1970s West Germany took the lead in promoting détente. However, the implementation of Ostpolitik was preceded by a relatively long and not always linear phase of conception. Against this background, the following analysis focuses on the long-term policy programmes developed by Brandt and his advisors in the 1960s, and examines the role of nuclear weapons and particularly of the French nuclear deterrent in these conceptual outlines. Thus, this chapter does not study a specific project of cooperation or cause of disagreement, but adopts a new approach that consists in bringing to light the nuclear aspects inherent in long-term foreign policy concepts before their implementation begins. The scholarly literature has not so far scrutinized the early concepts of Ostpolitik as regards the French nuclear deterrent. The chosen research angle also corresponds to the source situation. As mayor of West Berlin (1957–66), West German foreign minister (1966–69) and candidate of the Social Democratic Party (SPD) for the chancellery (1961, 1965, 1969), Brandt met with French

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President Charles de Gaulle at least once a year between 1959 and 1969, with the exception of 1961. However, they discussed nuclear weapons on only one occasion, on 2 June 1965, and Brandt hardly ever wrote any internal memos on the topic.2 Brandt’s attitude during the 1960s was not only significant because of his later Ostpolitik but also because of his central role in ensuring West Germany’s adherence to the nuclear non-proliferation treaty (NPT), thereby definitely renouncing any access to nuclear weapons. Indeed, signing the NPT was among Brandt’s first official acts when he was elected Chancellor of West Germany in October 1969.3 The Social Democratic Party had only lent its support to Brandt’s non-nuclear position in the second half of the 1960s, and influential party colleagues like Fritz Erler or Helmut Schmidt had initially been inclined to keep the nuclear option open – as did Konrad Adenauer, Franz Josef Strauss, Ludwig Erhard and Gerhard Schröder from the conservative CDU/CSU party. Academics have debated at length why West Germany signed the NPT and produced a wide range of explanations, from coercion by the United States at one pole of the spectrum, to the emergence of a nonnuclear consensus among a new generation of West German leaders at the other.4 This chapter highlights the consistency of Brandt’s position in favour of nuclear restraint since the late 1950s and throughout the 1960s. In light of Brandt’s key role regarding the NPT, the evidence presented here conflicts with the argument of ‘alliance coercion’, which was most recently defended by Gene Gerzhoy.5 More broadly, I argue against an ‘alarmist’ view on West Germany’s interest in nuclear weapons. For the analysis of Brandt’s position, the categories first developed by the political scientist Scott Sagan are taken as the theoretical background. Sagan’s work explores why states opt for or against developing nuclear weapons. According to Sagan, three complementary models are to be considered. The ‘security model’ focuses on whether developing nuclear weapons would impair or enhance a country’s security. The external threat situation is to be taken into account, but also the expected reaction of alliance partners. The ‘domestic politics model’ views nuclear policy as a tool to advance domestic interests. A country’s ruling coalition, the influence of the military or the energy establishment may be salient here. The ‘norms model’ emphasizes the symbolic value of acquiring or not acquiring nuclear weapons, and relates this decision to a country’s political identity. According to this line of thought, the symbolism of gaining nuclear status may be paramount rather than the security atomic weapons can afford. For example, the acquisition of nuclear weapons can demonstrate the ability to produce cutting-edge technology and thus symbolize the modernity of a state. Likewise, a decision in favour of

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nuclear restraint may express the political objective to shape and reflect a country’s peaceful identity.6 The following argument proceeds chronologically, refers to Sagan’s categories at various points of the analysis and in the conclusion interprets the relative weight of the models. While the public debates in the 1960s, the historical-political literature and indeed the French perspective focus principally on the security dimension of nuclear deterrence, this chapter finds that the role of nuclear weapons in Brandt’s pervasive concepts was also significantly influenced by normative elements. He consistently advocated a non-nuclear status for reasons of security and as a result of Germany’s special role in pursuing peace.

Brandt’s Speeches at Harvard and Tutzing Willy Brandt had already started to articulate some of his core political ideas in the 1950s, working on the assumption that the emergence of nuclear weapons made peaceful coexistence between East and West imperative. In a situation where a major war would threaten the very existence of mankind, war could no longer be a tool for any kind of policy, Brandt reasoned in May 1955.7 Upon his election as Mayor of West Berlin, in October 1957, and after Moscow issued a threat against the status of Berlin in November 1958, he was rather cautious in his pronouncements on nuclear issues. He sympathized with the idea of thinning out the deployment of nuclear weapons in Central Europe, as promoted by the Polish Foreign Minister Adam Rapacki, but warned against taking hasty steps with such military alterations, which actually fell under the responsibility of the Four Powers.8 On the one hand, when the East-West conflict was at its most intense, Brandt did not oppose the deployment of U.S. nuclear weapons on German territory. On the other hand, in April 1958, he emphasized that only international détente and disarmament could open the door to solving the ‘German questions’, not a nuclear arms race.9 Likewise, he did not support the option of West Germany gaining access to nuclear weapons, a topic debated in 1957–58, and in March 1960 he exerted himself to rule out any nuclear armament of the U.S. troops in West Berlin. As the SPD candidate for the West German chancellery, in August 1960 Brandt stated in an interview that the FRG should renounce any ambition of becoming a nuclear power. At this point, he did not yet explain his position in much detail, but the statement already illustrates his consistent promotion of German nuclear restraint.10

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The construction of the Berlin Wall in August 1961 affected Mayor Brandt significantly and on several levels, two of which are relevant here.11 First, Washington’s acquiescence to Moscow’s move made him painfully aware of the limited use of Washington’s military and nuclear might. The realization that the Wall could not be removed by force strengthened Brandt’s conviction that security considerations alone could not solve the problem of a divided Germany. Second, he became aware of the urgency for the West Germans to develop their own political plans and contacts with the East if they wanted to keep the hope of German reunification alive. As a result, Brandt became more outspoken in his view of an active Eastern policy, while his aid Egon Bahr engaged in drafting possible concepts to achieve German reunification in the long run.12 Brandt’s lectures at Harvard University, on 2 and 3 October 1962, were his first attempt to launch an inclusive model of East-West coexistence with the West Germans pursuing an active Eastern policy under the umbrella of U.S. leadership. He advocated a political strategy based on ‘a permanent offensive’ by the West to engage the Eastern side in constant dialogue on as many domains of contact as possible. He named cultural, economic and scientific cooperation as the key fields likely to ‘encourage transformation’ of the communist world.13 In the latter part of the Harvard lectures, Brandt also talked about nuclear deterrence and military cooperation within NATO, referring critically to the French strategy without explicitly mentioning France. In contrast to the fields of economy, culture and science, he described military cooperation as ‘not in itself an instrument of progress; in a political sense it is not offensive’. The lectures thereby demonstrated Brandt’s aspiration, in his foreign policy vision, to move beyond security and military cooperation, which he perceived as defensive and not creative. Nevertheless, he deemed it ‘extremely vital’ to maintain peace through equilibrium of military forces. Without this precondition, West Germany and Berlin would no longer enjoy freedom. Brandt attributed exclusively to the U.S. the role of leading the ‘free world’, and particularly the responsibility for maintaining a nuclear deterrent.14 He perceived it as ‘most damaging to the alliance’ that anyone should try to relieve the U.S. of its nuclear role. Actually, nothing is more dangerous than nuclear political ambition. In this field I do have most serious misgivings about a ‘diffusion of power’. Especially where nuclear weapons are concerned there is a greater advantage in having a concentration of forces at both power poles, in Washington and in Moscow, and in maintaining their special responsibility.15

In the context this clearly implies a critical view of France and its newly acquired nuclear status as a security risk. It is noteworthy that

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Brandt made an unequivocal statement in favour of ‘keeping the atomic club closed’, despite West Germany’s own lack of access to nuclear weapons. This was in October 1962, several years before the debates on whether Germany should sign the non-proliferation treaty appeared on the agenda. Later on, in line with the position presented at Harvard University, Brandt also voiced scepticism about the U.S. project of a multilateral force (MLF) within NATO, planned as a new nuclear deterrent force with West German participation on a subaltern level.16 Brandt’s speech at the Evangelic Academy of Tutzing, on 15 July 1963, was a direct continuation and in many parts a repetition of the arguments presented at Harvard University. Yet it was the first time that a wider German public took notice of his conceptual ideas. The Tutzing event also catapulted his political aid and speech writer, Egon Bahr, onto centre stage. Because Brandt’s arrival was delayed, Bahr spoke first and got much of the attention and criticism raised by the political ideas that he expounded. Bahr’s speech focused on the long-term objective of German reunification, which he presented as the ultimate outcome of a painstaking process of small steps, but did not refer to any nuclear or military issue.17 By contrast, Brandt’s Tutzing address elaborated on nuclear questions in greater detail than did the Harvard lectures. He insisted that the Germans should renounce any kind of nuclear ambition and rejected the argument that international equality called for German possession, or access to, atomic weapons. Brandt substantiated his assertion by presenting arguments related to security and norms. Regarding the normative realm, he emphasized the FRG’s loyalty to the Western alliance and the imperative for the Germans to gradually regain the trust of the international community. He called on all Germans to courageously confront the darkness of the Hitler years and to accept the special responsibility due to the Nazi past. (At the time, West German society had just started to engage in a major debate on the responsibility for the Nazi war crimes, in the wake of the mediatized trial of Adolf Eichmann in Jerusalem.18) Brandt declared that even the young generation, albeit free from guilt, could not ‘escape the history of their people’ and needed to act accordingly. He drew two conclusions from the historical legacy. Domestically, the German people needed to engage in a process of reconciliation with themselves. Internationally, the FRG was bound to lead a policy of slowly reducing the ingrained mistrust of the Germans. In Brandt’s reasoning, the total renunciation of nuclear weapons was a direct consequence of German history.19 He continued by endorsing this normative argument with security considerations. Against the background of the division of Germany and

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its particular exposure to East-West hostilities, the country’s security called for détente rather than tension. Any nuclear ambition on the part of Germany would only exacerbate international tensions and thereby imperil the country’s security. In other words, he postulated that nuclear restraint increased Germany’s security. Repeating the credo of his Harvard lectures, Brandt attributed the entire responsibility for nuclear deterrence on behalf of the Western camp solely to the United States. In the same context he criticized more specifically the French nuclear policy, and argued that the creation by European states of their own atomic forces decreased security rather than increasing it. Brandt stated that such policies by European allies were built on mistrust of the Western alliance and therefore undermined cooperation. He also pointed out that it was a logical mistake to believe that European nuclear weapons could ‘force the Americans to do something which they otherwise would not do’. Again, it was clearly implied that he referred to de Gaulle, who assumed that a French nuclear strike against the Soviet Union would ensure U.S. intervention in an East-West conflict.20 Overall, in Brandt’s Tutzing speech the role of Western armed forces was merely to ‘militarily fix the status quo’ against potential aggressions by the East, in order to create room for gradual change on the political level. His declared objective was to transform the ‘balance of terror’ (the system of nuclear deterrence) in Europe by implementing a ‘strategy of peace’.21 Thus, he viewed the contemporary security system based on nuclear deterrence as provisional, not permanent. The criticism of French policy as expressed in Brandt’s Harvard and Tutzing speeches also corresponded to the party line of the SPD in the early 1960s. Until 1966, when the German Social Democrats began to perceive de Gaulle in a more positive light, the opposition to the General was an integral part of their political programme.22 Brandt assumed a more moderate and finely-shaded position towards de Gaulle than did most of his party colleagues, yet he also sided firmly with Washington in the Franco-American discord of the time. Brandt demonstrated a particular closeness to U.S. President John F. Kennedy, already before the latter’s famous visit to West Berlin in June 1963, and in the Bundestag elections of 1961 Brandt campaigned as ‘the German Kennedy’.23 His assessment that French nuclear policy represented a critical threat to the cohesion of the Atlantic alliance and thus to West German security likewise resembled Kennedy’s argumentation.24 An interesting element in Mayor Brandt’s Harvard and Tutzing speeches is that he anticipated the emergence of ‘new magnetic fields of power’ beyond Washington and Moscow. In light of his ambition ‘to surmount and permeate the blocs of today’, he perceived opportunities

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and threats in this trend, but he specifically excluded nuclear weapons as beneficial attributes of such new power centres.25 Accordingly, Brandt maintained his negative attitude towards the French nuclear deterrent even when in May 1964 he began to express sympathy for the independent French approach towards the East. He acknowledged de Gaulle’s ability to manoeuvre in the political space created by the East-West stalemate and publicly asked the question: ‘why only he?’26 Yet in the same context, Brandt also expressed ‘regret’ at de Gaulle’s nuclear policy and insisted that the security of Western Europe was ‘indivisible’.27 When the two men met for a longer discussion one year later, on 2 June 1965, they broke with the custom of not discussing nuclear issues. De Gaulle outlined his well-known criticism of the U.S. nuclear strategy of ‘flexible response’, which would leave America unscathed by war but the two parts of Germany and probably France destroyed. The French president moreover referred to his press conference of 4 February 1965 and maintained that German nuclear ambitions would block the prospects for reunification. In response, Brandt insisted on the crucial significance of the U.S. security guarantee and German cooperation with Washington.28 Perhaps more meaningful than the substance of this conversation, which revealed nothing new, was the fact that they actually talked about nuclear weapons. It was to be their only (documented) exchange on the issue.

Egon Bahr’s Drafts for a New Foreign Policy Programme Following Brandt’s appeal for the West Germans to develop new policy plans and to explore possible ways towards German reunification, Egon Bahr invested a significant part of his working time in drafting such plans for his boss. These drafts were meant as a ‘positive political utopia’ and not as immediate policy programmes, yet they were significant for two reasons. First, they embodied the evolving ideas of Bahr, who in late 1969 became the chief negotiator of Ostpolitik in charge of secret exchanges with the Eastern leaders. In hindsight, observers refer to him as the ‘architect’ and ‘brains’ behind Ostpolitik.29 Second, Brandt clearly valued Bahr’s planning work, considered him the ‘conceptually most capable’ of his advisors and consistently entrusted him with major planning responsibilities, even sometimes in the face of harsh criticism by media or political opponents.30 In March 1966, Bahr completed a 180-page manuscript outlining a possible political programme for German reunification. According to his analysis, the security concerns of the two superpowers and of Germany’s neighbours represented the main obstacles. He argued that a united

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Germany as a member of NATO would inevitably tip the security balance in favour of the West, which Moscow could never allow. Likewise, an Eastern alliance including both parts of Germany would undermine the security of the Western allies. Consequently, Bahr ruled out the possibility that a unified Germany could be a member of either NATO or the Warsaw Pact.31 Based on this critical assumption, a key objective of Bahr’s manuscript was to eventually replace the existing military alliances and to find ways to perpetuate the vital U.S. security guarantee for Germany outside of the NATO framework.32 The details of these plans have been discussed elsewhere; the analysis therefore focuses on the elements relevant here.33 Picking up on normative elements previously emphasized by Brandt, Bahr’s manuscript referred to the concept of peaceful coexistence and the special role of Germany for peace in Europe. However, unlike Brandt, he did not associate Germany’s non-nuclear status with the responsibility stemming from the Nazi past. Rather, he described German control over atomic weapons as ‘unreachable’, because nobody was ready to provide them.34 Since a unified Germany was not to be part of either NATO or the Warsaw Pact, Bahr also described the German participation in any multilateral nuclear force as ‘impossible’. On the other hand, the process of denuclearizing German territory was expected to stimulate détente and peaceful East-West interaction. French nuclear deterrence did play a role in Bahr’s concept, albeit not as prominent as American deterrence. Bahr highlighted the different nuclear strategies pursued by the United States (flexible response) and France (massive retaliation). Both strategies contained elements unknown to the Germans, he reasoned. Yet he expected that a united Germany would still be under the protection of both strategic concepts, and that the security situation would remain unchanged. Like the Federal Republic today, a reunified Germany would to some extent be under the protection of both conceptual designs, although nobody will fail to notice the unequal weight of the potential capabilities behind the American and the French strategies.35

Bahr also commented on the French decision to leave the NATO command structure, which had just been announced in early March 1966. He anticipated that the development initiated by the French move would not compromise European security; for the Soviet Union, the risk of an attack remained the same. He doubted whether the NATO structure would continue to exist without France and eventually without a united Germany, yet he saw NATO only as a means to an end: ‘It is not our problem to preserve NATO from today until eternity, but to unify Germany under

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circumstances assuring the security of all parties concerned’.36 A section towards the end of the manuscript also analysed de Gaulle’s general policy in light of Bahr’s objectives, with largely positive conclusions. While he criticized the excessive French alienation from the United States, Bahr particularly valued the French Eastern policy and its merits for EastWest détente. Thereby de Gaulle opened up ‘new perspectives for the free West’ and ‘created a political space’ in which new concepts to resolve the German question could be developed. Interestingly, Bahr pointed out two other useful aspects of Gaullist policy, which he (or Brandt) never mentioned in public. First, de Gaulle’s anti-integrationist stance had de facto stopped the political integration of the Six, which in turn raised the hopes of the Eastern Europeans to join the EEC in the future. And second, the notion of national identity as promoted by de Gaulle represented a vehicle not only for the Eastern nations to develop their independence from Moscow, but also for the Germans to claim their unity. Bahr estimated that, as long as de Gaulle was leading France, national identity could be the means to overcome the division of Europe. He continued: ‘Possibly this situation will change. But it would be a pity’.37 In the mid-1960s Bahr’s assumptions regarding the Western allies’ attitudes were arguably somewhat naïve. In April 1965 he went to see Henry Kissinger at Harvard University and candidly outlined the main ideas of his draft, leaving Kissinger perplexed by the prospect of a unified Germany leaving NATO; in light of the later attitudes of President Richard Nixon and his advisor Kissinger, who feared that Chancellor Brandt’s Ostpolitik could lead to Germany’s detachment from NATO, Bahr’s openness in 1965 had hardly served his purpose.38 There is no evidence to indicate that Bahr or Brandt also discussed the potential novel policy with the French.39 Yet Bahr assumed that de Gaulle might approve of a denuclearized zone in Central Europe (which was an integral part of the plan), since it would ‘correspond to the spirit of the Franco-German peace treaty’.40 Here again, Bahr’s assessment may have been wrong. De Gaulle’s contemporary conversations with the Americans and the Soviets rather demonstrate that he rejected the idea of denuclearizing the German territories as extremely risky, because it would lead to a neutral Germany under Soviet influence.41 Brandt’s reaction was cautious. In a five-page commentary on Bahr’s manuscript, he insisted that the text be kept confidential and criticized some specific elements, but encouraged the further elaboration and internal discussion of the main ideas in the manuscript.42 After Brandt gained the West German Foreign Ministry in December 1966, he ensured that Bahr became chief of the Planungsstab and continued the planning task with the assistance of a selected group of officials. As a result, in June

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1968, Bahr submitted a secret planning paper entitled ‘European Security’ to Brandt only.43 Chancellor Kurt Georg Kiesinger was not informed. The paper dealt exclusively with long-term security issues and outlined three possible policy models, with evaluations in the perspective of German reunification. The role of France in these models is emphasized here. Model A was based on the premise that NATO and the Warsaw Pact would continue to exist as antagonistic organizations, without developing common institutions. Bahr described the reduction of military forces and the ‘dilution’ of nuclear weapons (nukleare Verdünnung) in the two parts of Germany as the means to further détente within this framework. He even favoured a unilateral move towards force reductions, as it would give Bonn the initiative in East-West détente. Bahr recommended that the FRG follow the policy of model A – which did not mention France – in the short run, until model C became a viable option.44 By contrast, Bahr warned against model B, based on a policy of détente from bloc to bloc, with the two superpowers creating an institutionalized common framework in which NATO and the Warsaw Pact would be incorporated. The decisive roles of Washington and Moscow in European security would be reconfirmed, but the division of Germany into two different bloc systems would be perpetuated and reunification impeded. Interestingly, Bahr saw France as West Germany’s most significant ally in averting model B, because the consolidation of the bloc system and of Washington’s leadership role was incompatible with French policy.45 Model C represented the only promising option for German reunification according to Bahr’s paper. It proposed a fundamental reorganization of security by means of a new European security system, which was to replace NATO and the Warsaw Pact. Geographically, the new system should include at least both parts of Germany, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Belgium, Luxembourg and the Netherlands. All nuclear weapons and foreign troops would be withdrawn from these territories and a European security council established in East and West Berlin. The United States and the Soviet Union would not be part of the new system, but would be committed to protecting it against foreign invasion. Within the new security framework, the planning paper envisaged two possible roles for France. It could either join the superpowers as guarantor and not be part of the system, or become a member state. In the latter case, which Bahr seemed to prefer, the nuclear status of France was the main obstacle: In case Great Britain and France should join the security system, its authority will significantly increase … However, in all likelihood Great Britain and France will want to retain their nuclear status; in this case it is hard to imagine their membership, which should nevertheless be offered.46

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Bahr’s outline of model C remained ambiguous regarding the French nuclear status. On the one hand, the denuclearization of its territories was a constitutive element of the new European security system. On the other hand, the draft also mentioned a possible exception for France and the United Kingdom, allowing their continued nuclear status also as members of the system. In the final evaluation of model C, Bahr surmised that Paris would not deem the new security organization advantageous because it did not ensure a leading position for France and entailed considerable restrictions on its armaments.47 In an earlier draft of the paper, he had been more explicit: a stable European security situation could only be achieved if France and the United Kingdom renounced their nuclear status.48 On the basis of Bahr’s 1968 paper on European security, the following conclusions may be drawn. (1) The denuclearization of the German territories appeared as a central element preparing reunification. (2) The French nuclear deterrent was not deemed necessary for German security. (3) There is nothing to indicate that the French nuclear force was perceived as a threat to Germany. (4) The abolition of the French nuclear force was seen as a longer-term possibility which would be advantageous to European security and close Franco-German relations. (5) West Germany was to take the lead in détente, rather than France or the United States. (6) The independent Eastern policy pursued by Paris formed a favourable background for Bahr’s ambitions. The political importance of the planning paper on European security has been debated ever since it was leaked to the press in September 1973.49 The paper itself advised the reader (Brandt) to bear the conclusions of the study in mind and to create the conditions for the future implementation of model C, while in the short run pursuing model A. Internally, Bahr continued to promote model C as the only promising road towards German reunification, even after the Warsaw Pact’s invasion of Czechoslovakia in August 1968 dramatically changed the international constellation.50 In keeping with his role as Brandt’s foreign policy and security advisor, overall Bahr dealt almost exclusively with security arguments and in his plans hardly mentioned any normative considerations.

Brandt’s Activism for Nuclear Disarmament As foreign minister of West Germany from December 1966 to October 1969, Brandt endeavoured to promote friendship and close relations with France. However, in practical terms the cooperation remained limited. De Gaulle’s ‘second veto’ against the entry of the United Kingdom into

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the Common Market, in November 1967, revealed profound disagreements on European policy and left Brandt rather frustrated.51 In matters of defence and strategic planning, the French decision to leave the NATO command structure made it very difficult for Bonn to cooperate closely with Paris, as Brandt pointed out to French journalists.52 Even in the domain of Eastern policy, which was officially pursued as a common Franco-German policy, the results did not come up to expectations. Not surprisingly, in this situation, the Franco-German talks on European security made little progress and there is no evidence to suggest that Brandt broached any nuclear issues with the French at that time.53 By contrast, he was adamantly in favour of nuclear disarmament. In a speech to the Bundestag in December 1967, Brandt advocated the gradual and balanced reduction of nuclear weapons on the whole European continent. He argued that such a reduction would lessen the East-West antagonism and increase the prospects for durable peace in Europe. In view of his own Ostpolitik, which was based on the principles of détente and renunciation of force, he also announced in-depth studies on the possibilities of gradually reducing the foreign troops stationed in East and West Germany.54 In an article published by the journal Foreign Affairs in April 1968, Brandt explained to an American audience that his policy of détente was not only determined by the legacy of Germany’s past (norms dimension). Détente was also vital to the Germans themselves, because they would inevitably be the first victims of a military conflict (security dimension). ‘Our people would cease to exist, for the number of troops, war matériel and means of nuclear destruction amassed in the narrow area comprised of the two halves of Germany is unique in world history.’ From this he concluded that there was ‘a special interest as well as a special duty’ for the Federal Republic to persevere in reducing EastWest tensions.55 In sum, Brandt perceived a compelling convergence of normative reasons and security considerations, both lines of argument necessitating nuclear force reductions in Germany. His most noteworthy pronouncement on nuclear disarmament was the speech delivered at the United Nations conference of non-nuclearweapon states in Geneva, on 3 September 1968. At the time, the FRG was not yet a member of the United Nations and therefore not scheduled to participate in the conference. But against the background of the Warsaw Pact’s invasion of Czechoslovakia and subsequent wave of aggressive propaganda against Bonn, the conference organizers wanted to give the West Germans a platform to explain their position. Brandt seized the opportunity and delivered a high-profile speech, which was received positively even by the Warsaw Pact representatives of Poland and Romania.56 While acknowledging that history had laid a ‘terrible

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responsibility’ upon the nuclear states, he made clear that ‘the great dangers for humanity proceed from great powers and not from small ones’. Brandt appealed to the nuclear powers to take practical steps towards ‘real nuclear disarmament’ and called on the small states to remind the nuclear powers of this duty. In order to concretely advance disarmament in Europe, he expressed his support for the idea of establishing a nuclearfree zone in Central Europe. For the long term, he expressed the ambitious vision of a nuclear-weapons-free Europe, although he admitted that the task would be arduous and time-consuming.57 A smaller part of the Geneva speech concerned West Germany. Much to his regret, Brandt was not allowed to make a binding statement on the non-proliferation treaty (because Chancellor Kiesinger was not ready to sign it).58 Yet he highlighted that the FRG did not aspire to any kind of possession of or control over nuclear weapons and instead entrusted its security to an alliance. In a similar way as he had done in Tutzing five years earlier, Brandt presented Germany’s non-nuclear position as a special responsibility resulting directly from the Nazi past. ‘We have learned from history’, he declared. With more forceful words than in Tutzing and notwithstanding the recent aggression of the Warsaw Pact against Czechoslovakia, he also rejected the idea that peace could be achieved by military force. The only viable course of action was to reduce the tensions and eventually ‘to replace the balance of terror’ with a European peace order. Thus, Brandt denied that nuclear weapons could become guarantors of a lasting peace in Europe. Quite the opposite, he declared that the accumulation of destructive military power in the heart of Europe went against reason, and against the interests of the people.59 Referring to Sagan’s categories mentioned above, Brandt argued that the security of the German people demanded a non-nuclear policy. Analogously he used the image of nuclear restraint as a symbol for the FRG’s peaceful identity, thereby highlighting the profound transformation of Germany since the Nazi era. France was not mentioned in the Geneva speech, but from the overall argument and the ambition to create a Europe free of nuclear weapons, it can be deduced that his long-term political vision also included the abolition of the French nuclear deterrent.

Conclusions One crucial finding of this chapter is that throughout the 1960s, Willy Brandt advocated a non-nuclear status for Germany. From the late 1950s, he took a negative stance towards German access to nuclear weapons, subsequently acted as a domestic opinion-leader in accordance with this

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stance, and eventually became the West German chancellor who signed the nuclear non-proliferation treaty in November 1969. This is hard to reconcile with the academic thesis that the United States forced West Germany to sign the treaty by means of alliance coercion.60 Brandt’s espousal of nuclear restraint was consonant with the longer-term foreign policy concept of the French government, and in particular with President de Gaulle’s public declaration in February 1965 according to which the ‘settlement’ of the question of Germany’s armament was a critical precondition for a possible German reunification in the future.61 By contrast, in February 1966, de Gaulle totally rejected the perceived ‘pretence to nuclear armament’ by West German Chancellor Ludwig Erhard and his foreign minister, Gerhard Schröder, as a potential danger to peace and an impediment to German reunification.62 Another finding is that Brandt and his aids in various contexts criticized the independent French nuclear programme while at the same time expressing appreciation for de Gaulle’s independent and innovative Eastern policy. However, from the French point of view, the nuclear programme provided the very basis for de Gaulle’s ability to lead an independent Eastern policy.63 Neither Brandt nor Bahr commented on the relationship between the two topics. A general ambivalence is apparent in Brandt’s attitude towards the overall usefulness of nuclear weapons. On the one hand, in October 1962 he deemed it ‘extremely vital’ to maintain the equilibrium of military forces – including the U.S. nuclear deterrent – in order to guarantee peace and freedom for Berlin and West Germany. More generally in discussions involving the Western alliance, he fully endorsed the NATO policy of nuclear deterrence on later occasions. On the other hand, Brandt’s major policy objective was to transform the East-West relationship and he did not consider nuclear weapons to be suitable instruments for this purpose. At a UN meeting in September 1968, he voiced direct criticism of the nuclear powers that represented ‘great dangers for humanity’ and he championed the idea of a Europe free from nuclear weapons, where a European peace order would eventually replace nuclear deterrence. Even though the circumstances have changed dramatically since the days of Brandt and the Cold War, a parallel may be drawn with the sense of ambiguity conveyed by German nuclear policy today. Berlin officially promotes a nuclear-weapons-free world, yet continues to endorse NATO as ‘a nuclear alliance’ on the grounds that ‘there will always be a need for nuclear deterrence’ as long as nuclear weapons may be used in conflicts.64 Finally, Sagan’s three categories will now be applied as a framework for conceptualizing the more specific findings. First, the most obvious perspective: the ‘security model’. According to Brandt’s arguments

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outlined above, any nuclear ambition on the part of Germany would increase international tensions, thereby impairing the country’s security. In the same vein, Brandt insisted on signing the nuclear non-proliferation treaty as a means to promote international détente, which he perceived as the only way to reduce the risk of Germany’s annihilation in the context of a Cold War confrontation.65 Thus, according to Brandt, it was in Germany’s security interest to choose nuclear restraint. With regard to the French nuclear deterrent, in the 1960s, he perceived it as a security risk undermining the unity of NATO and potentially jeopardizing the vital U.S. protection for West Germany. Egon Bahr’s security analysis of March 1966 shows that he shared the view, common at the time, that the French nuclear deterrent was not powerful enough to replace the U.S. deterrent. In an internal memorandum of September 1968, he also highlighted that France had never made any reliable promise to use its nuclear force to protect West Germany.66 In an interview in 2004, Bahr likewise stated that Paris had never given a convincing guarantee to use its nuclear arsenal in case of an Eastern invasion into the FRG’s territory, neither in the 1960s nor in the 1970s, and concluded rather severely: ‘This is not something on which we can build our security’.67 On the other hand, nothing in the documents analysed would suggest that Brandt or his advisors perceived the French nuclear force as a potential threat directed against Germany. Finally, both Bahr’s strategic paper of June 1968 and Brandt’s speech at the United Nations in September 1968 referred to a possible abolition of the French (and the British) nuclear force in the future, and predicted positive effects of such a process for German security. Second, the ‘domestic politics model’. Arguably, this category is of relatively minor importance here.68 No evidence and no logic would suggest that the German military establishment dictated Brandt’s position of nuclear restraint, or that his policy served any domestic bureaucratic interest. However, the energy and research establishment did pressure him to secure German production of nuclear energy, and consequently, he did apply himself to add such a clause before signing the non-proliferation treaty. By so doing, he took the view that producing nuclear energy and nuclear weapons were two entirely different things, which is a common but somewhat problematic position.69 Some scholars also include public opinion in the domestic politics model. Opinion polls in the 1960s showed clear popular support for German nuclear restraint, but it is difficult to ascertain if and to what extent this mattered to Brandt, who was not averse to defending unpopular positions during his career.70 Third, the ‘norms model’. This chapter argues that the normative dimension of advocating nuclear restraint played an important role

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for Brandt, in addition to security considerations. Indeed, he depicted German nuclear restraint as a direct consequence of the Nazi past and of the need for the Germans to regain the trust of the international community. In the 1960s, but also during his chancellorship and actually until the end of his life, Brandt highlighted Germany’s special role for peace because of the unspeakable horrors perpetrated by Germans during the Third Reich. This legacy also compelled Germany to renounce any access to nuclear weapons, as part of its new, peaceful identity.71 Moreover, for Brandt, the symbolic element in signing the NPT was also politically significant. In July 1968, he stressed that ‘the credibility of our policy of détente is at stake’ and urged the reluctant Chancellor Kiesinger to sign.72 Indeed, the successful launch of Ostpolitik in 1969–70 was contingent upon the authenticity of his peaceful intentions, symbolized by the commitment to nuclear restraint. As France, unlike Germany, had no Nazi past to atone for, nor any need to regain the trust of the international community, the norms dimension did not obligate both countries in the same way. Brandt did not apply the distinctly German elements in his normative reasoning to France, or any other country. He further observed that de Gaulle, too, attributed different European roles to Germany and France.73 Accordingly, from a normative point of view, Germany’s special role for peace did not exclude any cooperation with a nuclear power like France, just as it did not exclude the GermanAmerican cooperation. However, the normative aspirations may be an impediment to the kind of close Franco-German ‘union’ de Gaulle had envisaged in 1962.74 The marriage of a nuclear France to a Germany linking its identity to nuclear restraint would logically lead to normative disagreements. Consistent with this postulation, Brandt never embraced the Franco-German relationship as an exclusive cooperation in the Gaullist sense, much to the distress of the French elites who had been hoping for this.75 Later on, during Brandt’s chancellorship from October 1969 until May 1974, daily politics and the implementation of Ostpolitik took centre stage; the further elaboration of long-term plans almost disappeared from the agenda. While Brandt no longer expressed any sympathy for the dissolution of the military blocs other than in a distant future, he did continue to promote mutual and balanced force reductions.76 From a normative point of view, the way paved by Brandt proved decisive. The signing (November 1969) and Bundestag ratification (February 1974) of the non-proliferation treaty settled the matter for the West German people once and for all, and Germany fully embraced its identity as a non-nuclear-weapon state.77

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Benedikt Schoenborn researches European history since World War II with a special interest in peace-related aspects. He is a former lecturer, senior researcher and associate professor at Tampere University, Finland and in 2021 joined the Research Center for the History of Transformations at the University of Vienna. His publications include Reconciliation Road: Willy Brandt, Ostpolitik and the Quest for European Peace (Berghahn Books, 2020); La mésentente apprivoisée: de Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969 (Graduate Institute Publications, 2014); and, with Jussi M. Hanhimäki and Barbara Zanchetta, Transatlantic Relations since 1945: An Introduction (Routledge, 2012).

Notes  1. Title quote: W. Brandt, The Ordeal of Coexistence: The Gustav Pollak Lectures at Harvard University 1962 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963), 61. On the significance of Brandt’s Ostpolitik, see G. Niedhart, Durch den Eisernen Vorhang: Die Ära Brandt und das Ende des Kalten Kriegs (Darmstadt: wbg THEISS, 2019); and H. Haftendorn, Coming of Age: German Foreign Policy since 1945 (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2006), 157–96.  2. Meeting de Gaulle-Brandt, 2 June 1965, in H. Grebing, G. Schöllgen and H.A. Winkler (eds), Willy Brandt: Berliner Ausgabe, 10 vols (hereafter Berliner Ausgabe) (Bonn: Dietz, 2000–2009), 3: 480–86. French version: Box 179, Bonn Ambassade, Centre des archives diplomatiques de Nantes.  3. Brandt became chancellor on 21 October and signed the NPT on 28 November 1969.  4. For an overview of the debate, see J. Schneider, Amerikanische Allianzen und nukleare Nichtverbreitung: Die Beendigung von Kernwaffenaktivitäten bei Verbündeten der USA (Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2016), 110–269. See also P. Ahonen, ‘Franz-Josef Strauss and the German Nuclear Question, 1956–1962’, The Journal of Strategic Studies 18(2) (1995), 25–51; M. Küntzel, Bonn und die Bombe: Deutsche Atomwaffenpolitik von Adenauer bis Brandt (Frankfurt: Campus, 1992), 122–31; and H. Müller, ‘Germany and WMD Proliferation’, The Nonproliferation Review 10(2) (2003), 2–5.  5. G. Gerzhoy, ‘Alliance Coercion and Nuclear Restraint: How the United States Thwarted West Germany’s Nuclear Ambitions’, International Security 39(4) (2015), 91–129.  6. S.D. Sagan, ‘Why Do States Build Nuclear Weapons? Three Models in Search of a Bomb’, International Security 21(3) (1996–97), 54–86.  7. Brandt speech, party congress of the SPD Berlin, 22 May 1955, Berliner Ausgabe, 3: 188.  8. For the first time in October 1957 and in minor variations throughout the 1960s, Rapacki proposed the creation of a denuclearized zone comprising Poland, Czechoslovakia and the two German states. Western governments perceived Rapacki’s proposals as an attempt to neutralize Germany and expand the Eastern sphere of influence.  9. Brandt deliberately used the plural form when he referred to the ‘German questions’. 10. W. Schmidt, Kalter Krieg, Koexistenz und kleine Schritte: Willy Brandt und die Deutschlandpolitik 1948–1963 (Wiesbaden: Westdeutscher Verlag, 2001), 221, 225–27, reporting Brandt’s statements of 17 January 1958, 9 April 1958 and 18 April 1958. Brandt speech, meeting of the SPD party executive, 12 March 1960, Berliner Ausgabe 3: 289. Brandt interview with Sender Freies Berlin, 29 August 1960, Pressemitteilungen der SPD, 1958–1998, http://library.fes.de/cgi-bin/pdpdf.pl?d=2&f=167&l=169 (accessed 4 August 2021).

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11. For a thorough analysis, see A. Hofmann, The Emergence of Détente in Europe: Brandt, Kennedy and the Formation of Ostpolitik (London: Routledge, 2007), 27–42. 12. W. Brandt, People and Politics: The Years 1960–1975 (London: Collins, 1978), 13–20. 13. Brandt, Ordeal of Coexistence, 32–38, 77–78. 14. Ibid., 40–41, 58–62. 15. Ibid., 60. 16. Meeting Brandt-Kennedy, 25–26 June 1963, Berliner Ausgabe 3: 418. On the MLF project, which was aborted in early 1965, and the related Franco-German disagreements, see B. Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée: de Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969 (Paris: PUF, 2007), 148–51, 160–66. 17. Bahr speech, ‘Wandel durch Annäherung’, Tutzing, 15 July 1963, Archiv der sozialen Demokratie der Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung, Bonn, www.1000dokumente.de/index. html?c=dokument_de&dokument=0091_bah&object=facsimile&l=de (accessed 4 August 2021); S. Heimann, ‘Einleitung’, in Berliner Ausgabe 3: 58–59. 18. M.v. Miquel, ‘Explanation, Dissociation, Apologia: The Debate over the Criminal Prosecution of Nazi Crimes in the 1960s’, in P. Gassert and A.E. Steinweis (eds), Coping with the Nazi Past: West German Debates on Nazism and Generational Conflict, 1955–1975 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2006), 53–56. 19. Brandt speech, Tutzing, 15 July 1963, Berliner Ausgabe 3: 419–23, 443–44. On contemporary SPD policy regarding the Nazi past, see K. Meyer, Die SPD und die NS-Vergangenheit 1945–1990 (Göttingen: Wallstein, 2015), esp. 224–25, 239–40, 271–72. 20. Memo de Gaulle, ‘Défense atomique de l’Europe’, 1 May 1963, Box CM8, Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, Paris. 21. Brandt speech, Tutzing, 15 July 1963, Berliner Ausgabe 3: 434–38, 443–45. 22. R. Marcowitz, Option für Paris? Unionsparteien, SPD und Charles de Gaulle, 1958 bis 1969 (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1996), 231–48. 23. J. Michel, Willy Brandts Amerikabild und -politik 1933–1992 (Bonn: V&R unipress, 2010), 151. 24. Cf. Kennedy’s address in Frankfurt (Paulskirche), 25 June 1963, https://www.jfklibrary. org/asset-viewer/archives/JFKWHA/1963/JFKWHA-199/JFKWHA-199 (accessed 4 August 2021). 25. Brandt, Ordeal of Coexistence, 77; Berliner Ausgabe 3: 436. 26. Brandt speech, Foreign Policy Association, New York, 15 May 1964, in W. Brandt, Der Wille zum Frieden: Perspektiven der Politik (Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1971), 114. 27. Brandt speech, Foreign Policy Society, Bad Godesberg, 11 June 1964, Berliner Ausgabe 3: 461. 28. Meeting Brandt-de Gaulle, 2 June 1965, Berliner Ausgabe 3: 480–86. 29. E.g. ‘Brains behind German “Ostpolitik”, Egon Bahr, Dies Aged 93’, 20 August 2015, Deutsche Welle, https://p.dw.com/p/1GI9Y (accessed 4 August 2021). 30. W. Brandt, Erinnerungen (Frankfurt: Propyläen, 1989), 73. 31. Bahr manuscript ‘Was nun?’, March 1966, Depositum Bahr, Box 465, Archiv der sozialen Demokratie (AdsD), Bonn. The following page indications refer to the posthumous publication, E. Bahr, Was nun? Ein Weg zur deutschen Einheit (Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2019). 32. Bahr, Was nun?, 104–5. 33. A. Vogtmeier, Egon Bahr und die deutsche Frage: Zur Entwicklung der sozialdemokratischen Ost- und Deutschlandpolitik vom Kriegsende bis zur Vereinigung (Bonn: Dietz, 1996), 80–95. 34. Bahr, Was nun?, 106: ‘Eine nationale Verfügungsgewalt über Atomwaffen ist unerreichbar. Niemand ist weit und breit zu sehen, der bereit wäre, Deutschland solche Waffen zu liefern. Eine eigene Herstellung scheidet aus’. 35. Bahr, Was nun?, 110. 36. Ibid., 108–9. 37. Ibid., 141–43.

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38. Meeting Kissinger-Bahr, 10 April 1965, Box 15, Bundy Files, NSF, Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, Austin, TX. 39. Memo Bahr for Brandt, ‘Für de Gaulle’, 1 June 1965, Dep. Bahr 441, AdsD. 40. Memo Bahr for Brandt, 7 June 1967, Box 20, A7, Willy-Brandt-Archiv (WBA), Bonn. Bahr referred to the Elysée Treaty of 22 January 1963. 41. Meeting de Gaulle-Gromyko, 27 April 1965, Box 24, Entretiens et messages 1961–70, Secrétariat général, Archives du ministère des Affaires étrangères (MAE), La Courneuve; Meeting de Gaulle-Rusk, 14 December 1964, Box 23, ibid. 42. Brandt memo, ‘Zu: Was nun?’, 6 April 1966, Dep. Bahr 466, AdsD. 43. Bahr memo, ‘Europäische Sicherheit’, 27 June 1968, in H.P. Schwarz et al. (eds), Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (hereafter AAPD) (Munich: Oldenbourg, 1999), 1968(1), 796–814. 44. Ibid., 796–805. 45. Ibid., 805–8, 813–14. 46. Ibid., 808. 47. Ibid., 812. 48. Bahr memo, ‘Entwurf’, 20 June 1968, Dep. Bahr 316, AdsD. 49. ‘Wie Egon Bahr Deutschland neutralisieren will’, Quick, 27 September 1973; Vogtmeier, Egon Bahr, 98–108. 50. Memo Planungsstab, 24 March 1969, AAPD 1969(1), 433. 51. Telegram Brandt to Klaiber (Paris), 7 December 1967, Box 130, B2, Politisches Archiv, Auswärtiges Amt, Berlin. On the broader context of de Gaulle’s second veto, see N.P. Ludlow, The European Community and the Crises of the 1960s: Negotiating the Gaullist Challenge (London: Routledge, 2006), 125–45. 52. Interview Brandt, 13 January 1968, Pariser Kurier, Box 269, A3, WBA. 53. On Franco-German security discussions, see Box 1,457, RFA, Europe 1961–70, MAE. According to Bahr’s notes, no discussion on nuclear issues was intended: Memo Bahr, 11 January 1967, Dep. Bahr 441, AdsD. 54. Plenary session, 7 December 1967, 7229–31, https://dserver.bundestag.de/btp/05/05141. pdf (accessed 4 August 2021). 55. W. Brandt, ‘German Policy toward the East’, Foreign Affairs 46(3) (1968), 478. 56. W.G. Gray, ‘Abstinence and Ostpolitik: Brandt’s Government and the Nuclear Question’, in C. Fink and B. Schaefer (eds), Ostpolitik and the World, 1969–1974 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 247–50. 57. Brandt speech, 3 September 1968, Geneva conference of non-nuclear-weapon states, www.willy-brandt-biografie.de/wp-content/uploads/2017/03/1968_Brandt_ Nichtkernwaffen_5104.pdf (accessed 4 August 2021). 58. Letter Brandt (Hamar) to Kiesinger, 10 August 1968, AAPD 1968(2), 985–86. On the disagreements between Brandt and Kiesinger, see P.G. Kielmansegg, Nach der Katastrophe: Eine Geschichte des geteilten Deutschland (Berlin: Siedler, 2000), 191–212. 59. Brandt speech, 3 September 1968, Geneva. On the vague term ‘European Peace Order’ and Brandt’s understanding of it, see B. Schoenborn, Reconciliation Road: Willy Brandt, Ostpolitik and the Quest for European Peace (New York: Berghahn Books, 2020), 80–81, 150, 156. 60. Gerzhoy, ‘Alliance Coercion’, 121–27. 61. Press conference, 4 February 1965, in C. de Gaulle, Discours et messages (Paris: Plon, 1970), 4: 338. 62. ‘Conseil des Affaires étrangères’, 4 February 1966, in C. de Gaulle, Lettres, notes et carnets (Paris: Plon, 1986), 10: 247. 63. M. Vaïsse, La grandeur: Politique étrangère du général de Gaulle 1958–1969 (Paris: Fayard, 1998), 44–50.

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64. The Federal Government, White Paper on German Security Policy and the Future of the Bundeswehr (Berlin: Federal Ministry of Defence, 13 July 2016), 65. 65. Governmental declaration, 28 October 1969, Berliner Ausgabe 6: 238–46. 66. Memo Bahr, 30 September 1968, Box 399, Dep. Bahr, AdsD. 67. Author’s interview with Egon Bahr, on 14 April 2004 in Berlin: ‘Darauf kann man seine Sicherheit nicht bauen’. 68. It is all the more secondary here that at a theoretical level, Sagan, ‘Why Do States Build Nuclear Weapons’, 63–65, ranks domestic discussions pertaining to security or norms among those other categories. 69. See Gray, ‘Abstinence and Ostpolitik’, 259–67, especially regarding the German export of technology and materials used in nuclear energy production. 70. E. Noelle and E.P. Neumann (eds), The Germans: Public Opinion Polls 1947–1966 (Allensbach: Verlag für Demoskopie, 1967), 354, 441, 472. 71. See also S. Schrafstetter, ‘Auschwitz and the Nuclear Sonderweg: Nuclear Weapons and the Shadow of the Nazi Past’, in Gassert and Steinweis, Coping with the Nazi Past, 309–24. 72. Letter Brandt to Kiesinger, 15 July 1968, AAPD 1968(2), 869. 73. Brandt speech, SPD executive meeting, 2 November 1968, Berliner Ausgabe 6: 215. 74. De Gaulle speech in Hamburg, 7 September 1962, in de Gaulle, Discours et messages 4: 13. 75. Author’s interview with Pierre Messmer, on 25 September 2003 in Paris. 76. See in this book the following chapter by Nicolas Badalassi. 77. M.R. Rublee, Nonproliferation Norms: Why States Choose Nuclear Restraint (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2009), 190–99.

Bibliography Primary Sources Archival Material: Archiv der sozialen Demokratie, Bonn: Boxes 316, 399, 441, 465, 466, Depositum Bahr. Politisches Archiv, Auswärtiges Amt, Berlin: Box 130, B2. Willy-Brandt-Archiv, Bonn: Box 269, A3; Box 20, A7. Archives du ministère des Affaires étrangères, La Courneuve: Boxes 23, 24, Entretiens et messages 1961–70, Secrétariat général; Box 1,457, RFA, Europe 1961–70. Centre des archives diplomatiques de Nantes: Box 179, Bonn Ambassade. Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, Paris: Box CM8. Lyndon Baines Johnson Library, Austin, TX: Box 15, Bundy Files, NSF. Published Sources: Bahr, E. Was nun? Ein Weg zur deutschen Einheit. Berlin: Suhrkamp, 2019. Brandt, W. The Ordeal of Coexistence: The Gustav Pollak Lectures at Harvard University 1962. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1963.  . ‘German Policy toward the East’. Foreign Affairs 46(3) (1968), 476–86.  . Der Wille zum Frieden: Perspektiven der Politik. Hamburg: Hoffmann und Campe, 1971.  . People and Politics: The Years 1960–1975. London: Collins, 1978.  . Erinnerungen. Frankfurt: Propyläen, 1989.

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De Gaulle, C. Discours et messages. Paris: Plon, 1970.  . Lettres, notes et carnets. Paris: Plon, 1986. Federal Government. White Paper on German Security Policy and the Future of the Bundeswehr. Berlin: Federal Ministry of Defence, 13 July 2016. Grebing, H., G. Schöllgen and H.A. Winkler (eds). Willy Brandt: Berliner Ausgabe, 10 vols. Bonn: Dietz, 2000–2009. Noelle, E., and E.P. Neumann (eds). The Germans: Public Opinion Polls 1947–1966. Allensbach: Verlag für Demoskopie, 1967. Schwarz, H.P., et al. (eds). Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1999–2000. Author’s interviews: Egon Bahr, on 14 April 2004 in Berlin. Pierre Messmer, on 25 September 2003 in Paris.

Literature Ahonen, P. ‘Franz-Josef Strauss and the German Nuclear Question, 1956–1962’. The Journal of Strategic Studies 18(2) (1995), 25–51. Gerzhoy, G. ‘Alliance Coercion and Nuclear Restraint: How the United States Thwarted West Germany’s Nuclear Ambitions’. International Security 39(4) (2015), 91–129. Gray, W.G. ‘Abstinence and Ostpolitik: Brandt’s Government and the Nuclear Question’, in C. Fink and B. Schaefer (eds), Ostpolitik and the World, 1969–1974 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 244–68. Haftendorn, H. Coming of Age: German Foreign Policy since 1945. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2006. Hofmann, A. The Emergence of Détente in Europe: Brandt, Kennedy and the Formation of Ostpolitik. London: Routledge, 2007. Kielmansegg, P.G. Nach der Katastrophe: Eine Geschichte des geteilten Deutschland. Berlin: Siedler, 2000. Küntzel, M. Bonn und die Bombe: Deutsche Atomwaffenpolitik von Adenauer bis Brandt. Frankfurt: Campus, 1992. Ludlow, N.P. The European Community and the Crises of the 1960s: Negotiating the Gaullist Challenge. London: Routledge, 2006. Marcowitz, R. Option für Paris? Unionsparteien, SPD und Charles de Gaulle, 1958 bis 1969. Munich: Oldenbourg, 1996. Meyer, K. Die SPD und die NS-Vergangenheit 1945–1990. Göttingen: Wallstein, 2015. Michel, J. Willy Brandts Amerikabild und -politik 1933–1992. Bonn: V&R unipress, 2010. Miquel, M.v. ‘Explanation, Dissociation, Apologia: The Debate over the Criminal Prosecution of Nazi Crimes in the 1960s’, in P. Gassert and A.E. Steinweis (eds), Coping with the Nazi Past: West German Debates on Nazism and Generational Conflict, 1955–1975 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2006), 50–63. Müller, H. ‘Germany and WMD Proliferation’. The Nonproliferation Review 10(2) (2003), 1–20.

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Niedhart, G. Durch den Eisernen Vorhang: Die Ära Brandt und das Ende des Kalten Kriegs. Darmstadt: wbg THEISS, 2019. Rublee, M.R. Nonproliferation Norms: Why States Choose Nuclear Restraint. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2009. Sagan, S.D. ‘Why Do States Build Nuclear Weapons? Three Models in Search of a Bomb’. International Security 21(3) (1996–97), 54–86. Schmidt, W. Kalter Krieg, Koexistenz und kleine Schritte: Willy Brandt und die Deutschlandpolitik 1948–1963. Wiesbaden: Westdeutscher Verlag, 2001. Schneider, J. Amerikanische Allianzen und nukleare Nichtverbreitung: Die Beendigung von Kernwaffenaktivitäten bei Verbündeten der USA. Baden-Baden: Nomos, 2016. Schoenborn, B. La mésentente apprivoisée: de Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969. Paris: PUF, 2007.  . Reconciliation Road: Willy Brandt, Ostpolitik and the Quest for European Peace. New York: Berghahn Books, 2020. Schrafstetter, S. ‘Auschwitz and the Nuclear Sonderweg: Nuclear Weapons and the Shadow of the Nazi Past’, in P. Gassert and A.E. Steinweis (eds), Coping with the Nazi Past: West German Debates on Nazism and Generational Conflict, 1955–1975 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2006), 309–24. Vaïsse, M. La grandeur: Politique étrangère du général de Gaulle 1958–1969. Paris: Fayard, 1998. Vogtmeier, A. Egon Bahr und die deutsche Frage: Zur Entwicklung der sozialdemokratischen Ost- und Deutschlandpolitik vom Kriegsende bis zur Vereinigung. Bonn: Dietz, 1996.

Chapter 6

Implicit Convergence?

Franco-German Relations, European Security and Nuclear Cooperation in the Era of Ostpolitik, 1969–74 Nicolas Badalassi

Introduction

T

he period 1969–74, during which Willy Brandt and Georges Pompidou were in power in Bonn and Paris, can be regarded as the peak of East-West détente. While in the United States the Vietnamese quagmire led the Nixon Administration to practice realpolitik by moving closer to the People’s Republic of China (PRC) and the USSR, the structural crisis of the Soviet system reinforced Brezhnev’s desire to develop dialogue with the West. Détente had two parts: a political part with the launch of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE) from 1972 onwards; and a military part with the opening of negotiations on Mutual and Balanced Forces Reductions (MBFR) in Vienna from 1971 onwards and the finalization of the SALT (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks) agreements, signed by the two superpowers in Moscow in May 1972. Whereas the CSCE, wanted by the Kremlin, was to allow the Soviets to freeze the European status quo, the MBFR and SALT, suggested by NATO, aimed at slowing down the arms race and curbing military spending in both blocs. It is within this framework that France and the FRG tried to implement their own conceptions of European security. While the long-term objective seemed to be the same – reunification of the continent – the dialogue came up against strategic and military disagreements, fostering mutual suspicion about the intentions of the partner. Thus, Paris and Bonn developed opposing views towards the negotiations on arms

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limitation or reduction which reflected their divergent visions of military détente and nuclear deterrence on the European continent. While France heavily invested in civil and military nuclear technology and carried on with the Gaullist line, consisting in refusing to sign the Non-Proliferation Treaty (although de Gaulle’s France de facto implemented its own nonproliferation policy), the FRG’s commitment to disarmament was a key element of Brandt’s Ostpolitik.1 Despite their common willingness to create a united and strong Europe, the misunderstanding regarding strategic matters remained obvious. So far, historians have tended to favour this idea of a structural misunderstanding between the two countries: France projected the image of a nuclear power attached to its political and military superiority over its German neighbour resulting from its nuclear deterrent and the Potsdam agreements of 1945.2 It also appeared as willing to preserve its position and thus the European status quo. As for Brandt’s FRG, it only dreamed of establishing a system of collective security in which Germany could be reunified and maintained a permanent mistrust of French nuclear doctrine. However, access to new archival material and recent research tend to qualify this approach and to reveal that the Franco-German strategic relation in the era of Ostpolitik did not come down to such a binary pattern.3 Even though it is difficult to deny the existence of mutual suspicions, the disagreements between the two countries relating to security and defence in Europe were not insuperable and contained some implicit points of convergence. Beyond practical incompatibilities which limited strategic cooperation, and despite the fact that Paris and Bonn had two seemingly opposite nuclear policies – due to different geopolitical situations – France and the FRG worked, each in their own way, in the same long-term direction: they were not satisfied with the bipolar order and acted to overcome it; they also thought Western Europe had to speak with one voice in international affairs through the European Political Cooperation (EPC). In the meantime, they both considered the Atlantic Alliance as a pillar of European security and sought to preserve the U.S. nuclear umbrella; and in spite of having their own policies of détente, they remained suspicious about Soviet intentions in Europe. By focusing on the French point of view and by highlighting the elements of convergence and divergence in Paris’s and Bonn’s doctrines about security and defence issues, this chapter demonstrates that the French and West German positions on arms control, European security and the use of nuclear weapons revealed the same concern for strengthening the security and international role of Western Europe, and for working towards the overcoming of the Cold War.

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Two Visions of European Security? On 25 June 1968, fourteen countries participating in the integrated defence system of the Atlantic Alliance launched the ‘Reykjavik’s call’, which suggested mutual and balanced forces reductions in Europe. One of the goals of the Lyndon Johnson Administration was to thwart Senator Mike Mansfield’s projects. With other elected representatives of the Democratic Party, Mansfield considered that there were too many U.S. soldiers in Europe and that this heavily burdened the country’s budget. He also stood against their assignment to the defence of a continent that had already recovered its prosperity thanks to massive American aid (mainly the Marshall Plan). Besides, President Johnson wished to withdraw some U.S troops from Europe to send them to Vietnam. On 14 May 1971, Leonid Brezhnev answered the Reykjavik’s call by the ‘Tbilisi’s signal’, in which he said he was ready to talk about mutual and balanced reduction of foreign and national forces in Europe. As for SALT negotiations, which started in November 1969 in Helsinki, they resulted from a common U.S.-Soviet willingness to reach ‘permanent agreements on partial disarmament’ in order to reduce the cost of strategic nuclear armaments. Since then, SALT and MBFR had embodied military détente and created a permanent dialogue between East and West concerning the objectives to achieve in both negotiations. While Brandt viewed each of them in a favourable light because they contributed to appeasing tensions in Europe and were in line with the Ostpolitik, Georges Pompidou considered them dangerous. He thought on the one hand that political détente was not consolidated enough to allow a reduction of armaments, and on the other hand that those discussions only strengthened the two superpowers’ ‘condominium’ over world, and especially European, affairs. Even though such a French position only took up a point of view that Charles de Gaulle had often expressed during the 1960s, the context of generalized détente in the first half of the 1970s raised the question of the viability of such a vision in the short and medium term and, above all, of what that implied for Franco-German relations. So, whereas the FRG considered the MBFR and the SALT as integral parts of the Ostpolitik, did the fact that France opposed these negotiations attest a French willingness to curb Brandt’s Eastern policy, to freeze the European status quo despite the Gaullist principles, even to preserve the French military ascendancy over the Germanic neighbour? While historians have long been able to respond affirmatively to this question, the now widespread opening of the archives makes it necessary to provide a more qualified answer.

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France’s Refusal of Military Détente The French conception of détente rested on the Gaullist principles according to which each European nation had the right to speak freely outside military alliances, Europe had to get back its role as a decision-making centre lost after the Second World War and, consequently, a perpetual domination of the United States and the USSR over the Old Continent was unacceptable. Such a will to make the Europeans take their destiny in hand resulted in France’s strong involvement in both the CSCE and the EPC that contributed to the creation of a European identity. Paris considered that political détente should be given priority over military détente: only a true international entente could usher in the era of disarmament. Pompidou felt that the bulky military apparatus in Central Europe was not in itself the cause of tension between East and West; on the contrary, it was only an effect: ‘To pretend to reduce it before détente has made evident political progress is to risk compromising the defence of Western Europe without obtaining in exchange a real diminution of the threat which the East might possibly exert’.4 In the French president’s eyes, a reduction of forces, even mutual and balanced, without a strong political détente, was tantamount to the creation of a demilitarized and neutralized zone in the heart of Europe. In the case of a renewal of East-West tensions, such a zone would become the centre of a new competition between Moscow and Washington, with the potential of degenerating into a third World War.5 Thus, the MBFR, combined with the SALT, recognized the U.S.-Soviet nuclear parity, and so doing, increased the risk of a ‘limited’ nuclear war by transforming the American and Soviet territories into sanctuaries.6 Several times, Pompidou reminded the West Germans – who were in favour of the MBFR, as will be explained further – that such discussions were only a Western adaptation of the Rapacki plan of 1954, which was rejected by the NATO countries at that time and planned the denuclearization of Central Europe.7 According to the French president, a reduction of forces was all the more dangerous since Germany would be at the centre of the neutralized zone. Besides, there was no question of the French army leaving the German territory. Pompidou confessed to Brandt his conviction that the Soviets were trying to ‘Finlandize’ Germany by using the MBFR: neutralization would settle the problem of reunification because the two Germanies would have a similar status.8 For the successor of de Gaulle, there were three concomitant means of avoiding this: the CSCE – ‘The rapprochement of all the peoples of East and West, and also of the two German States, can thus be achieved in a political atmosphere of cooperation and détente

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and not the neutralization of Central Europe and therefore of Germany’; European integration – ‘It is essential that Western Europe strengthens itself and it cannot do so without the Federal Republic, which is a fundamental element’; and the anchoring of the FRG to Western Europe – ‘It is also essential that the Federal Republic be securely tied to Western Europe if it wants to defend its personality against the progressive and very threatening grip of the Soviet Union’.9 According to the French Foreign Minister Maurice Schumann, the last point was all the more crucial, that the MBFR would prevent the European Community (EC) from considering the establishment of a common defence by granting the USSR a right of control over Western European military affairs.10 Schumann deliberately insisted on this argument: he knew how much the Germans were attached to the creation of a European defence. The fear of a German-Soviet rapprochement paving the way to a compromise based on exchanging reunification against neutralization – allowed by the MBFR – was particularly significant at the Quai d’Orsay.11 However, it is important to underline that the French feared the neutralization of Germany – which represented a real threat for French security – and not its reunification, which they did not consider possible in the short run.12 The French saw their fears partly confirmed by the meeting of the Warsaw Pact countries in East Berlin on 2 December 1970, during which Eastern leaders foresaw ‘the reduction within agreed limits of the armed forces of the two German states’ and the creation of nuclear-free zones.13 France was also opposed to the military situation in Europe being used by the USSR as a safety net for its policy in Asia: the buffer zone created in the centre of the continent by the reduction of forces would allow the Russians to focus on Asia and the Middle East.14 Additionally, Pompidou told Brezhnev that he could not accept a reduction of the French military programmes, in which Paris had invested heavily.15 Finally, Paris considered it essential to maintain the presence of U.S. forces in Europe, if only to preserve the morale of the West German population and prevent the FRG from sliding towards neutrality. This presence was all the more necessary as from Paris’s point of view, the SALT and the evolution of the concepts regarding the use of atomic weapons reduced the protection provided by the U.S. nuclear umbrella.16 Indeed, according to France, the strategy of flexible response, which required a build-up of conventional forces in order to keep up with the estimated constant increase of the Soviet potential, required that the U.S. army retained a significant presence on European soil. Moreover, a U.S. withdrawal would force the French to combine their nuclear weapons with the British in a European community of defence.17 That would deal a severe blow to French independence. So Pompidou maintained the

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Gaullist willingness to reconcile national independence and Atlantic solidarity.18 Thus, the fear of American disengagement and decoupling was permanent in the late 1960s and in the 1970s among French leaders and diplomats. The 1966 campaign by Democrat Senator Mike Mansfield for the reduction of troops in Europe had a considerable impact on public opinion in the United States. This is why Pompidou wanted an indivisible détente applicable not only to Europe but also to the rest of the world. In his eyes, limiting détente to Europe could only lead to a condominium of Washington and Moscow over the Old Continent, allowing the two giants to concentrate their energy against their common opponent: the PRC.19 Finally, France opposed a negotiation that was based on a ‘bloc to bloc’ approach insofar as it concerned the forces of the two military alliances. In French eyes, the Moscow summit of May 1972, during which Brezhnev and Nixon signed the SALT agreements, was a perfect manifestation of the Soviet-American condominium. In the end, France, by refusing an entire aspect of military détente, seemed to adopt an entirely negative stance and appeared as a supporter of the status quo. Nevertheless, the French commitment to the CSCE demonstrates that some nuance should be brought to this judgement: the French did intend to use the CSCE to gradually loosen the grip of the Soviet Union on Eastern Europe and help end the division of the continent. But the French actions in favour of the CSCE did not seem sufficiently convincing, especially as the Helsinki process at its inception was more than ever seen as a Soviet propaganda tool to achieve the consecration of the Iron Curtain.

Bahr’s Gesamtkonzept and French Worry In the late 1960s and early 1970s, the West German leaders believed that military détente had to go hand in hand with political détente. While the Ostpolitik treaties embodied their attachment to the latter, they had been supporting the former by promoting the principle of mutual and balanced forces reductions since 1968, as they feared a unilateral withdrawal of U.S. troops which would make the FRG vulnerable to Soviet pressure.20 Brandt and Egon Bahr, Secretary of the Chancellor’s Office (1969–72) and then Federal Minister for Special Affairs (1972–74), considered that arms control was a crucial step on the way to a European peace order.21 Yet Egon Bahr wished the MBFR to concern not only the U.S. and Soviet armies, but also national forces, that is, European forces. Beyond the MBFR, he also suggested reducing the total of U.S. nuclear weapons

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in Europe from 6,000 to 200 units. His goal was to cause a parallel and gradual withdrawal of Soviet troops in the GDR in order to create the conditions for reunification.22 This specific effect of a balanced reduction of forces on the territories of both German states had been identified by Bahr in 1967.23 According to him, the withdrawal of foreign troops from German soil would be followed by a dilution of the two German armies and would have a major impact on the East Germans’ morale. Then, the scope of the MBFR would be gradually expanded to the whole of Europe, opening the way to significant changes in the structure of military alliances and laying the foundations for a new security system in which the CSCE would play the lead role. The CSCE and the Basic Treaty with the GDR would provide the conditions for the reunification of Germany. Thus, for Egon Bahr, the troop reductions were a political instrument designed to reduce the antagonism between the two blocs and to create an atmosphere favouring the settlement of European problems. The CSCE, the MBFR and the Ostpolitik treaties formed what Bahr called a ‘Gesamtkonzept’, that is, a system of treaties and agreements inseparable from each other.24 Brandt made this mechanism the heart of his policy, presenting the couple CSCE/MBFR as essential for the future of security in Europe. However, the chancellor and his adviser were well aware that the gradual creation of a system of collective security was totally illusory in the late 1960s–early 1970s: neither the USSR nor the United States was willing to sacrifice their European zones of influence; neither France nor the United Kingdom would agree to question their special status in Europe. Therefore, in order not to offend his allies, Brandt did not take on the project of Bahr as it stood, but chose to reorganize the security system between the two blocs little by little. Bahr summed up the situation in this way: it was necessary not to exclude agreements ‘which would ensure the continuity of the existing system at a lower level, but which at the same time would constitute the first stage of a new order’.25 Despite West German guarantees – in the autumn of 1969, Brandt sent his special assistant for Franco-German affairs, Carlo Schmid, to the Élysée to reassure Pompidou about the intentions of the government of Bonn26 – the FRG’s active support for the MBFR increased Paris’s anxiety about the German-Soviet negotiations. Answering a question from his Spanish counterpart, Schumann provided a clear explanation of the French position vis-à-vis the reduction of national forces. He repeated the traditional French argument, developed since the 1950s to oppose the Rapacki plan:

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Either it is a USSR-U.S. agreement resulting in partial withdrawal on both sides; in this case, I cannot prevent this withdrawal from succeeding, but I warn: do not destroy the current balance. Or it is a reduction of national forces and, in this case, we face a very great danger. Should Europe lower its guard because the United States lower its own? For the Soviet Union and the United States, it is not a question of disarmament, but a mere reduction. For Europe, it is, on the contrary, a reduction of Western forces, a reduction of the common defence capabilities. … The danger is considerable: the Russians will just go 100 km away, while the Americans will go home. And, in addition, a number of German soldiers will leave the army. All this will lead to the creation in the centre of Europe of a disarmed area. Europe will be abandoned to the two giants. This will be the implementation, by different ways, of the RAPACKI plan. Add to that the progress of neutralism in the Scandinavian world. The entire venture must be delayed. If we could achieve this through the Conference on security, this is another reason to consider it favourably.27

The French anxiety, very well summed up by the foreign minister, was increasing in 1971 because of two factors. On the one hand, the Élysée learned at a very late date that Brandt and Brezhnev had met in Oreanda in September 1971 to discuss the CSCE and the reduction of forces.28 On the other hand, the FRG’s attachment to both political détente and military détente resulted in Brandt’s desire to include the MBFR in the CSCE agenda. As early as January 1971, the chancellor explained to Pompidou that this was necessary to prevent the agreement on the reduction of forces in Europe from being negotiated only by the two superpowers.29 This inclusion was also a way for the FRG to maintain a close connection with the Americans, who were still seen as the ultimate guarantors of West German security. For the French president, the association of CSCE/MBFR would not solve the problem because the result would be identical: Germany would be neutralized. Paris criticized Bonn for failing to imagine the CSCE without the MBFR; the Quai d’Orsay noted that the FRG focused on the reduction of forces to the detriment of the CSCE, for fear that the latter would loosen the ties between the states of the Atlantic Alliance and would freeze the status quo. In Paris’s view, it was clear that the Germans reckoned that the Allies would more easily develop a common position vis-à-vis the MBFR than in the CSCE, and hoped that the MBFR process could eventually lead to the disintegration of the Warsaw Pact, given the special role of the Soviet forces in the satellites.30 Thus, from the end of 1971, the French suspicion towards the intentions of the FRG (but also towards the United States and the USSR) intensified, as some statements of Georges Pompidou prove. Meeting Richard Nixon in the Azores, he said he did not understand the position of the Germans on the MBFR:

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They should be the most opposed to a balanced reduction since they should feel the most exposed. To tell the truth, Brandt is hostile to the idea of a​​ neutralization, a Finlandization, but when there will be no more American forces in Germany, nor any Canadian, British or French troops, it will not be far from neutralization.31

The Franco-German disagreement on forces reduction remained total. It certainly did not call into question the political cooperation that was actually developing between the two countries through the EPC, but clearly pointed out their divergences regarding European security. While Pompidou and the French diplomats insisted on the fact that the situation that would result from the reduction of forces would be an American withdrawal from Germany, the chancellor remained convinced that the MBFR was the only way to thwart the action of some members of the U.S. Congress in favour of a unilateral decrease of the U.S. military presence in Europe. Like the Soviets, the Germans, supported in particular by the Italians, urged France to join the movement in favour of the MBFR, without success.32 Bonn believed that a reduction of both national forces and Soviet-American troops would prevent the unilateral withdrawal of the United States and a condominium between the two superpowers.33 Brandt also saw the MBFR as a diplomatic weapon against the Soviet initiatives aiming to use the CSCE to strengthen the position of the USSR in Eastern Europe and to divide the West.34 Such arguments only increased the opposition of the French president to the MBFR, who considered that the Western European conventional forces were derisory compared to those of the Warsaw Pact: for him, the future of the defence of Europe was at stake not in the MBFR, but in the SALT, which directly addressed the credibility issue of the U.S. nuclear umbrella.35 The Americans were hardly more successful than the FRG when they tried, in the summer of 1972, to convince the French to participate in the MBFR. The kind words of one of Kissinger’s main collaborators, Helmut Sonnenfeldt, on the quality of French military experts, the closeness of views between Washington and Paris on the dangers facing the West and the role of safeguard that France could play in such negotiations were not enough to change the attitude of Pompidou.36 The French president assumed that if Nixon was re-elected in November 1972, he would consider the MBFR ‘like a joke because the Alliance launched this idea and cannot get rid of it’, and he would stall on this to satisfy Senator Mansfield. Pompidou was convinced that, in the end, Nixon was not planning to reduce the American presence in Europe and, he said to Brandt, ‘France will not push him to do so’.37 The CSCE undoubtedly appeared as France’s priority, and Paris did not hide its satisfaction when, in April 1972, Brezhnev and Kissinger

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agreed to separate the CSCE and the MBFR into two negotiating bodies. Brandt also endorsed this idea, validated by NATO at the end of May, but he demanded that the states concerned be given the opportunity to discuss, at the CSCE, troop reductions and military measures to increase confidence and stability.38 Those confidence-building measures (CBM) were mainly related to the notification of troop movements and military manoeuvres. As Pompidou realized that he could not refuse to let the CSCE address this subject, he eventually accepted it, provided that those discussions on CBM were clearly separated from the MBFR and extended to the Western provinces of the USSR.39 Under such conditions, the CBM would allow avoidance of ‘a new Soviet intervention, like in Czechoslovakia in 1968, because it would be in opposition to international agreements’.40 Nevertheless, Schumann did not want to make this topic a prerequisite, and so he asked François de Rose, the French permanent representative at the North Atlantic Council, to remove any ambiguity in this respect so that the French provisions vis-à-vis CBM were not interpreted as an alteration of the French position on MBFR.41 For their part, the United States promised, to the great satisfaction of the French who took note of this commitment, to ensure that no declaration on the reduction of forces would be made at the CSCE.42 Thus, in the early 1970s, Pompidou was concerned about the unexpected consequences of the Ostpolitik and Brandt’s attachment to forces reduction in Central Europe. The chancellor was aware of that and, as a consequence, it was partly to reassure his French interlocutors that he decided to play the card of European integration, especially on defence issues. He did so after his meeting with Brezhnev in Oreanda, which, as already stated, had not failed to fuel French mistrust.

European Defence and Nuclear Cooperation: Some Common Grounds? The Franco-German Strategic Dialogue of the Early 1970s During a conversation with Pompidou in December 1971, Brandt refuted any idea of German neutralization and, most importantly, insisted on the fact that strengthening European cooperation in the field of defence, including nuclear defence, would be a way to counterbalance a possible U.S. withdrawal from Western Europe.43 Brandt regularly spoke to Pompidou about this project, which he promoted as a way to complete the European part of NATO.44 However, if the French had been supporting

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efforts of European cooperation regarding defence since the 1960s, they did not want this European cooperation to include strategic arms. Thus, until his death, Pompidou made sure to avoid part of the issue: he did not want to be compelled to call into question the French nuclear doctrine as it had been thought of under de Gaulle. On this point, the West German demand was clear and emphasized the inconvenience of such a doctrine for Bonn, because it ran counter to NATO doctrine and was in fact a duplication that could be dangerous for the security of the FRG. Brandt’s remarks to Pompidou in June 1973 were limpid: I need your response to a number of questions … How should we understand the French intervention plan? Which are the cities targeted by French nuclear weapons? In which part of Germany are these cities? Are they even in the part of Germany which is so closely linked to France? I am not talking about the French army in Germany and its special position there, but the Ailleret/ Lemnitzer agreement of 1967 which sketched out this situation no longer corresponds to the position of our two countries. I do not want there to be any misunderstanding. I am not seeking and have never sought to obtain nuclear weapons for Germany. But if Germany is to be in a common defence organization complementing or replacing NATO, it will not be possible for it merely to play the role of infantry.45

Thus, promoting European cooperation in the defence field was a way for the Germans to lead the French to reappraise their doctrine, fixed in the framework of the Ailleret-Lemnitzer agreements of 1967 and specified by General Fourquet on 3 March 1969.46 This Fourquet doctrine, or ‘doctrine des deux batailles’, planned to send grouped forces of the ‘2e Corps d’Armée’ to the south of the FRG as well as to open nuclear fire if the head of state, and only the head of state, considered national interests threatened.47 With the negotiation of the Valentin-Ferber agreements in 1972–73, between the commander of the First French Army and the NATO Commander for Central Europe, these plans were extended to the First Army and to a wider geographical area stretching from Rotterdam to Munich via Dortmund.48 The fact that Brandt raised this issue at a time when the two countries noted their disagreement about MBFR and SALT can be seen as a fairly clear denunciation of French intentions for Germany in case of a new conflict in Europe. This was reminiscent of the suspicions of Chancellor Adenauer when Paris was preparing to reach the rank of a nuclear power in the late 1950s. (While Adenauer feared an anti-German nuclear deterrent, Brandt only referred to the German territory being potentially targeted in case of war against the USSR.)49 In the early 1970s, while Bonn was regularly informed of NATO nuclear strategy – thanks to the

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Nuclear Planning Group created in 1966 – the Germans did not know anything about French tactical weapons, which posed a double problem: first, the level of French commitment to defend the FRG; and second, the use of the French bomb on German soil.50 Until 1971, Brandt emphasized the need for extensive conversations between France and NATO in order to achieve a rapprochement that could allow a better control of French intentions within the Atlantic framework. Thus, in 1970, he asked the French, unsuccessfully, to inform him of the conditions of use of the Pluto tactical missile – operational from 1974 – in exchange for information on the nuclear strategy of NATO. On 5 July 1971, he also suggested that Pompidou could take part in the discussions of the Eurogroup, a NATO body to coordinate the armament policies of the European members. Once again, France stonewalled in the name of French nuclear independence, just as it did when the FRG asked to have a say regarding the use of the Pluto missiles that were to be stationed in Germany.51 It was therefore to prevent the Franco-German dialogue on security and defence issues from being harmed by their diverging attitudes towards NATO that Brandt gradually brought out the concept of European defence from 1973 onwards. Like Pompidou, he was particularly worried that the Nixon/Brezhnev agreement on the prevention of nuclear war (22 June 1973) could call into question the American nuclear protection of Europe:52 in a strategic paper produced by the Chancellery in the summer of 1973 in order to ‘consolidate the anchorage [of the FRG] in the West’, the Germans expressed concerns about the U.S. possibly raising their tactical weapons intervention threshold in Europe; for them, the result was a weakening of the American nuclear umbrella that could not be compensated by the French and British nuclear forces.53 Brandt’s proposals in this matter seemed all the more justified as Henry Kissinger’s speech on the ‘Year of Europe’ (April 1973), which called for better burden sharing regarding defence spending, ushered in a new transatlantic crisis. Moreover, in a context of progress in European integration – Economic and Monetary Union, European Political Cooperation – it was only logical to add defence issues to the areas of cooperation to be deepened.54 Michel Jobert’s statements on European defence in the summer of 1973, in response to Kissinger’s ‘Year of Europe’ and the U.S.-Soviet agreement of 22 June, convinced Brandt to intensify his efforts towards the French regarding European defence:55 the creation of a European defence system was necessary; however, it presupposed a settlement of ongoing contentious issues, particularly the use of French nuclear weapons. In June 1973, Brandt questioned Pompidou about this problem. Pompidou tried to be reassuring about French strategic targets. He said:

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‘We have no targets on the territory of the FRG; keep that to yourself but I give you my word of honour’,56 and called for a better cooperation in the production of armaments and enriched uranium. Nevertheless, he remained evasive on European defence. Why such an attitude, while the French considered European integration as the best way to bind the FRG to France and to prevent it from drifting towards neutralism? Of course, the desire to preserve the national strategic independence lauded by de Gaulle and the French instinctive refusal to see the FRG become a nuclear power did play a role here. In the Livre Blanc published by Michel Debré in 1972, the minister of defence stressed that ‘deterrence is exclusively national’ and that ‘nuclear risk must not be shared’.57 However, that did not explain everything. The French position on the European defence project can only be understood by taking into account two levels of consideration: German-Soviet and Atlantic. One of the French priorities was to avoid alienating the Soviets: the creation of a European nuclear defence could deal a fatal blow to détente and Franco-Soviet as well as German-Soviet relations, especially since France had not stopped encouraging the FRG to definitely give up the idea of acquiring the atomic weapon during the 1960s in order to bring down the Soviet propaganda on ‘the German revanchists’ and to permit a lasting dialogue between Bonn and Moscow. In Pitsunda in March 1974, Pompidou made it clear to Brezhnev that European cooperation would never cover nuclear weapons.58 But the crux of the matter lies elsewhere. The reasons that led France not to take part in the MBFR were also valid regarding European defence: according to Paris, political détente was underdeveloped. In this context, agreeing to create a European defence system would only encourage the Americans to reduce their nuclear protection and to make concessions to the Soviets in the field of strategic arms limitation. In other words, favouring European defence at that stage would weaken Atlantic defence. In the early 1970s, the French, like their European partners, still saw the Alliance as the ultimate pillar of European security, and therefore were cautious in advancing towards European defence.59 And it was precisely because the Germans too were careful not to give the Americans an excuse to withdraw from Europe that their plans for European defence were still rather vague.60 The French also knew that the British wished to preserve their special relationship with Washington concerning nuclear issues, a factor that did not go in the direction of a European defence system.61 Thus, Pompidou was clear-sighted: he considered that the idea of a European defence system in the short term was utopian, all the more so since it could not exist without a political Europe able to take common

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decisions in the field of foreign policy. In a document of August 1972, he said: ‘we shouldn’t be in a rush to talk about defence. A political basis for Europe must be established and it is far from being in place’.62 The events of the end of 1973 seemed to strengthen the reluctance of Pompidou to set up a European defence. The Yom Kippur War, which saw the Americans and the Soviets interfering in the settlement of Middle East affairs more than ever, reminded the Europeans how dependent they were on the United States. While, initially, Michel Jobert took up the proposal of Willy Brandt and Walter Scheel to embark ‘on the way to a European defence system’ during his speech to the Western European Union (WEU) Assembly on 21 November 1973, the quadrupling of oil prices brought the Europeans into the arms of the Americans.63 For Pompidou, ‘l’Europe de la Défense’ seemed more distant than ever. Since ‘any problem tended to become the occasion of a tête-à-tête between the USSR and the United States, with the inherent risks, and the humiliations and dangers that this represented for the European countries’, France should rely first of all on its own deterrent, and all the more so because the FRG was hesitating ‘between an unreserved attachment to American protection and the temptation of neutralism’.64 Thus, the optimistic speech of Jobert at the WEU Assembly was only an illusion: by proposing a European defence system that would be created in the framework of the WEU, the French minister thwarted the German projects on the Eurogroup and the EPC.65 As for the possibility of a joint Franco-British nuclear force, Pompidou refused it bluntly, reckoning that it would be ‘humiliating’ for the Germans.66 For the same reason, the French president demanded that Franco-U.S. nuclear cooperation, which had been initiated by the Nixon Administration in May 1971, would be kept secret: Germany should not feel that it was ‘the abandoned daughter of the Alliance’.67 Even though this discretion was related to the concern not to discredit the French policy of independence, it is also true that France did not want to embarrass its German partner. Apparently, the French were not persuasive enough, as some West German leaders suspected the U.S., the UK and France of elaborating cooperation projects behind the FRG’s back.68 Thus, Pompidou’s posture was in no way directed against Germany, but against the USSR, which the president still suspected of seeking to weaken the FRG by making tempting promises of reunification in exchange for neutralization. Therefore, he could not take the risk of going too far in developing a common European defence policy, especially if it were to include nuclear weapons. In fact, when analysing the French positions with regard to the nuclearization of European defence, one should avoid any simplistic, determinist judgement, which, based on a

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crude balance of power analysis, systematically portrays France as wishing to weaken Germany at the military level in particular.

Dissension under Control In 1974, the French and German positions on European defence seemed to be incompatible. The FRG did not allow a European system of defence to be built outside the Atlantic framework; France remained firmly committed to its strategic independence and national deterrence; Paris was hostile to the principle of forces reduction in Europe, even if this meant locking itself into a seemingly contradictory position, through which the French seemed to be in favour of the European status quo. However, the interpretation according to which the French were in the end satisfied with the division of the continent – insofar as it helped justify a desire to maintain a political and military ascendancy over Germany – is simplistic and wrong, as has been shown above by studying the Franco-German conversations about European defence. Thus, despite their disagreement, Pompidou and Brandt shared a common goal: to give Europe a voice that would be partially distinct from that of the U.S. in the strategic field. While the FRG favoured the construction of a joint European defence system, France gave priority to national forces. Moreover, neither Bonn nor Paris wished to challenge the U.S. nuclear umbrella. On the contrary, both countries were concerned about the fact that the acknowledgement of the strategic parity between the United States and the USSR via the SALT could raise the threshold for the use of tactical weapons in Europe, in case of a sudden deterioration of international relations. Both for Paris and Bonn, the building of a European defence should not be seen by Washington as an incentive to leave the Old Continent. This fear of strategic decoupling explains the pusillanimity of German projects on common defence and the French lack of enthusiasm to tackle the issue. Paris’s caution and Bonn’s prudence, in the end, stemmed from the same analysis. In this sense, the year 1973 was crucial as it saw a Franco-German rapprochement regarding the risk of a U.S.-Soviet condominium over European security. France was no longer the only state that was worried. Because of the Nixon-Brezhnev agreement on ‘the prevention of nuclear war’, West Europeans feared that the United States would subject their allies’ interests to their relations with the USSR.69 That was combined, on the one hand, with the fear that the Americans would put pressure on each country of the EC in order to obtain European aid and restore their commercial balance.70 On the other hand, it was related to the fear that Washington and Moscow would come to an agreement to complete the

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preliminary negotiations for the CSCE – which started in November 1972 in Helsinki – as soon as possible by giving each other mutual concessions to the detriment of the diversity of points of view.71 In May 1973, when Donald Rumsfeld, U.S. Ambassador to NATO, reported on the latest Soviet-American talks, he roused an outcry among his allies by telling them that the Communist Party of the Soviet Union’s First Secretary and the National Security Adviser of the United States had decided to modify the timetable of East-West negotiations. According to the French representative François de Rose, the French refusal of the MBFR appeared fully justified in the eyes of the other Western Europeans; indeed, the discussions on the reduction of forces, for which multilateral, preparatory discussions had begun in January 1973 in Vienna, did take the form of a direct dialogue between the two superpowers.72 Therefore, in 1973, not only Paris but also Bonn gave major attention to the CSCE, which until then had been considered as a secondary issue by the Germans. The CSCE was seen as a way to reinforce the voice of Europe in East-West relations and to show that European Political Cooperation could achieve tangible results even though the dialogue on military cooperation remained difficult. The CSCE also allowed France to demonstrate that overcoming the European and German status quo remained the main goal of its foreign policy despite its suspicion about military détente. The dynamism of the French diplomats during the negotiations on peaceful change of borders was irrefutable proof of Paris’s will to stay the course towards reunification of the continent: neither Europe nor Germany should remain divided. But, once again, only a durable relaxation of East-West relations, which entailed a true political détente, could justify a disarmament effort.73 Consequently, it was not the fear of the very far perspective of German reunification that explained Pompidou’s reluctance to share national nuclear weapons with its Eastern neighbour. It was rather the fear of neutralization, which was embodied in the eyes of the French by Egon Bahr and his vision of the MBFR.74 While Brandt tried to reassure the French about his own intentions regarding Bahr, he did not manage to convince Pompidou, who told Edward Heath in May 1973: ‘I think Brandt is entirely sincere, but he is not eternal and can be subject to strong influences’.75 Thus, the French president trusted Brandt, and their cooperation in the process of European integration demonstrated this. Much more than Brandt’s attitude, it was rather the Soviet intentions and their supporters in the FRG that worried the French. This explains why the German insistence on arms control reinforced French mistrust of Bonn’s projects and made it hard for Pompidou to cooperate with Brandt in the defence field. Thus, in 1975 again, the French did not appreciate

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the Soviet and West German insistence on including disarmament issues in the CSCE’s agenda. They saw it as a form of complicity which, even though it was unintended, could increase the risk of neutralization of Central Europe.76 The General Secretary of the Quai d’Orsay Geoffroy de Courcel directly expressed these concerns to his German interlocutor, Secretary of State Walter Gehlhoff in July 1975: By combining the SALT with the MBFR, the Soviets try hard to reach two goals: to separate Europe from the U.S. strategic system; to create in Central Europe an area subject to a special status on armaments, in short, ‘a zone of reduced rights’ over which the USSR would have the upper hand. Subsequently, Moscow will be able to say that the Atlantic Alliance has lost its raison d’être and will promote the creation of a system of collective security.77

This fear of neutralization explains the absolute opposition of France to the Soviet and West German ideas aiming to create a permanent organization after the CSCE, which could guarantee the implementation of some measures decided at the conference and would focus on disarmament issues.78 That is why France gave full support to a CSCE document proposed by Great Britain, ‘entirely based on the notion of political security rather than that of military security’.79 For Paris, only the CBM could be included in the CSCE agenda. For the French authorities, the CBM would serve as a tool to dispel the security concerns of certain European countries about some military movements and manoeuvres. Therefore, they had to be implemented in each participating state, on an equal footing.80 In other words, the European part of the USSR territory would not be spared. Consequently, France supported the proposals that aimed at including a large territorial depth in the area where the conditions of notification would be codified. At the CSCE, the main task of the French representative in the CBM committee was to prevent the negotiators from tackling other issues.81 Paris claimed that the CBM fell under the exclusive competency of the states. By contrast, the military alliances could not take any decision in this respect. Consequently, from the French point of view, the planned notifications had to be done through normal diplomatic channels; no new control or checking system should be created. Thanks to these provisions, France wanted to stymie the Soviet idea of creating an organization that would implement the decisions regarding the military aspects of security and might progressively deal with issues falling under the SALT and the MBFR.82 The French were worried that a system of collective security would gradually be created which would make the Atlantic Alliance and the Warsaw Pact obsolete, scuttle the process of European integration and give the USSR the upper hand over Western European affairs. For

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Paris, the CBM should not be considered as a legal obligation, but only as a moral commitment. It was only with the arrival of Helmut Schmidt at the Chancellery in May 1974 that the French fears subsided, the new chancellor getting considerably closer to France’s point of view regarding the CSCE followup.83 Schmidt continued the Ostpolitik of his predecessor in order to reach agreements with Moscow on specific issues such as disarmament, but he refocused it on a ‘cooperative policy of balance’, moving away from Bahr’s global plans.84 Brandt’s successor envisaged in particular taking advantage of the economic attractiveness of the FRG to obtain from the USSR and the GDR ‘practical improvements of the situation in Berlin and a development of cooperation with the GDR’.85 In France, the change of president also helped to alleviate the existing misgivings: Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, who developed a strong understanding with Schmidt and was in favour of a ‘desideologisation’ of East-West relations, was less afraid than Pompidou of a ‘German drift’ to the East.86

Conclusion The years 1969–74 were in the end a prosperous period of Franco-German cooperation in European affairs. From the establishment of the EPC to the launch of the Economic and Monetary Union and the CSCE, Paris and Bonn were the driving forces of the European Community and shared a twofold objective: to create a Western Europe capable of being heard in international relations and to work to overcome the division of the continent. However, this almost idyllic picture of a Franco-German community of views ran up against questions of security, at least in appearance. Although the long-term goals converged even in this area, the strategies for accomplishing them differed. It is admitted that in line with the previous period – the 1960s – France and the FRG had divergent ways of considering military issues in the early 1970s, whether arms control or European defence. Again, a certain degree of mistrust towards the partner’s intentions continued to prevail. France was a nuclear power, the FRG was not and could not theoretically become one: the question of the political and military upper hand of France over the FRG could not fail to arise. It arose also because, as a result of détente, the spectre of American disengagement and strategic decoupling became omnipresent in the minds of European decision-makers. The fear of a weakening of the U.S. nuclear umbrella over Europe unsurprisingly raised debates and questions about how the security of the continent should be guaranteed. While France intended

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to resist any attempt to reduce or limit the armaments, emphasized the necessary American protection and played the card of the national strategy of deterrence, the FRG advocated the creation of a European defence system which, coupled with a balanced reduction of forces in East and West, would guarantee the security of the continent while preventing a unilateral withdrawal of the United States. In the longer term, the foundations for a new European security system would be laid, in which Germany could be reunified. In this scheme, Pompidou’s France seemed to appear clearly as a supporter of the European status quo, reluctant to any sharing of its nuclear strike force. On the contrary, and historians have often highlighted this difference, Brandt’s FRG gave the impression of being at the forefront of the process of bringing peoples and states together as well as promoting European integration. It is important, however, to put this dichotomic picture into perspective and to qualify it. Thus, the French reluctance towards the idea of a European system of defence, as well as towards arms control and disarmament, resulted from three fundamental ideas, which, far from contradicting West German interests, tended to foster the convergence between the French and West German positions: 1) Strategic independence had become a structural element of France’s foreign policy, and Paris did not intend to share the benefits of it, at least as long as there was no such thing as a sound political Europe. In the eyes of Pompidou, insofar as the military tool is inseparable from diplomacy, only a coherent European foreign policy could justify the creation of a truly joint European defence. The FRG’s commitment to strengthen European Political Cooperation, far from contradicting this reasoning, reinforced it, and Bonn also considered that a common defence implied progress in political integration.87 2) In their positions on both arms control and European defence, the Germans and the French were careful not to encourage the Americans to move forward on disengagement or arms limitation. In Paris and Bonn, the Atlantic Alliance remained the pillar of European security and defence. 3) The French concerns about German-Soviet conversations mainly focused on Moscow’s intentions in the field of European security: the Kremlin wanted a common security system that would allow the USSR to expand its influence to Western Europe. Pompidou feared that the Germans would be led to make too many concessions to the Russians, especially in the shape of an exchange of Germany’s reunification for its neutralization. However, because the dialogue with the East was necessary for détente, France fully supported Ostpolitik. On this

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point too, there was a kind of implicit Franco-German convergence. On the German side, the relaxation of tensions with the USSR did not mean letting its guard down. On the contrary, Brandt remained suspicious about the real goals of the Soviets and that suspicion justified his attachment to MBFR, in which he saw a diplomatic guarantee against the Soviet initiatives aiming to strengthen Moscow’s positions in Eastern Europe and divide the Western countries thanks to the CSCE.88 Finally, the Franco-German misunderstanding regarding European security and nuclear deterrence during the Ostpolitik era was based on a double contradiction. On the one hand, the Germans wished to favour armament reduction and a European defence system as part of the Atlantic organization. The latter endeavour deterred the French from participating in such a defence system and could have hindered the dialogue with a USSR that was worried about keeping Germany disarmed. On the other hand, the French continued to promote solidarity with the allies, including the FRG, while remaining firmly attached to the independence of their nuclear force and to a continuing effort of the West regarding armaments. In such a framework, the Franco-German cooperation in the defence field could hardly work but, once again, that did not mean that Paris was opposed to give back to the Germans the ability to defend themselves. It just meant that the 1970s were not an appropriate time to do it. Nicolas Badalassi is Associate Professor of Contemporary History at the Institut d’Etudes politiques of Aix-en-Provence. He holds a PhD from the University Sorbonne Nouvelle (2011). His focus is on French foreign policy, Cold War history and the Helsinki process. His book publications include En finir avec la guerre froide: La France, l’Europe et le processus d’Helsinki, 1965–1975 (PUR, 2014); Les pays d’Europe orientale et la Méditerranée, 1967–1989 (Cahiers Irice, 2013, co-edited with Houda Ben Hamouda); The CSCE and the End of the Cold War: Diplomacy, Societies and Human Rights, 1972–1990 (Berghahn Books, 2019, co-edited with Sarah B. Snyder); and Reconstructing Europe 45 Years after Yalta: The Charter of Paris (1990) (CTHS, 2020, co-edited with Jean-Philippe Dumas).

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Notes  1. G.-H. Soutou, ‘La France et la non-prolifération nucléaire: Une histoire complexe’, Revue historique des armées 262 (2011), 35–45.  2. Georges-Henri Soutou highlighted this divergence in his fundamental book on Franco-German strategic relations: G-H. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 311–49.  3. See for example C. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, La politique européenne de la France et de l’Allemagne entre crise et renouveau (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2016).  4. Georges Pompidou’s remarks to Leonid Brezhnev, 29 October 1971, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 1018, URSS, 1969–74, French National Archives (FNA), Pierrefitte-sur-Seine.  5. Conversation Pompidou/Nixon, 31 May 1973, Reykjavik, Box 5 AG 2 1023, Etats-Unis, FNA.  6. P. Mélandri, ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique sous Georges Pompidou et Valéry Giscard d’Estaing’, in M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN: 1949–1996 (Brussels: Complexe, 1996), 526.  7. See for example the conversation between Maurice Schumann and the Mayor of West Berlin Klaus Schuetz, on 10 December 1969. Box 5 AG 2 103, RFA, 1969–74, FNA.  8. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 10 February 1972, Paris, Box 5 AG 2  106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA; Pompidou used the same argument with Richard Nixon. Conversation Pompidou/Nixon, 13 December 1971, The Azores, Box 5 AG 2 117, Etats-Unis, 1971–74, FNA.  9. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 10 February 1972, Paris, Box 5 AG 2  106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA. 10. Conversation Schumann/Scheel, 22 January 1973, Box 5 AG 2 106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA. 11. N. Badalassi, En finir avec la guerre froide: La France, l’Europe et le processus d’Helsinki, 1965–1975 (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014), 155–63. 12. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 30 January 1970, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 104, RFA, 1969–70, FNA; Conversation Pompidou/Brezhnev, 7 October 1970, Moscow, Box 5 AG 2 1018, URSS, 1969–74, FNA. 13. Memo of the service des Pactes et du désarmement, 15 January 1971, Box 3000, Europe 1971–76, RFA, Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs (AFMFA), La Courneuve. 14. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 10 February 1972, Paris, Box 5 AG 2  106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA. 15. Conversation Pompidou/Brejnev, 29 October 1971, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 1018, URSS, 1969–74, FNA. 16. In 1967, NATO adopted the doctrine of flexible response. Such a doctrine was elaborated by the U.S. Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara to replace the doctrine of massive retaliation which had been defined by John Foster Dulles in 1953–54. Flexible response provided that, in case of limited attack by the USSR, nuclear weapons would be used after a last negotiation and against military targets only. One of the main arguments in favour of flexible response was to give credibility to the U.S. nuclear umbrella by avoiding the ‘all-or-nothing’ dilemma. 17. Memo of the service des Pactes et du désarmement, 15 January 1971, Box 3000, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 18. Mélandri, ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique’, 522. 19. G.-H. Soutou, ‘The Linkage between European Integration and Détente: The Contrasting Approaches of de Gaulle and Pompidou, 1965 to 1974’, in N.P. Ludlow (ed), European Integration and the Cold War: Ostpolitik-Westpolitik, 1965–1973 (London: Routledge, 2007), 23–25.

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20. On 17 November 1971, Senator Mansfield tabled an amendment in favour of a partial withdrawal of U.S. troops from Europe. Telegram 6978/81, by Lucet, 19 November 1971, Box 8, CSCE, AFMFA. 21. W. Loth, ‘Détente and European Integration in the Policies of Willy Brandt and Georges Pompidou’, in Ludlow, European Integration and the Cold War, 56. 22. D. Möckli, European Foreign Policy during the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity (London: I.B. Tauris, 2009), 104–7. 23. See Benedikt Schoenborn’s chapter in this volume. 24. O. Bange, ‘An Intricate Web: Ostpolitik, the European Security System and German Unification’, in O. Bange and G. Niedhart (eds), Helsinki 1975 and the Transformation of Europe (New York: Berghahn Books, 2008), 30–35. 25. Quoted by Loth, ‘Détente and European Integration’, 54. 26. Ibid., 54. 27. Conversation Schumann/Lopez-Bravo, 25 November 1971, Madrid, Box 5 AG 2 107, Espagne, 1969–74, FNA. 28. Conversation Pompidou/Scheel, 19 November 1971, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 1011, RFA, FNA. 29. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 26 January 1971, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 105, RFA, FNA. 30. Memo 275 of the service des Pactes et du désarmement, 14 June 1972, Box 3003, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 31. Conversation Pompidou/Nixon, 13 December 1971, Azores, Box 5 AG 2  117, EtatsUnis, 1971–74, FNA. 32. Memo of the sous-direction d’Europe orientale, 1 July 1972, Box 2924, Europe 1971–76, Organismes internationaux et grandes questions internationales, AFMFA. 33. Loth, ‘Détente and European Integration’, 57. 34. Memo 33 of the service des Pactes et du désarmement, 26 January 1972, Box 3002, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 35. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 10 February 1972, Paris, Box 5 AG 2  106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA. 36. Telegram NR 5771/78, by Kosciusko-Morizet, 26 August 1972, Box 2924, Europe 1971–76, Organismes internationaux et grandes questions internationales, AFMFA. 37. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 3 July 1972, Bonn, Box 5 AG 2  106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA. 38. H. Haftendorn, ‘The Link between CSCE and MBFR: Two Sprouts from One Bulb’, in A. Wenger, V. Mastny and C. Nuenlist (eds), Origins of the European Security System: The Helsinki Process Revisited. 1965–1975 (London: Routledge, 2008), 251. 39. Cable 202, by de Rose, 2 March 1972, Box 23, CSCE, AFMFA. 40. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 3 July 1972, Bonn, Box 5 AG 2  106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA; Cable of 4 January 1972; memo 145 of the service des Pactes et désarmement, 13 April 1972; telegram 1767/71, by de Rose, 2 November 1972, Box 23, CSCE, AFMFA. 41. Telegram NR 111-116, by Schumann, 23 May 1972, Box 2923, Europe 1971–76, Organismes internationaux et grandes questions internationales, AFMFA. 42. Memo 158, 25 April 1972, Box 3018, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 43. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 4 December 1971, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 105, RFA, FNA. 44. The Franco-German strategic dialogue in the early 1970s has been the subject of many reference studies. It is important, however, to underline the considerable contribution of Claudia Hiepel’s book, to which this part owes a great deal and which gives a complete analysis of the French and German archives relating to this issue. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou. See also Soutou, L’alliance incertaine; Mélandri,  ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique’. 45. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 21 June 1973, Bonn, Box 5 AG 2 106, RFA, 1972–73, FNA.

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46. F. Bozo, La France et l’OTAN: de la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen (Paris: Masson, 1991). 47. Mélandri, ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique’, 521. 48. Ibid., 530. 49. See Frédéric Gloriant’s chapter in this volume. 50. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 328. 51. In the end, the missiles were not stationed in Germany. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 329–32. 52. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 337. 53. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, 213–14, 228. 54. Ibid., 227–29. 55. Ibid., 227–28. 56. Conversation Pompidou/Brandt, 21 June 1973, Bonn, Box 5 AG 2 1012, RFA, FNA. 57. Mélandri, ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique’, 524. 58. Conversation Pompidou/Brezhnev, 13 March 1974, Pitsunda, Box 5 AG 2 1019, URSS, FNA. 59. Mélandri, ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique’, 523. 60. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, 230. 61. Mélandri, ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique’, 523. 62. Ibid., 531. 63. Ibid., 533. 64. Memo by Georges Pompidou, 1 February 1974, Box 5 AG 2 1040, Défense, FNA. 65. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, 231. 66. Memo by Georges Pompidou, 1 February 1974, Box 5 AG 2 1040, Défense, FNA. 67. Conversation Pompidou/Nixon, 1 June 1973, Reykjavik, Box 5 AG 2 1023, Etats-Unis, FNA. 68. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, 233. 69. Möckli, European Foreign Policy during the Cold War, 101–2. 70. Conversation between the French and German political directors, 24 November 1972, Paris, Box 3018, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 71. Telegram 381/387, by de Rose, 14 February 1973, Box 2926, Europe 1971–76, Organismes internationaux et grandes questions internationales, AFMFA. See also D. Möckli, ‘The EC Nine, the CSCE, and the Changing Pattern of European Security’, in Wenger, Mastny and Nuenlist, Origins of the European Security System, 151. 72. Telegram 1029/36, by de Rose, 21 May 1973, Box 32, CSCE, AFMFA. 73. Badalassi, En finir avec la guerre froide, 274–85. 74. Telegram 4366/72, by Sauvagnargues, 27 September 1973, Box 2979, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 75. Conversation Pompidou/Heath, 21 May 1973, Paris, Box 5 AG 2 1015, Grande-Bretagne, FNA. 76. Conversation de Courcel/Gehlhoff, 21 July 1975; Telegram 2938/2949, by Wormser, 22 July 1975, Box 2927, Europe 1971–76, Organismes internationaux et grandes questions internationales, AFMFA. 77. Ibid. 78. Memo 285, 9 July 1973, Box 23, CSCE, AFMFA. 79. Memo 272, 3 July 1973, Box 23, CSCE, AFMFA. 80. Memo of the service des Pactes et du Désarmement, 8 August 1973, Box 23, CSCE, AFMFA. 81. Memo CSCE 301, 10 September 1973, Box 23, CSCE, AFMFA. 82. Memo 561, Pactes et Désarmement, 18 December 1973, Box 19, CSCE, AFMFA. 83. Memo CSCE, 21 January 1975, Box 2982, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA. 84. M. Weinachter, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Allemagne: le double rêve inachevé (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2004), 4.2.1.

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85. Memo by Robin, 31 January 1975, quoted by G.-H. Soutou, ‘L’anneau et les deux triangles: les rapports franco-allemands dans la politique européenne et mondiale de 1974 à 1981’, in S. Berstein and J.-F. Sirinelli (eds), Les années Giscard: Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Europe. 1974–1981 (Paris: Armand Colin, 2006), 54. 86. Weinachter, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Allemagne, 4.1.1. 87. Hiepel, Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, 233. 88. Memo 33 of the service des Pactes et du désarmement, 26 January 1972, Box 3002, Europe 1971–76, RFA, AFMFA.

Bibliography Primary Sources Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, La Courneuve, AFMFA: – CSCE, 1972–75, vol. 8, 19, 23, 32 – Organismes internationaux et grandes questions internationales, 1971–76, vol. 2923, 2924, 2926, 2927 – RFA, 1971–76, vol. 2979, 2982, 3000, 3002, 3003, 3018 French National Archives, Pierrefitte-sur-Seine, FNA: – Archives of Georges Pompidou presidency, 1969–74: – Défense, vol. 5 AG 2 1040 – Grande-Bretagne, vol. 5 AG 2 1015 – Espagne, vol. 5 AG 2 107 – Etats-Unis, vol. 5 AG 2 117, 5 AG 2 1023 – RFA, vol. 5 AG 2 103, 5 AG 2 104, 5 AG 2 105, 5 AG 2 106, 5 AG 2 1011, 5 AG 2 1012 – URSS, vol. 5 AG 2 1018, 5 AG 2 1019

Literature Badalassi, N. En finir avec la guerre froide: La France, l’Europe et le processus d’Helsinki, 1965–1975. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014. Bange, O. ‘An Intricate Web: Ostpolitik, the European Security System and German Unification’, in O. Bange and G. Niedhart (eds), Helsinki 1975 and the Transformation of Europe (New York: Berghahn Books, 2008), 23–38. Bozo, F. La France et l’OTAN: de la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen. Paris: Masson, 1991. Haftendorn, H. ‘The Link between CSCE and MBFR: Two Sprouts from One Bulb’, in A. Wenger, V. Mastny and C. Nuenlist (eds), Origins of the European Security System: The Helsinki Process Revisited. 1965–1975 (London: Routledge, 2008), 237–58. Hiepel, C. Willy Brandt et Georges Pompidou, La politique européenne de la France et de l’Allemagne entre crise et renouveau. Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2016.

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Loth, W. ‘Détente and European Integration in the Policies of Willy Brandt and Georges Pompidou’, in N.P. Ludlow (ed.), European Integration and the Cold War: Ostpolitik-Westpolitik, 1965–1973 (London: Routledge, 2007), 53–66. Mélandri, P. ‘La France et l’Alliance atlantique sous Georges Pompidou et Valéry Giscard d’Estaing’, in M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN: 1949–1996 (Brussels: Complexe, 1996), 519–58. Möckli, D. ‘The EC Nine, the CSCE, and the Changing Pattern of European Security’, in A. Wenger, V. Mastny and C. Nuenlist (eds), Origins of the European Security System: The Helsinki Process Revisited. 1965–1975 (London: Routledge, 2008), 145–63.  . European Foreign Policy during the Cold War: Heath, Brandt, Pompidou and the Dream of Political Unity. London: I.B. Tauris, 2009. Soutou, G.-H. L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996. Paris: Fayard, 1996.  . ‘L’anneau et les deux triangles: les rapports franco-allemands dans la politique européenne et mondiale de 1974 à 1981’, in S. Berstein and J.-F. Sirinelli (eds), Les années Giscard: Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Europe. 1974–1981 (Paris: Armand Colin, 2006), 45–79.  . ‘The Linkage between European Integration and Détente: The Contrasting Approaches of de Gaulle and Pompidou, 1965 to 1974’, in N.P. Ludlow (ed.), European Integration and the Cold War: Ostpolitik-Westpolitik, 1965–1973 (London: Routledge, 2007).  . ‘La France et la non-prolifération nucléaire: Une histoire complexe’, Revue historique des armées 262 (2011), 35–45. Weinachter, M. Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Allemagne: le double rêve inachevé. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2004.

Figure 1. Cartoon by Michael Cummings on the Second Berlin Crisis, 15 June 1959. On the rocket on the left, from left to right: U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower, French President Charles de Gaulle, German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. On the rocket on the right: Nikita Khrushchev, First Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, and his Foreign Minister, Andrei Gromyko. Source: Daily Express, 15 June 1959, no. 18, 367. London. © Cummings, used with permission.

Figure 2. Paris, signature of the Élysée Treaty. Federal Chancellor Konrad Adenauer and French President Charles de Gaulle signed a treaty on 22 January 1963 in the Élysée Palace in Paris on Franco-German cooperation, political consultations between the two governments and increased cooperation in foreign and defence policy as well as in education and youth issues. Regular meetings between the heads of government and the responsible ministers of the two countries were intended to ensure the practical implementation of the treaty. Bundesarchiv, B 145 Bild-P106816. Wikimedia Commons, CC-BY-SA 3.0.

Figure 3. Krefeld, North-Rhine-Westphalia, 1961. During his first campaign for the West German chancellorship, Brandt (at the microphone) already declared that West Germany should unequivocally renounce any ambition – or any semblance of an ambition – of becoming a nuclear power. © Karl Heinz Lengwenings, distributed under a CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Figure 4. Pompidou and a technician near the assembly line of a Mirage IV, during a visit to the Mérignac aerospace complex, 19 September 1964. Archives du Ministère de l’Europe et des Affaires étrangères, La Courneuve © A.D.N.P., used with permission.

Figure 5. French President Georges Pompidou and German Chancellor Willy Brandt at the Munich Olympics, 10 September 1972. Alamy Banque d’images, used with permission.

Figure 6. Guadeloupe Summit of Western Powers, 4–7 January 1979: French President Valéry Giscard d’Estaing welcomes West German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt, UK Prime Minister James Callaghan and U.S. President Jimmy Carter. Lunch at the Méridien. This summit was a key step in the process that led to the dual track decision of December 1979. Archives du Ministère de l’Europe et des Affaires étrangères, La Courneuve © unknown author, used with permission.

Figure 7. On 24 September 1987, Chancellor Helmut Kohl and French President François Mitterrand took part in the Franco-German military exercise ‘Kecker Spatz’ (Bold Sparrow). The exercise was carried out by the 2nd German Corps with 55,000 men and by the French Rapid Reaction Force (FAR) with 20,000 men in Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg. It was the largest Franco-German exercise to date. In the picture: President Mitterrand and Chancellor Kohl (from left to right) during a press conference at the Manching Air Force Base. IMAGO / Sven Simon, used with permission.

Figure 8. During the ‘cohabitation’, French Socialist President François Mitterrand meets West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, to talk about the relaunch of the Élysée Treaty, in the presence of right-wing French Prime Minister Jacques Chirac, seated on the side, 21 May 1987 (Paris, Élysée Palace). Archives du Ministère de l’Europe et des Affaires étrangères, La Courneuve © Présidence de la République, service photographique, used with permission.

Figure 9. Normandy format talks in Paris, 2 October 2015: Russian President Vladimir Putin, French President François Hollande (on the right), German Chancellor Angela Merkel, and Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko (on the left) participated in talks on a settlement of the situation in Ukraine. © www.kremlin.ru distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 licence.

Chapter 7

French Deterrence, the Defence of Europe and the German Question in the 1970s and 1980s Ilaria Parisi

Introduction

I

n 1972, the French Livre blanc sur la défense nationale (White paper on national defence) set in stone the three purposes of French defence policy: first, the defence of the national territory and of its inhabitants; then, the defence of Europe; and finally, the defence of French overseas territories all around the world.1 These were the three concentric circles in which France should engage its military forces in order to defend its national independence (indépendance nationale), according to the political testament of Charles de Gaulle, the first president of the Fifth Republic.2 The emphasis on the national aspect of this policy, be it in terms of engaged resources or expected advantages, seemed to confine the European and international dimension of French military engagement to the defence of the sole French interests, as if Paris could not and would not take into account the other actors involved in a specific theatre. Furthermore, the building of a national, independent nuclear deterrent, clearly assigned to the defence of French vital interests and in no way open to an extended deterrence strategy, seemed to strengthen the strictly national purpose of Paris’s defence policy.3 ‘Certainly, defence goals might be prioritized according to their distance’, the Livre blanc stated, and the defence of the national territory was designed as the ultimate goal of any French military effort.4 Nevertheless, this achievement alone could not provide ‘a real protection of metropolitan France’, in so far as ‘French history and aspirations met with French presence in the world’ in order to ‘favour

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peace, justice and freedom’.5 As a consequence, the Livre blanc recognized that the national, European and global purposes of French defence policy were complementary parts of one and the same policy. Then, if the national nuclear deterrent was to preserve French integrity, one should also recognize that France, according to its European and international engagements, ‘live[d] in a web of interests exceeding national borders. It [was] not isolated. Western Europe profit[ed], indirectly, from French strategy, which [was] a permanent and decisive factor of military balance in Europe’.6 However, despite these statements in the Livre blanc, the European partners wondered whether the French engagement in favour of Europe, the ‘second circle’ of its defence policy, was genuine. In particular, they wondered whether this engagement really involved France’s nuclear deterrent. This question ranked at the top of the Franco-German agenda of the 1970s and 1980s and proved to be a persistently controversial topic in the Franco-German bilateral discussions. Since France withdrew from the integrated military structures of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in 1966, the two states had embraced a different security policy, the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) relying entirely on NATO, and France on the national force de frappe.7 Strong evidence of these divergent choices can be found in the previous history of the 1963 Élysée Treaty, through which France hoped to create a Franco-German bulwark for a European defence system, whereas the Bundestag underlined with a preamble that any project in this sense should not divert Germany from its Atlantic commitment.8 Nevertheless, in the following years, Bonn was far from displaying a complete confidence in the United States (U.S.) defence policies. Still in the mid-1970s, the adoption of the flexible response strategy in 1967 had not been followed up with an adjustment of NATO forces deployed in Europe, which were supposed to enhance the options for a nuclear escalation at all levels. Moreover, Bonn’s anxiety towards the American strategy increased when a transatlantic debate on the modernization of theatre nuclear forces (TNF) emerged between two schools of thought: the U.S. initially preferred the deployment of tactical nuclear weapons to be used in the battlefield, while the European side was much more attracted by longer-range TNF, so that they would strike as far as possible from the continent.9 Finding a common ground between these two opposite viewpoints proved to be a hard task, so that in the mid1970s NATO still lacked intermediate options.10 This situation became all the more alarming as the Soviet Union enhanced its own intermediate systems by 1976, with the deployment of the SS-20 missiles in the East.11 The lack of continuity in the spectrum of NATO nuclear response options underlined a gap between the strategic and the tactical levels of

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response. The United States had no idea of how to cope with the emerging ‘grey area’ affair, namely weapons (i.e. the TNF) that were left out of any American-Soviet arms control negotiations and were consequently likely to start a new arms race in Europe, especially in the contested, and already highly armed, Germany.12 In October 1977, the German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt sounded the alarm on the occasion of a speech he delivered in London, at the International Institute for Strategic Studies (IISS), an event later recalled as the starting point of the 1977–87 Euromissile crisis.13 NATO’s TNF modernization was deadlocked, and the rise of the Euromissile affair made the FRG even more likely to question whether the French really had a ‘vital interest’ in defending Europe (and the FRG) at a time in which the American engagement appeared highly hesitant. A mere reaffirmation of the statement put forward in the Livre blanc of 1972, namely that ‘Western Europe profit[ed], indirectly, from French strategy’, became insufficient in front of the rising Soviet military threat.14 With the Germans looking for more security options and often confronted with inadequate responses within NATO, Paris came to fear that Bonn could be tempted to play the Eastern card to ensure its security, that is to say to engage in a German-Soviet rapprochement with respect to security and military issues. This could result in a more lenient German policy towards the Soviet Union, if not a neutralist reorientation. Should this happen, the consequences of this drift to the East were easy to foresee: the Atlantic Alliance would lose one crucial actor in its defence strategy, Europe would lose one of the pillars of the integration process, and the three Western powers that were parts of the Potsdam quadripartite framework (the U.S., the UK and France) would lose any possibility to have a say in the future reunification of Germany and consequently in the future redefinition of the European political architecture.15 So, by the 1970s and especially the 1980s, France envisaged the possibility of setting up a closer security dialogue with the FRG, both as a response to the German search for alternative security options and to avoid the three aforementioned disruptive scenarios. It is still debated whether the French move was merely intended to control the Germans and prevent any drift in their security dialogue with the Soviets, or was actually the first step towards the building of a truly European security system.16 However, recent disclosures in French archives allow us to demonstrate that France actually envisaged the possibility of a deeper engagement in the ‘second circle’ of its independent defence policy, that is the European theatre, and even thought about ways in which deterrence might play a role in this evolution.17 Indeed, this issue was firstly (and unsuccessfully) debated domestically in 1973–76, when the FRG was looking for additional security reassurances and NATO’s flexible response still lacked adequate means. The

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topic was then revived in the 1980s as a result of the Euromissile crisis and of increasing German security fears. Throughout this period, France certainly adopted a more open stance towards security issues in the bilateral relationship with Germany, but one should admit from the outset that this opening, although offering a series of achievements, did not go far enough to include an explicit French nuclear commitment to ensure German security.

The Franco-German Tentative Security Rapprochement of 1973–76 In the 1970s, Helmut Schmidt became more and more reserved vis-à-vis the American strategy in Europe and his concerns could not but increase when the debate on the modernization of the TNF came to a standstill.18 In the context of U.S. uncertainties regarding the use of nuclear weapons against Soviet aggression on the continent, that is, against Germany, the FRG wanted to explore possibilities of a French nuclear commitment in favour of Europe.19 This question arose in the Franco-German group on strategic affairs (groupe d’études stratégiques franco-allemand). The group was created in 1967 to discuss strategic issues that might affect European security, and in the 1970s it mainly focussed on military questions such as the evaluation of the military threat, the East-West military balance in Europe, the ongoing SALT negotiations and their impact on European security. On three occasions between September 1973 and May 1974, the two parties even debated the establishment of a proper European defence, but opinions highly diverged on the form and content of such a project.20 In April 1975, almost one year after the previous meeting of the group, the German delegation made a last attempt to revive the idea of a European defence system and even questioned Paris about the role that nuclear deterrence could play in it. However, the Germans came up against strong resistance from the French to enter into such subjects in any future talks: ‘discussing questions about the use of nuclear weapons for the defence of Europe would bring us to talk about the use of our tactical nuclear arms. As the Chancellor did not consider that this question deserved a discussion during the last Franco-German summit, it would be a paradox that we recall this topic within the group on strategic affairs’, suggested a French note, before the meeting of September 1975.21 In Paris’s view, the Germans seemed to have a twofold interest in a European defence system involving French deterrence. On the one hand, European defence and French nuclear forces might be an additional security guarantee for Germany, particularly in the event of the

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U.S. delaying its decision to use nuclear weapons against a massive attack by the Soviets. However, notwithstanding France’s empathy towards the German concerns about European security and the weakening American engagement in Europe, Paris did not concur with Bonn’s stance in favour of a European defence project.22 First of all, France could not replace the American nuclear deterrent, which remained the only viable resource in front of the Soviet threat, both in qualitative and quantitative terms. Rather than thinking of a European defence framework, it would be much more profitable to persuade the United States to strengthen its nuclear posture in Europe.23 Then, the constitution of any European defence was simply impossible without a well-established political unity. Any European security project, if it was intended to be a permanent reality, had to be the expression of a common, European vision on security affairs, and yet the idea of a European political union was simply not on the European agenda at that time. Last but not least, it was likely that the German move was intended to create a European pillar within NATO. In such a system, the Germans expected French forces to have a greater presence in the Atlantic plans to defend the FRG, as Bonn was not satisfied with the present French contribution to the Atlantic defence, with French forces merely limited to the role of a general reserve. In that sense, Bonn expected French forces to fill an echelon in NATO’s flexible response strategy. Nevertheless, France was not eager to respond positively to German requests and to engage further in the Atlantic planning; this would be contrary to the principle of national independence. Moreover, any French involvement in the Atlantic security system would awaken the old Soviet request to have the force de frappe included in East-West arms control negotiations, as the USSR would consider it a part of the NATO nuclear deterrent.24 On the other hand, the Germans hoped to investigate and eventually participate in the French debate on the use of nuclear forces, in order to prevent a possible nuclear strike by the French in the FRG territory. Indeed, the existence of tactical nuclear weapons (TNW) in the French arsenal was of particular concern for Bonn. From 1972, TNW were deployed as a last-warning capability (ultime avertissement): in the event of a serious threat to French vital interests, Paris would launch a first tactical nuclear attack, meaning that the strategic response would be engaged if the aggressor did not relent and refrain from carrying out its threats.25 In German eyes, the force de frappe being exclusively dedicated to the defence of French national territory, such an attitude might imply that Paris would engage its nuclear forces, tactical and, if need be, strategic, if the Soviets were to pass the Elbe; that is to say, the French aim in this scenario was apparently to stop Soviet troops in German territory.

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In this context, the Germans were particularly interested in knowing more about the engagement strategy of the French land-based TNW, the Pluton missile, a surface-to-surface nuclear engine with a range of 120 km, under the control of the First Army (1er corps d’armée, 1 CA). Should a war break out in Europe and should France decide to go for a TNW warning shot, this would inevitably fall in Germany, given its limited range. As a consequence, Bonn wanted to make sure that any French TNW shot would not endanger German integrity, a legitimate reason for investigating the engagement plans of this weapon and a good pretext for surreptitiously requesting the extension of French deterrence to Europe, and in particular to Germany. However, the French reactions were not positive. Seen from Paris, it was out of the question, for the time being, to accept a commitment to automatically use its TNW in favour of FRG defence.26 This possibility was discussed in various ministerial departments in 1974–75, with all meetings concluding that such a project was impossible, both technically and politically.27 First, one could not be sure whether the French TNW might be used beyond the defence of national security. Second, although one might admit that the French TNW could be used at the very beginning of a battle along the Iron Curtain, one should also recognize that these weapons might not be used in all circumstances.28 In the end, the national prerogative prevailed, because of the French nuclear doctrine at odds with the concept of flexible response, because of the limited nuclear means of French minimal deterrence, and because of the German reliance on NATO’s integrated military structures. Nevertheless, the 1974–75 Franco-German exchanges about possible uses of the French nuclear deterrent and its utility in a European framework continued to be discussed in Paris for a while and provoked some reflections. In June 1976, General Guy Méry introduced in the public debate the idea of a French extended deterrence (dissuasion élargie) that would encompass the European theatre.29 Later the same year, Giscard reaffirmed that in the event of a war with the Soviets, Europe would necessarily turn into one and the same battlefield. This did not lead to an evolution of the French doctrine, but seemed to clarify, according to the spirit of the 1972 Livre blanc, that national independence was something more than the mere defence of the national territory.30 In June 1977, Prime Minister Raymond Barre came back again to this idea.31 All these public statements aimed at reassuring the Germans about the European dimension of French deterrence, even if the latter was not clearly defined or formalized in the military doctrine. In fact, the French government always stopped short of saying explicitly that the force de frappe would be automatically engaged at the very first stage of a war in Europe and in defence of the German territory. In the end, the nuclear dialogue between

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Bonn and Paris proved to be unproductive, and the Franco-German security exchanges then evolved in another direction, that is, cooperation in weaponry production and the creation of a trilateral dialogue on defence issues including Britain.32 Thus, the nuclear question was pushed to the background, or at least was no longer evoked in official discussions.33 In 1976, with the Soviet deployment of the SS-20 and the ensuing Atlantic vulnerability at the intermediate level, West Germany turned its security claims towards the United States and emphasized the necessity to enhance all levels of the Atlantic flexible response strategy. The debate about the modernization of NATO’s TNF then evolved into the Euromissile crisis. The European allies were particularly concerned by the fact that the Soviet SS-20 missiles could hit only European NATO targets, and not American soil. At a time when parity at the strategic level between the two superpowers would soon be codified by SALT II, a Soviet attack, limited to Western Europe, could induce the United States to limit their own response by using only their European means. The problem was that NATO medium-range systems in Europe were obsolete and could certainly not fulfil the same missions as their SS-20 counterparts. As a result, the European strategic weakness, at least in the context of the flexible response strategy, could allow the Soviet Union to achieve its political goal of neutralizing NATO’s military means in Europe. In this context, France clearly spoke out in favour of restoring the American-Soviet nuclear balance in Europe. France wanted NATO to strengthen the intermediate level of its deterrent, both as a visible response towards the renewed Soviet threats and as a vocal reaffirmation of the American engagement in Europe. Of course, the French were not directly involved in the Atlantic debate, because of their absence from NATO’s integrated military command.34 As a result, they could only support any decision that would allow the Alliance to restore the balance. In that sense, the dual  track decision of December 1979 was well received by President Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and supported by his successor François Mitterrand from 1981.35 Thus, at the dawn of the 1980s, NATO and American deterrence still remained the FRG’s most reliable security options, or at least so it seemed, including in French eyes.

The Relaunch of the Franco-German Security Dialogue in the 1980s With the election of François Mitterrand in May 1981, security cooperation became a pillar of the Franco-German dialogue and this evolution largely depended on the European strategic situation. Indeed, in the early

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1980s, the Euromissile crisis entered its most troubled phase. Although the Atlantic Alliance endorsed the dual track decision, European public opinion contested the deployment of new American nuclear missiles in Europe and gave birth to a strong pacifist movement.36 Demonstrations even intensified with the opening of the intermediate-range nuclear forces (INF) negotiations in Geneva in November 1981, as pacifists accused the United States of bluffing at the Geneva talks, in order to deploy their Pershing II and cruise missiles. Demonstrations of that sort were particularly intense in West Germany and even had the sympathy of the left wing in the Chancellor’s party, the SPD. The French administration then realized to what extent Schmidt found himself in a thorny position. On the one hand, the Chancellor believed in the implementation of the dual track decision – that is, should negotiations fail, American missiles must be deployed.37 On the other hand, deployment mostly depended on the ability of Western governments to convince pacifist forces that the deployment of new American missiles was the consequence of the Soviet refusal to remove their SS-20, and not of an American decision to have Pershing and cruise missiles deployed, whatever the result of the negotiations.38 For this reason, the Chancellor called the United States to negotiate seriously in Geneva, but it seemed that the American administration was much more eager to negotiate seriously only after the 1983 deployment, in order to be able to use the Pershing II and cruise missiles as a bargaining chip. With domestic pressures intensifying, Schmidt appeared politically weakened: whether he would be able to go along with the deployment of the American missiles in 1983 became questionable.39 In October 1982, after Schmidt’s downfall in the wake of a constructive vote of no confidence, Helmut Kohl came to power and so inherited the Euromissile conundrum. François Mitterrand proved to be able to understand the FRG’s security dilemmas and acted accordingly.40 While the opposition to the American missiles gained momentum, Mitterrand decided to publicly express France’s support for the implementation of the dual track decision: should negotiations fail, deployment of American missiles had to be ensured.41 Nevertheless, given the Chancellor’s political dilemmas, the Socialist president went even further: he came to envisage the possibility of a deeper Franco-German cooperation that could mitigate some of the West German security concerns. That was the underlying reason behind the reactivation of the military clauses of the Élysée Treaty in February 1982. Once again, the French move derived from the Germans’ uneasiness regarding their security situation. The idea emerged at the very end of 1981 and took shape in January 1982, in response to two unsuccessful proposals that the Germans had put forward to better ensure their

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security. The first one dealt with the zero option the United States was eager to present as the American negotiating position at the INF talks in Geneva.42 Ronald Reagan endorsed the zero option in his 18 November 1981 speech at the National Press Club, but earlier in October, the German political director had told his French colleague that this was originally a German suggestion. In so far as the dual track decision encouraged the Atlantic Alliance to restore the nuclear balance in Europe at the lowest possible level, the zero option, that is, no Soviet or American intermediate nuclear missiles in Europe, appeared to be the most tempting compromise. Firstly, it was a message for the public, who could be assured that the Western governments were doing their best to achieve a nuclear balance in Europe at a lower level; secondly, should negotiations fail, this would put the blame on the Soviet Union for refusing to go along with the elimination of the nuclear threat, despite its peace propaganda. On this point, Paris did not agree with Bonn. Although the French supported the American engagement in the Geneva negotiations, in private they criticized the zero option: it would certainly be an ideal result, but as a starting point in the talks with the Soviets, it was far too definitive to encourage the Soviet delegation to negotiate seriously.43 In Paris’s view, the chances of the Geneva negotiations succeeding were very low, and Bonn was wrong to believe that the failure of the zero option would mean the pacifist movement’s approval vis-à-vis the deployment. For this reason, France encouraged the FRG to reaffirm its support, on equal terms, for both elements of the 1979 dual track decision.44 The second German proposal for ensuring European and German security lay in the Genscher-Colombo plan of November 1981. The German doubts about the American security guarantee led Hans-Dietrich Genscher, Minister of Foreign Affairs, to actively call for a common European security and defence policy. However, this plan received a cold reception: the European partners, including France, believed that the GenscherColombo plan was too ambitious for the time being.45 In Paris’s view, the zero option and the Genscher-Colombo plan were two interesting and challenging suggestions, but were not feasible, at least in the context of the early 1980s. However, as shown previously, another sort of European option had been envisaged by the Germans as an additional security guarantee: a closer Franco-German strategic cooperation, in which the French nuclear deterrent might extend its protection to the German territory.46 In the 1970s, Paris had firmly rejected this option and Bonn had seemed to abandon it. By contrast, in 1981–82, Paris came to realize that a completely negative attitude towards the German security claims was no longer desirable in the strained context of the 1980s. Without any proper

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European solution and given the German mistrust of the American policies, there seemed to be a risk that Bonn might be tempted more than ever to opt for a neutralist drift or for a direct security deal with the USSR, two solutions that could only drive the FRG away from the West.47 The risk of a German drift to the East was certainly not plausible in the short term, but even as an underlying, medium- to long-term possibility it was a highly disturbing scenario, by which the Germans should not be tempted at all. This could be avoided only if Bonn had valid reasons to remain firmly anchored to the Euro-Atlantic system, in other words, if the Atlantic and European allies could guarantee Bonn’s security. In this regard, what Paris could do was to demonstrate to the Germans that the French defence system also worked in favour of German security.48 With the Franco-German summit of February 1982 approaching, the Quai d’Orsay suggested a list of topics that could be of common concern for both countries and in which both partners might find a valid reason to act together, in their mutual interest.49 This rationale especially applied to the security domain. The reactivation of the Franco-German security dialogue at the summit of February 1982 led to the creation of a commission on security and defence, in which discussions were to be oriented towards a politico-strategic, military and weaponry cooperation.50 This exercise was intended to foster a better knowledge of the two countries’ respective defence policies, so as to eliminate prejudices and misunderstandings.51 However, even in this new institutional context, the nuclear issue remained controversial. The Germans again expressed their interest in French deterrence and the possible use of tactical nuclear weapons (the Pluton missiles). At a time when the Federal Republic was looking for security guarantees, there were expectations in Germany that the new body of Franco-German cooperation might finally be useful to allow an explicit commitment by the French to extend their nuclear deterrence and thus provide Germany with an additional and formally established security guarantee.52 Nevertheless, the Franco-German security dialogue did not lead to an evolution of the French position on nuclear issues, at least not in the way the Germans had expected. Indeed, any idea of a French extended deterrence remained out of the question. On the contrary, the French aim in this exercise was to convince the Germans that any French nuclear engagement in the event of a crisis was not intended to diminish German security. At the conceptual level, a particular effort was made to explain what the notion of vital interests meant and to clarify why this notion, by remaining vague, actually enhanced deterrence: the French deterrent was an additional variable that any enemy had to consider in the event of an attack against the West.53 At

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the operational level, a step forward had already been made concerning the TNW question. Indeed, in October 1981, Mitterrand decided to extend the range of the Pluton tactical nuclear missile so that it could reach targets further than the German Democratic Republic (GDR) territory. This change was of a certain importance for at least two reasons: first, it enhanced the deterrence capability of this missile, now capable of hitting targets further in the East; second, it reassured the Germans that France, far from planning a nuclear battle on their soil, worked precisely to avoid such a war.54 These objectives were better expressed on the second day of the Franco-German summit of February 1986. On this occasion, Mitterrand declared that he would be open to a consultation with the German Chancellor whenever he might be confronted with the decision to use nuclear weapons, provided that the situation permitted such a consultation. Even though the consultation did not imply a common decision on the use of French weapons, this declaration proved that the French were eager to show that their nuclear arsenal was not intended to damage FRG security interests.55 This was even more evident in 1987, with the creation of the Franco-German brigade and the agreement on the creation of a Franco-German security council, two visible political signs of the Franco-German eagerness to combine their security interests and, if need be, to defend them together.56 Once again, these Franco-German initiatives were supposed to ease German security concerns, this time in the context of the forthcoming INF agreement in Geneva. With the United States now ready to agree to a double-zero option, that is, the elimination of all INF of a range of 500 to 5,500 km, the FRG wondered how the flexible response strategy would adapt to the new European strategic situation. The Franco-German cooperation was then seen in Bonn as an additional European security guarantee at a time when all American INF missiles were to be withdrawn from the continent and the Atlantic security structure needed to be reshaped accordingly.57 Was the FRG convinced by the French security reassurances? Did the Germans come to agree with the French tenet according to which ‘Western Europe profit[ed], indirectly, from French strategy?’ At the highest political level, the Chancellor was well aware of Paris’s constraints and of the impossibility for the French to go further. Nevertheless, in the commission on security and defence, the Germans were still trying to obtain a clearer picture of the French nuclear engagement doctrine in Europe. The novelty of the 1982–83 Franco-German security dialogue was the fact that security questions were finally integrated into the routine of Franco-German meetings. Even if the rigid French stance on the strictly national control of any nuclear decision did not seem likely

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to evolve towards meeting German expectations, the newly founded Franco-German security dialogue at least clarified the terms and possibilities of a doctrine that was built upon the national interest, but also had a strong European dimension that could only favour the FRG’s security interests.

Conclusion Much of the French policy towards Germany in the 1970s and 1980s was determined by the evolution of the German domestic debate on security issues. At that time, Germany felt more and more insecure, facing the erosion of détente and renewed confrontation between the two superpowers. Moreover, Bonn observed that these trends at the East-West level were accompanied by dissymmetric evolutions in military affairs: the ongoing SALT II negotiation was likely to lead to strategic parity between the two superpowers, but the arms race at lower levels was not yet on the agenda of arms control negotiations. Fearing a strategic situation that would have limited any East-West confrontation only to Europe, Germany became vocal in refusing to become the battlefield of American-Soviet military disputes, all the more so as these would have implied the risk of nuclear annihilation. It rapidly turned out that the FRG was questioning the very basis of its security, that is, the effectiveness of the overall Atlantic defence strategy and of the American contribution to it. Within this context, it is not surprising that the FRG’s government was looking for additional security options, specifically at the European level. The possibility of a Franco-German security cooperation, at the core of a future European security system, was naturally among these options, France being the closest potential ally of Germany, politically and geographically, also with a deterrence capability. Paris was very sensitive to German claims and did not hesitate to answer the German demands for closer European security cooperation. Although this did not lead France to share the nuclear decision, the renewal of the bilateral security dialogue should be interpreted as a French attempt to convince the Germans that they should trust the French and their decision-making in the field of security. Was that enough? Surely not, as it was perceived as a form of national egoism and did not totally convince the Germans.58 However, one may also ask the question whether the German idea of national security was really compatible with a merely European system, that is, without the United States.59 Similarly, one may wonder whether the Germans would have been eager to take this path in the 1970s and 1980s. In so far as the two partners were not prepared to abandon the

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main tenets of their respective defence systems, strict independence for France and reliance on NATO and the American security guarantee for the FRG, any basis for a fruitful nuclear dialogue between the two partners remained undermined from the outset.60 Ilaria Parisi holds a PhD in History. She wrote her thesis, ‘France and the Euromissile Crisis, 1977–1987’, under the supervision of Professor Frédéric Bozo. Her research interests mainly focus on French foreign and security policy during the Cold War.

Notes  1. Livre blanc sur la défense nationale, 1972, http://www.livreblancdefenseetsecurite.gouv. fr/pdf/le-livre-blanc-sur-la-defense-1972.pdf (accessed 19 March 2018).  2. The idea of the three concentric circles is evoked in J. Doise and M. Vaïsse, Diplomatie et outil militaire: 1871–1991 (Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1992), 631. For a general overview of Charles de Gaulle’s foreign policy, see M. Vaïsse, La grandeur: politique étrangère du général de Gaulle, 1958–1969 (Paris: Fayard, 1998), 34–52.  3. Doise and Vaïsse, Diplomatie et outil militaire, 607–15, 629–33.  4. Livre Blanc sur la défense nationale, 4.  5. Ibid.  6. Ibid., 5.  7. H. Haftendorn, ‘The NATO Crisis of 1966–1967: Confronting Germany with a Conflict of Priorities’, in H. Haftendorn et al. (eds), The Strategic Triangle: France, Germany, and the United States in the Shaping of the New Europe (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2006), 77–102; F. Bozo, Deux stratégies pour l’Europe: De Gaulle, les États-Unis et l’Alliance atlantique, 1958–1969 (Paris: Plon, 1996); G.-H. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 261–309.  8. The United States was particularly eager to see such a German engagement clearly reaffirmed in the Élysée Treaty. See, for example: Summary Record of NSC Executive Committee Meeting no. 39, 31 January 1963, volume XIII – Western Europe and Canada, Foreign Relations of the United States [FRUS online], accessed 20 March 2018, https://history.state.gov/historicaldocuments/frus1961-63v13/d64. On the origins of the Élysée Treaty: H. Miard-Delacroix, Le défi européen de 1963 à nos jours (Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2011), 29–39; B. Schoenborn, La mésentente apprivoisée: De Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969 (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2007), 29–56; Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 203–59.  9. I.H. Daalder, The Nature and Practice of Flexible Response: NATO Strategy and Theater Nuclear Forces since 1967 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 69–90. 10. W. Burr, ‘The Nixon Administration, the “Horror” Strategy and the Search for Limited Nuclear Options, 1969–1972: Prelude to the Schlesinger Doctrine’, Journal of Cold War Studies 7(3) (2005), 34–78; F. Gavin, ‘The Myth of Flexible Response: United States Strategy in Europe during the 1960s’, The International History Review 23(4) (2001), 847–75; Daalder, The Nature and Practice of Flexible Response, 106–58. 11. D. Holloway, ‘The Dynamics of the Euromissile Crisis, 1977–1983’, in L. Nuti, F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War

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12. 13.

14.

15.

16.

17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22.

23.

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(Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015), 11–28; J. Haslam, ‘Moscow’s Misjudgement in Deploying SS-20 Missiles’, in Nuti et al., The Euromissile Crisis, 31–48. R.L. Garthoff, Détente and Confrontation: American-Soviet Relations from Nixon to Reagan, 2nd ed. (Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 1994), 935–74; Daalder, The Nature and Practice of Flexible Response, 159–226. H. Schmidt, ‘The 1977 Alastair Buchan Memorial Lecture’, Survival 20(2) (January 1978), 2–10; K. Spohr, ‘NATO’s Nuclear Politics and the Schmidt-Carter Rift’, in Nuti et al., The Euromissile Crisis, 139–57; T. Geiger, ‘Die Regierung Schmidt-Genscher und der NATO-Doppelbeschluss’, in P. Gassert, T. Geiger and H. Wentker (eds), Zweiter Kalter Krieg und Friedensbewegung: Der NATO-Doppelbeschluss in deutsch-deutscher und internationaler Perspektive (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2011), 95–122. For a general overview of German security policy: A. Lutsch, The Persistent Legacy: Germany’s Place in the Nuclear Order, NPIHP Working Paper no. 5 (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center, 2015); B. Heuser, NATO, Britain, France, and the FRG: Nuclear Strategies and Forces for Europe, 1949–2000 (Basingstoke, UK: Macmillan Press, 1997), 124–47. From 17 July to 2 August 1945, the U.S., the USSR, France and Great Britain met in Potsdam to continue the discussions started in Yalta on the post-World War II international order and, most of all, on the German question. On this latter point, the four powers confirmed the division of Germany into four occupied zones, each power being responsible for its sector and for the demilitarization, denazification, democratization, decentralization and deindustrialization of Germany in cooperation with the three other occupying powers. When tensions intensified among the four wartime allies, the quadripartite framework evolved into the formal division of Germany, but the resolution of the German question still depended on a quadripartite consensus, until 1990 with the end of the Cold War. For a general overview of Franco-German relations in the 1970s and 1980s: MiardDelacroix, Le défi européen de 1963 à nos jours; M. Gaillard, La politique allemande de François Mitterrand (1981–1995), PhD diss., Institut d’études politiques, 2007; M. Weinachter, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Allemagne: le double rêve inachevé (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2004); Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 351–94. This chapter is based on French archives, especially the presidential papers of Valéry Giscard d’Estaing (hereafter 5AG3) and François Mitterrand (hereafter 5AG4) in the Archives Nationales (AN), and the diplomatic papers in the Archives Diplomatiques (AD). For an overview of Schmidt’s strategic thinking, see K. Spohr, The Global Chancellor: Helmut Schmidt and the Reshaping of the International Order (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). Note by the French Ambassador in Bonn no. 2964, 17 December 1974, and note of the French Ambassador in Bonn no. 201, 14 February 1975, Box 2985, Europe 1971– juin 1976, AD. For a German view on the U.S. strategy, see for example Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (hereafter AAPD), 1975, document no. 195, 9 July 1975, accessed 29 January 2019, https://www.degruyter.com/downloadpdf/books/9783486718126/9783486718126.865/9783486718126.865.pdf. On this subject, see Nicolas Badalassi’s chapter in this volume. Note by service des pactes et du désarmement, no number, 9 September 1975, Box 3024, Europe 1971–juin 1976, AD. Note by service des pactes et du désarmement no. 512 bis, Paris, 4 December 1974, Box 728, Amérique – Etats-Unis 1971–1975, AD; Note by état-major particulier, no number, no date, Box 982, folder ‘Rencontre franco-américaine. La Martinique, 14–16 décembre 1974’, 5AG3, AN. Note by the French delegation to the Atlantic Council, no number, Box 982, folder ‘Rencontre franco-américaine. La Martinique, 14–16 décembre 1974’, 5AG3, AN.

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24. On these issues, see note by CAP no. N/152, 10 June 1975, Box 3015, Europe 1971–juin 1976, AD. 25. The TNW were firstly delivered to the French air force in 1972, then to the army in 1974 and to the navy in 1979: see Doise and Vaïsse, Diplomatie et outil militaire, 639–40. 26. Weinachter, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Allemagne, 191–207; Soutou, L’Alliance incertaine, 359–65; H. Miard-Delacroix, Partenaires de choix? Le chancelier Helmut Schmidt et la France, 1974–1982 (Berne: P. Lang, 1993), 302–15. 27. See, for example, note by CAP, no number, Paris, 17 July 1975, Box 934, 5AG3, AN. 28. Note by the French delegation to the North Atlantic Council, no date, Box 982, folder ‘Rencontre franco-américaine. La Martinique, 14–16 décembre 1974’, 5AG3, AN. On the French TNW, their military credibility and strategic value, J.-D. Pô, Les moyens de la puissance: les activités militaires du CEA (1945–2000) (Paris: Fondation pour la recherche stratégique, 2001), 167–86; J. de Lespinois, L’armée de terre française: de la défense du sanctuaire à la projection. Vol. 1, 1974–1981 (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2001), 191–99; Doise and Vaïsse, Diplomatie et outil militaire, 637–43. 29. G. Méry, ‘Une armée pour quoi faire et comment?’, Revue de Défense Nationale, no. 6 (June 1976), 11–34. This idea can also be found in a note of the French Ambassador in Bonn, written at the end of the year: Note by the French Ambassador in Bonn no. 1401, 18 November 1976, Box 3962, Europe 1976–1981, AD. 30. V. Giscard d’Estaing, ‘Allocution à l’IHEDN’, Revue de Défense Nationale, no. 7 (July 1976), 17. 31. R. Barre, ‘Discours prononcé au camp de Mailly le 18 Juin 1977’, Revue de Défense Nationale, no. 8 (September 1977), 7–20. 32. Note by sous-direction des affaires stratégiques et des pactes no. 628/ASP, Paris, 15 October 1980, Box 3962, Europe 1976–1981, AD. 33. We should admit a certain lack of documents on these points, even though some notes in the French diplomatic archives indicate that the Pluton quarrel seemed definitely closed in 1979, at least at an official level: Note by the French Ambassador in Bonn no. A5, Bonn, 30 January 1979 and cable from the French Embassy in Bonn no. 264, Bonn, 26 February 1980, Box 3962, Europe 1976–1981, AD. 34. On France and NATO: M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN, 2nd ed. (Brussels: A. Versaille, 2012); Bozo, Deux stratégies pour l’Europe. 35. J.-P. Baulon, ‘Au risque de l’isolement ou de l’alignement: la politique de la France dans la crise des Euromissiles (1977–1987)’, Revue d’histoire diplomatique 124(2) (2010), 163–87; F. Bozo, ‘La France, fille ainée de l’Alliance? La politique atlantique de François Mitterrand, 1981–1984’, in S. Berstein, P. Milza and J.-L. Bianco (eds), Les Années Mitterrand: les années du changement, 1981–1984 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), 195–219; I. Parisi, La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 1977–1987, PhD diss., Université Sorbonne Nouvelle - Paris 3, 2017. 36. L. Nuti, F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015), 271–366; L.S. Wittner, The Struggle against the Bomb. Volume 3, Toward Nuclear Abolition: A History of the World Nuclear Disarmament Movement, 1971 to the Present (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2003). 37. Facing the pacifist movement and the SPD left-wing revendications against the American missiles, Schmidt took the floor to reaffirm the legitimacy of the dual track decision. Parisi, La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 294–95. 38. The SPD had serious misgivings about the American willingness to negotiate in earnest in Geneva and increased its revendications against the U.S. Pershing II and cruise missiles by 1981. See Parisi, La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 286–89. 39. See, for example: Note by the French Ambassador in Bonn no. 138/EU, Bonn, 12 February 1981, Box 4893, folder ‘ANT, zone grise’, Europe 1981–1985, AD. Paris feared

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40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46.

47.

48. 49. 50.

51.

52.

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that Schmidt would be exposed to mounting pressures from the SPD left wing to accept even a minimal and weak INF agreement. See, for example: Cables of the French Embassy in Bonn no. 706, 707, 708, 709, Bonn, 29 June 1981, Box 4912, folder ‘Sommet de Bonn, 12 et 13 juillet 1981’, Europe 1981–1985, AD. On Schmidt’s posture: Spohr, The Global Chancellor, 109–31. On Brandt’s role in the SPD left-wing pacifist discourse: H. Miard-Delacroix, Willy Brandt (Paris: Fayard, 2013), 238–51. For a general overview, see also J. Boutwell, The German Nuclear Dilemma (London: Brassey’s, 1990). That was the main reason that led Mitterrand to deliver the Bundestag speech of 20 January 1983: F. Mitterrand, La France et sa défense: paroles publiques d’un Président, 1981–1995, (Paris: Nouveau Monde éd., 2015), 85–95. Some of these statements may be found in Bozo, ‘La France, fille ainée de l’Alliance?’, 198–200. See also the Mitterrand-Schmidt meeting in Latché on 7 October 1981: J. Attali, Verbatim. Tome I. Chronique des Années 1981–1986 (Paris: Fayard, 1993), 101–7. M. Gala, ‘The Euromissile Crisis and the Centrality of the “Zero Option”’, in Nuti et al., The Euromissile Crisis, 158–75. Parisi, La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 332–38. Bordereau collectif of the sous-direction d’Europe centrale no. 306, Paris, 19 October 1981, Box 4913, folder ‘Paris, le 14 octobre 1981’, Europe 1981–1985, AD. Bordereau d’envoi collectif of the sous-direction d’Europe centrale no. 168, Paris, 3 June 1981, Box 4913, folder ‘Bonn, le 14 mai 1981’, Europe 1981–1985, AD. According to Attali, Schmidt was eager to strengthen the Franco-German bilateral cooperation, especially in the security domain, as this could make the Federal Republic less dependent on the changing American policies: Attali, Verbatim. Tome I, 103. A similar argument was repeated to the French Ambassador in Bonn: Cable by the French Embassy in Bonn no. 247, 18 February 1982, Box 4911, Europe 1981–1985, AD. Cable by the French Embassy in Bonn no. 68, Bonn, 16 January 1981, and cables from the French Embassy in Bonn no. 324 and 325, Bonn, 24 March 1981, Box 4890, Europe 1981–1985, AD; note by Jean-Michel Gaillard, La République fédérale d’Allemagne, le pacifisme, la construction européenne, Paris, 22 September 1981, Box CD 160/1, 5AG4, AN. See for example note by CAP no. C/576, Paris, 29 January 1982, and note by CAP no. C/581, Paris, 12 February 1982, Box 70, CAP 1982–1987, AD. Note by sous-direction d’Europe centrale, no number, Paris, 10 February 1982, Box CD 178/2, folder ‘Paris, le 24 et 25 février 1982’, 5AG4, AN. This was a sort of Genscher-Colombo plan with two partners only, in order to do bilaterally what could not yet be done at the level of the European Community: Cable by sous-direction d’Europe centrale for the French Ambassador in Bonn, no number, Paris, 11 February 1982, Box CD 178/2, folder ‘Paris, le 24 et 25 février 1982’, 5AG4, AN. Although the two partners normally consulted each other in the event of a crisis, they had no permanent, structured security dialogue. Bordereau d’envoi collectif of the sous-direction d’Europe centrale no. 863/EU, Paris, 9 September 1982, Box 4890, Europe 1981–1985, AD. These evolutions can be observed throughout the discussions between the French and the German delegations, in the bilateral commission on security and defence, in 1983. See, for example, note by Jacques Andréani, Échanges de vues franco-allemands sur les questions de défense et de sécurité, Paris, 18 April 1983 and note by Hubert Védrine, Échanges de vues franco-allemands sur la défense et la sécurité, Paris, 25 April 1983, Box CD 161, 5AG4, AN. Mitterrand stressed this particular point in 1982–83, when the Soviet delegation to the INF negotiations insisted on the necessity to include third forces in the INF ceilings. See, for example, the Bundestag speech of January 1983: Mitterrand, La France et sa défense, 92. Security issue were also at the core of the first Mitterrand-Kohl meeting of 4 October 1982: AAPD, 1982, document no. 254 and 255, 4 October 1982, accessed 29

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56. 57. 58. 59.

60.

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January 2019, https://www.degruyter.com/downloadpdf/books/9783486722543/97834 86722543.i/9783486722543.i.pdf. P. Buffotot and M. Vaïsse, ‘La politique de défense de François Mitterrand pendant les trois gouvernements Mauroy, 21 Mai 1981–17 Juillet 1984’, in Berstein, Milza and Bianco, Les Années Mitterrand, 181–82. In 1984, the German insistence on knowing the French nuclear engagement plans even increased. Mitterrand’s statement of 1986 about a possible consultation with the German Chancellor, if the French President envisaged a nuclear strike, can be interpreted as a consequence of that insistence. H. Védrine, Les mondes de François Mitterrand: à l’Élysée, 1981–1995 (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 405; Attali, Verbatim. Tome I, 905, 932–33. See also F. Bozo’s chapter in this volume. Cable of the French Embassy in Bonn no. 1221, Bonn, 23 June 1987, Box 6752, folder ‘Création d’une brigade franco-allemande’, Europe 1986–1990, AD. Note by Jacques Attali for the President, Paris, 27 August 1987, Box CD 166, 5AG5, AN. Gaillard, La politique allemande de François Mitterrand’, 327–28; Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 391. By 1984, this became obvious as the French at that time strongly supported the reactivation of the Western European Union: Note by CAP no. C/934, Paris, 11 May 1984, Box 103/1, 5AG4, AN. As the German Minister of Defence Hans Apel said to his British counterpart, ‘he believed it vital that more intensive European defence discussions should not undermine the US commitment to European defence. It was, however, important to develop closer military relations with France. It was important to avoid a polarized debate, like the fruitless 60s arguments in the FRG between those who favoured a Gaullist and those an Atlanticist approach to defence’. German-British meeting of 19 March 1982, The Margaret Thatcher Foundation Files [online], accessed 17 June 2016, http://www. margaretthatcher.org/document/146598. France took great care not to confine its security dialogue with Germany only to the nuclear question, as this would soon have ended any Franco-German cooperation. The creation of the rapid reaction force (force d’action rapide, FAR) in 1983, space cooperation in 1984, and the creation of the Franco-German brigade in 1987, were all parts of this French willingness to develop a wider security dialogue with the FRG.

Bibliography Primary Sources French presidential archives (Archives nationales, AN): Valéry Giscard d’Estaing (5AG3). François Mitterrand (5AG4). French diplomatic archives (Archives diplomatiques, AD): Europe 1971–juin 1976. Europe 1976–1981. Europe 1981–1985. Europe 1986–1990. Amérique – Etats-Unis 1971–1975. CAP 1982–1987.

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Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland [online]. The Margaret Thatcher Foundation Files [online]. Foreign Relations of the United States [FRUS, online].

Literature Attali, J. Verbatim. Tome I. Chronique des Années 1981–1986. Paris: Fayard, 1993. Barre, R. ‘Discours prononcé au camp de Mailly le 18 Juin 1977’, Revue de Défense Nationale, no. 8 (September 1977), 7–20. Baulon, J.-P. ‘Au risque de l’isolement ou de l’alignement: la politique de la France dans la crise des Euromissiles (1977–1987)’, Revue d’histoire diplomatique 124(2) (2010), 163–87. Boutwell, J. The German Nuclear Dilemma. London: Brassey’s, 1990. Bozo, F. Deux stratégies pour l’Europe: De Gaulle, les États-Unis et l’Alliance atlantique, 1958–1969. Paris: Plon, 1996.  . ‘La France, fille ainée de l’Alliance? La politique atlantique de François Mitterrand, 1981–1984’, in S. Berstein, P. Milza and J.-L. Bianco (eds), Les Années Mitterrand: les années du changement, 1981–1984 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), 195–219. Buffotot, P., and M. Vaïsse. ‘La politique de défense de François Mitterrand pendant les trois gouvernements Mauroy, 21 Mai 1981–17 Juillet 1984’, in S. Berstein, P. Milza and J.-L. Bianco (eds), Les Années Mitterrand: les années du changement, 1981–1984 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), 160–94. Burr, W. ‘The Nixon Administration, the “Horror” Strategy and the Search for Limited Nuclear Options, 1969–1972: Prelude to the Schlesinger Doctrine’. Journal of Cold War Studies 7(3) (2005), 34–78. Daalder, I.H. The Nature and Practice of Flexible Response: NATO Strategy and Theater Nuclear Forces since 1967. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991. Doise, J., and M. Vaïsse. Diplomatie et outil militaire: 1871–1991. Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1992. Gaillard, M. La politique allemande de François Mitterrand (1981–1995), PhD diss. Institut d’études politiques, 2007. Gala, M. ‘The Euromissile Crisis and the Centrality of the “Zero Option”’, in L. Nuti, F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015), 158–75. Garthoff, R.L. Détente and Confrontation: American-Soviet Relations from Nixon to Reagan. 2nd ed. Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 1994. Gavin, F. ‘The Myth of Flexible Response: United States Strategy in Europe during the 1960s’. The International History Review 23(4) (2001), 847–75. Geiger, T. ‘Die Regierung Schmidt-Genscher und der NATO-Doppelbeschluss’, in P. Gassert, T. Geiger and H. Wentker (eds), Zweiter Kalter Krieg und Friedensbewegung: Der NATO-Doppelbeschluss in deutsch-deutscher und internationaler Perspektive (Munich: Oldenbourg, 2011), 95–122. Giscard d’Estaing, V. ‘Allocution à l’IHEDN’. Revue de Défense Nationale, no. 7 (July 1976), 5–20.

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Haftendorn, H. ‘The NATO Crisis of 1966–1967: Confronting Germany with a Conflict of Priorities’, in H. Haftendorn et al. (eds), The Strategic Triangle: France, Germany, and the United States in the Shaping of the New Europe (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2006), 77–102. Haslam, J. ‘Moscow’s Misjudgement in Deploying SS-20 Missiles’, in L. Nuti, F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015), 31–48. Heuser, B. NATO, Britain, France, and the FRG: Nuclear Strategies and Forces for Europe, 1949–2000. Basingstoke, UK: Macmillan Press, 1997. Holloway, D. ‘The Dynamics of the Euromissile Crisis, 1977–1983’, in L. Nuti, F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015), 11–28. Lespinois, J. de. L’armée de terre française: de la défense du sanctuaire à la projection. Vol. 1, 1974–1981. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2001. Livre blanc sur la défense nationale, 1972, http://www.livreblancdefenseetsecurite. gouv.fr/pdf/le-livre-blanc-sur-la-defense-1972.pdf (accessed 19 March 2018). Lutsch, A. The Persistent Legacy: Germany’s Place in the Nuclear Order, NPIHP Working Paper no. 5. Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center, 2015. Méry, G. ‘Une armée pour quoi faire et comment?’, Revue de Défense Nationale, no. 6 (June 1976), 11–34. Miard-Delacroix, H. Partenaires de choix? Le chancelier Helmut Schmidt et la France, 1974–1982. Berne: P. Lang, 1993.  . Le défi européen de 1963 à nos jours. Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses universitaires du Septentrion, 2011.  . Willy Brandt. Paris: Fayard, 2013. Mitterrand, F. La France et sa défense: paroles publiques d’un Président, 1981–1995. Paris: Nouveau Monde éd., 2015. Nuti, L., F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds). The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War. Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015. Parisi, I. La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 1977–1987, PhD diss. Université Sorbonne Nouvelle - Paris 3, 2017. Pô, J.-D. Les moyens de la puissance: les activités militaires du CEA (1945–2000). Paris: Fondation pour la recherche stratégique, 2001. Schmidt, H. ‘The 1977 Alastair Buchan Memorial Lecture’. Survival 20(2) (January 1978), 2–10. Schoenborn, B. La mésentente apprivoisée: De Gaulle et les Allemands, 1963–1969. Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2007. Soutou, G.-H. L’alliance incertaine: les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Spohr, K. ‘NATO’s Nuclear Politics and the Schmidt-Carter Rift’, in L. Nuti, F. Bozo, M.-P. Rey and B. Rother (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War (Washington, DC: Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2015), 139–57.  . The Global Chancellor: Helmut Schmidt and the Reshaping of the International Order. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Vaïsse, M. La grandeur: politique étrangère du général de Gaulle, 1958–1969. Paris: Fayard, 1998.

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Vaïsse, M., P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds). La France et l’OTAN. 2nd ed. Brussels: A. Versaille, 2012. Védrine, H. Les mondes de François Mitterrand: à l’Élysée, 1981–1995. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Weinachter,  M. Valéry Giscard d’Estaing et l’Allemagne: le double rêve inachevé. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2004. Wittner, L.S. The Struggle against the Bomb. Volume 3, Toward Nuclear Abolition: A History of the World Nuclear Disarmament Movement, 1971 to the Present. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2003.

Part III

The ‘Mitterrand/Kohl’ Era and the End of the Cold War

Chapter 8

Evolution of the French Nuclear Strategy towards Germany during Mitterrand’s Presidency Dominique Mongin

L

ong after the end of World War II, Franco-German relations in the strategic field remained extremely sensitive. On the one hand, France aimed at establishing a peaceful relationship with its former foe, notably through the European integration process; on the other hand, as early as 1955, France sought to monitor the ongoing German rearmament. As minister under the Fourth Republic, François Mitterrand was well aware of this problematic issue. As fourth President of the Fifth Republic, he was convinced of the need to improve the strategic relationship between the two countries, but without altering the specificity of the French nuclear deterrent. During the fourteen years (from 1981 to 1995) of his two presidencies, encompassing the end of the Cold War and the beginning of the post-Cold War era, Mitterrand was highly involved in the debate about nuclear deterrence and remained sensitive to Germany’s concerns regarding a potential use of French nuclear weapons on its soil. The ambition of this chapter, based on the analysis of public addresses, memoirs and oral archives, is to highlight the evolution of the French nuclear strategy towards Germany during Mitterrand’s presidency. Three key decisions that Mitterrand took as French President will be studied successively: the reassessment of the role assigned to tactical nuclear armaments; the reappraisal (and in my opinion the improvement) of French nuclear doctrine; and last but not least, a whole range of concrete measures implemented by Mitterrand towards Germany. Attention will be drawn in this analysis to a few significant factors: the arrival of a new generation of nuclear weapons; European integration and the NATO dimension; interactions between French domestic politics and the

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Franco-German nuclear debate; as well as the French political willingness to reinforce German confidence.

The Reassessment of the Role Assigned to Tactical Nuclear Armaments Mitterrand at Loggerheads with Giscard d’Estaing Receiving the U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz in December 1982, François Mitterrand explained to him that the situation he inherited from his predecessors regarding nuclear matters was difficult and paradoxical: he needed to combine the independence of the French nuclear deterrent with France’s commitment towards the Atlantic Alliance, and more particularly towards West Germany. According to Mitterrand, neither President de Gaulle, nor President Pompidou or President Giscard d’Estaing had been in a position to solve this problem.1 As a matter of fact, according to the point of view that Giscard d’Estaing expressed in public, tactical nuclear armaments were ‘not only a deterrent tool, but also a battlefield tool’.2 Of course, this statement belongs to public diplomacy, and does not mean that Giscard was convinced French tactical nuclear weapons should necessarily be used in Central Europe in case of war. However, under his tenure, the role dedicated to tactical nuclear weapons reached its paroxysm, especially as the Pluton missile was put into service in 1974, the same year Giscard d’Estaing was elected. Pluton was intended to play a major part in NATO ‘forward defence’.3 This evolution could potentially create major difficulties with the Germans. At that time, there was no bilateral dialogue on nuclear issues between France and West Germany. In fact, nuclear weapons were no longer regarded in West Germany as a key strategic asset in the confrontation with the USSR, as highlighted not only by the growing influence of the pacifist and anti-nuclear movements in this country since the mid-1970s, but also by the priority given to the Ostpolitik and the predominance of the conventional components within the Bundeswehr.4 Worse, in 1977, when Chancellor Helmut Schmidt met Giscard d’Estaing, he told him that he could not understand the usefulness of the Pluton missile. Obviously, the limited range of this weapon (120 km) meant that in case of use it would most probably hit German soil. Nevertheless, from the French point of view under Giscard d’Estaing’s presidency, the Pluton missile allowed France to maintain a special status within the Atlantic Alliance. Thanks to the tactical nuclear weapon, on the one hand, France was involved de facto in the NATO ‘flexible response’ (even though it did

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not adhere to this doctrine), and on the other hand, it had an additional military tool in support of its defence policy.5 However, as highlighted recently, France did not want its tactical nuclear weapons to be engaged in the battlefield as a kind of ‘super-artillery’; this type of weapon was still thought of as belonging to the deterrent arsenal.6 Mitterrand, by contrast with his predecessor, decided on a major political change based on a new approach to the Franco-German alliance. This development was made possible by the development of the Hadès missile, a new generation of tactical nuclear systems of greater range (480 km) that allowed, at a technical level, the scenario of a French nuclear strike on German territory to be avoided. As early as September 1981 (four months after Mitterrand’s election), Prime Minister Pierre Mauroy declared at the Institut des Hautes Etudes de Défense Nationale (IHEDN) that tactical nuclear armaments should not be used to win a battle because the aim of this kind of armaments was only ‘to restore deterrence at the strategic level’.7 In this perspective, the use of tactical armaments was considered only as complementary proof of the French President’s resoluteness to use, if necessary, strategic nuclear armaments.8 All these considerations meant that Mitterrand had chosen to reaffirm France’s absolute refusal of ‘flexible response’, coming back to the policy adopted by de Gaulle in the 1960s; it was also the beginning of a new nuclear policy towards the German ally. This evolution was all the more significant as, at the same period of time, the West German government was facing powerful antinuclear demonstrations at home, in the context of the Euromissile crisis.9

Understanding and Reassuring the West Germans In an interview with Time Magazine in October 1981, President Mitterrand pointed out the German specificity. To the questions ‘To what extent are you concerned by the trend towards neutralism in Europe? Is it a limited problem or a real danger?’, Mitterrand answered: Neutralism is a word that must not be used lightly. As far as I am concerned, I try to understand. And I understand the West German reaction, because West Germany is a country loaded with nuclear explosives that are not under its control. This contradiction is difficult to bear. It gives rise to a series of questions about which a Frenchman must speak with caution. Nations that have a nuclear capability find it easier to avoid such crises than nations that have none and that feel themselves prey to the decisions of others.10

Thus, according to Mitterrand, it was essential to neutralize neutralism by taking into account German nuclear concerns. These concerns were above all related to a possible limited nuclear war on German soil. In

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this context, as a nuclear power whose territory was protected thanks to its independent deterrent (the word in French is ‘sanctuarisé’, meaning turned into a sanctuary), France had to express solidarity with its nonnuclear weapon state ally.

A New Generation of French Tactical Nuclear Armaments During an official visit to the military camp of Canjuers located in Provence (south of France) in October 1982, Mitterrand explained that geography controls strategy, referring to the project of a new French tactical nuclear system of greater range, called ‘Hadès’. It was actually in 1982 that President Mitterrand confirmed the decision to develop a new kind of ground-to-ground missile, with a range of 350 km (as foreseen initially) to 480 km (as it was eventually decided in the late 1980s, in order to remain under the minimum range of the missiles covered by the Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty signed in 1987, that is, 550 km). Hadès was intended to replace the Pluton missile, which had a range of only 120 km. It must be kept in mind here that none of these armaments were ever deployed in West Germany. A few years later, France put its first cruise missile into service. The ASMP (Air-Sol Moyenne Portée) could be launched from bomber aircrafts and had a range of 350 km. The bomber aircrafts Mirage IV-P were equipped from 1986 with the new ASMP missile, as were the bomber aircrafts Mirage 2000-N, Mirage III, Jaguar and Super-étendard from 1988. In the case of the ASMP, the main innovation relied on a technology called Statoréacteur (ramjet), which is still used today and allows French bomber aircrafts a ‘Fire and Forget’ combat action – that is, the pilot of the aircraft is in a position to launch its missile and to escape as far as possible the anti-missile defence system of its adversary. Even though the Hadès and the ASMP programmes had been initiated under Giscard d’Estaing’s presidency, Mitterrand used these new weapon systems in accordance with his own nuclear strategy. Indeed, in an interview with the newspaper Libération in November 1988, he explained that his main concern regarding the Hadès missile was West Germany. According to him, the West Germans needed to know that they would not be the targets of the French ultime avertissement (‘ultimate warning’).11 Mitterrand considered it essential to give West Germany some security guarantees, without undermining the independence of the French nuclear deterrent. This involved assuring West Germany that it would never be the battlefield of a limited nuclear war, or the target of Soviet or NATO/ French nuclear forces. Accordingly, the reappraisal of the role dedicated to the French tactical nuclear weapons was the key point.

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The Evolution of the French Nuclear Doctrine New Concepts in the French Nuclear Grammar According to Mitterrand, nuclear deterrence was a global concept, and for that reason he terminated the distinction between strategic and tactical nuclear armaments. A new expression emerged publicly as soon as President Mitterrand took office, the concept of ultime avertissement (‘ultimate warning’), which was rapidly followed by the relabelling of French tactical nuclear armaments as ‘pre-strategic’. These two conceptual innovations marked an important doctrinal breakthrough. The concept of ‘ultimate warning’ referred to the last warning before the use of strategic nuclear weapons. This concept was used publicly for the first time in September 1981 by the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Lacaze.12 Later, in an interview with the French magazine Le Nouvel Observateur in December 1987 – the same month as the signature of the INF Treaty – President Mitterrand explained that the concept of ‘ultimate warning’ was not directly linked to short-range weapons, and accordingly was not to be implemented on German soil. In this respect, President Mitterrand seemed to have considered the possibility of using one of the strategic ballistic missiles located in the Plateau d’Albion (in Provence, south of France) as a means of delivering the ultimate warning against the USSR, for instance against the Krasnoïarsk radar station, a Soviet early-warning system located in Siberia. In the same interview, Mitterrand stated that the INF Treaty allowed for the restoration of ‘true deterrence’, that is, deterrence based on strategic nuclear weapons that could hit the heart of the adversary’s territory.13 In this perspective, the pre-strategic weapons concept was of primary importance. It was during an address in Aachen in October 1987 that Mitterrand stated publicly for the first time that, in case of war, French nuclear weapons would not ‘inevitably’ target Germany.14 Last but not least, as pointed out by Georges-Henri Soutou, with Mitterrand, the ‘ultimate warning’ game no longer relied on operational cooperation with NATO.15 In fact, with the ultimate warning concept, Mitterrand reasserted that France had an independent deterrent and could decide to use it to protect its ‘intérêts vitaux’ (vital interests) without asking its allies’ permission. As for the pre-strategic concept, it was transformed into a new doctrine as early as October 1984, when Minister of Defence Charles Hernu used this word during an address to the French parliament. The purpose was to emphasize the political dimension of any type of nuclear weapon, and the direct link between tactical and strategic nuclear weapons. Using the pre-strategic weapon would signal to an adversary the French President’s

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determination to stop the nuclear escalation, by making more credible the threat of massive retaliation. Thus, the ‘ultimate warning’ – which is above all a political signal – would serve to prevent a possible crossing of the nuclear threshold to the strategic level. As pointed out by Bruno Tertrais, these new concepts had direct consequences for relations between France and NATO, and even more for Franco-German relations.16 In fact, they meant: • the end of the detonator logic (i.e. French nuclear forces seen as a means of involving U.S. nuclear forces to help Western Europe), thanks to the new role assigned to tactical nuclear weapons; • the decoupling between conventional manoeuvre and the triggering of a nuclear strike. The link between conventional and nuclear armaments was no longer automatic; thus, in case of war, the primary engagement of the new French Rapid Action Force (FAR, Force d’action rapide) would be free of nuclear weapons. More broadly, as early as 1981, President Mitterrand decided that all tactical nuclear missiles should be placed under the control of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. It meant that the head of the French First Army would no longer directly manage tactical nuclear weapons. Moreover, the bomber aircrafts Mirage  2000N, equipped with pre-strategic ASMP missiles, were also placed under the command of the Strategic Air Forces (Forces Aériennes Statégiques, FAS) in 1991. These measures underlined the reappraisal of the role assigned to tactical nuclear armaments: they were above all political weapons, according to Mitterrand, just as much as strategic nuclear weapons. Moreover, it was a confirmation of Mitterrand’s opposition to the ‘flexible response’ strategy. Here, it seems relevant to quote an answer given by the French President to the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher during the G7 Summit in Venice in June 1987.17 Thatcher asked Mitterrand: ‘If a war started in Europe and if the Soviets besieged Bonn [at the time the capital of West Germany], would you intervene with the French nuclear forces?’ Mitterrand answered: ‘Of course not!’ A debate followed about the credibility of the American nuclear umbrella, until Mitterrand concluded: ‘We would not move because if the Soviet forces occupied Bonn, it would mean that the war would be lost!’ According to Mitterrand, in order to avoid such a risk of deterrent failure, it was necessary to reinforce, at the political level, the credibility of nuclear deterrence. By saying that, he did not refer to a political willingness to extend French nuclear deterrence to Germany, arguing

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that France alone did not at that time possess the military capabilities to protect West Germany. He meant the absolute necessity for the U.S. executive to reaffirm its political determination to intervene first in support of the German ally.

The Interaction between French Domestic Politics and the Franco-German Nuclear Debate The first ‘Cohabitation’ – that is, a period during which the President of the French Republic must work with a Prime Minister from a different political party – led to an important political confrontation on strategic issues, after the conservative leader Jacques Chirac became Prime Minister in March 1986. In 1975, when he was Prime Minister under Giscard d’Estaing’s presidency, Chirac had already declared that the existing French nuclear weapons, because they were French and European, could contribute to the defence of Europe; this implied that France could not ‘preserve’ (‘sanctuariser’) only its own territory.18 Eleven years later, in September 1986, Chirac gave a controversial address to the IHEDN, trying to reset the previous nuclear doctrine by declaring that the ‘nuclear warning’ (‘l’avertissement nucléaire’) could be ‘diversified’ (‘diversifié’) and ‘staggered in the depth of the military field’ (‘échelonné dans la profondeur’).19 Mitterrand replied to Chirac’s statement during a visit to the military camp of Caylus (south-west of France) in October 1986, by repudiating the declarations of his Prime Minister. Indeed, the expressions ‘diversified’ and ‘staggered’ were at loggerheads with the ‘ultimate warning’ concept. Mitterrand then declared that prestrategic weapons belonged to the ‘tout stratégique’, meaning that every nuclear weapon was strategic in essence. A strategic evolution collided here with political issues related to the ‘Cohabitation’. Acting this way, Mitterrand reasserted both the new nuclear concepts he had introduced earlier, as well as his prominent political role as President of the Republic. Eventually, Chirac made his mea culpa and stated in a new address to the IHEDN, in December 1987, that the pre-strategic warning should be conducted ‘as far as possible in the depth’ of the enemy’s territory.20 At the same time, he declared that the battle of Germany and the battle of France could not be kept separate, implying that the German territory should not be seen as a buffer zone.21 During the second ‘Cohabitation’ (1993–95), there was no attempt by Prime Minister Edouard Balladur to exert pressure on President Mitterrand regarding nuclear issues (apart from the question of nuclear tests in French Polynesia).22 Thus, when the new Defence White Paper (Livre blanc sur la défense) was published in 1994, it was with the agreement

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of both leaders.23 This White Paper was the outcome of the doctrinal evolution under Mitterrand’s presidency in the post-Cold War context. It stated that French nuclear forces should be capable permanently of fulfilling two kinds of missions: • to conduct, if necessary, a limited strike towards military targets, as an ‘ultimate warning’ (ultime avertissement) in order to signal that the limits of French vital interests were about to be breached; • to inflict ‘unacceptable damages’ (dommages inacceptables) to an adversary via a second strike, if the deterrence process failed. There was no longer any direct link between conventional and nuclear armaments, and for this reason the White Paper spoke of a ‘découplage partiel’, a ‘partial decoupling’ between the two kinds of armaments. In fact, conventional armaments were seen as a priority in the new strategic context, and French nuclear strategy had to take into account the end of the Cold War, but also German reunification and the evolution of NATO strategy. The international context was radically different from the situation in the early 1980s.

European Integration and Extended Deterrence Regarding relations between France and NATO, a rapprochement had already been undertaken under Giscard’s presidency, which led in 1975 to a strategic dialogue between the French chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Méry, and SACEUR, General Haig, that included nuclear issues. One year later, Méry spoke of an ‘extended safeguard’ (‘sanctuarisation élargie’). As for President Mitterrand, he would later consider the possibility, in the future, of extending French deterrence to take into account European integration and strategic German interests. According to him, it was possible to imagine a ‘European deterrence’, but he remained very cautious in this matter. The first step was initiated by Defence Minister Jean-Pierre Chevènement during an address to the IHEDN in November 1988, in which he said that French and British nuclear forces would be, ‘when the time comes’ (‘le moment venu’), the embryo of a ‘European deterrent’.24 In the context of the Maastricht Treaty, President Mitterrand opened up new perspectives. In May 1994, during an important speech at Élysée Palace dedicated to the nuclear deterrent issues, he declared that a European nuclear deterrent might become possible later, in the long term, provided that Europe possessed a clear concept of its common vital interests (‘notions claires en matière d’intérêt vital commun’).25 At the

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moment, however, in the absence of such a clear concept, it was too early to consider any sharing arrangement regarding the possible use of the nuclear armament. Nonetheless, according to Mitterrand, it was already possible to consider that France’s vital interests were not limited to the territorial integrity of the homeland. This political willingness to open discussions about the role of French deterrence in the context of European integration, following the adoption of the Maastricht Treaty, also appeared in the 1994 Defence White Paper, which stated that the perspective of a European nuclear doctrine should become one of the main issues of the European integration process in the area of defence. Thus, the White Paper emphasized that ‘with nuclear deterrence, the autonomy of Europe regarding defence is conceivable, but without it, it is ruled out’ (‘Avec le nucléaire, l’autonomie de l’Europe en matière de défense est possible. Sans lui, elle est exclue’).26

The Implementation of Concrete Measures towards Germany Before the 1981 presidential election, François Mitterrand had already made public statements in support of West Germany related to the Euromissile crisis. Once elected, he expressed his position regarding East-West relations in an interview with The New York Times in June, saying that the defence of peace required a global balance of power as well as a sufficiently balanced situation in Europe: ‘I shall therefore always be in favor of what is required to maintain such a balance of power. That is why I was the first political leader in France to protest, as a member of parliament, against the installation of SS-20 missiles on the Russian-German border’. In fact, Mitterrand was even more critical of the Soviet stance than Giscard d’Estaing, and could notice, not without irony, the following fact: ‘When I was running for presidency, the Americans were not very much in my favor, but rather worried; the Soviets were not very much in favor, but rather worried; the German government was not very much in favor either’, before adding: ‘Luckily the French people were of a different opinion’.27 Mitterrand then made concrete gestures towards the Germans, not only in words, but also in deeds. First, during the Euromissile crisis, he gave probably the most important address of his presidency to the Bundestag in January 1983. Secondly, he demonstrated his willingness to improve the Franco-German strategic dialogue, more particularly by accepting a mechanism of consultation with the German Chancellor before any use of pre-strategic weapons on German soil. Thirdly, in implementing different measures of nuclear disarmament, he took German interests

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into careful consideration. Fourthly, Mitterrand took different initiatives in the conventional field, which can be seen as complementary to the initiatives taken in the nuclear field.

The Address to the Bundestag Mitterrand’s address to the Bundestag in January 1983 is well known; it marked the twentieth anniversary of the Élysée Treaty and was intended to be a token of trust between the two countries. ‘No issue related to the life and security of Germany can be dealt with without her’, stated Mitterrand on this occasion.28 That is why France supported the implementation of the 1979 Dual Track decision and the deployment of U.S. INF missiles in West Germany.29 During this speech, Mitterrand also underlined that France would maintain its First Army (Ière Armée) in the FRG and he reasserted that France was contemplating measures to improve its mobility, readiness and firepower. One additional consequence of the French political action towards West Germany, as seen above, was the decision to extend the range of its tactical nuclear missiles, thanks to the development of the Hadès programme.

Improvement and Limits of the Franco-German Strategic Dialogue The first mandate of Mitterrand’s presidency (1981–88) was marked by the resumption of the Franco-German dialogue on strategic issues, which had been interrupted since July 1964, following the failure of the de Gaulle-Erhard summit.30 From this point of view, it is interesting, again, to compare Mitterrand’s position with de Gaulle’s. Mitterrand in fact became more and more favourable to a Franco-German consultation mechanism before any use of nuclear armament on German territory. This evolution resulted from the very good relationship between Mitterrand and Chancellors Schmidt and Kohl. Indeed, Mitterrand supported the two German leaders in the Euromissile crisis, and in 1983 the politico-strategic dimension of the 1963 Élysée Treaty was reactivated, particularly clause 20, relating to the military field. One year later, in 1984, West Germany began to ask France more precisely about its tactical nuclear weapons and the concept relating to their employment.31 Nevertheless, in the same year, when German Defence Minister Manfred Wörner claimed a right of consultation in case of employment of Pluton missiles on German territory, Mitterrand turned this down: it was too early. The next step led to the Franco-German summit in February 1986, which adopted the common declaration regarding the consultation of the German Chancellor before any use of French pre-strategic weapons

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on German territory. The French President was ‘ready to consult’ the Chancellor on the possible use of pre-strategic weapons on German soil, ‘within the limits that the extreme swiftness of such decisions imposes’ (‘dans les limites qu’impose l’extrême rapidité de telles décisions’).32 These caveats were of the utmost importance because they restricted the implementation of this common declaration. Aware of German interests, Mitterrand had previously explained the consequences of the Franco-German dialogue in a press conference with Chancellor Helmut Kohl in Baden-Baden, in January 1986.33 According to the French President, the simple fact that French pre-strategic weapons could hit German soil opened the way to a consultation process between the two allies, even though Mitterrand also made it clear that there would be no co-decision on this issue. At the beginning, the Germans insisted on obtaining a right of inspection, but Kohl and Mitterrand eventually decided that the consultation mechanism would be restricted to the decision of use (décision d’emploi) in case of nuclear crisis, excluding ipso facto the targeting or employment policy (conditions d’emploi). In fact, this political process had been initiated in December 1985, when Kohl and Mitterrand met in Paris. During this meeting, Kohl asked Mitterrand whether it would be possible to bring the political ‘vital interests’ of the two countries closer.34 However, from a French point of view, making ‘vital interests’ a benchmark for the FrancoGerman relationship would go too far, because this concept pertained to the foundation of French nuclear deterrence. In the French perspective, ‘vital interests’ referred to French sovereignty, the protection of France’s territory, population and fundamental values. Mitterrand explained to Kohl that it was unrealistic to consider extending French strategic deterrence to Germany. Moreover, seen from a Soviet point of view, it could destabilize the European security architecture. In fact, ten years later, the question of vital interests was at the centre of the Franco-British Chequers declaration of October 1995, when President Jacques Chirac and Prime Minister John Major stated: ‘We do not see situations arising in which the vital interests of either France or the United Kingdom could be threatened without the vital interests of the other being also threatened’.35 The obvious difference was that this joint declaration was made by two nuclear weapon states. According to Mitterrand, extending deterrence to West Germany was the job of the U.S. President, and France did not possess the military means to do it. Indeed, Mitterrand had already ruled out such a request previously made by former Chancellor Schmidt in June 1984. In a book on his foreign policy published in 1986, Mitterrand wrote that, in any case, Germany (meaning the government in Bonn) had in fact not asked France for what it could not give.36 Mitterrand reiterated such a statement

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in February 1986, saying that it was not conceivable to permute the U.S. nuclear umbrella with the French deterrent, because these two nuclear forces were not of the same size.37 He also explained that the 1963 Élysée Treaty was not related to nuclear issues. Nevertheless, Mitterrand knew the importance of the 1974 Ottawa Declaration, according to which the independent nuclear forces of France and Great Britain, which had a deterrent role of their own, contributed to the overall deterrence and security of the North Atlantic Alliance. During Mitterrand’s tenure, this statement was reiterated in October 1987, in the framework of the Western European Union (WEU) – see The Hague Platform on European Security Interests – and in November 1991, within NATO, in the context of the New Strategic Concept of the Alliance.38

France, Disarmament and Germany In his 1981 interview with Time Magazine mentioned earlier, Mitterrand explained that the nuclear dilemma facing West Germany could be solved to a large extent by disarmament: ‘I believe these tensions would ease if the Americans, who have expressed their willingness to do so, were to begin arms negotiations with the Soviet Union without further delay. I believe they must do it’.39 Accordingly, under Mitterrand’s presidency, France actively promoted disarmament between the two superpowers, but also excluded itself from involvement in this disarmament process, which had to remain bilateral according to Paris. Mitterrand reasserted this principle at the United Nations General Assembly in September 1983, the most crucial year of the Euromissile crisis. In his speech, the French President pointed out that France ‘had the weapon of its own defence, nothing more, nothing less’.40 This statement was not well received in West Germany: where, then, was the French nuclear guarantee? With the signature of the INF Treaty, Mitterrand could appear to have supported Reagan and Gorbachev in their political willingness to make a deal on nuclear disarmament. However, once again, he underlined that France was not concerned by this bilateral negotiation. With regard to disarmament, the political priority for France was to avoid being subjected to U.S. or Soviet political decisions; that is why the French leaders preferred to act alone in this domain, in a unilateral manner. The end of the Cold War would allow France to take such initiatives. Indeed, as far as the Franco-German relationship was concerned, the French disarmament policy started in 1991 with the end of the nuclear mission of the Tactical Air Forces (Forces aériennes tactiques, FATAC). The number of pre-strategic Hadès missiles was then reduced, and the programme was

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finally stopped in 1992. A year later, the mission of the pre-strategic Pluton missiles was stopped in turn.

French Initiatives in the Conventional Field Under Mitterrand’s presidency, more particularly in the 1980s, a number of initiatives were taken in the conventional field which can be seen as complementary to the nuclear initiatives, with the aim of strengthening confidence between West Germany and France by diminishing the role assigned to French tactical nuclear weapons. First, in 1983, the French decided to establish a new Rapid Action Force. The main idea behind the creation of the Force d’action rapide (FAR) was to provide the French army with highly mobile armaments, especially helicopters, so that French forces would be capable of intervening very quickly, notably in Central Europe in the Cold War context (but also overseas). In December 1983, Defence Minister Charles Hernu clarified that the creation of this new Rapid Action Force did not mean that French intervention in Central Europe would be automatic, but if such an intervention happened, then a nuclear-armed power, the only one in continental Western Europe, would be involved at an early stage of the conflict, with all that meant in terms of deterrence effects. The next step was, in 1987, the creation of the Franco-German Brigade and the organization of a joint military exercise (called ‘Kecker Spatz’ or ‘Moineau hardi’) on German territory, involving both French and German military units. These two initiatives were taken outside the NATO framework. In addition, the decision to jointly build a common military helicopter (the Tigre) was also made in the same period. If the Force d’action rapide or the Franco-German Brigade were useful tools to reaffirm the French commitment towards Germany, they were also a means of reassessing France’s nuclear commitment and raising the nuclear threshold. Indeed, the Force d’action rapide and the FrancoGerman Brigade allowed France a more flexible stance in the implementation of its strategy. From a German point of view, they highlighted the new role dedicated to French nuclear weapons. Last but not least, the implementation of the Franco-German strategic dialogue also concerned space activities. From Mitterrand’s point of view, space was potentially the most fruitful field of cooperation between the two countries. Thus, in order to counter Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative, in 1985 Mitterrand promoted the EUREKA Project; EUREKA marked a new step in the emergence of common security interests.

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Conclusion: An Enduring Mistrust? There was a clear evolution of the French nuclear strategy towards Germany under Mitterrand’s presidency. Nevertheless, French strategy remained characterized by a certain ambiguity: France was more aware of German security concerns than previously, but it was now more difficult to precisely locate the cursor of French involvement in Germany’s defence, particularly regarding the nuclear dimension. On the one hand, the 1983 Bundestag address was a crucial step undertaken by Mitterrand to support the West German government in the Euromissile crisis, especially to counter the powerful trend of German neutralism. On the other hand, France refused any further involvement in the form of an explicit extended deterrence guarantee towards West Germany. According to Mitterrand, providing this kind of nuclear guarantee to the FRG was a job for the U.S. If French solidarity towards West Germany was a reality, the French political willingness to monitor the rise of German power remained prominent. To be sure, Mitterrand reassessed the French strategy towards Germany in the early 1980s and improved the strategic dialogue between the two countries, but he was more embarrassed by the end of the Cold War and German reunification.41 Indeed, from a French point of view, behind the German question lay the issue of broader U.S. nuclear involvement with the European members of NATO, as well as the problem of European strategic autonomy vis-à-vis the United States. As for West Germany, it sought the military support of its French ally, with the idea of spurring France – then a non-integrated nation – to get more involved in NATO matters. Could one speak of an enduring mistrust between the two countries, despite the achievements of the Mitterrand-Kohl era? Given the role played by the Franco-German reconciliation in the process of European integration, I would say no. A concrete step was the creation of the Eurocorps, at the Franco-German summit in La Rochelle in May 1992. Three months earlier, the signature of the Maastricht Treaty highlighted the planning of a Common Foreign and Security Policy. Even though, since the end of the Cold War, Germany has expressed a strong, persistent reluctance towards nuclear deterrence, the situation might be evolving in the current context of renewed Russian strategic activism and threatening posture, while at the same time the transatlantic bond has been deteriorating, particularly under Donald Trump’s presidency, further exacerbating threats to the future of European security. The debate of the 1980s thus appears to have gained a new relevance today.

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Dominique Mongin obtained his PhD in history at the University of Paris I Panthéon-Sorbonne in 1991, on the genesis of French nuclear weapons (1945–58). He was appointed to several French governmental offices, in charge of defence and security issues, and has published several books on these topics. Currently, he teaches international history in Paris at the Centre for Nuclear and Strategic Studies (CIENS) of the École Normale Supérieure (ENS-Ulm) and at the National Institute for Oriental Languages and Civilizations (INALCO).

Notes  1. J. Attali, Verbatim I (Paris: Fayard, 1993), vol. 1 (1981–1983), 562. According to Attali, President Mitterrand told Shultz: ‘Should France use its nuclear force for purposes other than the defence of its national territory or not? Because the destiny of France is in the balance, I insisted that there be negotiations between France and Germany on this subject’.  2. In his address to the Institut des hautes études de défense nationale (IHEDN) on 1 June 1976, President Giscard d’Estaing declared that tactical nuclear armament ‘n’est pas seulement un instrument de dissuasion, c’est aussi un instrument de bataille’. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/262988-allocution-de-m-valery-giscard-destaing-sur-la-politique-de-defense-lo.  3. See M. Duval and Y. Le Baut, L’arme nucléaire française: Pourquoi et comment? (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1992). Concerning the history of the French policy towards NATO in this field, see F. Bozo, Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2001).  4. See G.-H. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 355–56.  5. Ibid., 361.  6. See L.-M. Baille, ‘L’épisode nucléaire tactique français, 1957–1996’, in N. Haupais (ed.), La France et l’arme nucléaire au XXIème siècle (Paris: CNRS éditions, 2019), 75.  7. Address by Prime Minister Pierre Mauroy to the IHEDN, 14 September 1981. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from www.vie-publique.fr/ discours/251753-pierre-mauroy-14091981-politique-de-defense.  8. D. Mongin, ‘La dissuasion mitterrandienne, un héritage toujours vivant’, in J-Y. Le Drian and H. Védrine (eds), François Mitterrand et la Défense (Paris: Nouveau monde, 2017), 203–62.  9. See Ilaria Parisi’s chapter in this volume. 10. Interview with President Mitterrand in Time Magazine, 12 October 1981. 11. Interview with President Mitterrand in Libération, 23 November 1988. 12. Address by General Lacaze, French joint chiefs of staff to the Centre des hautes études de l’armement (CHEAR), published in Revue de Défense nationale, November 1981. 13. Interview with President Mitterrand in Le Nouvel Observateur, 18 December 1987. 14. Address by President Mitterrand to Aachen Rathaus, 20 October 1987. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.elysee.fr/francois-mitterrand/1987/10/20/ discours-de-m-francois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-a-lhotel-de-villedaix-la-chapelle-sur-la-construction-europeenne-lemploi-des-armes-prestrategiquesfrancaises-et-la-dissuasion-nucleaire-mardi-20-octobre-1987. 15. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 376.

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16. B. Tertrais, ‘La coopération militaire depuis 1969: la France, l’OTAN et la question nucléaire’, in M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN, 1949–1996 (Brussels: Complexe, 1996), 624–25. 17. The disclosure of this discussion was made by Mitterrand himself during an address about French nuclear deterrence strategy, at the Élysée Palace on 5 May 1994. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/130530-intervention-de-mfrancois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-sur. 18. Jacques Chirac’s address to the Army at Mailly Camp, on 10 February 1975. 19. Address by Prime Minister Chirac to the IHEDN, on 12 September 1986. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/245894-discours-de-mjacques-chirac-premier-ministre-devant-linstitut-des-h. 20. Jacques Chirac’s address to the IHEDN, 12 December 1987. https://www.vie-publique. fr/discours/258148-declaration-de-m-jacques-chirac-premier-ministre-sur-laccordamerica. 21. The concept of ‘the two battles’ referred to an idea exposed by General de Gaulle in 1962. See Frédéric Gloriant’s chapter in this volume. 22. See D. Mongin, Dissuasion et Simulation: De la fin des essais nucléaires français au programme Simulation (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2018). 23. Livre blanc sur la défense 1994 (Paris: Union générale d’Editions, 1994). 24. Address by Defence Minister Chevènement to the IHEDN, 22 November 1988. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/214596-discoursde-m-jean-pierre-chevenement-ministre-de-la-defense-sur-le-m. 25. Address by President Mitterrand at the Élysée Palace, 5 May 1994. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/130530-intervention-de-m-francoismitterrand-president-de-la-republique-sur. 26. Livre blanc sur la défense 1994, 98. 27. Interview with President Mitterrand in The New York Times, 4 June 1981. 28. Address by President Mitterrand to the Bundestag, 20 January 1983. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.elysee.fr/francois-mitterrand/1983/01/20/ discours-de-m-francois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-devant-le-bundestag-a-loccasion-du-20eme-anniversaire-du-traite-de-lelysee-sur-la-cooperationfranco-allemande-la-securite-europeenne-et-la-cee-bonn-jeudi-20-janvier-1983. 29. See Ilaria Parisi’s chapter in this volume. 30. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 272–77. 31. H. Védrine, Les mondes de François Mitterrand:  À l’Élysée 1981/1995 (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 721. 32. This declaration, published after the summit, can be found at http://www.franceallemagne.fr/IMG/pdf/declaration_du_27_fevrier.pdf (retrieved 5 August 2021). 33. François Mitterrand’s press conference in Baden-Baden, 16 January 1986. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.elysee.fr/francois-mitterrand/1986/01/16/ entretien-avec-la-presse-de-m-francois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-a-lissue-de-la-visite-aux-forces-francaises-en-allemagne-a-baden-baden-en-presence-duchancelier-kohl-sur-la-cooperation-militaire-franco-allemande-jeudi-16-janvier-1986. 34. Attali, Verbatim I, 1369. See also P. Favier and M. Martin-Roland, La décennie Mitterrand – Vol. 2. Les épreuves, 1984–1988 (Paris: Seuil, 1991), 318–19. 35. ‘British-French Joint Statement on Nuclear Cooperation’, London, UK-French Summit, 29–30 October 1995. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/ discours/132220-declaration-conjointe-franco-britannique-sur-la-cooperation-nucleaire-en. 36. F. Mitterrand, Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France (Paris: Fayard, 1986), 96. 37. President Mitterrand’s answers during a debate with the club Ici et maintenant at the Maison de la Chimie, 8 February 1986. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.

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elysee.fr/francois-mitterrand/1986/02/08/reponses-de-m-francois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-aux-questions-des-clubs-ici-et-maintenant-notamment-sur-lapolitique-de-defense-de-la-france-specialement-en-matiere-de-dissuasion-nucleairele-role-du-chef-de-letat-la-defense-europe. 38. The Hague Platform on European Security Interests (retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.cvce.eu/en/obj/platform_on_european_security_interests_the_hague_27_ october_1987-en-444f642c-62ed-4fd9-8136-a129d2de3783.html) was adopted on 27 October 1987 by the WEU Council, i.e. just before the Washington Treaty related to the INF disarmament was signed. 39. Interview with President Mitterrand in Time Magazine, 12 October 1981. 40. Address by President Mitterrand to the 38th United Nations General Assembly, 28 September 1983. Retrieved 5 August 2021 from https://www.elysee.fr/ francois-mitterrand/1983/09/28/allocution-de-m-francois-mitterrand-presidentde-la-republique-devant-la-38eme-session-de-lassemblee-generale-des-nations-uniesnew-york-mercredi-28-septembre-1983. 41. See F. Bozo, Mitterrand, la fin de la Guerre froide et l’unification allemande: De Yalta à Maastricht (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2005).

Bibliography Attali, J. Verbatim I. Paris: Fayard, 1993. Baille, L.-M. ‘L’épisode nucléaire tactique français, 1957–1996’, in N. Haupais (ed.), La France et l’arme nucléaire au XXIème siècle (Paris: CNRS éditions, 2019). Bozo, F. Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2001.  . Mitterrand, la fin de la Guerre froide et l’unification allemande: De Yalta à Maastricht. Paris: Odile Jacob, 2005. Duval, M., and Y. Le Baut. L’arme nucléaire française: Pourquoi et comment? Paris: L’Harmattan, 1992. Favier, P., and M. Martin-Roland. La décennie Mitterrand – Vol. 2. Les épreuves, 1984–1988. Paris: Seuil, 1991. Livre blanc sur la défense 1994. Paris: Union générale d’Editions, 1994. Mitterrand, F. Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France. Paris: Fayard, 1986. Mongin, D. ‘La dissuasion mitterrandienne, un héritage toujours vivant’, in J.-Y. Le Drian and H. Védrine (eds), François Mitterrand et la Défense (Paris: Nouveau monde, 2017).  . Dissuasion et Simulation: De la fin des essais nucléaires français au programme Simulation. Paris: Odile Jacob, 2018. Soutou, G.-H. L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Tertrais, B. ‘La coopération militaire depuis 1969: la France, l’OTAN et la question nucléaire’, in M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN, 1949–1996 (Brussels: Complexe, 1996). Védrine, H. Les mondes de François Mitterrand: À l’Élysée 1981/1995. Paris: Fayard, 1996.

Chapter 9

France and the FRG during the 1980s When Strategic Questions Became Political Debates Yannick Pincé

Introduction

W

hen François Mitterrand came to power in 1981, he had to establish a relationship of trust with social democrat Chancellor Helmut Schmidt (1974–82), whose partnership with former President Valéry Giscard d’Estaing (1974–81) had been particularly good. Despite the difficult context created by the European and German peace movement opposing the deployment of additional American missiles, the two statesmen seemed to have reached complete agreement. Mitterrand even told Schmidt of his faith in an impending German reunification, however difficult the political and international context of the early 1980s might be.1 Nevertheless, it was with Chancellor Helmut Kohl (1982–98) from the Christlische Demokratische Union (Christian Democratic Union, CDU) that the socialist Mitterrand deepened Franco-German cooperation. Indeed, at the beginning of the new chancellor’s term, Mitterrand gave a watershed speech at the Bundestag for the twentieth anniversary of the Franco-German friendship treaty (Élysée Treaty); thus, the French president provided Kohl with decisive support in accepting the implementation of the 1979 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) Dual Track decision, which resulted in the effective deployment of Pershing 2 and cruise missiles in the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). For the French socialist government, it did not fail to create some disturbance in the relations with the supposedly allied Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (Social Democratic Party of Germany, SPD), the other

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European left-wing parties, and the Parti Communiste Français (French Communist Party, PCF) that was a partner in the parliamentary majority and the government until 1984. The Bundestag speech was the beginning of a close and strong cooperation between the two statesmen in many areas of European policy and particularly as regards strategic matters.2 A number of cooperation measures dealt with the challenges created by the Soviet Union and the peace movement. There were also conflicting views on French tactical nuclear weapons, the U.S. Strategic Defense Initiative and more generally the ties with the U.S. in the late 1980s, as well as the method to be applied in the German reunification process.3 Both leaders were indeed confronted with strong and diverse political opposition in the area of strategic debate: the pacifist leaning of the SPD, the attempt to change the French strategic doctrine under the cohabitation government (1986–88), and the fight for supremacy between the two heads of the French executive before the 1988 presidential election were the main hurdles that Mitterrand and Kohl had to overcome. The classic literature on the Franco-German duo does not sufficiently consider the domestic political aspects of the relationship. It is often limited to an analysis of the interpretation and influence of Gaullism in international relations.4 Very few suggest use of strategic issues to reach political and electoral goals.5 It will be shown in this chapter that the close relationship between Mitterrand and Kohl was not only the result of strategic necessity, but also an alliance against their own domestic opposition. There was a specific French contribution to a German political process through which national consensus was built, based on the need for a closer relationship with France regarding security and defence policies, including deterrence. This could be conceptualized as the German equivalent of the alleged French ‘national consensus’ on security and international issues, and in particular on nuclear deterrence.6

The Building of a Close Mitterrand/Kohl Relationship during the Early 1980s In his speech given on 28 October 1977 at the International Institute of Strategic Studies (IISS) in London, Chancellor Schmidt denounced the deployment of new Soviet INF (Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces), the SS-20 missiles, that had begun in 1976. To counter this new threat, NATO took the Dual Track decision on 12 December 1979: the United States would negotiate in Geneva to obtain the withdrawal of the Soviet missiles, but in case they failed to reach an agreement, it would deploy its own INF

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(Pershing 2 and cruise missiles) in Western Europe. The years between the 1979 decision and its implementation in 1983 afforded ample time for a strong peace movement to develop throughout West Germany. This movement was so powerful that it seemed able to prevent the deployment of the new missiles and consequently to lead the country towards neutralism. The German left, with the new Green Party and many SPD militants, was involved in the peace demonstrations, which were vocally supported by the Kremlin and used as an instrument to gain influence in the West. Mitterrand and the presidential staff followed the situation in West Germany closely: they were concerned that the Euromissile crisis and the influential peace movement could call into question the strategic ties of the FRG to the Western camp, the so-called Westbindung. At the end of 1981, when the SPD began to express positive views on the Soviet proposal to include the French and British nuclear forces in the INF talks in Geneva, the Élysée was deeply worried. In fact, Willy Brandt, leader of the SPD, and his adviser Egon Bahr – who was also administrator of the SPD and chairman of the Bundestag subcommittee of disarmament and arms control – both had a growing interest in the ideas of the left wing of the SPD that was increasingly under the influence of the peace movement.7 As chairman of the Socialist International, Brandt had established contacts with the communist parties of the East and intended to build a third way between capitalism and communism.8 The relationship he had with the East, and in particular with Premier Leonid Brezhnev, led him to believe that the Soviet Union was sincerely willing to save détente and negotiate with the West.9 At the time, however, the French presidency paid closer attention to the CDU and their leaders, despite its obvious political interest to see a less liberal economic policy emerge in the FRG. Indeed, the Élysée saw the CDU and its allies in the Christlich-Soziale Union (Christian Social Union, Bavarian conservative party, CSU) as Francophile parties and judged that it shared strategic common goals with them.10 On 24 November 1981, Chancellor Schmidt told Brezhnev that he was open to the idea of taking into account the French and British nuclear forces in the Geneva negotiations. For Paris, this raised the question of whether it was worth continuing to work with Schmidt and the SPD. It was also the moment when the prospect of a governmental coalition change emerged in West Germany, which would mean the end of the social-liberal coalition and a transition to a liberal-conservative one.11 From the French perspective, there was strong interest in the person of Helmut Kohl, chairman of the CDU. After a worrying poll showing a lack of support from West Germans for the NATO Dual Track decision in December 1981, the French Embassy in Bonn did not seek guarantees from the Bonn government but, instead, asked Helmut Kohl for his

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analysis. He answered that the ‘GDR [the German Democratic Republic] would not be tomorrow at the Kehl Bridge’ opposite Strasbourg, the main French city on the border with Germany.12 Nonetheless, Mitterrand officially maintained his trust in Schmidt and signed the common declaration of 25 February 1982. In the text, they supported the NATO Dual Track decision and scheduled common consultations on the policies of foreign affairs and security.13 The majority change from a social-liberal coalition to a liberal-conservative one was made effective on 1 October 1982. After this change, François Mitterrand and Claude Cheysson, French Minister of Foreign Affairs, were assured that there would be a continuity in German foreign policy, since Hans-Dietrich Genscher remained in office, as chairman of the Freie Demokratische Partei (Liberal Democratic Party, FDP), now the ally of the CDU. On 21 October, during the fortieth Franco-German summit, Helmut Kohl, François Mitterrand and their foreign affairs and defence ministers met for the creation of a permanent commission on defence and security questions. They discussed common weapons programmes that had been under consideration since the 1970s, namely a tank and a helicopter. They confirmed only the helicopter.14 The French Minister of Defence, Charles Hernu, explained the project of an AirLand Battle division and presented the Hadès, a new nuclear tactical weapon that could reach Eastern European countries, due to a longer range than its predecessor, the Pluton (120 km). This longer range (350 km) had been in the planning stage since Mitterrand’s first Defence Council on 30 October 1981.15 It was a way to resolve the problem of German anxiety over French tactical weapons since their deployment in the 1970s; indeed, the Germans feared that the French Pluton, due to its limited range, would necessarily be used on German soil in case of a Warsaw Pact offensive.16 This context paved the way for the Bundestag speech of 20 January 1983 in which Mitterrand supported the NATO Dual Track decision. Mitterrand thought it would be in France’s best interest if the FRG proved able to resist pacifist or neutralist pressure, a few weeks before the German federal elections of 6 March 1983. For this purpose, he took it upon himself to favour Helmut Kohl and the liberal-conservative coalition against the SPD. Despite Helmut Schmidt’s support for the NATO Dual Track decision, the peace movement was gaining the upper hand within the SPD. This development, much favoured by Willy Brandt, opened the prospect of a possible government coalition with the Green Party. Hans-Jochen Vogel, the SPD candidate for the Chancellery, had an ambiguous position on the Pershing 2 and cruise missiles. He said he wanted to ‘do everything so that these missiles would not be necessary any more’.17 Franz Josef Strauss, the chairman of the Bavarian CSU,

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estimated that Mitterrand’s speech had given an extra 3 per cent to the government coalition. Willy Brandt agreed with the role played by the Euromissile crisis in the electoral defeat of the SPD and was disappointed with Mitterrand’s behaviour.18 After this episode, the SPD and Brandt nourished a strong feeling of betrayal.19 Thereafter, joint efforts between the two countries and governments in fact deepened. The French 1983 Military Planning Law confirmed the creation of an AirLand Battle force, the Force d’Action Rapide (Rapid Action Force, FAR), to resolve the French strategic dilemma between solidarity with the Allies and the defence of the ‘national sanctuary’. Indeed, when France left NATO’s integrated command, it developed its own nuclear forces as the ultimate guarantee for the nation. However, France remained a member of the Atlantic Alliance and strengthened its strategic links with NATO in the 1970s, keeping its right to engage its forces at any moment. To keep the FRG firmly anchored within the Western camp, the socialist government was willing to demonstrate its solidarity with the Germans, thanks to the FAR.20 This force was capable of being rapidly deployed in the East in order to support the defence of West Germany without engaging the whole French First Army.21 The German government was highly interested in this evolution, and during the 24 November 1983 summit, proposed a FAR exercise in West Germany after its creation. This joint German-French exercise took place in 1987. Nevertheless, the differences of opinion remained, and the German Minister of Defence, Manfred Wörner, continued to worry about the French tactical nuclear weapon.

Euromissiles and the Defence of West Germany: A French Domestic Political Debate The political reactions in France to the Bundestag speech were moderate. The right globally approved and the Communist Party remained silent out of loyalty to the government agreement concluded in 1981.22 In May 1983, during the debate about the 1984–88 Military Planning Law, the Communist Party merely demanded that it be specified that the FAR was not created exclusively for European use but for overseas too.23 The PCF always claimed its respect for the governmental agreement and its refusal to leave the majority over a foreign policy issue.24 It remained a loyal political ally until mid-1984. In 1983, the Communist Party tried to establish a close relationship with the Northern European social democrats, including the SPD, on the question of the defence of peace. In June 1983, Georges Marchais, secretary general of the PCF, wrote to the Socialist

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Party of Luxembourg and indicated that he did not wish to include the French forces in the INF negotiations. Then, on 22 November 1983, he declared in Le Monde that they should be counted as European nuclear forces, before defending on 1 December their inclusion in the INF discussions, without accepting a reduction before the USSR and the USA had agreed on deep cuts in their own arsenals. This met the official position of the government halfway. In October, Maxime Gremetz, the PCF’s foreign policy expert, began a European tour to visit each Social Democratic party that was hostile to the Dual Track decision.25 Many communist leaders were engaged in the peace movement, such as Georges Marchais, Pierre Juquin and Roland Leroy.26 However, the communist ministers defended the governmental position. This role-play was the solution for the French Communists to maintain a compromise without leaving government.27 At the same time, the French right used the debate on the 1983 Military Planning Law to attack the socialist government on defence and security issues. The defence of the FRG was the main bone of contention. Indeed, the right criticized the FAR until 1986 and provided for its suppression in the programme for the 1986 legislative election.28 The FAR project was deemed dangerous for the FRG’s defence, because part of its strength would be taken out of the French forces in Germany. The provisional budgets in the 1983 Planning Law were subject to the ‘austerity’ policy and planned to scale back the armed forces, even though it maintained strong investment in deterrence. The right argued that due to these cuts in the army’s manpower, West Germany was being abandoned to neutralism. Thus, the defence of the German ally clearly seemed to become, at that moment, a political argument for domestic discussions. The debate also revealed a lack of cohesion within the opposition. Conservative politicians such as François Fillon and Marcel Bigeard approved many of the government’s choices.29 The only way to unify the opposition was to criticize the military budget and deliberately exaggerate the idea of a military abandonment of the FRG, as did Jean-Marie Daillet, a deputy of the UDF (Union pour la Démocratie Française, Union for French Democracy, a liberal conservative party).

The Closer Relationship between France and the FRG: A Transnational Political Issue The French presidency remained worried about the political situation in Germany even after the March 1983 election, despite Kohl’s victory. The French still feared a possible German drift towards pacifism, in spite of Kohl and Genscher, due to the influence of the SPD, the demonstrations

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in Germany and pressure from Moscow. The Bundestag still had to vote on the deployment of Pershing 2 and cruise missiles on 22 November 1983, before implementing it. Shortly before these crucial debates, a ‘peace week’ was scheduled in October, followed by the SPD congress in November. In addition, from September to November, the INF negotiations would be resumed during which the French feared the USSR would ask for the inclusion of French and British nuclear weapons. Last but not least, opposition from the peace movement promised a ‘hot summer’ before all these events took place.30 In this context, there was a strong French willingness to reinforce Kohl’s position by publicizing common decisions, for example regarding agricultural prices.31 The position of the SPD was criticized by the French authorities and dismissed as votecatching. The Élysée carefully monitored the West German press. In late October 1983, strong support for the Atlantic Alliance in the German public opinion was confirmed by Alois Mertens (State Minister in the German Foreign Office): 55 per cent of government voters, and 20 per cent of SPD voters, were in favour of the Dual Track decision, but only 20–30 per cent supported the peace movement.32 After the Bundestag vote, during the Franco-German summit of 24 November 1983, Genscher recognized that the French nuclear deterrent was useful for West Germany. Manfred Wörner agreed to launch a joint study on an observation satellite.33 In 1984, the SPD attempted to bridge the gap with the French Socialist Party. A few members of the party, such as Oskar Lafontaine, contributed to a ‘Memorandum to the French Left’ called the ‘“Say No to Nuclear Weapons” Initiative’. The idea was to take advantage, in the run-up to the 1984 European elections, of the pressing need for an alliance between all the European left-wing parties. However, it assumed that the French consensus favoured national sovereignty over nuclear deterrence. It implied that accepting the U.S. stance vis-à-vis the Soviet Union as well as the deployment of new missiles in Europe was incompatible with independence. The manoeuvre was clever because all French political parties admitted the idea of a French consensus on security and international issues. According to the dominant narrative, the Socialist and Communist parties had joined this consensus by accepting nuclear deterrence in the late 1970s. By contrast, the project of the ‘Initiative’ was to separate the two principles, deterrence and national sovereignty. The latter was a common and strong concept on which, despite different definitions, there was consensus among the various French political parties. Consequently, Jacques Huntzinger, the secretary for international relations of the Socialist Party, agreed to open a dialogue with his German counterparts, but nothing ensued.34

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The complex relationship between the French socialists and the German social democrats highlights the extent to which the European left was in turmoil during the Euromissile crisis. The SPD supported a negotiated solution in which the French and British nuclear forces would have been included in the diplomatic discussions with the Soviets, and this was precisely what was unacceptable for the French presidency and the Socialist Party.35 Similarly, in February 1987, the French Socialist Party threatened to publicly retaliate against the British Labour Party for its unrealistic denuclearization programme, if the latter did not stop attacking the French socialists and dismissing them as militarists.36 The opposition between the French Socialist Party and the SPD rapidly turned into a European political problem and became a symbol of the profound division of the European left, because the SPD president Brandt had also been, as already mentioned, the president of the Socialist International since 1976, in a context in which all the socialist and social democrat forces of Northern Europe were deeply involved in the peace movement. In his study of Willy Brandt’s notes for the writing of his memoirs in 1989, Bernd Rother sheds light on the problematic personal relationship between Mitterrand and Brandt, despite the enthusiasm of the latter after Mitterrand’s election.37 Indeed, as early as 1980, Mitterrand explained to Brandt that the Schmidt/Giscard d’Estaing friendship had cost him the victory in the 1974 presidential election. Consequently, Brandt interpreted Mitterrand’s support for Kohl – especially the Bundestag speech – as an act of revenge against the SPD.38 In the same way, Brandt reproached Mitterrand for troubling the SPD and its supporters. For example, in August 1986 the French president had a private meeting with Kohl in Heidelberg, during which they both visited the Friedrich Ebert Memorial (first SPD German president, 1919–25), while the SPD congress was taking place in Nuremberg. According to Bernd Rother, Willy Brandt’s interpretation was to a large extent exaggerated. Mitterrand’s priority was to keep West Germany in the Western camp, far away from the influence of the peace movement. However, what Brandt wrote confirms the perception of a de facto Kohl/Mitterrand alliance and the political problem it entailed for the SPD too.39 More generally, Brandt’s resentment towards Mitterrand can also be related to the rift that the Euromissile crisis provoked between the European socialist and social democrat parties. Indeed, the French, Italian and Spanish left-wing parties all supported the NATO Dual Track decision. As president of the Socialist International, Brandt had nourished the project of building democratic socialism as a third way between capitalism and communism.40 The division among forces of the European left on the Euromissile crisis stopped this grand design in its infancy.

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On the Way to the Common Projects of 1987–88 Brandt’s doubts about Mitterrand were justified: the French socialist president clearly chose closer cooperation with the German liberal-conservative government and deliberately used the renewed proximity with Bonn to reach domestic political goals. True, there was more than one subject of bilateral tension in the mid1980s. The proposals of U.S. Secretary of State Caspar Weinberger for European participation in the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI) in 1985 revealed a striking contrast between Kohl’s open attitude and Mitterrand’s head-on refusal. Some difficulties also emerged in the joint weapons and space projects (European fighter, helicopter, observation satellite and the ‘Hermès’ space shuttle). Regarding space cooperation, the SPD strongly objected to the project of a common observation satellite because of its contribution to the targeting of French nuclear weapons, although the federal government rejected it allegedly because of the system’s lack of ability to observe Central Europe.41 Furthermore, the project included an optic system that was specifically designed to meet the requirements of military operations in the desert, similar to the ongoing French military intervention in the Chadian conflict against Libya. Unsurprisingly, the Germans, and particularly the German social democrats, had deep misgivings about such military interventions in Africa, and that was another reason for them to be opposed to the observation satellite.42 However, there was a positive evolution in the relationship. The question of consultations before using French tactical nuclear weapons, named ‘pre-strategic’ since 1981, was partly solved with the declaration of 28 February 1986 which stated that the French president would consult the German chancellor ‘within the limits imposed by the extreme rapidity of such decisions’.43 As early as 1984, former Chancellor Schmidt had vocally called for a deepening of the bilateral strategic relationship by proposing a French-German military integration involving nuclear protection of the FRG through the French deterrent. Schmidt’s revolutionary proposal had been made in a context in which Europeans increasingly doubted American protection.44 A deepening of the strategic relationship was actually accomplished in 1987–88 in a specific political domestic context in France: the cohabitation between Mitterrand and the right-wing Prime Minister Jacques Chirac, chairman of the Gaullist Rassemblement Pour la République (Rally for the Republic, RPR). The secretary general of the Élysée, Jean-Louis Bianco, described the tensions that arose between Mitterrand and Chirac regarding international and security issues during the cohabitation under the title ‘Who is the boss?’.45 Before the cohabitation,

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Mitterrand had paved the way in the area of foreign and strategic policy by publishing his Reflections on France’s Foreign Policy.46 Accordingly, he clearly used foreign policy issues to prepare for the 1988 presidential election and, to that end, wanted to demonstrate his constitutional supremacy as president of the Republic. Two factors opened the fight for executive supremacy: Chirac’s desire to establish a personal partnership with Chancellor Kohl and the Tokyo summit during which the situation became ridiculous.47 Despite Chirac’s insistence on being seen in official photographs and attending the official final declaration, he was relegated to the background because of official protocol.48 In this context, the beginning of the cohabitation period was difficult for Chancellor Kohl because he did not know what kind of partnership he should maintain with Mitterrand and establish with Chirac.49 These questions became even more complex when Gorbachev’s radical disarmament proposals at the 1986 Reykjavik summit aroused new divergences within the French executive power. On the German side, after a phase of disagreement between a reluctant Kohl and the more forthcoming FDP Foreign Minister Genscher on how to proceed with Gorbachev, Bonn, like the other European countries, supported Washington’s interest in eliminating the INF. In France, Prime Minister Chirac, and above all Minister of Defence André Giraud, rejected the prospect of a denuclearized Europe that seemed to be opened in Reykjavik. Following the request from Genscher, that was directly transmitted to the president through the former socialist Foreign Minister Roland Dumas, Mitterrand persuaded Kohl to further pursue disarmament by accepting the second ‘zero option’, on the short-range ballistic missiles, on 1 June 1987. This is evidence that a politicized use of strategic issues existed on both sides. True, the French remained concerned about a possible German drift towards neutralism and a closer relationship with Moscow in order to obtain reunification. The existence of such a temptation was confirmed by CDU deputies, according to whom many in Germany were seduced by this project. The solution for the French president was to carry on with Kohl and deepen the strategic relationship between Paris and Bonn.50 At the G7 Venice summit in June 1987, Chancellor Kohl, worried by the prospect of the end of American nuclear protection, offered Mitterrand the creation of a Franco-German brigade.51 From 17 to 24 September 1987, the military exercise ‘Bold Sparrow’ (Kecker Spatz in German), involving the German army and the FAR, was organized in Bavaria. The fifty-five thousand soldiers exemplified in concrete terms the depth of bilateral security cooperation and, during a joint press conference, Mitterrand announced that the creation of a Franco-German defence council was under consideration.52 These evolutions had first

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been discussed between the Élysée and the Chancellery. Indeed, Horst Teltschik, Kohl’s adviser on foreign and intra-German affairs, had put forward the ideas to Jacques Attali, Mitterrand’s special adviser, in July 1987.53 It was only after this bilateral exchange of views between Kohl’s and Mitterrand’s advisers that Mitterrand told his prime minister about these initiatives, again revealing the constitutional supremacy of the president. The president’s speeches and visits related to defence and security issues increased considerably in 1986, and even more in 1987. Thus, the deepening security cooperation with West Germany was used as an illustration par excellence of presidential supremacy over foreign and defence issues (the so-called ‘domaine réservé’) accepted by all political actors. It clearly served as a political instrument for Mitterrand in his fight for the future presidential campaign. In this respect, Jacques Attali wrote unambiguously to Mitterrand that the Franco-German strategic rapprochement could have ‘a major political impact’ in terms of domestic politics.54

Building ‘Consensus’ around Kohl and Mitterrand’s Positions The creation of the common brigade, the Defence and Security Council, and last but not least the Economic and Financial Council, was to be officially announced on the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Élysée Treaty, on 22 January 1988. The aim of these institutions was to foster a closer Franco-German relationship in defence and security matters and also to deepen European integration two years after the Single European Act.55 The preliminary discussions regarding the Defence and Security Council reveal the politicized character of the issue, particularly on the French side. Chirac criticized the special relationship that existed between the Élysée and the Chancellery, which prevented him from being duly informed. He then tried to put Mitterrand in a difficult position by refusing to give his opinion on the creation of the two common councils, waiting two weeks in September 1987 before the ‘Bold Sparrow’ exercise. Mitterrand himself did not like the contact that Chirac’s staff was having with the Germans, although Horst Teltschik assured the Élysée that there would be no real defence talks with Chirac or François Bujon de l’Estang, his foreign policy adviser.56 At a lower level, some deputies from both conservative parliamentary majorities attempted to break this image of an exclusive relationship between Kohl and Mitterrand. Indeed, a CDU delegation led by Alfred Dregger told leaders of the French right-wing majority in the National Assembly (François Fillon,

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Pierre Méhaignerie, Jean Lecanuet) of their interest in the pro-NATO positions of their parties and in a possible evolution of French strategy from a pure deterrence posture to a doctrine of the European battle, as it was provided for in the 1986 right-wing electoral manifesto.57 The idea provoked a lasting debate among members of the majority, but above all it was used by Mitterrand in his electoral campaign to criticize what he saw as the renunciation of the Gaullist deterrence doctrine. In the end, what remained of this multiple-player controversy in the eyes of the public were the images of the meetings between Kohl and Mitterrand, emphasizing once again the president’s supremacy over these issues. These pictures used in the French electoral campaign served as a form of support for Mitterrand from Kohl. Willy Brandt reproached Mitterrand for displaying the same electoral support when the latter visited Kohl in Baden-Württemberg on 14 March 1988, a few days before the local parliament election.58 As for the signature of the agreement on 22 January 1988, the prime minister’s staff and the Élysée worked together to prepare it and, with Bonn, addressed the legal aspects of the brigade and the new councils. Together they defended the principle of a parliamentary ratification, for which Bonn had no enthusiasm.59 After Mitterrand’s re-election in May 1988, both governments sought to build a national political consensus for the ratification of the two councils. When Genscher asked how the SPD would vote, Horst Ehmke, the deputy secretary of the SPD parliamentary group, explained that the problem for social democrats was that the text clearly mentioned nuclear deterrence. Consequently, it could be interpreted as an endorsement of the French nuclear weaponry and doctrine.60 Indeed, the preamble of the annex protocol creating the Defence and Security Council stated that the ‘strategy of deterrence and defence … is based on an appropriate combination of nuclear and conventional forces’. The preamble made mention of the Western European Union Platform on European Security Interests (adopted in The Hague on 27 October 1987); the aforementioned reference to deterrence came from there. According to Horst Ehmke, this text was in contradiction with the FRG’s international commitment to the regime of non-proliferation, and consequently a German citizen could bring the affair to court.61 To solve the problem, the German government wanted a prior French ratification to foster the same process at home. Horst Ehmke wrote to the secretary general of the presidency Jean-Louis Bianco to point out that he approved of the creation of the Council, but not nuclear deterrence. The compromise found by Genscher to obtain the support of the SPD was to add a comment saying that the text did not contain any contractual obligation to adopt a particular defence doctrine. Thus, both

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parliaments opened the debates on ratification during the same week in November 1988.62 Was there any attempt by Kohl to build a German consensus based on defence and security cooperation with France?63 The willingness of the FRG to reach full agreement on the use of pre-strategic weapons, through the closest possible cooperation with the French government, has been well documented by Beatrice Heuser and, in this book, by Frédéric Bozo.64 Our hypothesis is that the joint opposition in Germany from the peace movement, the Green Party and the SPD could have affected the goal of the liberal-conservative government to secure an agreement on pre-strategic weapons with its French counterpart. Indeed, Kohl and Genscher tried to reach that aim by means of closer cooperation with France and a dose of integration thanks to the common Defence and Security Council. The goal was firmly connected to their willingness to achieve a national consensus on defence issues as a symbolic and strong political action and to reap the political benefits of it, just as Mitterrand did in France. From the publication of his Reflections on France’s Foreign Policy until the 1988 presidential election, François Mitterrand was willing to explain his ideas in matters of foreign and security policies and to give them a historical background by developing a ‘gaullo-mitterrandian’ doctrine of continuity and by anchoring his own foreign policy approach to de Gaulle’s choices. His former adviser on international relations, Hubert Védrine, underlined a ‘gaullo-mitterrandian syncretism’ in his memoirs.65 In his Reflections, Mitterrand described French foreign policy as historically based on ‘simple ideas’, namely ‘national sovereignty, balance of power, European integration, self-determination’.66 Highlighting the changes that the right-wing majority wanted to introduce in the defence doctrine during the cohabitation, Mitterrand adopted the posture of a true defender of the Gaullist legacy, by contrast with political Gaullists like Chirac or the centrist presidential candidate Raymond Barre. When Mitterrand officially announced his candidacy for the presidency, on 22 March 1988, he warned, in a very Gaullist manner, against the ‘risk of reviving quarrels and divisions’ and adopted the slogan ‘United France’. In his electoral campaign video, the last images that appeared before the slogan were the summits at which Mitterrand had met international leaders, and the very last image featured Mitterrand and Kohl joining hands in Verdun in 1984. ‘United France’ was also the consensus on foreign and strategic issues.

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Conclusion When they came to power in 1981 and 1982, Mitterrand and Kohl had a common strategic goal: to support the NATO Dual Track decision in order to keep the FRG in the Western camp. To achieve this, both were confronted with a common obstacle, namely the strong German peace movement and the wide support it gained from the German left. True, some divergences of opinion can be found between the French socialists in power and the German conservative coalition (on the SDI, on the observation satellite). Nevertheless, the points of agreement that soon materialized between Mitterrand and Kohl were engineered against their own domestic oppositions. Mitterrand used these points of agreement as a powerful instrument in his political fight against the 1986–88 cohabitation government, a fight that was made much easier by the lack of cohesion among the French right on security issues. During this period, his speeches and visits relating to security issues, and especially to nuclear deterrence and Franco-German cooperation, clearly aimed at creating and consolidating a consensus in favour of a renewed Gaullist deterrence doctrine. In the FRG, Helmut Kohl built a consensus in favour of the Franco-German defence and security cooperation. Consequently, the SPD had a hard time adapting to German consensus due to its deeply ingrained pacifism, and to a lesser extent to the search for a third way between communism and capitalism under Willy Brandt’s leadership. Yannick Pincé is a PhD candidate in history at the University of Sorbonne Nouvelle Paris 3 (ICEE-ED 625), under the supervision of Professor Frédéric Bozo. He teaches history in ‘Classes Préparatoires aux Grandes Écoles’ (CPGE) – a specific curriculum to prepare for competitive exams – at the Lycée Jean-François Millet in Cherbourg-en-Cotentin (France).

Notes  1. H. Védrine, Les Mondes de François Mitterrand (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 289; J. Attali, Verbatim I 1981–1986 (Paris: Fayard, 1993), 107.  2. F. Mitterrand, ‘Discours prononcé devant le Bundestag à l’occasion du vingtième anniversaire du traité franco-allemand de coopération, 20 janvier 1983’, in F. Mitterrand, La France et sa défense: Paroles publiques d’un président – 1981–1995 (Paris: Nouveau Monde Éditions, 2015), 87–102.  3. See the chapters by Dominique Mongin and Frédéric Bozo in this volume.  4. U. Leimbacher, Die Unverzichtbare Allianz: Deutsch-französische Zusammenarbeit 1982–1989 (Baden-Baden: Nomos Politik, 1992); G.H. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996).

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 5. Frédéric Bozo includes the political rivalry between François Mitterrand and Jacques Chirac during the 1986–88 cohabitation and before the 1988 presidential election. See F. Bozo, ‘François Mitterrand et les enjeux stratégiques, 1984–1988’, in G. Saunier (ed.), Mitterrand les années d’alternance, 1984–1986 et 1986–1988 (Paris: Nouveau Monde Éditions, 2019), 139–66.  6. The hypothesis according to which there was such a ‘national consensus’ in France was admitted by many observers in the early 1980s. See B. Heuser, Nuclear Mentalities? Strategies and Beliefs in Britain, France and the FRG (New York: Saint-Martin Press, 1998), 143. The critical analysis of this hypothesis is not the aim of this chapter, but it is the topic of my PhD dissertation, currently in progress.  7. French National Archives, Pierrefitte-sur-Seine (FNA), AG5(4) CD 160, dossier 1, Note from Hubert Védrine, adviser on foreign policy to Pierre Bérégovoy, General Secretary of the French Presidency, 24 September 1981.  8. B. Rother, ‘Ein dritter Weg zwischen Kommunismus und Kapitalismus?’, in B. Rother (ed.), Willy Brandt: Neue Fragen, neue Erkentnisse (Bonn: Dietz, 2011), 233.  9. W. Brandt, Erinnerungen (Berlin: List, 2013), 360–62. 10. FNA, AG5(4) CD 160, dossier 1, Note of Michel Leprette, early October 1981. 11. FNA, AG5(4) CD 160, dossier 1, Note of the Sous-direction d’Europe centrale (Office for Central Europe of the French Ministry for Foreign Affairs), 2 October 1981. 12. FNA, AG5(4) CD 160, dossier 1, Letter from Dominique Chavand, ambassador in Bonn, to Claude Cheysson, foreign minister, 16 December 1981. 13. S. Martens, ‘L’Ostpolitik de la France 1981–1988’, in U. Pfeil (ed.), La RDA et l’Occident, 1949–1990 (Paris: PIA, 2000), 53–67. 14. P. Buffotot and M. Vaïsse, ‘La politique de défense de François Mitterrand pendant les trois gouvernements Mauroy’, in S. Berstein, P. Milza and J.L. Bianco (eds), François Mitterrand, les années du changement 1981–1984 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), 185; Attali, Verbatim I, 339–40. 15. The Defence Council is an interdepartmental meeting in which the president takes the main decisions on defence and security issues. See P. Favier and M. Martin-Roland, La décennie Mitterrand: Les ruptures (Paris: Seuil, 1990), 388. 16. Soutou, L’alliance incertaine, 327–28. 17. SPD electoral poster, 1983. 18. Brandt, Erinnerungen, 365–66. 19. Favier and Martin-Roland, Les ruptures, 269. 20. F. Bozo, La France et l’OTAN: De la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen (Paris: Masson, 1991), 109–22. 21. Ibid., 129. 22. J. Chirac, speech at the extraordinary congress of the RPR (Rassemblement Pour la République), Paris, 23 January 1983, retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/257621-discours-de-m-jacques-chirac-president-du-rpr-au-congresextraordinai; French National Assembly Online Public Debates Archives (FNAOPDA) J.-M. Daillet, Debate in the French National Assembly, 19 May 1983. 23. G. Hermier and J. Combasteil, Debate in the French National Assembly, 19 May 1983, FNAOPDA. 24. Socialist Party Archives, Paris (SPA), 70 RI 18, Typed report on the 27 April 1984 meeting with the Communist Party by Pascal Boniface. 25. SPA, 70 RI 18, Copy of a letter from Martin van Traa to Jacques Denis, 29 September 1983, sent to the Socialist Party on 6 October 1983. 26. Pierre Juquin and Roland Leroy were both members of the Central Committee and of the Political Office of the PCF. Leroy was also director of the communist newspaper, L’Humanité.

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27. P. Juquin, De battre mon cœur n’a jamais cessé: Mémoires (Paris: l’Archipel, 2006), 222. 28. Programme of the RPR and the UDF for the legislative elections of 1986, ‘Plate-forme pour gouverner ensemble’, 1986. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.viepublique.fr/discours/130277-plateforme-commune-du-rpr-et-de-ludf-16011986. 29. J.M. Daillet, L. Richard, F. Fillon, M. Bigeard, Debate in the French National Assembly, 19 May 1983, FNAOPDA. 30. FNA, AG5(4) CD 162 dossier 1, German press review of the week 18–24 July 1983 for Jean-Louis Bianco, Secretary General of the French Presidency. 31. FNA, AG5(4) CD 162 dossier 1, note from Michel Duclos to Claude Cheysson, 7 July 1983; in the same folder, note to the President from Jean Rouvier ‘sur l’urgente nécessité d’une décision dans les rapports franco-allemands’, 15 October 1983. 32. FNA, AG5(4) CD 162 dossier 1, note from Michel Duclos, 20 December 1983 and report on a meeting between the General Secretary of the Quai d’Orsay (French Ministry for Foreign Affairs) and Alois Mertens, 24 October 1983. 33. FNA, AG5(4) CD 162 dossier 1, report on the third Franco-German summit on strategic and security questions, Bonn, 24 November 1983. 34. Initiative ‘Dites non aux armes nucléaires’, Mémorandum à la gauche française, Berlin, May 1984; ‘Socialistes français et allemands: rendez-vous après brouille’, Libération, 5 June 1984. 35. FNA, AG5(4) CD 162 dossier 1, Reference to an interview of Egon Bahr in Stern, German press review of the week 18–24 July 1983 for Jean-Louis Bianco. 36. SPA, Groupe PS AN, CAED 1987–1989, Note from Pascal Boniface to Pierre Joxe, 18 February 1987. 37. K. Wiegrefe, ‘Notizen im Nachlass: Was Brandt über Mitterrand dachte – und lieber verschwieg’, Der Spiegel, 9 February 2013, https://www.spiegel.de/politik/deutschland/ notizen-aus-dem-nachlass-von-willy-brandt-kritik-an-mitterrand-a-882242.html. 38. Interview with Hélène Miard-Delacroix, 18 December 2013. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.sauvonsleurope.eu/willy-brandt-beaucoup-dallemands-ont-vu-enlui-ce-quils-auraient-peut-etre-prefere-etre/. 39. Wiegrefe, ‘Notizen im Nachlass’. 40. Rother, ‘Ein dritter Weg’, 233. 41. Leimbacher, Die Unverzichtbare Allianz, 104. 42. A. Dupas, La Nouvelle conquête spatiale (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2010), 209. 43. Attali, Verbatim I, 933. See Frédéric Bozo’s chapter in this volume. 44. P. Favier and M. Martin-Roland, La décennie Mitterrand: Les épreuves (Paris: Seuil, 1991), 256. 45. J.L. Bianco, Mes années avec Mitterrand (Paris: Fayard, 2015), 186. 46. F. Mitterrand, Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France: Introduction à vingt-cinq discours (1981–1985) (Paris: Fayard, 1986). 47. Favier and Martin-Roland, Les épreuves, 548. 48. Bianco, Mes années avec Mitterrand, 189–90. 49. Favier and Martin-Roland, Les épreuves, 548. 50. Ibid., 648, 652; F. Bozo, Mitterrand, la fin de la guerre froide et l’unification allemande, de Yalta à Maastricht (Paris: Odile Jacob, 2005), 50; Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Nantes (AFMFA), 3 12 33 politique régionale, box 874: RFA 1980–1987, Meeting of the Parliamentary Majority with Alfred Dregger. 51. J. Attali, Verbatim II 1986–1988 (Paris: Fayard, 1995), 337. 52. F. Mitterrand, ‘Conférence de presse conjointe avec le chancelier Helmut Kohl, à l’issue des manœuvres franco-allemandes “Moineau hardi” ou “Kecker Spatz”, Ingolstadt (Bavière, RFA), 24 septembre 1987’, in Mitterrand, La France et sa défense, 326–34. 53. Attali, Verbatim II, 365.

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54. FNA, AG5(4) CD 166, Note from Jacques Attali to Mitterrand, 24 July 1987. 55. Signed at Luxembourg on 17 February 1986 and at The Hague on 28 February 1986, the Single European Act prepared the objective of establishing a single European market in 1992, as well as the deepening of the European Political Cooperation. 56. Attali, Verbatim II, 387–90. 57. AFMFA, 3 12 33 politique régionale, box 874: RFA 1980–1987, Meeting of the Parliamentary Majority with Alfred Dregger; Programme of the RPR and the UDF for the legislative elections of 1986, ‘Plate-forme pour gouverner ensemble’, 1986. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/ discours/130277-plateforme-commune-du-rpr-et-de-ludf-16011986. 58. Wiegrefe, ‘Notizen im Nachlass’. 59. FNA, AG5(4) CD 176 dossier 2, Telegram from Contenay, Foreign Affairs, on the Franco-German Defence and Security Council, 23 December 1987. 60. FNA, AG5(4) CD 176 dossier 2, Foreign Affairs, note from the Direction des affaires politiques, service des affaires stratégiques et du désarmement (Direction of the Political Affairs, Service of the Strategic and Disarmament Affairs), 7 July 1988; in the same folder, letter from Horst Ehmke, Deputy Secretary of the SPD Parliamentary Group to Genscher, 19 September 1988. 61. FNA, AG5(4) CD 176 dossier 2, report on the meeting between Jean-Pierre Chevènement, Minister of Defence and Ehmke, 18 October 1988. 62. FNA, AG5(4) CD 176 dossier 2, report on the meeting between Jean-Pierre Chevènement, and Ehmke, 18 October 1988; in the same folder, note from Jean Musitelli to the President, 3 November 1988. 63. FNA, AG5(4) CD 176 dossier 2, File ‘ratification’ of the French-German Defence and Security Council and the French-German Economic and Financial Council, especially the report on the meeting between Jean-Pierre Chevènement and Horst Ehmke, 18 October 1988; ‘Le PS doit se rappeler qu’il souhaite la victoire du SPD aux élections allemandes’, Libération, 25 January 1983; Initiative ‘Dites non aux armes nucléaires’, Mémorandum à la gauche française, Berlin, May 1984, in which personalities of the German left looked for a compromise on the question of the French nuclear ‘consensus’. 64. Heuser, Nuclear Mentalities?, 222. 65. Védrine, Les Mondes de François Mitterrand, 734. 66. Mitterrand, Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France, 7. Justin Vaïsse criticized in 2017 the concept of ‘gaullo-mitterrandian syncretism’ as an ‘oxymoron’. He plays down the importance of continuity in the French foreign policy since de Gaulle and emphasizes the changes that began in the 1970s with the integration of the United Kingdom into the European Community and the election by universal suffrage of the European Parliament. See J. Vaïsse, ‘Le passé d’un oxymore: Le débat français de politique étrangère’, Esprit (11) (2017), 75–91.

Bibliography Primary Sources Archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs (Nantes): Représentation permanente à l’OTAN: 3 12 33 politique régionale, box 874: RFA 1980–1987.

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French National Archives (Pierrefitte-sur-Seine): Presidency of François Mitterrand: AG5(4) CD 160, RFA 1981 situation intérieure, AG5(4) CD 162, RFA fin 1983, AG5(4) CD 166, RFA 1987 suivi de la situation intérieure, AG5(4) CD 176, RFA conseils communs 1988. French National Assembly Online Public Debates Archives: 7th Legislature (1981–1986): 19 May 1983. Socialist Party Archives (Paris): Box 70 RI 18, désarmement PS-PC. Box Groupe PS AN, CAED 1987–1989.

Literature Attali, J. Verbatim I 1981–1986. Paris: Fayard, 1993.  . Verbatim II 1986–1988. Paris: Fayard, 1995. Bianco, J.L. Mes années avec Mitterrand. Paris: Fayard, 2015. Bozo, F. La France et l’OTAN: De la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen. Paris: Masson, 1991.  . Mitterrand, la fin de la guerre froide et l’unification allemande, de Yalta à Maastricht. Paris: Odile Jacob, 2005.  . ‘François Mitterrand et les enjeux stratégiques, 1984–1988’, in G. Saunier (ed.), Mitterrand les années d’alternance, 1984–1986 et 1986–1988 (Paris: Nouveau Monde Éditions, 2019), 139–66. Brandt, W. Erinnerungen. Berlin: List, 2013. Buffotot, P., and Vaïsse, M. ‘La politique de défense de François Mitterrand pendant les trois gouvernements Mauroy’, in S. Berstein, P. Milza and J.L. Bianco (eds), François Mitterrand, les années du changement 1981–1984 (Paris: Perrin, 2001), 160–94. Dupas, A. La Nouvelle conquête spatiale. Paris: Odile Jacob, 2010. Favier, P., and Martin-Roland, M. La décennie Mitterrand: Les ruptures. Paris: Seuil, 1990.  . La décennie Mitterrand: Les épreuves. Paris: Seuil, 1991. Heuser, B. Nuclear Mentalities? Strategies and Beliefs in Britain, France and the FRG. New York: Saint-Martin Press, 1998. Juquin, P. De battre mon cœur n’a jamais cessé: Mémoires. Paris: l’Archipel, 2006. Leimbacher, U. Die Unverzichtbare Allianz: Deutsch-französische Zusammenarbeit 1982–1989. Baden-Baden: Nomos Politik, 1992. Martens, S. ‘L’Ostpolitik de la France 1981–1988’, in U. Pfeil (ed.), La RDA et l’Occident, 1949–1990 (Paris: PIA, 2000), 53–67. Mitterrand, F. Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France: Introduction à vingtcinq discours (1981–1985). Paris: Fayard, 1986.  . La France et sa défense: Paroles publiques d’un président – 1981–1995. Paris: Nouveau Monde Éditions, 2015. Rother, B. ‘Ein dritter Weg zwischen Kommunismus und Kapitalismus?’, in B. Rother (ed.), Willy Brandt: Neue Fragen, neue Erkentnisse (Bonn: Dietz, 2011), 229–48.

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Soutou, G.H. L’alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Vaïsse, J. ‘Le passé d’un oxymora: Le débat français de politique étrangère’. Esprit (11) (2017), 75–91. Védrine, H. Les Mondes de François Mitterrand. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Wiegrefe, K. ‘Notizen im Nachlass: Was Brandt über Mitterrand dachte – und lieber verschwieg’. Der Spiegel, 9 February 2013, https://www.spiegel.de/ politik/deutschland/notizen-aus-dem-nachlass-von-willy-brandt-kritik-anmitterrand-a-882242.html.

Chapter 10

‘Not a Nuclear Switzerland’

France’s Deterrent Posture and the Federal Republic of Germany in the 1980s Frédéric Bozo

B

y the time of François Mitterrand’s election in May 1981, the nuclear issue was a major impediment in Franco-German relations, both in politico-strategic and military-strategic terms. France’s accession to nuclear military power in the 1960s had gone hand in hand with the country’s challenge to U.S. leadership and strategy. By contrast, the FRG, a non-nuclear state with growing conventional capabilities, had become a central piece of U.S. extended deterrence in Europe, including through its participation in NATO nuclear sharing arrangements. True, the two countries under Konrad Adenauer and Charles de Gaulle had embarked on a far-reaching politico-strategic rapprochement, yet their effort had remained mostly fruitless. The January 1963 treaty on Franco-German cooperation (the Élysée Treaty) had quickly become a dead letter after the German Bundestag ratified it with a preamble that reaffirmed the FRG’s Atlanticist priority at the expense of de Gaulle’s Europeanist vision. By 1966, France had withdrawn from NATO’s command and nuclear sharing arrangements in the name of its nuclear independence while rejecting the emerging NATO strategy of flexible response and declining to participate in NATO’s nuclear consultation system, the nuclear planning group (NPG).1 True, starting in 1974, Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and Helmut Schmidt had attempted to relaunch Franco-German politico-strategic cooperation and, by the end of the decade, Paris and Bonn had set out to create the groundwork for a more autonomous Western Europe. Yet given domestic sensitivities on the French side (with Giscard being regularly accused by the Gaullists of jeopardizing the country’s independence and preparing its return to the NATO fold), procrastination prevailed;

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the plan for Schmidt and Giscard was to move forward after the latter’s hoped-for re-election in 1981.2 The Franco-German nuclear conundrum was particularly acute in military-strategic terms. What would happen in case of crisis or war in Europe, knowing that France’s deterrence concept was based on the protection of the country’s ‘vital interests’ and the defence of the national ‘sanctuary’? To what extent would France in such circumstances take into account the interests of its foremost European partner and ally? Would France’s nuclear guarantee also cover the Federal Republic, or would the FRG serve as a mere glacis? These questions – especially the last – became all the more pressing from 1974, when the French army began to field the Pluton, a mobile, tactical nuclear missile with a range of up to 120 km.3 The most plausible situation involving its use was one in which NATO forces in charge of the forward defence of the FRG had failed to stop a possible Soviet aggression in Central Europe.4 In such a situation, a number of Plutons, in conjunction with French conventional forces, would be used to deliver a tactical nuclear strike against enemy forces in order to defeat such an aggression or, in a last-ditch attempt at restoring deterrence, to signal – in what French doctrine described as a ‘last warning’ – the imminent possibility of a French strategic strike on Soviet territory.5 Yet because of the short range of the Plutons (stationed in eastern France in peace time) as well as the limited volume and capabilities of French conventional forces (stationed on both sides of the Franco-German border), either or both of the following two scenarios seemed likely: first, in order to save enough of its conventional and tactical nuclear forces for the protection of its own national territory in case of a collapse of NATO’s line of defence, France’s effective participation in the defence of German territory against an attack from the east would involve, at best, piecemeal conventional forces in a second echelon role; second, a last-ditch effort to resist an invasion of France would involve the firing of a sizeable number of Plutons on West German territory, probably in the vicinity of the Franco-German border, resulting in the likely destruction of large swaths of German territory and a major death toll in the German population. As seen from Bonn, then, France’s deterrent hardly contributed to the security of the FRG.6 Worse still, France’s defence of its sanctuary could even turn German territory into a nuclear battlefield; this, of course, was also true of U.S. and UK nuclear forces, but the Germans wanted to believe that they had a measure of influence on their possible use through NATO consultation procedures, of which France had declined to be part in the wake of its 1966 decision. In the same vein, France’s strategic concept, based on early tactical nuclear use and an ostensibly low

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nuclear threshold in what essentially remained a ‘trip-wire’ strategy, was seen by NATO allies, not least the Germans, as potentially jeopardizing escalation control, which was central to the strategy of flexible response. How to reconcile France’s autonomous strategy with NATO’s, therefore, remained a major issue in France-NATO and Franco-German debates. In the 1970s, the French and the Germans had attempted to bridge their differences on the military-strategic level. Giscard was willing to move beyond the ‘sanctuary’ model and to revise the notion of German territory as a mere glacis; meanwhile FRG leaders, without asking for France’s return to the NATO fold, were hoping for increased military ‘interlocking’. Yet progress proved limited, not least as a result of the difficulty for France to move beyond the strict observance of Gaullist doctrine.7 In the spring of 1976, the chief of staff of French armed forces, General Guy Méry, declared that France would likely participate in the early defence of West German territory faced with a Soviet attack, evoking an ‘enlarged sanctuarization’ whereby France’s deterrent might somehow cover the neighbouring country, but he created a domestic stir – fuelled by the Gaullists – forcing Giscard henceforth to remain cautious in his search for making France’s concept more acceptable to the Germans on the conventional and tactical nuclear levels.8 To be sure, German leaders were not eyeing an explicit nuclear guarantee, not least because only U.S. extended deterrence in their view enjoyed the necessary credibility faced with the Soviet threat. Any move towards increased European autonomy was seen in Bonn as potentially undermining the U.S. security commitment to Europe and, as a result, German security. Yet the lack of significant progress regarding the possible use of French tactical nuclear weapons on German territory – Bonn’s most serious concern – was especially frustrating. The Germans had hoped to convince the French to accept consultation procedures along the lines of those in existence with the U.S. and the UK as well as NATO authorities within the NPG. Yet the French had been evasive, rejecting any ‘droit de regard’ on France’s deterrent in the name of preserving the sacrosanct ‘autonomy of decision’ as well as the ‘uncertainty’ which, in their view, had to prevail regarding a possible French decision to resort to nuclear use.9 Thus, by the early 1980s, nuclear matters were still a blind spot in the otherwise increasingly close relationship between the two countries. Yet things changed rapidly after Mitterrand’s spring 1981 election and, even more so, after the political transition in Bonn in the autumn of 1982, when Helmut Kohl succeeded Schmidt. Paris and Bonn then embarked on a new phase of strategic dialogue and cooperation with, at its core, the once muted nuclear issue. Why, how, and with what consequences this Franco-German rapprochement took place throughout the 1980s is the

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subject of this chapter, which purports to explore chronologically these efforts at bridging the nuclear gap between the two countries during the last decade of the Cold War. Two sub-periods are distinguishable, separated by a late 1985/early 1986 breakthrough on nuclear consultation: the first period dominated by the context of the ‘new’ Cold War and the second by that of the now receding East-West conflict, both of which were powerful incentives for the French and the Germans to try to overcome their nuclear differences. Though in the end overcoming the dilemmas of nuclear sharing proved illusory, substantial progress was made in that crucial period in reducing Franco-German nuclear differences.10

The Relaunch of Franco-German Cooperation and the Nuclear Factor (1981–86) By the early 1980s, France’s tactical nuclear concept had become the most significant hurdle on the way to increased bilateral military-strategic cooperation. Four months after the French presidential election, as Schmidt was preparing to meet Mitterrand at his vacation home in southwestern France, the Chancellery passed a message to the Élysée: the FRG wanted to set up nuclear consultation procedures with France similar to those already existing with the Anglo-Americans; Schmidt had brought this up with Giscard, who had said he was not opposed to the idea – but nothing had come of it. Schmidt thus wanted to discuss this with Mitterrand.11 The meeting in Latché on 7–8 October 1981 gave the two men an opportunity to discuss in depth the international situation and their countries’ bilateral relations; the nuclear issue figured prominently in the exchange. The context, dominated by the looming crisis over Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF, or ‘Euromissiles’), was conducive. Since NATO’s December 1979 ‘dual track’ decision, pressure had steadily built up on the FRG, where U.S. Pershing II and Cruise missiles were to be deployed by the end of 1983 if the Soviets had not in the meantime agreed to dismantle their own SS20s through negotiation – an increasingly uncertain prospect given the growing pacifist movement in the FRG.12 Mitterrand and Schmidt recognized that the INF crisis highlighted nuclear differences between France and West Germany. The Federal Republic – the country in Europe with the most U.S. nuclear weapons on its soil, as well as a divided country – was weak and vulnerable; by contrast, France – an independent nuclear state devoid of foreign weapons – appeared as an island of stability. ‘We are not a nuclear power’, Schmidt said, ‘[and] we depend on others for our protection’; this was problematic, he went on,

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given the U.S.’s increasing unpredictability and its constant oscillations: ‘I feel very close to them’, he continued, ‘[but] without our alliance with France I would feel far too closely bound to the U.S. alliance’. Schmidt added: ‘A demonstrative gesture of support on the part of France visà-vis Germany, as General de Gaulle and Valéry Giscard d’Estaing had done, is vital for us’.13 Mitterrand was sympathetic: since taking office, he had expressed his support for Schmidt’s willingness to implement the dual track decision. He mentioned to Schmidt his desire for a ‘privileged friendship’ and ‘a particularly close relationship’ between the two countries. He was willing, he said, to contemplate ‘any gesture, such as a joint declaration that would manifest Franco-German cohesion’. And as if to give substance to his words, he brought up the issue he knew Schmidt wanted to discuss: ‘Has a mutual information procedure been set up between France and Germany in case of conflict?’, he asked. Schmidt confirmed this was not the case: ‘We have an agreement with Britain and the United States, but not with France’. ‘Had France refused?’, Mitterrand asked. ‘No’, said Schmidt. ‘But Giscard… had eluded this matter’.14 The escalating INF crisis threatened to complicate bilateral relations. The rise of the pacifist movement, which could morph if not into neutrality, then at least into a reduced German commitment towards the Western alliance, was a challenge to France’s security. Its anti-nuclear component threatened to call into question a central tenet of the FRG’s Westbindung, that is, its confidence in the U.S. security guarantee.15 Worse still, the growing German nuclear aversion could take aim at France’s independent nuclear deterrent. French concerns in that regard revolved around possible German pressure to include France’s (and the UK’s) nuclear forces in the Soviet-American negotiation over INF, which had started in the autumn of 1981. The fear of France being dragged into the superpowers’ arms control negotiations – a constant Soviet demand which Paris energetically declined in the name of its strategic independence and refusal of the ‘bloc system’ – existed since the inception of the strategic arms limitation talks (SALT) a decade earlier, but it was revived in the context of the INF crisis. Although this was not the government line in Bonn, by the beginning of 1982 Paris was increasingly preoccupied with pronouncements from leaders of the SPD (Schmidt’s own party) in favour of taking into account the French force de frappe in the negotiations, which the Élysée considered ‘very damaging’.16 The Euromissile crisis, in short, was threatening to destabilize the nuclear-based Western security order and to widen the gap between France and Germany.17 The obvious response was for France to strengthen its ties with the FRG while reinforcing the West European project so as to contribute to

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the FRG’s continued Westbindung.18 The French realized that meeting this challenge and, crucially, preventing a widening of the Franco-German gap in the nuclear realm meant that they would have to accept an evolution of their own nuclear posture. For this, opening a fresh dialogue was of the essence, including a ‘frank and direct’ conversation ‘at the highest level’ in order to convey to the Germans that France was now ready to move away from a narrowly ‘national’ conception of nuclear deterrence and to discuss with them the role that France might play in European security in the future.19 The 39th bilateral Franco-German summit, which took place in Paris on 24–25 February 1982, offered a first opportunity to move in that direction. Mitterrand and Schmidt adopted a joint declaration in which they described the relationship between the two countries as ‘fundamental’ while pledging to reinforce it by conducting in-depth exchanges of views in security matters, in essence reviving the dormant defence and security dimension of the Élysée Treaty.20 In the wake of this declaration, the French wanted to keep up the momentum, signalling to the Germans that they were now willing to take into account German concerns in their own strategic decision-making. Meeting Egon Bahr, the architect of the FRG’s Ostpolitik and the brain behind the SPD’s stance on security, foreign minister Claude Cheysson went to great lengths to discard any notion of French nuclear autarchy: ‘We are not a nuclear Switzerland’, Cheysson said.21 The increasing fragility of the coalition in Bonn postponed the launch of the Franco-German dialogue, which only started in the wake of Schmidt’s replacement by Helmut Kohl on 1 October 1982. Kohl and Mitterrand immediately bonded together. During a fresh bilateral summit in Bonn on 21–22 October, the foreign and defence ministers agreed on a procedure to intensify the strategic dialogue between the two capitals: the four ministers would meet twice yearly on the occasion of the Franco-German summits; and a bilateral commission would meet in between, gathering high-ranking civilian and military officials. This formula was validated by Kohl and Mitterrand during their one-to-one meeting the following day. They then entered into a detailed discussion. Mitterrand showed his understanding of German concerns, while drawing French red lines. There could be no German participation in France’s nuclear decision-making, he said, but Germany should not become a ‘battlefield’. One had to find a path ‘between two notions’, he pursued: on the one hand, France’s ‘vital interest’ was defined by the ‘sanctuary’; on the other, any aggression against the FRG threatened France’s vital interests. Could German territory be covered by the French deterrent? Only circumstances would tell, he said. The short range of the Pluton, combined

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with France’s role on the rear of NATO’s defence, he continued, had been a problem that had hindered bilateral cooperation in the past; but after 1992, the Hadès missile – the Pluton’s planned replacement – would have more than 350 km in range, which would ‘facilitate’ things. ‘For us, Germany’s security is an essential concern’, Mitterrand assured Kohl, hinting that the French sanctuary was no longer an absolute notion. Kohl thanked Mitterrand effusively for his presentation, which was ‘vital’ for Germany.22 As agreed with Kohl in October 1982, Mitterrand was scheduled to speak to the Bundestag to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the Élysée Treaty on 20 January 1983. If Bonn failed to agree to the deployment of U.S. missiles by the end of 1983, the FRG would find itself on a slippery slope towards denuclearization; this, in turn, would gravely threaten France’s interests as a nuclear power. Mitterrand’s speech was thus a historic occasion to express France’s solidarity with the FRG while strengthening its adherence to nuclear deterrence. Paris needed to explain why France’s independent nuclear posture was important for Germany and Europe as a whole. The goal was to ‘comfort the FRG’ in the ‘coming battle’ over the INF.23 The speech was a success. In it, the French president described the East-West nuclear balance as a condition for peace and warned against the risk of denuclearization and U.S.-Europe decoupling. While he hoped the INF negotiations would restore the balance, he stressed that their success depended on the Allies’ resolve to implement the dual track decision, implying that their possible failure should lead the FRG to agree to the planned deployment of U.S missiles on its soil. And while he again rejected any inclusion of France’s nuclear forces in the negotiation, he also stressed that the UK and France contributed to the overall deterrence, pledging France’s solidarity and close consultation with the FRG: ‘nothing that touches upon the life and security of Germany can be dealt with without her’, he proclaimed.24 With uncertain general elections scheduled in March 1983 in the FRG as a result of the early dissolution of the Bundestag in late 1982, the Bundestag speech was a flagrant French intrusion in the country’s internal debate and a clear-cut expression of support to Kohl and his government faced with the SPD’s growing opposition to a possible U.S. missile deployment. Whether or not Mitterrand’s support played a role in the CDU/CSU-FDP coalition’s victory on 6 March 1983, it was instrumental in consolidating the nascent political rapport between the two men.25 With Kohl now confirmed, the new strategic dialogue could begin for good. The French realized that France’s deterrent posture was still seen across the Rhine with ‘distrust’ and even ‘hostility’.26 Manfred Wörner,

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Kohl’s defence minister, had repeated during the initial four-way ministerial meeting in October 1982 that the Germans wanted to be consulted on the role of France’s conventional forces and, most of all, its tactical nuclear forces. Yet the German demands raised important difficulties: as Hubert Védrine, Mitterrand’s diplomatic advisor, wrote, it was ‘impossible’ for the French president ‘to give in advance information to any one regarding a possible decision to use nuclear weapons’. It was not only about preserving France’s autonomy of decision: uncertainty, Védrine continued, was ‘an essential part of our deterrent capability’, which the Germans no less than the French had an interest in keeping unimpaired. The way out of this conundrum, he advised, was to focus the conversation on the conventional level. At any rate, Védrine wrote, there was a need for ‘absolute confidentiality’ because of the sensitivity of the matter with regard to public opinion.27 The meeting of the bilateral commission in Bonn on 29 April 1983 provided a first opportunity for Paris to frame the emerging Franco-German conversation along these lines and to establish a new climate of confidence. François Heisbourg, Hernu’s close adviser, and General Jeannou Lacaze, the chief of staff of French armed forces (CEMA), made a presentation on France’s evolving defence posture. One of its highlights was the impending creation of the new Force d’action rapide (FAR), a rapid, lightly armoured intervention force relying on aero-mobility. When operational, the FAR would be able to intervene ‘quickly’ and ‘robustly’ beyond the RDM line (the virtual Rotterdam-Dortmund-Munich line which, in plans agreed by France and NATO, marked the easternmost reach of a possible French conventional intervention, reflecting the so far limited capabilities of the existing French battle corps). In addition, the Pluton would be replaced in 1991 by the longer-range Hadès, as Mitterrand had confided to Kohl back in October. The combination of the FAR and the Hadès, the French argued in essence, changed the military-strategic calculus: in the future, France’s conventional forces would be able to intervene early and mightily near the FRG’s eastern border, and this, combined with the extended range of the Hadès, would de facto have a deterrent effect since France’s ‘vital interests’ were not necessarily limited to the national territory – only the French president would decide where the limit was when the time came, as Mitterrand had told Kohl. While the French stressed that their concept remained unchanged and, needless to say, separate from NATO’s (it continued to rely on national autonomy as well as on ‘pure’ deterrence, rejecting any prolonged conventional or nuclear combat, as opposed to flexible response), this meant, in essence, that the FRG was no longer doomed to serve as a ‘glacis’ for France’s ‘sanctuary’ and that, at least de facto, its territory would somehow be covered by

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French deterrence. ‘This means a lot to the Germans’, said Lothar Rühl, the secretary of state in the Ministry of Defence.28 On 22 November, the Bundestag voted in favour of the deployment of U.S. Pershing and Cruise missiles, marking a victory for Kohl and a turning point in the INF saga. It was also a milestone for the ongoing Franco-German rapprochement. Mitterrand and Kohl met in Bonn two days after the vote. Kohl was elated: it was a ‘very important outcome’, he said, thanking Mitterrand for his support. The two now wanted to look towards the future and for ways to end Europe’s excessive strategic dependence on the U.S. ‘We must think about how to bring our defence systems closer together’, Kohl said, adding that European security in the future had to rely more on French and UK nuclear weapons, ‘otherwise it will depend only on the U.S.’29 Yet by early 1984 the Germans were wondering how far the French were willing to move, and they were tempted to step up their demands.30 During the spring four-ministers’ meeting, they became more insistent. The key question in the conventional dimension, Wörner said, was ‘the extent to which France was ready to participate in the defence of the FRG’; as to the nuclear, it was important to discuss it, albeit discreetly and without it being mentioned in public. The French, predictably, turned out to be more forthcoming in the former arena than in the latter. The French military, Hernu said, were ready to discuss possible scenarios of FAR engagement, including beyond the RDM line; the two countries might even consider staging a joint exercise involving its deployment in the FRG. Wörner was pleased with Hernu’s overture: the creation of the FAR, he said, was ‘an impressive development’. Yet the French were clearly more reserved on the nuclear issue, stressing once again the increased range of the future Hadès (as well as the future air-ground ASMP) missiles, which Hernu said could bring ‘very satisfactory answers’ to the German concerns. This time, Wörner was not satisfied: the Germans understood the need for ‘uncertainty’ and ‘non-automaticity’ when it came to tactical nuclear use, but Dresden, Erfurt and Leipzig were also German cities, he said, implying that the future range of the Hadès would still cause the destruction of (East) German territory. Hence, the Germans wanted consultations to take place if these weapons were ever to be used on or from German territory. Hernu was evasive: French vital interests, he repeated, were not confined to the Hexagon, but ‘it was not possible to determine in advance the place and modalities of a nuclear warning’.31 By mid-1984, the nuclear issue was beginning to take centre stage in the public debate. This was, to some extent, the result of the wider Franco-German rapprochement, which had gathered steam over the first few months of the year and opened the way to the successful European

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Council in Fontainebleau on 25–26 June, settling the vexing UK rebate issue and allowing the two countries to display ambitious goals for a new phase of European unification, not least in the political and security dimension. In that context, Schmidt, on 28 June, gave an important speech to the Bundestag in which he called for a major Franco-German initiative in security and defence. Though no longer in office, Schmidt clearly wanted to at least intellectually pick up the thread where he and Giscard had left it in 1981. Schmidt proposed to combine France’s nuclear status and West Germany’s conventional might: the two countries would form a force of thirty divisions (eighteen German and twelve French) which, he said, would be enough to ensure the conventional defence of Europe; crucially, France would extend its nuclear guarantee to cover West German territory – without granting the FRG a right of co-decision, except when its own territory was concerned as a possible target or point of departure of nuclear strikes. The project would rely on the FRG’s considerable economic and financial powerbase and on France’s politicostrategic pre-eminence as a nuclear power and a permanent Security Council member. Schmidt, in sum, was ready to grant France the leading role in the Franco-German ‘tandem’.32 Before his speech, Schmidt had come to the Élysée with a memorandum summarizing his proposal, which Mitterrand had then passed on to his military chief of staff, General Jean Saulnier, asking him ‘to conduct a close analysis’ of it.33 The verdict was negative. Saulnier – a former commander of the French strategic nuclear forces – described Schmidt’s proposals as ‘contradictory’ to French doctrine. Pledging to extend France’s nuclear guarantee to the FRG would simply not be credible faced with most scenarios involving a Soviet attack, he said; and, Saulnier continued, whatever limited advantages such a pledge might bring to the FRG would be offset by its considerable drawbacks for France itself: the Soviets would likely use it as a pretext to ask for an inclusion of the French nuclear forces in arms control negotiations; the Americans would use it as a reason to diminish their military commitment to Europe’s defence; the other West European countries would feel neglected; and French public opinion might react negatively. The conventional aspects of Schmidt’s proposal were equally disputable: the notion that thirty French and German divisions would suffice faced with more than eighty Soviet bloc divisions was ‘extraordinarily optimistic’. Saulnier’s bottom line was negative: Schmidt’s proposal was ‘not realistic from a military point of view’, he said, and it ‘might jeopardize U.S.-Europe strategic coupling without offering a credible alternative’.34 Saulnier’s analysis matched Mitterrand’s own thinking: in the current circumstances, France (and the UK) could simply not provide a

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credible, fully-fledged nuclear guarantee to the FRG as a substitute for U.S. extended deterrence. True, Mitterrand did not reject the notion that France’s vital interests somehow included FRG territory and that France therefore did in effect contribute to the nuclear security of the FRG alongside the U.S. and the UK; nor, as seen above, did he rule out an implicit extension of France’s deterrence to the FRG through increased French conventional and tactical nuclear capabilities in the future. Yet an explicit French nuclear guarantee was not on the cards and – in the foreseeable circumstances at least – the FRG’s security would continue to rely primarily on the United States’ (and NATO’s) nuclear umbrella.35 Although it was not an official initiative, Schmidt’s speech was an important moment in the intensifying Franco-German nuclear debate. What had so far been a discreet dialogue between the two governments was now out in the open. In its wake, the French noted the ‘extreme interest’ with which this issue was now discussed in the FRG, and the French embassy in Bonn reported that Kohl’s entourage wanted to use the momentum in order to obtain a ‘breakthrough’ in the bilateral strategic dialogue – meaning consultation on tactical nuclear weapons.36 The Élysée learned that Kohl in early June had ordered a report to General Altenburg (Chief of Staff of the Federal Forces) on this issue: its bottom line was that while the Germans should not ask for co-decision, their minimal request should be a thorough exchange of information on planning and cooperation in selecting possible targets with a view, also, to making French targeting complementary to NATO’s.37 The mounting German insistence on obtaining what in the French view amounted to a droit de regard on France’s nuclear posture did not come as a surprise in Paris. It was seen as the logical consequence of the relaunch of Franco-German defence cooperation. But it was also perceived by the French as reflecting the perennial German longing for Gleichberechtigung, combining dissatisfaction with the inferior status of the FRG and a touch of envy of France’s own nuclear status. Be that as it may, the German pressure, combined with the increased public visibility of the issue, led the Quai d’Orsay – at Védrine’s request – to review German demands and consider possible options. The Quai’s bottom line was that Bonn basically wanted from Paris what they had obtained from NATO with regard to tactical nuclear weapons, that is, consultations on the choice of possible targets on FRG territory; on the modalities of possible tactical nuclear strikes; and, last but not least, on a possible decision in times of crisis or war to effectively use tactical nuclear weapons. French diplomats were quick to rule out the first two aspects – targeting and operational planning – if only because these aspects could not be determined in advance as a result of the very uncertainties of possible conflict scenarios;

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because establishing such formal procedures could lead to leaks which might lead German public opinion to become even more wary of France’s deterrent posture (as was the case with NATO’s posture); and because it could create pressure for France to align itself further with NATO’s integrated bodies. The third aspect however – consultation in times of crisis – could be explored, though it should be clear that tactical nuclear consultation would not include any notion of nuclear co-decision; rather, it might involve setting up special communication equipment between Paris and Bonn in order to make such consultation possible if and when the time came. In the spirit of the discussions of the past few months, other overtures could also be considered, such as discussing plans for increased French contribution to the FRG’s conventional defence and adapting declaratory policy to convey France’s military solidarity (e.g. by emphasizing that de Gaulle himself had in effect never left in doubt France’s determination to fight alongside its allies).38 In the wake of the Quai’s brainstorming, the French in the autumn of 1984 were still at a loss to respond to what they saw as the Germans’ ‘embarrassing’ demands in the nuclear realm.39 Clearly, they were hoping to deflect these demands by making concessions in the conventional arena: hence, during a meeting of the commission on defence and security on 22 October, Lacaze and Altenburg agreed to conduct ‘technical’ studies on possible scenarios of FAR engagement in Central Europe in a strictly bilateral Franco-German framework (i.e. leaving aside any discussion with NATO commands, which would have raised overly ‘sensitive’ issues).40 Other than that, there was no progress at the meeting. In the run-up to the autumn bilateral summit which was scheduled to take place on 29–30 October 1984 in the thermal resort of Bad-Kreuznach in Rhineland-Palatinate (where Adenauer and de Gaulle had met a quarter of a century before), Mitterrand’s closest advisers warned him that there were now ‘real problems’ in the Franco-German security dialogue as a result of the German demands regarding tactical nuclear consultation.41 In fact, when the four ministers met on the first day of the FrancoGerman summit, neither the conventional nor the nuclear issue was even discussed.42 The meeting in Bad-Kreuznach took place shortly after a spectacular gesture of Franco-German reconciliation: in September Kohl and Mitterrand had joined hands at Verdun, a scene that from now on symbolized the two countries’ ‘community of destiny’. Yet the latter clearly stopped where vital interests began. Mitterrand brought up the issue head on: while observing that it was ‘very difficult to make progress’ in the nuclear domain, he said that it was important for France and Germany to advance their cooperation in all other domains, starting with

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space capabilities, in which France and Germany could take the lead in Europe. Such capabilities, Mitterrand told Kohl – clearly in the hope of discouraging him from pushing German demands in the nuclear realm too far – would be as important in the future as nuclear power had been in the past. Yet he offered him nothing in terms of nuclear consultation. As 1984 drew to a close, Paris and Bonn were clearly at a stalemate.43 1985 was a challenging year for Franco-German relations. True, the European project was now moving full speed ahead. Franco-German leadership was decisive: it opened the way at the European Council meeting in Milan in June to the summoning of an intergovernmental conference, culminating in the adoption of the Single European Act in Luxembourg in December. Yet disagreements emerged between Bonn and Paris on subjects ranging from launching a new round of GATT negotiations to the European response to U.S. President Ronald Reagan’s strategic defense initiative (SDI). The latter threatened to drive a wedge between Paris and Bonn. Kohl was willing to cooperate with Washington in the name of U.S.-Europe coupling and in order to secure technological and economic benefits for German firms.44 The French were wary of an initiative that threatened the very concept of nuclear deterrence and strategic stability and, even more vitally, the credibility of the French (and UK) nuclear arsenal, and would likely result in Europe’s increased subservience to U.S. interests.45 The strategic conversation between Paris and Bonn nevertheless intensified throughout 1985, giving rise to an alternation of progress and setbacks. Bonn was keeping up the pressure on nuclear consultation. Although they were still unwilling to engage in a process they believed ran contrary to their deterrence concept, the French wanted to continue to give tokens of solidarity to the Germans. In a public statement on the close of a joint manoeuvre in southwest Germany in June 1985, Hernu declared that the two countries had ‘common security interests’ (a departure from the usual affirmation of France’s ‘vital interests’), prompting Wörner to thank him for saying that Germany was ‘not a mere glacis’ for France. Hernu’s entourage saw this exchange as a vindication of an approach involving a de facto and implicit nuclear guarantee.46 Predictably, this was not enough for Bonn. French participation in the FRG’s conventional defence had to increase, Wörner said during a fresh meeting of the four ministers a few days later, suggesting a new joint manoeuvre involving the FAR and taking place further east so as to illustrate France’s renunciation of its ‘glacis thinking’. In addition, Wörner said, consultations on tactical nuclear use on or from German territory (including the GDR) along procedures such as those already in existence with the UK and the U.S. were desirable. Hernu’s reaction

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was positive in the conventional dimension (he confirmed that such a manoeuvre could take place in 1987), but much less so in the nuclear: only the president and the chancellor could discuss this, he said, adding that he himself was not authorized to do so. The Germans had to understand that, in French doctrine, tactical nuclear use was inseparable from the decision to use strategic weapons; consultation arrangements on tactical nuclear weapons would therefore hamper France’s deterrent concept. Roland Dumas, who had recently replaced Cheysson as France’s foreign minister, concurred: the French understood the German point of view, but such arrangements would in effect change the ‘nature’ of a French nuclear decision.47 By the summer of 1985, it was becoming increasingly clear that the Germans were not willing to take no for an answer. True, an explicit extension of France’s sanctuary – in other words, a French nuclear guarantee of the territory of the FRG, à la Schmidt – was seen at the government level in Bonn as off-limits. Yet Bonn wanted to advance its requests both in the conventional sphere (an increased French contribution) and, most of all, in the tactical nuclear field (consultations on tactical nuclear use): ‘France’s guarded attitude is no sufficient reason for us to remain guarded’, German diplomats believed, adding: ‘after all, we are the most concerned party’.48 The French could no longer ignore the mounting German pressure. The SDI remained a divisive issue (which had prompted Kohl and Mitterrand to try and patch up their differences in a meeting on Lake Constance in May) and the nuclear issue was threatening to complicate the relationship further. Yet the Élysée was still reluctant to budge. As Kohl and Mitterrand were preparing to meet again in late August at the French president’s official Riviera residence in Brégançon, Védrine advised Mitterrand to warn Kohl against ‘intractable controversies on the extension of [France’s] nuclear guarantee’; what really mattered, he wrote, was ‘to underline the growing community of interests’ between the two countries. Affirming the growing role of the FAR while avoiding ‘useless debates’ on forward defence was the right thing to do, Védrine said; as to the nuclear dimension, there was little that could be done beyond informal exchanges of views on the political level. To transpose existing NATO procedures on the bilateral level, he said, would involve discussing ‘scenarios’ and therefore give credence to the notion that French tactical nuclear forces were for ‘combat’ while giving arguments to the Soviets to denounce France’s return to the NATO fold and ask for its nuclear forces to be taken into account in the INF negotiations, which had resumed in the spring. The bottom line was that ‘trust’ between the chancellor and the president was what really mattered, as Mitterrand had

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told Kohl during their first discussion of nuclear strategy in 1982. One way to illustrate this trust in German eyes, Védrine suggested, was to set up a ‘direct and secure line of communication’ between the Élysée and the Chancellery in order ‘to allow for immediate consultation in times of crisis’.49 The Brégançon conversation marked progress in the latter direction. In its wake, Mitterrand ordered his military chief of staff, General Gilbert Forray (who at the Élysée had succeeded Saulnier, who himself had replaced Lacaze as chief of staff of French armed forces), to explore the technical feasibility of a direct and secure video link between the Élysée and the Chancellery; early conclusions of the study were expected by the end of the year.50 As 1985 was drawing to an end, it was becoming clear that some kind of denouement was approaching in the Franco-German nuclear conundrum. The overall context of Franco-German relations remained somewhat fraught. The divergences over the SDI between Paris and Bonn had not been fully overcome in spite of the launching in spring and summer 1985 of Eureka, a French-designed European project aiming to respond to the technological challenge of the SDI, which Paris had offered Bonn to co-sponsor. Seen from Paris, Bonn’s ambivalent attitude confirmed the FRG’s basic Atlanticism.51 Against this backdrop, Kohl and Mitterrand met in Bonn on 7–8 November for the bi-yearly Franco-German summit. Military cooperation, predictably, was central.52 Yet the conversation did not go beyond generalities, for Mitterrand and Kohl had agreed to meet again before Christmas informally to discuss defence issues and explore possible ways out of the current stalemate.53 Success was by no means guaranteed. In late November, Védrine told two of Kohl’s political allies that the Franco-German ‘idyll’ of the years 1981–83 in matters of security had not led to converging conceptions, mentioning the ‘considerable clash of interests’ that prevailed in these domains between France and the Federal Republic.54 The planned meeting took place in Paris on 17 December. Kohl and Mitterrand clearly wanted to conclude what over the previous months had been a frustrating dialogue. The conversation was long and thorough. European defence was a ‘hollow’ concept, Mitterrand said; what really mattered was Franco-German cooperation. The latter, he said, had to be based on two facts: France had no desire to come back to NATO integration; and Germany’s security relied primarily on the U.S. Still, the two countries had common interests, being in the same ‘camp’ and geographically close. Kohl agreed. He, too, recognized the differences between the two countries, and he wanted to build on them. The FRG, he said, wanted at the same time to rely on the ‘U.S. pillar’ because its

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security was ‘unthinkable’ without the U.S., and to ‘increase’ the FrancoGerman dimension, as no one knew ‘what the U.S. will become in the future’.55 The two then entered into specifics. Kohl, clearly, was demandeur. The conventional dimension was discussed first. Kohl wanted to go back to what the Élysée Treaty had envisaged, including exchanges of military officers and joint training. Mitterrand had no objections. The future role of the FAR was the key question, he said; would it remain in a reserve role, in the vicinity of the Franco-German border, or could it be engaged along Germany’s eastern border? He did not give an answer, but he implied there were limits, as French participation ‘in the initial shock’ might lead France to resort to nuclear weapons early on. The two then discussed consultation on possible tactical nuclear use, Kohl’s main concern. This time, Mitterrand made an overture. There could be no joint decision in the nuclear field, he said, and France’s deterrent could not explicitly cover German territory, as Schmidt had suggested. Yet it would be ‘normal’ to ‘take precautions’ when German territory was concerned; some form of consultation might therefore be considered. Kohl confirmed that what the Germans wanted was a joint consultation mechanism – ‘not more, and not less’, he said. The chancellor was elated by Mitterrand’s offer, which he saw as a breakthrough: his father, a captain in the German army, ‘would never have imagined such a situation’, he told him.56 Two more months of an at times tense negotiation would nevertheless be necessary to refine the consultation mechanism that had been agreed in principle.57 During their meeting, Kohl had handed to Mitterrand a set of documents detailing his various proposals to increase bilateral military cooperation, and some aspects in French eyes were problematic, as confirmed by an analysis of the documents conducted by Forray in the wake of the meeting. Regarding the conventional dimension, Forray noted that the Germans – in contradiction with France’s non-integrated status and rejection of any ‘automatic’ engagement – wanted a segment of France’s forces in Germany to be included in NATO’s layered forward defence, which was ‘unacceptable’; it was possible, however, to explore a potential ‘counter attack’ role for French forces beyond the current RDM line, involving the FAR. As to nuclear consultations, they were acceptable in principle, but the Germans wanted to copy-cat NATO procedures, which carried the risk of France’s doctrine (relying on a last warning and rejecting nuclear combat) being assimilated to NATO’s flexible response, calling into question the French deterrent concept. Forray concluded that ‘great caution’ was needed.58 The French red lines were now clear. Mitterrand had an opportunity to express them during a fresh meeting with Kohl in mid-January. The

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two had planned to meet in Baden-Baden, where the French forces in Germany were headquartered, to showcase the intensifying military cooperation between the two countries.59 Mitterrand confirmed he had no problem with enhanced conventional cooperation, including a possible French engagement beyond the RDM line (provided, of course, French forces were not under NATO command), increased joint manoeuvres, and joint training of officers. As for nuclear consultation, he said ‘finding a system’ should not be a problem; yet he was evasive when Kohl said he desired ‘something analogous’ to the existing procedures with the U.S.60 ‘Consultations’ were ‘perfectly normal’ when German territory was concerned, Mitterrand said during a joint press appearance with Kohl, but sharing the nuclear decision was impossible.61 Though the endgame was now in sight, it took the six weeks up to the Franco-German summit of late February to finally reach an agreement. In Bonn on 4 February, Altenburg and Saulnier agreed to explore options for a possible engagement of the FAR east of the RDM line in southern Germany as a reinforcement of the German second army corps, and to prepare a joint manoeuvre along these lines in 1987. The nuclear issue, predictably, proved more difficult. Altenburg wanted to duplicate the consultation procedures already in existence in the NATO framework as well as bilaterally between the German chancellor and the U.S. president as well as the UK prime minister. Such procedures went far beyond exchanging information prior to tactical nuclear use on or from German soil, as they included, in particular, targeting restrictions based on the intensity and altitude of possible nuclear explosions as well as avoidance of sensitive sites. Altenburg, during his meeting with Saulnier, had pledged to describe these procedures in detail and in writing – and so it remained to be seen if such restrictions were compatible with the French concept. Paul Quilès, who had recently succeeded Hernu as minister of defence, was sceptical, but he asked Saulnier to ‘study’ the issue.62 The French were becoming nervous faced with what they saw as mounting German pressure. A week before the summit, Altenburg sent Saulnier a draft Franco-German declaration that had not been discussed during their meeting and according to which the French president would declare ‘ready to consult with the German government prior to any nuclear use … affecting the vital interests of the FRG’.63 The proposed wording could only be seen as too extensive and binding by the French.64 Yet the Élysée wanted to conclude. In late January, Mitterrand had published a book containing a selection of his foreign policy speeches as well as an introduction of his own writing. In it, Mitterrand gave his bottom line with regard to Franco-German military cooperation, both underlining its structural limits – which, he said, were the result of

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history – and recognizing the FRG’s ‘legitimate’ demand for ‘additional assurances’ on the part of France. While calling a ‘joint response to the nuclear challenge’ (in other words, a shared nuclear deterrent) an ‘impossible quest’, and once again dismissing any notion of an explicit French nuclear guarantee to Germany as lacking credibility and something the Germans were not asking for, Mitterrand nevertheless mentioned the need for Paris and Bonn to ‘refine consultation procedures’ regarding tactical nuclear use. He also hinted that in the future the FAR could be engaged to the east of the RDM line, refuting any ‘theological’ approach to France’s role vis-à-vis NATO’s forward defence while once again rejecting any form of reintegration.65 Védrine suggested using the book’s introduction to fine-tune the response to the German demands; this, he said, might include a green light to studies of FAR engagement options east of the RDM line, and a possible declaration by the French president – rather than a joint declaration, signalling that this was a German request granted by the French, not a binding agreement – to the effect that he was disposed to consult with the German chancellor prior to possible pre-strategic strikes affecting German territory. This would be perceived ‘as a major political turning point’, Védrine told Mitterrand. (Védrine, however, believed that it was premature at this juncture to discuss with the Germans the terms of a possible secret letter including details of a consultation procedure along the lines of similar letters written by the U.S. president and the UK prime minister, if only because the Germans, so far, had not shared the contents of these letters with the French.)66 The final talks took place during the summit in Paris on 27 February. In a sign that the negotiation concerned the principals and their military chiefs exclusively, the four ministers, who met as usual during the summit, were not involved.67 The negotiation was tense: the French stance was premised on the notion that any French commitment to consult prior to nuclear use would be ‘a substantial advance’ that should ‘come with a quid pro quo’.68 Yet at the end of the summit a joint declaration was published; it mentioned Paris and Bonn’s willingness to further explore FAR engagement options, including joint manoeuvres, and, crucially, stated that ‘within the limits imposed by the extreme rapidity of such decisions’, the French president was ‘ready to consult with the German chancellor on the possible use of pre-strategic weapons on German territory’ while recalling that ‘in such matters there can be no sharing of the decision’.69 The declaration was a turning point. Yet what the French saw as the culmination of the conversation begun three years earlier was seen by the Germans as only the beginning of a more far-reaching process that should eventually lead to a more substantial German say over France’s

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nuclear strategy. True, official reactions in Bonn were initially no less than ecstatic: the chancellor, his party’s spokesman said, had obtained a ‘historic breakthrough’. Yet the French embassy reported that this apparent enthusiasm in fact disguised a degree of disappointment: associates of Kohl had confided to German newspapers prior to the summit that he was hoping for something ‘binding’.70 Altenburg himself confirmed that Bonn wanted to keep up the pressure. In a newspaper interview, he said that following Mitterrand’s declaration, nuclear use ‘could not take place on German territory without prior consultation’ and that Bonn was intent on ‘duplicating’ existing NATO mechanisms. The French judged this statement to be off-limits. Védrine wrote to Mitterrand that Altenburg’s former assertion was ‘mistaken’ and that the latter ‘confirmed an intent that we do not share’, and the Ministry of Defence issued a statement to the effect that Paris wanted to ‘stick to the terms’ of the February declaration.71 The French felt they had gone as far as possible: ‘going beyond [the 28 February declaration] would mean calling into question France’s autonomy of decision’, French diplomats believed. Similarly, the Quai thought that going beyond what had been agreed to in terms of extending the FAR’s reach would change France’s NATO status.72 By the summer of 1986, Franco-German military cooperation was in pause mode, with both parties wanting to take stock of the previous three years.73 Yet the issue of nuclear consultation was far from settled. First, the technical aspects of the secure video link which Kohl and Mitterrand had decided to install the previous year – the Élysée’s privileged approach to the issue of nuclear consultation – had yet to be clarified. Second, the conversation between the two military chiefs of staff was still ongoing in the wake of the February declaration, and the issue of nuclear consultation was still central even though the Germans were frustrated by the overly ‘narrow’ (i.e. technical) character of the talks.74 As Kohl and Mitterrand were preparing to meet in Frankfurt in late October, it was clear that the Germans would continue to keep up the pressure on the French in order to obtain more, including information on potential targets and directives on conditions of use, and thus move beyond the terms of the February statement. The Élysée was confident that Saulnier was ‘cautious’ in his discussion with his German opposite number. However, the political situation in France following the March 1986 legislative elections and the installation of a new centre-right government led by Jacques Chirac, a neo-Gaullist, was making the issue even more sensitive as a result of the ‘cohabitation’ between the president and the government. The Élysée wanted the Frankfurt summit to highlight first and foremost the soon-to-be-functioning video link as well as the ongoing preparation of the following year’s joint manoeuvre involving the FAR. The hope was

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to deflect German requests to negotiate on further nuclear consultation arrangements.75

The Enduring Franco-German Nuclear Conundrum (1986–90) By the time of the Frankfurt summit, the East-West context was quickly evolving, in many ways foreshadowing the sea-change that in barely three years would result in the end of the Cold War. Against the backdrop of the ‘new’ détente that emerged in the wake of Mikhail Gorbachev’s coming to power in Moscow in March 1985, the nuclear dimension of Europe’s security was entering a new period of uncertainty. The April 1986 Chernobyl disaster strengthened the anti-nuclear mood, not least in Germany. Yet the most important turning point was the summit meeting in Reykjavik between Gorbachev and U.S. President Ronald Reagan on 11–12 October. U.S.-Soviet negotiations on INF had resumed in March 1985 as part of the new Nuclear and Space Talks (NST) and, in the wake of the first Reagan-Gorbachev summit meeting in Geneva on 19–20 November 1985, Moscow had multiplied disarmament proposals. Throughout the first half of 1986, it had become clear that Moscow and Washington were willing to prioritize an INF agreement. Although Reagan and Gorbachev, at Reykjavik, had failed to conclude an agreement as a result of their divergences on SDI, they had made major strides towards one, including convergence on the goal of a ‘zero option’ on INF in Europe. Yet Reykjavik came as a shock in European capitals, where many believed the U.S. had accepted the principle of far-reaching nuclear disarmament measures in Europe without having seriously considered the consequences; worse still, an actual agreement had failed to be reached only because Reagan had refused to accept limitations on the SDI, a project which the Europeans considered both utopian and destabilizing. Because it raised again the spectre of the long-dreaded denuclearization of Europe, Reykjavik could once again lead to FrancoGerman divergences: Reykjavik highlights the ‘different feelings’ that prevail in France and the FRG when it comes to nuclear weapons and disarmament, wrote Chirac’s strategic adviser, referring to the FRG’s growing anti-nuclear stance and France’s willingness to preserve the nuclear underpinnings of Western security.76 This concern was echoed in Bonn, from the opposite point of view: in the wake of Reykjavik, the Auswärtiges Amt saw the tooth and nail defence of France’s nuclear status (which Bonn saw as a way for France to preserve its political edge over the FRG) as entailing ‘risks’ for the Franco-German security partnership.77

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Developments confirmed this after Gorbachev in February 1987 ‘delinked’ the INF and space negotiations and proposed a zero option on longer range INF missiles (LRINF, with a range from 1,000 to 5,500 km) and, even more so, after he proposed in early April a ‘double zero’ option that also included shorter range INF missiles (SRINF, with a range from 500 to 1,000 km). Paris and Bonn were careful to keep a united front, based on both openness and cautiousness towards Soviet proposals. An open attitude seemed natural faced with the first zero option, which reflected the logic of the 1979 dual track decision; as for caution, it was in order faced with the second zero option, which might open up a dangerous path towards denuclearization, but eventually proved irresistible, leading both countries to support the INF treaty which Reagan and Gorbachev signed on 8 December 1987 based on ‘double zero’.78 Yet differences were perceptible between Paris and Bonn and – further complicating matters – within each of the two governments. Kohl wanted to hold the middle ground, accepting the first zero option and then – at least initially – rejecting the second in the name of preserving a U.S. nuclear presence in Europe and the credibility of the NATO strategy; but Genscher, who advocated a more disarmament-prone approach reflecting the German public opinion’s growing anti-nuclear stance, prevailed, with Bonn accepting the second zero option as well.79 The French were similarly divided along the lines of the ongoing ‘cohabitation’.80 Chirac’s government (and, especially, the centre-right minister of defence, André Giraud) was openly reluctant towards the first and, even more so, the second zero option, which they feared might lead to denuclearization, U.S.-Europe strategic decoupling, and the eventual inclusion of French nuclear forces in disarmament negotiations. In order to thwart what it saw as Moscow’s bid to denuclearize Europe and in the hope of preventing the FRG from going Moscow’s way, in spring 1987 the Chirac government wanted to build a ‘firewall’ against the second zero option by coalescing with Kohl and British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher. Mitterrand was critical of his government’s stance. In his view, an INF agreement was not a threat to France’s nuclear status, as nothing could oblige France to abandon its own nuclear weapons; in any case, thousands of U.S. nuclear weapons would remain in Europe irrespective of the possible dismantlement of U.S. Pershing and Cruise missiles as part of an INF agreement. Mitterrand expected Bonn’s eventual acceptance of both zero options, wagering on Genscher prevailing in Bonn in order for himself to prevail internally – which he did in the end, imposing his views on the government.81 Mitterrand hailed the signing of the INF treaty as a historic achievement: ‘One must disarm and reject the proposition of those who say no’, he declared.82

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Much as the culmination of the INF crisis in the early 1980s had led to a relaunch of Franco-German security and defence cooperation, so did its final phase. The Reykjavik effect triggered a flurry of position-taking on the need to bolster European defence and explore alternatives to the Atlantic status quo. Yet the Élysée believed that not much would come of it, not least because of the intractable nuclear problem. In the wake of Gorbachev’s acceptance of the zero option, the president of the European Commission, Jacques Delors, proposed a special meeting of the European Council to discuss the possibility of a common security policy, an iconoclastic proposition considering the European Community’s almost complete lack of competence in these matters at that juncture. In spite of Mitterrand’s formal approval, the Élysée was sceptical in view of the differences that prevailed among the Twelve with regard, in particular, to nuclear weapons and relations with NATO; ‘I hope [Delors’ initiative] will be a success, but I don’t believe it will’, said Mitterrand.83 Though the initiative did fall through, the debate continued, with no substantial results. In late April, in the wake of Moscow’s offer of a second zero option, Védrine took part in a meeting of the Bilderberg group, an informal yearly gathering of high-level Western policy makers. ‘The Atlantic establishment’, Védrine reported, was ‘very worried’ as a result of the Soviet arms control offensive, which most participants now saw as a ‘trap’ that led to denuclearization and U.S.-Europe decoupling. True, France, thanks to its independent nuclear posture, was increasingly seen by NATO allies as a pillar of Western security: the former U.S. secretary of state, Henry Kissinger, even told him twice that he hoped the French president would help ‘stop this dangerous process’ of denuclearization. Yet all Védrine took away from the meeting was ‘a disorderly effervescence in favour of European defence’.84 Irrespective of growing concerns with regard to the future of the U.S. security guarantee, by spring 1987 there seemed to be no room for ambitious initiatives centred on the emergence of a fully-fledged European defence system based on France and the UK’s nuclear deterrents. Yet this left the possibility of a less grandiose approach, that is, a step forward in Franco-German cooperation along the lines of the 1982–83 relaunch of the Élysée Treaty – in other words a bilateral, incremental approach towards overcoming politico-strategic differences and building an autonomous European defence system in the long run. The way forward, Védrine told Mitterrand, involved ‘reinforcing the complementarity between the defence policies of European countries, as France and the Federal Republic have been doing’.85 In a speech in London in January 1987, Mitterrand signalled that he was willing to move in that direction, mentioning the ‘exemplary character’ of the Franco-German relationship.86

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By early 1987, the Germans were also inclined to contemplate a new Franco-German initiative.87 The coalition won the legislative elections in January 1987 and, in their wake, Kohl was re-elected chancellor in mid-March. In his inaugural speech, Kohl hailed the Franco-German friendship as ‘unparalleled’ and vowed to ‘expand this privileged partnership’, including by developing military cooperation.88 Kohl was determined to make progress for both political and strategic reasons. Politically, the Franco-German rapprochement was increasingly supported by public opinion on both sides of the Rhine, and Kohl, who saw Mitterrand’s favourable disposition in that regard as ‘a great chance’, wanted to achieve results with him before the end of his term (reciprocally Mitterrand, as part of his rivalry with Chirac, was eager to show that he was Kohl’s privileged partner); strategically, Kohl, in the wake of Reykjavik, believed that the partnership with Paris was more than ever vital for the FRG’s continued Westbindung.89 Meeting with Mitterrand in late March, Kohl confirmed his willingness to move forward. Mitterrand agreed, again emphasizing that the nuclear realm remained the ‘most difficult’. Kohl was pleased: ‘we should try to make as much progress as possible before December [1987]’, he said.90 Kohl and Mitterrand quickly followed up; in April, Attali came to Bonn to begin discussing possible steps towards increased military cooperation with Teltschik; then, in early June, on the margins of a summit meeting of the G7 in Venice, Kohl and Mitterrand agreed to explore possibilities with regard to the integration of French and German conventional forces.91 Kohl’s spectacular suggestion, made publicly in mid-June, to create a joint Franco-German brigade, confirmed that the chancellor was eyeing a major relaunch of bilateral military cooperation.92 Meeting again in Brussels in late June, Kohl and Mitterrand agreed to prepare an initiative to that effect (though Mitterrand warned Kohl that Chirac was more guarded).93 The effort culminated during the summer of 1987. The Chancellery was doing the pushing: France and Germany should increasingly form a ‘common security space’, Teltschik told Attali, Védrine and Forray during a meeting in Bonn late July. Bonn’s concrete proposals included the creation of a joint defence and security council to replace the existing bilateral commission and the regular meetings of the foreign and defence ministers; an increased integration of conventional forces of both countries, with the proposed brigade serving as a ‘model’ for future, larger bi-national units; and the drafting of ‘directives’ for pre-strategic nuclear use (Teltschik, who knew full well that this clearly went beyond Mitterrand’s February 1986 consultation pledge, recognized that this was the ‘most sensitive issue’).94 Yet difficulties soon emerged, as illustrated

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at a fresh meeting between Attali and Teltschik in late August at the Élysée. Faced with Bonn’s push on security and defence, the French wanted their own priorities to be addressed as well, leading Attali to ask for the creation of an economic and monetary council in parallel with the defence and security council proposed by Bonn: clearly, Paris was willing to obtain a more cooperative stance on the part of Bonn in economic and monetary issues, not least the upgrading of the European monetary system and the possible creation of an Economic and Monetary Union (EMU), which the French were now pushing for in the wake of the Single European Act and which the Germans were predictably resisting in the name of the Bundesbank’s independence. In addition, Paris was wary of Bonn’s continuing insistence on jointly defining the conditions of tactical nuclear use, in other words moving beyond the 1986 consultation pledge. Irrespective of its intrinsic merits in the eyes of the French, Attali’s suggestion of an economic and monetary council as a quid pro quo for a security and defence council, which the French knew would be met with scepticism in Bonn, was a thinly disguised way to signal Paris’s own reluctance to make a major step in the issue of nuclear consultation.95 The ongoing cohabitation in Paris was also complicating things. Chirac’s entourage was increasingly critical of the Élysée’s Germany-first approach to European defence (the UK was seen as an equally important partner in that regard) and wanted to make a pause in what it saw as a headlong rush.96 In late September, Teltschik and Attali had another inconclusive meeting in Bonn. The ‘Junktim’ with economic and monetary issues was problematic, and so were the German requests in the defence area.97 Teltschik handed out a fresh draft of Bonn’s proposals, which the Élysée found revealing of German aspirations: Bonn, Védrine commented, wanted the French to take part in a closely integrated FrancoGerman defence system, while Germany would remain integrated in the unchanged NATO integrated defence system; this, de facto, would amount to France’s return to the NATO fold. Faced with the volatile character of the issue, the Élysée and Matignon agreed that the negotiation should from now on be led on the French side by the Quai d’Orsay based on joint Élysée-Matignon instructions (the negotiation would culminate in January 1988, when Paris and Bonn adopted a protocol to the 1963 Élysée Treaty on its 25th anniversary).98 The autumn of 1987 was nevertheless a significant moment for FrancoGerman defence and security cooperation. From 17 to 24 September, a large-scale bilateral manoeuvre named ‘Bold Sparrow’ (Kecker Spatz/ Moineau hardi) took place in eastern Bavaria, with Mitterrand and Kohl present on the last day. As seen above, the manoeuvre had been discussed over the previous two years, and both leaders wanted to use the

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event to showcase a quantum leap in Franco-German military cooperation. The war game involved the FAR coming to the rescue of the 2nd German corps after it was taken on by ‘red’ forces around Regensburg.99 The scenario and its geographic setting were not chosen at random. It was seen by French authorities as a ‘subtle’ way to show the FAR’s ability to intervene rapidly east of the RDM line and as close as possible to the FRG’s eastern border in accordance with Mitterrand’s willingness to demonstrate France’s solidarity with Germany, though without changing France’s non-integrated NATO status.100 It was the culmination of a five-year effort to display France’s willingness to move beyond the defence of the sanctuary thanks to its enhanced conventional as well as pre-strategic capabilities (though the latter was emphatically not at play in ‘Bold Sparrow’) and thus to take into account Germany’s security interest without altering the fundamentals of French strategy.101 The following month, Mitterrand, who earlier in the year had been invited to make a state visit to the FRG, had another important opportunity to clarify his views on Franco-German defence and security cooperation. The visit, which was scheduled to take place on 19–22 October, was a rare opportunity to reach out to the German public. Mitterrand’s entourage wanted it to feature ‘something striking’, including ‘a major speech on security’.102 Predictably, the messages which the Élysée wanted to pass to German audiences once again revolved around France’s willingness to further increase its military solidarity with the FRG while at the same time maintaining its autonomy of decision. The Élysée staff was aware that the Germans expected to hear not only a symbolic reiteration of the ever-closer friendship between the two countries, but also concrete indications on the next steps in Franco-German cooperation.103 Mitterrand chose to use this opportunity to focus on the nuclear dimension. At the heart of the matter lay, more than ever, the role of pre-strategic nuclear weapons. Mitterrand’s thinking on this issue had evolved noticeably over the previous months, and his Germany visit was a good time to take stock.104 An important step in the evolution of his thinking had taken place the previous spring against the backdrop of the growing debate on the uncertain future of NATO’s strategy of flexible response after the likely withdrawal of U.S. missiles. Could flexible response remain credible in the absence of the INF echelon of the escalation ‘ladder’? That question was on everyone’s lips among Western strategists. For the French president, it was the wrong question. Mitterrand, as stated above, believed that the ongoing disarmament process would not lead to the complete withdrawal of U.S. nuclear forces from Europe; aerial bombs, in particular, were not concerned. Even more importantly, in his view the U.S. extended security guarantee ultimately depended on

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the U.S. leaders’ determination to deter or push back Soviet aggression, not on a specific category of weapon. Mitterrand’s reasoning was in line with the traditional Gaullist critique of flexible response, which since its inception had been seen by French strategists and political leaders as reflecting the U.S. temptation to exit the dilemma between capitulation and annihilation – the result of the U.S-Soviet balance of terror – by preparing for a major war in Europe, including a tactical nuclear one, when only the threat of retaliation based on central systems could effectively deter Soviet aggression. Mitterrand explained his views in an extraordinary exchange with Thatcher, Kohl and Reagan at dinner during the June 1987 G7 summit in Venice: ‘I do not believe at all in flexible response’, he said, adding: ‘To avoid a nuclear war, to deter effectively, one must rely on all nuclear weapons, notably the central systems … The notion of a limited nuclear war on European soil is insane’.105 Mitterrand’s thinking on tactical nuclear weapons was also influenced by the German factor – and, more specifically, Germany’s growing allergy to nuclear weapons, not least short-range ones. ‘I am against short and medium range missiles’, he told Kohl, adding: ‘They add nothing to the French or to the U.S. armament. Nuclear war cannot be sliced … War must be prevented through central systems’.106 Kohl ‘very much appreciated’ Mitterrand’s comments, Teltschik told Attali a few days later, adding that Kohl, too, believed that tactical nuclear weapons were ‘irrational’.107 Mitterrand’s thinking also reflected the changing East-West context. Although it was still too early to declare the Cold War over, a nuclear war now seemed most unlikely: when Hans-Jochen Vogel, the SPD chairman, told him in July 1987 that ‘there is no reason for the Soviet Union to attack’, the French president could but agree: ‘I share your view’, he said.108 Yet Mitterrand’s growing scepticism with regard to tactical nuclear weapons above all came from a realization that most scenarios involving their use were senseless, even in a ‘last warning’ (as opposed to a war-fighting) mode, as French doctrine foresaw, and that changing their name from ‘tactical’ to ‘pre-strategic’, as he had ordered in 1983, had not fundamentally changed this. What would be the point of using Pluton missiles in the FRG – let alone in northeastern France – and to cause major destruction if Europe was already under Soviet control? Although Mitterrand, as we have seen, declined to grant the FRG any droit de regard on French nuclear strategy, he ‘understood the Germans’, recognizing, as they did, that contemplating the actual use of such weapons was ‘irrational’.109 By 1987, with an INF agreement based on the double zero option (and, possibly, a follow-up agreement on shorter range nuclear forces, or SNF) looming, the Élysée understood that German concerns could only grow. Though any inclusion of French

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nuclear weapons in arms control negotiations remained taboo, the Élysée came to believe that it could well become suitable at some point to ‘downscale’ the Hadès programme in order to signal France’s willingness to adapt its pre-strategic nuclear arsenal to the new situation while avoiding any binding commitment to take part in negotiations.110 Mitterrand, in essence, now recognized that French pre-strategic weapons were no less problematic than NATO’s tactical weapons in spite of the nominal distinction between the two and the underlying doctrinal antinomy between ‘last warning’ and ‘war fighting’. True, the last warning concept made sense in order to avoid an ‘all or nothing’ dilemma; the problem, rather, lay in the nature of the weapons associated with the concept, not least the Pluton: ‘while [the Pluton] was long called a tactical nuclear weapon by analogy with NATO’s weapons, you decided in 1983 that it would be called “pre-strategic”’ in order to clarify its operational concept, Védrine recounted for Mitterrand shortly before his October 1987 Germany state visit, adding: ‘this nevertheless continues to be problematic because there are more Plutons than are actually needed in order to deliver a last warning … and this will be even more problematic with the Hadès’ (there were currently seventy-five Pluton missiles and it had been decided that 120 Hadès would be built, Védrine recalled). Hence, Védrine said, the ‘public clarification’ that Mitterrand wanted to bring with regard to France’s nuclear strategy – perhaps in a public speech – should address two points: (1) ‘What is the role of the Plutons? Will the Hadès be effectively produced … [a]nd to perform what function?’ (2) ‘With what weapon should the last warning be delivered [and] could this take place somewhere else than on German soil?’111 Mitterrand’s visit to Germany, in particular his speech at the Aachen city hall on 20 October, offered him the opportunity for the ‘public clarification’ mentioned by Védrine. After evoking under the aegis of Charlemagne the historic task of the Franco-German ‘couple’ and the need for Paris and Bonn to evolve a ‘strategy for Europe’, Mitterrand declared that ‘one must not assume that France’s objective … would be to deliver an ultimate warning on German soil’.112 Two days later, during a press conference in Hanover, the French president underlined that his statement at Aachen ‘had not been improvised’; ‘Germany is an allied country, a friendly country, and the normal destination of [France’s] nuclear force is not to destroy Germany’s territory and its inhabitants’, he said, adding: ‘The last warning essentially aims at the territory of the aggressor’.113 Mitterrand’s visit drew a lot of attention in the FRG, and his statement on tactical nuclear weapons, in particular, did not go unnoticed. Reactions were mixed. Some observers concluded that Paris in effect

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had renounced using nuclear weapons on German soil, if only because such a scenario would justify Bonn’s wish to obtain a droit de regard on French tactical nuclear use; France’s strategic concept was in the midst of an important evolution in the direction of harmonization with Bonn’s interests, they believed. Yet others believed that Paris, in the name of France’s autonomy of decision and the uncertainty required for deterrence, was still procrastinating with regard to Bonn’s request to gain knowledge of French tactical nuclear planning. ‘We still must make an effort to explain our views in security matters’, Védrine told Bianco in the wake of the visit.114 Franco-German defence cooperation remained high on the bilateral agenda over the last weeks of 1987. At the bilateral summit in midNovember in Karlsruhe, Kohl and Mitterrand officially announced the creation of the Franco-German security and defence council and its economic and financial equivalent on the 25th anniversary of the Élysée Treaty in January. Yet the Élysée realized that Mitterrand’s statements of the previous month had not been fully understood in the FRG and that a further clarification was needed.115 It came in mid-December under the guise of an interview with the French weekly Le Nouvel observateur, in which Mitterrand went one step further: hailing the recent signing of the INF treaty and reiterating the basics of France’s strategy and its differences with NATO’s flexible response, Mitterrand said that ‘the last warning is not necessarily the preserve of short-range nuclear weapons’, adding: ‘the last warning will not be delivered on German soil’.116 Meeting Vogel once again as his statement was going public, Mitterrand was eager to put it in perspective: ‘I do not believe at all in the usefulness of pre-strategic weapons’, he said, adding that he had, so far, ‘operated a three-step evolution’: step one had been renaming tactical nuclear weapons pre-strategic; step two had been hinting that the last warning would not necessarily be delivered on German soil; and step three was his Nouvel observateur interview. ‘There will likely be a fourth step’, he added. (He probably had in mind a possible decision to curtail the Hadès programme, as Védrine suggested.) He then summed up his thinking in a striking formula: ‘it would have been more appropriate to call [French short-range] nuclear weapons post-strategic, because to use them according to this concept would necessarily mean that the Russians are already in the FRG and that we are passed the time when strategic deterrence should have been effective’.117 Yet would Mitterrand’s statement of December be enough to assuage German concerns with regard to French pre-strategic nuclear use and end their pressure to obtain an enhanced consultation procedure, as they continued to ask for, including agreeing on a doctrinal concept and a

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targeting policy upstream of a possible crisis? As we have seen, in the wake of the February 1986 declaration, the conversation between the two military chiefs on how to implement it had continued; the Germans wanted to go further than a possible exchange in times of crisis or war, while the French were dragging their feet. The issue had re-emerged when Saulnier had met Altenburg’s successor, Admiral Dieter Wellershoff, in March 1987. Wellershoff had finally given Saulnier a copy of NATO’s political guidelines for tactical nuclear use – a document that the German military had not shared with their French counterparts until then – saying once again that Bonn wanted to use them as a template for the drafting of a similar Franco-German document. Saulnier’s opinion had been that the NATO document should be reviewed in order to determine what could be acceptable – or not – in a Franco-German agreement. Saulnier believed that the French objective should be to avoid a ‘planning-mania à la NATO’ or a ‘German pernickety approach’, but he had not advocated bringing the discussion to a stop or drawing red lines; rather, noting that the Germans themselves did not seem to be in a hurry, he had advocated a policy of ‘making haste slowly’. The Élysée and Matignon had apparently not objected to Saulnier’s recommendation, and so the discussion between the two chiefs on moving beyond the February 1986 commitment had been allowed to continue in the spring of 1987, even though the French political leaders – not least Chirac and Mitterrand – ostensibly disliked the idea.118 The Germans had stepped up their effort during the summer, using the relaunch of Franco-German defence cooperation which they had prompted. As seen above, Teltschik had said in late July that Bonn wanted the proposed Franco-German defence and security council to organize nuclear consultations ‘at the highest level’, including the drafting of ‘general guidelines … for pre-strategic [nuclear] use’.119 Although Attali at first had seemed unimpressed by the proposition on the ground that France’s nuclear autonomy would in the end necessarily restrain the council’s remit in that realm, Teltschik’s suggestion had set off alarm bells in Paris. After a fresh meeting between Saulnier and Wellershoff in early August, which had resulted in a decision to create a joint working group to study enhanced consultation procedures, Matignon believed that it was necessary to instruct Saulnier to limit his conversations with the Germans to negotiating a technical agreement on exchanging information in times of crisis – excluding, most pointedly, any discussion of a harmonization of French and West German approaches to pre-strategic nuclear use.120 The Élysée now agreed on the need to draw new red lines: Saulnier’s proposed working group with the Germans, Attali told Mitterrand in late August, ‘contradicts your often stated position

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regarding your own freedom of action in these matters. In my view, it should not exist’.121 In early September, Mitterrand’s new military chief of staff, General Jean Fleury, told the president that there could be no discussion between French and German generals of issues such as criteria for the use of pre-strategic nuclear weapons, its timing, zones, target categories or restrictions; only technical issues pertaining to information exchange procedures in times of crisis should be discussed. Mitterrand agreed.122 Three weeks later, Fleury reported that an encrypted telefax link between the Élysée and the Chancellery was now available, soon to be supplemented with an online encrypted telex; this, Fleury said, was the first step in a technical upgrade of communications between Paris and Bonn that would permit ‘secure and immediate’ consultation.123 Things now seemed to be clarified on the French side.124 Mitterrand’s pronouncements during his October Germany state visit seemed to contribute to further defusing the issue of nuclear consultation or, at least, make it less pressing in the eyes of the Germans. Yet in reality things were more complicated. When in early November Saulnier met again with Wellershoff and said that his instructions were to limit the talks to formal aspects of nuclear consultation, Wellershoff did not hide his frustration: ‘This is likely to appear inadequate to the Chancellor’, he said, adding that ‘if this nuclear issue does not find a solution, [Franco-German defence and security] cooperation will decline, because our public opinion is getting wary of French reticence’.125 In spite of Mitterrand’s December Nouvel Observateur interview, which aimed at putting pre-strategic weapons on the back burner, the issue simply did not seem to go away. Against the backdrop of the accelerating transformation of the EastWest environment, the nuclear issue continued to weigh on FrancoGerman relations. Predictably, the SNF issue had become central in the wake of the December 1987 INF treaty and it threatened once again to divide nuclear and non-nuclear countries over the twin issues of negotiation and modernization. By early 1988, London and Washington were increasingly opposed to a possible SNF negotiation and advocating setting up a ‘firewall’ that would make any such negotiation conditioned on the restoration of a conventional balance in Europe. In Bonn, meanwhile, Kohl seemed open to a possible negotiation, once again trying to hold a middle ground (Genscher wanted to open an SNF negotiation as soon as possible, while the SPD called for a third zero option outright). Chirac’s government supported the UK and U.S. stance faced with the risk of a denuclearization of NATO’s posture and for fear that France’s non-inclusion in the negotiations might become untenable given the characteristics of French pre-strategic weapons, which were similar to those of NATO’s SNF. The Élysée was once again closer to German views – at least those

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of Kohl – believing that a possible SNF negotiation would not necessarily result in a third zero option – which it rejected – and that France would still be able to avoid being dragged into a negotiation based on its nuclear independence. Mitterrand’s instincts were to show understanding for the FRG’s stance and its willingness to correct nuclear imbalances – all the more so when it came to weapons whose range would make German soil their most likely destination.126 Mitterrand’s clear-cut re-election against Chirac in May 1988 was welcomed in Bonn, where Kohl had come to place much confidence in his French counterpart, and Mitterrand’s stance on security issues played an important role. Conversely, Mitterrand, who had regained his preeminence in foreign policy after the end of the two-year cohabitation, saw Kohl as the best possible German partner for France, in particular on these issues. By the beginning of his second term, Franco-German relations seemed to have become no less than ‘organic’.127 The SNF issue reached centre stage in the autumn of 1988. In Bonn, Genscher, reflecting the increasingly anti-nuclear sentiment in the country, had now rallied the SPD position and was openly in favour of a third zero option – until then officially excluded by the FRG government – while more than ever rejecting any rapid decision to modernize NATO’s SNF; meanwhile the U.S. and the UK were insisting on an early decision to modernize the Lance (the existing U.S. short-range, groundbased nuclear missile) while rejecting any SNF negotiation. Paris was now more preoccupied with the dynamics of the debate in Germany. Whether or not it was accompanied by a modernization decision, an SNF negotiation would almost certainly lead to a third zero, which Gorbachev would most likely propose and which the West would find hard to reject given the considerable imbalance that currently prevailed to Moscow’s advantage in this category; this, in turn, would open the road to Europe’s further denuclearization, doom NATO’s flexible response strategy and, last but not least, ‘singularize’ France’s own shorter-range nuclear forces. The likely negative impact of a possible third zero on France’s ability to keep its Pluton and, in the future, deploy its Hadès missiles – whatever Mitterrand’s professed detachment from them – was becoming a matter of concern in Paris and especially at the Quai d’Orsay, leading the French to believe that an SNF negotiation would do a disservice to France’s interests. By the end of 1988, this issue was potentially putting Paris and Bonn on a collision course.128 While the January 1988 protocol to the Élysée Treaty establishing a Franco-German defence and security council was meant to facilitate bilateral cooperation, the growing anti-nuclear sentiment in the FRG – especially to the left of the political spectrum – complicated matters. As

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the Bundestag was preparing to ratify the protocol in the autumn, the SPD expressed reservations, pointing out that it could be interpreted as a legally binding commitment to keeping nuclear strategy the centrepiece of security. The issue was eventually resolved when a formula was introduced by Genscher stating that the protocol did not amount to an obligation for the FRG to adopt any specific strategy. On 1 December 1988, the protocol was ratified by the Bundestag and the Assemblée nationale, but the incident was revealing.129 By 1988, against the backdrop of the SNF debate, the nuclear issue in Franco-German relations increasingly revolved around the fate of the Pluton and the future Hadès. The sentiment in Germany with regard to short-range nuclear weapons was summarized by the 1987 formula often attributed to Alfred Dregger, the chairman of the CDU-CSU Fraktion in the Bundestag and a close Kohl ally: ‘the shorter the range [of nuclear missiles], the deader the Germans’.130 The mounting opposition to SNF weapons in the FRG could hardly spare the French equivalent of these systems. True, Kohl’s government was careful not to take aim at the French systems directly, but the SPD had no qualms. The vice-chairman of the SPD Fraktion in the Bundestag, Horst Ehmke, confirmed this in a February 1988 speech in Paris: Mitterrand’s December 1987 statement was ‘not convincing’, Ehmke said, adding: ‘the only convincing way [for France] to respect German security interests would be to renounce [these weapons]’ while shifting the onus of French defence expenditures from the nuclear to the conventional realm. In his rejection of ground-based short-range nuclear weapons, Ehmke referred to Dregger, illustrating the growing convergence between left and right in the German debate on these issues. The Élysée was dismissive and irritated: ‘This is the usual blah-blah-blah against our defence policy’, Védrine told Bianco.131 By early 1989, the growing German rejection of nuclear weapons – in particular French short-range nuclear weapons – was unmistakable, especially to the left of the political spectrum, as illustrated during a tense meeting of the SPD and the French Parti Socialiste in January 1989 in Bonn. With a final decision to enter production of the Hadès approaching, the Hadès was in the cross-hairs of the German Social Democrats. Bahr was blunt: ‘[The French] simply cannot decide during the year of the fiftieth anniversary of World War Two to deploy weapons that can reach Poland’, he said. Ehmke agreed: ‘The French will not get away with it by simply saying that the Hadès is pre-strategic whereas the future missiles replacing the Lance are tactical weapons’, he said, adding: ‘if the number of Hadès turns out to be close to that of Lance missiles, the difference between tactical and pre-strategic weapons would become a joke’. Still, both parties wanted to find common ground: one would have

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to live with nuclear weapons in the foreseeable future, Bahr conceded; the Élysée found Bahr’s comment encouraging.132 Against the backdrop of the ebbing of the Cold War, 1989 confirmed that the nuclear issue, though receding as a result of the changing EastWest context, was still a complicating factor in Franco-German relations. The growing rejection of nuclear weapons in the FRG even gave way in the spring to a mini-crisis, leading Chevènement to express his concern that ‘the vagaries of German political life could at some point jeopardize [French] security interests’.133 The lingering issue of nuclear consultation had not gone away in spite of Saulnier’s November 1987 rebuff of Wellershoff, and it resurfaced in April 1989. In the run-up to the first meeting of the Franco-German defence and security council on 20 April, Kohl wrote to Mitterrand that he wished for a draft agreement negotiated by Wellershoff and General Maurice Schmitt (Saulnier’s successor) to be adopted during the meeting; Kohl believed that the inaugural session of the council was ‘an appropriate occasion’ to sign this ‘important document’, confirming the value he attached to setting up an extensive nuclear consultation mechanism.134 The draft agreement was the outcome of the negotiation that had lingered on since 1986 in spite of the French reticence to go beyond a technical arrangement for possible consultations in times of crisis or war. Why Schmitt, like Saulnier before him, seems to have continued until early 1989 to discuss with his German counterpart issues that went beyond strictly technical aspects in spite of the Élysée’s continued refusal to grant the Germans any droit de regard on French pre-strategic nuclear doctrine (let alone use) is unclear; the blurred division of competences between the Élysée, Matignon and the Ministry of Defence resulting from the ‘cohabitation’ that lasted until May 1988 is a plausible explanation.135 Be that as it may, the draft agreement worked out by Schmitt and Wellershoff, while reaffirming the French president’s exclusive authority in that realm, included language on the ‘politico-strategic framework’, the ‘common principles’ and the ‘limitations’ to be observed in case of French pre-strategic nuclear use, while at the same time describing the possible consultation process in broad terms, including ‘very early’ exchanges (i.e. upstream of a possible crisis); crucially, the draft agreement also said that any French decision to move pre-strategic nuclear missiles into FRG territory should be authorized by the German chancellor.136 The latter provision, which had been included at German request, triggered alarm bells at the Élysée. Like Chevènement, Mitterrand’s advisers believed that France should not be seen as asking for Germany’s permission in this matter. Védrine believed that such a provision would ‘amount to restricting, at least on paper, [the president’s] freedom of

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decision when it comes to a [nuclear] last warning’. (The same was true, he believed, with regard to another provision contained in the draft agreement that aimed at restricting pre-strategic nuclear use and entailed the notion of pre-strategic nuclear planning, which was not ‘consistent’ with French doctrine and the need for ‘uncertainty’.) Mitterrand agreed, instructing Védrine to ‘very closely’ review the draft agreement; ‘one cannot be careful enough’, he added.137 He further instructed his staff to expunge any discussion of the Wellershoff-Schmitt draft from the upcoming bilateral defence and security council meeting agenda, once again conveying his ‘extreme reservations’.138 Given Kohl’s strong insistence that the council should adopt the document on 20 April, Védrine believed that Mitterrand should bring up the issue privately with the chancellor on 19 April, that is, on the first day of the summit, in order to defuse a possible crisis in advance of the defence council meeting. Mitterrand agreed, asking Védrine to come and discuss the issue with him prior to his meeting with Kohl.139 Mitterrand’s meeting with Védrine morphed into a lunchtime discussion on strategy between the president and his key advisors, including Attali, Bianco, Védrine, Musitelli, Fleury, and his soon-to-be successor as Mitterrand’s military chief of staff, Admiral Jacques Lanxade. The purpose was to review the draft agreement on nuclear consultation and make amendments where necessary. The Germans had ‘a right to know what would happen on their territory’, Mitterrand said; they should therefore be granted ‘a right of consultation’, but this should not go ‘too far’. He wanted to know why the Franco-German discussions had ‘moved away’ from his February 1986 statement to include a discussion on ‘contents’; this created a risk for France’s autonomy of decision. Védrine responded that the 1986 statement had been seen all along as an endpoint by the French, but as a starting point by the Germans. Mitterrand then summarized his thinking on the role of pre-strategic weapons in French nuclear strategy: ‘In my mind, firing nuclear strikes on FRG territory or even on that of [the GDR] is not an option. But we cannot rule it out’, he said; ‘I am opposed to our short-range nuclear weapons’, he added, ‘but since they do exist, they are part and parcel of our strategy’. Mitterrand continued: ‘I somehow regret having called these weapons pre-strategic. True, this has clarified the difference with tactical nuclear weapons [which were] identified with forward defence and flexible response. But in truth these weapons are post-strategic, meaning that the only conceivable hypothesis in which they could be used would be a gallant last stand after strategic deterrence has failed’.140 The conversation once again exposed the French dilemma, namely how to please the Germans without hampering France’s sacrosanct

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autonomy of decision. To be sure, the way out of this dilemma had been shown by Mitterrand in December 1987 when he had proclaimed that the German territory would be exempt from any French nuclear pre-strategic strike; yet the Germans were now asking for concrete, binding gestures. Of course, at that juncture, Mitterrand could have chosen to bring to its logical culmination the evolution he had initiated, that is, curtailing or cancelling the Hadès programme outright (the possible ‘fourth step’ he had mentioned to Vogel in December 1987), as the German Social Democrats were now asking for; yet he was clearly not ready to do so at this stage on the grounds that this would represent a unilateral concession to the Soviets (and, at least implicitly, to the Germans). This left open the option of trying to find common ground with Bonn on nuclear consultation – in other words, reaching an agreement on amendments to the Schmitt-Wellershoff draft, knowing that rejecting the agreement altogether at this stage was hardly conceivable given the importance the Germans attached to it.141 The task proved difficult. During the 19 April lunch conversation, Mitterrand and his advisers had identified the changes they believed were necessary. Later that same day (the first of the bilateral summit), Teltschik, Wellershoff, Védrine and Lanxade entered into a negotiation based on these changes. While the French were now ready to accept the thrust of the text (including the language on the ‘politico-strategic framework’ and the ‘common principles’ as well as the notion of ‘very early’ exchanges, all of which clearly went beyond their initially restrictive approach), two major stumbling blocks remained: the issue of targeting restrictions, which the Germans wanted to include in the agreement and which the French believed amounted in effect to a joint targeting policy, unacceptable in their view; and, even more crucially, the issue of a formal German authorization of a possible displacement of French missiles into FRG territory, on which the Germans were still insisting. As a result, the negotiation on 19 April ended in a stalemate. By summer, Paris noted that the Chancellery had not tried to revive the talks. The Élysée now believed that the way forward was to formalize an agreement on technical aspects of a possible consultation procedure (including communication coding, confidentiality etc.) while postponing talks on other aspects.142 That the French and the Germans had failed to adopt the SchmittWellershoff document during the inaugural meeting of the joint defence and security council on 20 April 1989, as Kohl had asked insistently beforehand, was a disappointment for Bonn and a confirmation that the nuclear element continued to hamper bilateral strategic cooperation. Mitterrand had implicitly recognized this during the meeting: saluting

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the creation of the council as an ‘important novelty’, he had also warned that it would have to be justified by its concrete achievements.143 By then, another contentious issue had emerged. During a declaration in the Bundestag on 27 April 1989, Kohl made a surprise announcement: Bonn was now asking for an early opening of an SNF negotiation and wanted to postpone any Lance modernization to 1992; even more crucially, Kohl did not exclude a third zero option. Kohl’s stance – clearly influenced by Genscher’s and the growing sentiment in German public opinion – frontally contradicted the U.S. and UK stance on SNF, which emphasized the need for early modernization and rejected a negotiation, let alone a third zero option. A major political crisis between Washington, London and Bonn was in the making. Kohl’s new position was also problematic for the French, who, as seen above, were wary of an SNF negotiation and were concerned with a possible third zero option which would put additional pressure on France’s own pre-strategic weapons. Kohl, during the meeting of the defence and security council a week before – perhaps in response to Mitterrand’s reluctance on the issue of nuclear consultation – had refrained from giving his ally any hint of his forthcoming Bundestag declaration, while at the same time pledging to fight the ‘political forces’ which in the FRG wanted a denuclearization of the West’s defence posture.144 Kohl’s failure to inform Mitterrand of his upcoming position-taking led Dumas to express to Genscher Paris’s disappointment with what increasingly looked like a German Alleingang.145 Once again, however, Mitterrand wanted to defuse the issue by bridging the gap with Kohl as far as possible. Not unlike what he had done with his 1983 Bundestag speech, the French president wanted to show understanding for his partner’s position in the hope of strengthening him faced with growing anti-nuclear tendencies in Germany. The SPD was now seen as the hopeful in the upcoming 1990 general election, putting Kohl on the defensive; it was, in a sense, a repeat of the 1983 situation, prompting Paris to act – more discreetly this time – in order to diminish the risk of seeing anti-nuclear policies prevail in Bonn. As he told the new U.S. President George H.W. Bush, whom he met in May at his summer home in Maine, Kohl was the best possible German leader when it came to preserving the nuclear underpinnings of Western security, even though he had to make apparent concessions for domestic reasons; Kohl, he assured Bush, was opposed to a third zero option. Mitterrand, in the run-up to the upcoming NATO summit to be held on 30–31 May in Brussels, wanted to help forge a possible compromise on the SNF issue by encouraging Washington (as well as London) to show flexibility. After Washington disclosed a new, surprisingly positive stance on the recently opened negotiation on conventional forces in Europe (CFE) that aimed

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at wrapping up the negotiation within six to twelve months, the terms of the compromise were clear, and Mitterrand helped shape it at the NATO summit: the opening of an SNF negotiation – which should avoid resulting in a third zero option – would be postponed until the conclusion of the CFE negotiation. The compromise, in effect, amounted to putting the SNF issue on the back burner in terms of both negotiation and modernization, thus pacifying relations between the FRG and its Anglo-American allies while also taking the pressure off the French Hadès, easing budding Franco-German frictions.146 By the early summer of 1989, Mitterrand’s attempt at defusing the nuclear tensions that permeated the Western alliance seemed successful. With the end of the Cold War in sight, the nuclear element was clearly receding in security debates. Seen from Paris, France’s minimal deterrence posture, ostensibly based on war prevention rather than war fighting, was validated by the changing security context, in contrast to NATO’s more controversial flexible response.147 This situation even seemed conducive to finally overcoming the Franco-German nuclear conundrum. In June 1989, Bahr paid a visit to Chevènement. Acknowledging Europe’s rapidly changing security environment, Bahr emphasized the need to move forward in creating a European defence pillar. Franco-German cooperation, he said, was ‘essential’ to that end. Bahr (in essence going back to the ideas Schmidt had put forward in 1984) believed it was possible to put European conventional forces under a single European command ‘which should be French’. More crucially, he believed that the French nuclear arsenal could become a pillar of Europe’s security: France’s strategic nuclear weapons ‘were a fact that had to be accepted’, he told Chevènement, and they will ‘continue to answer to the French only’; and he added: ‘if the potential for disarmament is confirmed, the French [nuclear] arsenal will suffice to ensure the defence of Europe’. To be sure, Bahr continued, there still remained the problem of pre-strategic weapons, but he was optimistic: ‘Of course, the Hadès creates a problem for the Germans’, he said, adding: ‘Their number should therefore be reduced, for example down to twenty’; ‘this should be enough’, Bahr said, ‘given that after ten nuclear explosions on German soil the Germans would capitulate … Then, when the Hadès becomes obsolete, namely probably around 2020, they shouldn’t be modernized’.148 Coming from Bahr – the utmost incarnation of the pacifist, antinuclear current of the SPD, which the French had seen as a major challenge to their nuclear policies throughout most of the decade – such comments no doubt caught the attention of decision makers in Paris. Bahr’s comment indeed seemed to open the possibility of solving the

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two inseparable problems of France’s extension of its nuclear guarantee to the FRG and that of the probable destruction of German territory as a result of France’s defence of its nuclear ‘sanctuary’. Bahr’s comments, in other words, finally allowed moving beyond the paradigm of the ‘sanctuary’ and the ‘glacis’ which had prevailed for more than two decades in Franco-German nuclear relations. The fact that Bahr, of all people, seemed to contemplate a situation in which France’s minimal deterrence posture – in a security context transformed by conventional and nuclear disarmament – became acceptable to Germany and was even seen as the potential pillar of Europe’s future defence could in many ways be seen as a genuine breakthrough.149 Things were not yet quite settled, though. Against the backdrop of major changes in the East and the reopening of the German question (not least in the wake of the summer’s East-German refugee crisis and the demise of the Honecker regime), Kohl’s entourage once again raised the issue of nuclear consultation. In late October, Védrine told Mitterrand that Teltschik had told the French ambassador in Bonn that Kohl intended to once again bring up the Wellershoff-Schmitt document. Teltschik had justified this by saying that ‘it was very important for the Chancellor to obtain something [from the French in this realm] before the [1990] elections’. Védrine was concerned: such a comment on a document that was meant to remain secret seemed to confirm that the Germans wanted to use a possible agreement to score points domestically (including by leaking parts of it), which would put the French in a ‘very embarrassing’ situation. Kohl’s intention to raise the issue of consultation, he noted, was likely to create problems for the upcoming meeting of the FrancoGerman defence and security council on 3 November in Bonn.150 As for Chevènement, he believed that Kohl’s insistence was dangerous given West German public opinion’s growing rejection of nuclear weapons on its soil. Combined with the FRG’s evolving stance on the CFE negotiation, the German insistence, he believed, was detrimental to France’s status as a nuclear power.151 By the end of 1989, the issue of nuclear consultation was still not settled and continued to be a bone of contention between Paris and Bonn, and the fate of the Pluton/Hadès was more than ever at the centre of the issue.152 The fall of the Berlin Wall on 9 November was of course entirely unrelated to the nuclear issue, yet the return of the German national question at the top of the FRG’s priorities could hardly ease German pressure. Bonn could be expected to double down on its desire to obtain some form of leverage on possible French pre-strategic use on German territory, let alone France’s renunciation of its ground-based short-range nuclear forces altogether. With Germany now destined to be unified and

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fully sovereign and therefore even more eager to defend its perceived national interest, and with the end of the Cold War now looming (making the nuclear element bound to become more marginal in Europe’s security), German tolerance for nuclear weapons, especially those likely in case of war to be used on or from German soil, could only diminish yet further. This was confirmed in February 1990 when Wellershoff and German defence minister Gerhard Stoltenberg brought up the Hadès issue with Chevènement and Schmitt; the Germans, Stoltenberg made clear, continued to request precise commitments from the French on the possible use of the Hadès. Stoltenberg, Védrine reported to Mitterrand, had seemed ‘shocked’ to hear that production of the Hadès had already begun.153 Although Mitterrand had had misgivings about the Hadès for several years and now considered his 1982 decision to launch the programme to have been ‘a mistake’, and while the debate on its possible cancellation as part of the ‘peace dividends’ had swelled during most of 1989, a decision to produce a limited number of them (namely, forty warheads as compared to 120 as originally planned) had been taken by stealth in late January 1990.154 Mitterrand had not wanted to decree the cancellation of the Hadès, as suggested by some in the name of relations with Germany and Central and Eastern European countries in a radically transformed European landscape.155 In the following weeks, the decision was justified publicly by the need to preserve deterrence faced with a still uncertain strategic context and a still powerful Soviet Union, and to maintain the embryo of a future European defence entity. While there is no evidence that the January 1990 decision was made as a possible reassurance vis-àvis a unified Germany that could once again become hostile in the future, as some suggested at the time, it is likely that French decision makers saw the Hadès as necessary in order to maintain France’s status as a nuclear power after the Cold War, knowing that cancelling it at this precise juncture could have been perceived as bowing to external pressure – German to begin with.156 The decision, though no doubt seen as disappointing in Bonn, did not lead to a Franco-German crisis, with Kohl even declaring in April 1990 that, for him, the Hadès was ‘by no means a concern’.157 The issue of short-range nuclear missiles was quickly moving to the back burner. With Bush announcing in May the cancellation of the Lance’s successor, the Hadès could but follow this path. Between 1990 and 1992, the number of Hadès to be produced was reduced several times and, in 1992, it was decided that they would be ‘mothballed’. In 1996, Mitterrand’s successor, President Jacques Chirac, decided to finally abandon the system.158

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Conclusion The end of the Cold War eased the Franco-German nuclear problem. Although the two countries, well into the 1990s, continued to be separated by their different statuses with regard to NATO integration and strategy, the reduced importance of nuclear deterrence in European security made this issue somewhat less problematic. With the gradual elimination of ground-based short-range nuclear weapons, the issue of the possible use of France’s pre-strategic weapons on German soil became moot, and the notion of a French ‘sanctuary’ and a German ‘glacis’ was bound to become all but irrelevant. At the same time, though, the end of the Cold War left the Franco-German (and indeed the European) nuclear conundrum unsolved: the possibility of a Franco-German or a European deterrent posture remained hypothetical. Yet this does not mean that the 1980s were a lost decade. On the contrary, this study has shown that the 1980s were a period of intense dialogue, whose goal was to reduce the Franco-German nuclear gap as far as possible. To be sure, Mitterrand believed that France’s nuclear status and Germany’s non-nuclear status were a fact of life that could not and should not be questioned. And yet his goal, throughout the 1980s, had been to reduce the consequences of that situation on Franco-German relations. Starting in 1982, the French had embarked on a strategy aiming at reducing the nuclear antinomies between France and Germany – not least in the pre-strategic and conventional dimensions – and overcoming the ‘glacis’ model. The aim was to convince the Germans that France’s ‘vital interests’ did not stop at the Franco-German border and that Germany’s security interests were in fact included in the French strategic calculus, knowing that an explicit nuclear guarantee was off-limits. More specifically, the French wanted to reassure the Germans that their territory would not become the target of France’s pre-strategic weapons used in defence of the national ‘sanctuary’, and that German territory was somehow covered by France’s deterrent strategy, if not de jure, then at least de facto – that France was not ‘a nuclear Switzerland’. The effort involved changing the declaratory policy, which led French authorities throughout the 1980s to hint at an extension of France’s ‘vital interests’, as well as an evolution in operational capabilities and planning, both in the conventional arena (not least the creation of the FAR in 1983) and in the pre-strategic arena (through the Hadès programme and its enhanced range). In addition, starting in 1986, the French had agreed to engage in nuclear consultations with the Germans on the possible use of prestrategic weapons on, or from, German territory, in case of crisis or war. In all these dimensions, Mitterrand wanted to go as far as possible in

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order to satisfy the Germans and facilitate the strategic rapprochement between the two countries, including, towards the end of the decade, by contemplating the possibility of discarding its ground-based prestrategic nuclear forces, in essence untying the Gordian knot. Of course, by the time the Berlin Wall fell, these evolutions were still unfinished and were arguably nearing their limits, that is, the defence of the national interest and the preservation of France’s autonomy of decision – hence Mitterrand’s reluctance to sanction the discarding of the Hadès under pressure and to go the extra mile in the matter of nuclear consultation. With hindsight, one is struck by the fact that the end of the Cold War came too soon. As seen above, by the end of 1989, an agreement on nuclear consultation was not very far off (only Bonn’s insistence on authorizing the possible deployment of the Hadès onto German territory had postponed its conclusion); the French were contemplating a substantial reduction of the number of Hadès to be produced; and the Germans (as Bahr’s personal thinking showed) were in fact not far from recognizing the possibility of a European defence system based on the French deterrent. Had these evolutions been pushed to their conclusion, it is conceivable that the Franco-German nuclear antinomies would have been overcome, allowing for a new step in the bilateral strategic rapprochement. Yet German unification and the demise of the Soviet Union swept away the issue altogether, making the Franco-German strategic rapprochement unfinished business. Whether it can be revived thirty years on in an entirely different European situation and a completely changed strategic context goes beyond the scope of this study, but contemporary strategists would be well advised to reflect on the evolutions of the 1980s.159 Frédéric Bozo is Professor of Contemporary History at the Sorbonne Nouvelle (Department of European Studies). His focus is on Cold War history, European integration history, transatlantic relations, FrancoGerman relations and French foreign and security policy. His book publications include France, the End of the Cold War, and German Unification (Berghahn Books, 2009) and French Foreign Policy: An Introduction (Berghahn Books, 2016). He has recently co-edited (with Christian Wenkel) France and the German Question, 1945–1990 (Berghahn Books, 2019).

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Notes This chapter draws in part from my earlier articles ‘The Sanctuary and the Glacis: France, the Federal Republic of Germany, and Nuclear Weapons in the 1980s’, Part 1, Journal of Cold War Studies, 22(3) (2020), 119–79; and ‘The Sanctuary and the Glacis: France, the Federal Republic of Germany, and Nuclear Weapons in the 1980s’, Part 2, Journal of Cold War Studies, 22(4) (2020), 175–228, courtesy of the Journal of Cold War Studies and The MIT Press.  1

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 7.  8.  9. 10.

11. 12.

See G.-H. Soutou, L’Alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996 (Paris: Fayard, 1996); and F. Bozo, Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance 1958–1969 (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001). H. Schmidt, Die Deutschen und ihre Nachbarn (Berlin: Siedler, 1990), 171, 272 and 284–85. The French air force was equipped with tactical nuclear bombs since 1972, but the longer range of the aircraft compared with tactical ground missiles made it less of an issue in relations between France and the FRG. On this, see Soutou, L’Alliance incertaine, 330 ff. Since the 1960s, NATO’s forward defence was organized as a ‘layer cake’ involving eight allied army corps deployed along West Germany’s eastern border. As a non-integrated, autonomous nuclear power, France was not part of NATO’s forward defence, as its participation in it would have involved a de facto ‘automatic’ French involvement in a possible conflict, which France rejected in the name of both its nuclear ‘autonomy of decision’ and the ‘uncertainty’ necessary for deterrence; nevertheless, France–NATO agreements signed after 1966, starting with the 1967 Ailleret-Lemnitzer agreement, foresaw France’s possible intervention alongside NATO as a reserve force. On France–NATO military relations after de Gaulle’s 1966 decision, see Bozo, Two Strategies; F. Bozo, ‘Chronique d’une décision annoncée: le retrait de l’organisation militaire (1965–1967)’, in M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN 1949–1996 (Paris: Complexe, 1996); and F. Bozo, La France et l’OTAN: De la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen (Paris: Masson, 1991). See Livre blanc sur la défense nationale, vol. I (Paris: Ministère de la défense nationale, 1972), 20–23. French declaratory policy seemed in effect to envisage French non-participation in the ‘battle of Germany’ in case of a Soviet attack while reserving French forces for the ‘battle of France’, a presentation that aimed at stressing France’s independence for domestic reasons although it did not correspond to the reality of the country’s likely involvement alongside its allies, albeit in a limited reserve role and under national command: see Bozo, Two Strategies, 50–51, 83–84 and 133. See Ilaria Parisi’s chapter in this volume. Schmidt, Die Deutschen und ihre Nachbarn, 285; and Soutou, L’Alliance incertaine, 360 ff. Schmidt, Die Deutschen und ihre Nachbarn, 276; and Soutou, L’Alliance incertaine, 330 ff. For background on France and Germany in the 1980s, see U. Lappenküper, Mitterrand und Deutschland: Die enträtselte Sphinx (Munich: Oldenburg, 2011); T. Schabert, Wie Weltgeschichte gemacht wird: Frankreich und die deutsche Einheit (Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 2002); and F. Bozo, Mitterrand, the End of the Cold War, and German Unification (New York: Berghahn Books, 2009); for more specialized literature on politico-strategic issues, see the references in Bozo, ‘The Sanctuary and the Glacis’, Parts 1 and 2. Pierre Bérégovoy note for Mitterrand, 7 October 1981, Archives Nationales (AN), 5AG4/190, dossier 4. On the INF crisis, see L. Nuti, F. Bozo, B. Rother and M.-P. Rey (eds), The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War (Washington, DC/Stanford, CA: Woodrow Wilson Center/Stanford University Press, 2015).

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13. Mitterrand-Schmidt meeting, Latché, 7 October 1981, AN, 5AG4/72/2. 14. Mitterrand-Schmidt meeting, Latché, 7 October 1981, AN, 5AG4/72/2. 15. Jean-Michel Gaillard, note, ‘La RFA, le pacifisme, la construction européenne’, 21 September 1981; and Ministère des relations extérieures (MRE), Direction d’Europe, notes, ‘La situation politique intérieure de la RFA’, 2 October 1981, and ‘La politique étrangère de la RFA’, 6 January 1982, AN, 5AG4/CD160 dossier 1. 16. MRE, Direction politique, service des Affaires stratégiques et du désarmement (ASD), note, Position du SPD visant à la prise en compte des forces françaises dans la négociation de Genève, January 1982 (precise date not identifiable), AN, 5AG4/CD160, dossier 2. 17. On France and the INF crisis, see I. Parisi, La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 1977– 1987, PhD dissertation (Paris: Sorbonne Nouvelle, 2017); and F. Bozo, ‘France, the Euromissiles, and the End of the Cold War’, in Nuti et al., Euromissile Crisis. 18. Note, ‘La politique étrangère de la RFA’, 6 January 1982, AN, 5AG4/CD160, dossier 1. 19. MRE, Centre d’analyse et de prévision (CAP), note A/S Approfondissement des rapports de sécurité franco-allemands, 12 February 1982, AN, 5AG4/CD160, dossier 2. 20. Joint declaration of 25 February 1982, in A. Kimmel and P. Jardin (eds), Die deutschfranzösischen Beziehungen seit 1963: Eine Dokumentation (Opladen: Leske + Budrich, 2002), 243–45. 21. MRE, Europe, note, Entretien entre M. Egon Bahr et le Ministre, 1 and 2 April 1982; and MRE, ASD, Note pour le Ministre, Entretien avec E. Bahr, 31 March 1982, AN, 5AG4/ CD160, dossier 2; see also Botschafter Herbst, Paris, an das Auswärtige Amt, 1 April 1982; Betr.: Informationsreise MdB Egon Bahr nach Paris am 1. und 2. 4. 1982, Akten zur Auswärtigen Politik der Bundesrepublik Deutschland (AAPD) 1982 (I), doc. no. 103, 517–19. 22. Kohl-Mitterrand meeting, Bonn, 22 October 1982, AN, 5AG4/CD/72/2; see also the German account of the four ministers’ meeting: Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Pfeffer, AAPD 1982 (II), doc. no. 284, 1480–87. 23. MRE, CAP, note pour le ministre, A/S Contacts en Allemagne à la veille de l’anniversaire du traité de l’Élysée, 17 January 1983; and Note, Pierre Morel to Jean-Louis Bianco, Objet: discours au Bundestag: nécessité et modalités d’une grande initiative, 17 January 1983, AN, 5AG4/CD/174. 24. See the speech in La Politique étrangère de la France (PEF), January–February 1983, 41–47. 25. See H.-P. Schwarz, Helmut Kohl: Eine politische Biographie (Munich: DVA, 2012), 352 ff. See also Yannick Pincé’s chapter in this volume. 26. MRE, CAP, note A/S Allemagne: l’avis de trois experts (J. Rovan, B. Spinelli, J. Dumoulin), 16 March 1983, AN, 5AG4/CD161, dossier 2. 27. Védrine note for Mitterrand, 25 April 1983, AN, 5AG4/CD161, dossier 2. 28. MRE, le conseiller technique (D. Delbourg), Réunion de la commission franco-allemande de défense et de sécurité, 29 avril 1983 (compte-rendu), 29 April 1983; see also Letter, Heisbourg to Jacques Andréani, 25 April 1983, AN, 5AG4/CD161, dossier 2. 29. Kohl-Mitterrand meeting, Bonn, 24 November 1983, AN, 5AG4/CD72, dossier 2; see also Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand, 24 November 1983, AAPD 1983 (II), doc. no. 357, 1776–90. 30. Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Pfeffer, 6. Februar 1984, Betr.: Intensivierung der deutsch-französischen Zusammenarbeit, AAPD 1984 (I), doc. no. 35, 185–92. 31. MRE, le directeur des affaires politiques, Compte-rendu de la discussion des MRE et de la défense français et allemands, La Celle Saint-Cloud, 28 mai 1984, 30 May 1984, AN, 5AG4/CD162/2; see also Gespräch der Bundesminister Genscher und Wörner mit dem französischen Auβenminister Cheysson und Verteidigungsminister Hernu in La Celle Saint-Cloud, 28 May 1984, AAPD 1984 (I), doc. no. 142, 722–29.

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32. See the transcript in Deutscher Bundestag, Stenographischer Bericht, 77. Sitzung, Bonn, 28 June 1984, 5596 ff., and esp. 5601 ff., http://dipbt.bundestag.de/doc/btp/10/10077.pdf (accessed 31 January 2018); see also Schmidt’s recollection in H. Schmidt, Menschen und Mächte (Berlin: Siedler, 1999), 288 ff. 33. Helmut Schmidt, Disposition [sic] d’un discours sur le sujet ‘Progrès vers l’autonomie européenne’ à prononcer devant le Bundestag, jeudi 28 juin 1984, AN, 5AG4/CD162, dossier 2; and Schmidt, Menschen, 286 ff. 34. Saulnier note for Mitterrand, Relations franco-allemandes en matière de défense, 5 July 1984, private papers. [‘Private papers’ henceforth refers to photocopied documents made available to the author by former French officials.] 35. On this, see P. Favier and M. Martin-Roland, La Décennie Mitterrand, vol. 2, Les Épreuves (Paris: Seuil, 1991), 256–58. 36. Dispatch from the French ambassador to Bonn (Jacques Morizet), Objet: réactions au discours de M. Schmidt devant le Bundestag, 4 July 1984, AN, 5AG4/CD163, dossier 1. 37. Note, Coopération franco-allemande en matière de défense, 3 July 1984, AN, 5AG4/ CD163, dossier 1. 38. MRE, CAP, note A/S Relations de sécurité franco-allemandes: réflexions sur les options, July 1984; MRE, sous-direction des affaires stratégiques, note a.s. Coopération franco-allemande en matière de sécurité: demandes allemandes, 30 July 1984; MRE, le directeur d’Europe, note a/s Relations franco-allemandes en matière de sécurité, 9 August 1984; and Védrine handwritten notes, ‘Les demandes allemandes’, 27 August 1984; see also MRE, sous-direction des affaires stratégiques, note a.s. RFA et procédures de consultation sur l’emploi des armes nucléaires tactiques, 18 October 1984, AN, 5AG4/CD163, dossier 1. On de Gaulle’s strategy, see Frédéric Gloriant’s chapter in this volume. 39. MRE, sous-direction des affaires stratégiques, note a.s. Concertation franco-allemande en matière de défense et de sécurité: bilans et problèmes, 9 October 1984, AN, 5AG4/ CD163, dossier 1. 40. MRE, le directeur des affaires politiques, Note pour le Ministre, Objet: conversations franco-allemandes à quatre sur la stratégie et la sécurité, 25 October 1984, AN, 5AG4/ CD163, dossier 1; and Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Pfeffer, 23. Oktober 1984, Betr.: deutsch-französische sicherheitspolitische Zusammenarbeit; 7. Sitzung des Auschusses für Sicherheit und Verteidigung am 22.10.84 in Paris, AAPD 1984 (II), doc. no. 288, 1320–26. 41. Védrine and Elisabeth Guigou note for Mitterrand, a.s. 44èmes consultations francoallemandes au sommet, Bad-Kreuznach, 29–30 octobre 1984, 29 October 1984, AN, 5AG4/CD179/2. 42. Résumé de l’entretien entre MM. Cheysson, Hernu, Woerner et Genscher, 29 October 1984, AN, 5AG4/6562; see also Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Pfeffer, 1 November 1984, AAPD 1984 (II), doc. no. 297, 1345–57. 43. Kohl-Mitterrand meeting, Bad-Kreuznach, 30 October 1984, AN, 5AG4/CD72, dossier 2; see also Runderlaβ des Vortragenden Legationsrats Karkow, 2 November 1984, AAPD 1984 (II), doc. no. 294, 1357–60. 44. Guigou and Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. 45ème sommet franco-allemand, 7 February 1985, AN, 5AG4/CD163, dossier 2. 45. MRE, Service des affaires stratégiques et des pactes, note a.s. Groupe d’experts franco-allemands sur l’initiative de défense stratégique, 7 February 1985, AN, 5AG4/ CD163, dossier 2. On France and SDI, see P. Chaput, La France et l’Initiative de défense stratégique de Ronald Reagan (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2013). 46. Ministère de la défense, Cabinet, le conseiller technique [J.-F. Bureau] note, Objet: déclarations de MM. Hernu et Werner [sic] à Muningen [sic: Münsingen] (20 juin 1985), 24 June 1985, AN, 5AG4/CD163, dossier 2.

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47. Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Edler von Braunmühl, Betr.: Deutschfranzösiche Gespräche der Außen- und Verteidigungsminister am 26. Juni in Bonn, AAPD 1985 (II), doc. no. 171, 896 ff. 48. Aufzeichnung des Ministeraldirektors Seitz, Betr.: Weiterentwicklung der sicherheitspolitischen Zusammenarbeit mit Frankreich, 19 August 1985, AAPD 1985 (II), doc. no. 224, 1151 ff. 49. Guigou and Védrine note for Mitterrand, Objet: votre rencontre avec le chancelier Kohl à Brégançon le 24 août, 23 August 1985, AN, 5AG4/6538. 50. Forray note for Mitterrand, Objet: liaison télévisée entre Paris et Bonn, 7 October 1985, AN, 5AG4/CD185/3. 51. MRE, Europe, sous-direction Europe centrale, Fiche opérationnelle, Objet: 46è consultations franco-allemandes au sommet, Bonn, 7–8 novembre 1985, 29 October 1985, AN, 5AG4/EG154, dossier 2. 52. H. Kohl, Erinnerungen 1982–1990 (Munich: Droemer, 2005), 386. 53. Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand, 8 November 1985, AAPD 1985 (II), doc. no. 397, 1589 ff. 54. Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Edler von Braunmühl, Betr.: Deutschfranzösische sicherheits- und verteidigungspolitische Zusammenarbeit, AAPD 1985 (II), doc. no. 349, 18 December 1985, 1845. 55. Kohl-Mitterrand conversation, Paris, 17 December 1985, AN, 5AG4/CD72, dossier 2; and Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand in Paris, 17 December 1985, AAPD 1985 (II), doc. no. 347, 1821–36. 56. Kohl-Mitterrand conversation, Paris, 17 December 1985, AN, 5AG4/CD72, dossier 2; and Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand in Paris, 17 December 1985, AAPD 1985 (II), doc. no. 347, 1821–36. 57. Kohl, Erinnerungen, 389. 58. Forray note for Mitterrand, Objet: Documents remis par le chancelier Kohl, 20 December 1985, private papers; see also Favier and Martin-Roland, La Décennie, vol. 2, 260. 59. Forray note for Mitterrand, Objet: Visite à Baden-Baden le 16 janvier 1986, 13 November 1985; and handwritten note from Jean Musitelli to Védrine, 14 November 1985, AN, 5AG4/CD186, dossier 2. 60. Kohl-Mitterrand meeting, Baden-Baden, 16 January 1986, AN, 5AG4/CD164, dossier 2; see also Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohls mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand in BadenBaden, 16 January 1986, AAPD 1986 (I), doc. no. 10, 48–55. 61. Le Monde, 18 January 1986. 62. Minister of Defence Paul Quilès note for Mitterrand, 20 February 1986; and Saulnier note for Quilès, 4 February 1986, private papers. 63. Projet [‘allemand’ added with pencil handwriting]. Déclaration concernant un accord entre le président de la République française et le chancelier fédéral d’Allemagne à l’occasion du sommet franco-allemand à Paris, 27–28 February 1986, AN, 5AG4/ CD164, dossier 2. 64. Ministère de la défense, le directeur du cabinet civil et militaire, Patrick Careil, note for Védrine and Forray, 20 February 1986, AN, 5AG4/CD164, dossier 2. 65. See F. Mitterrand, Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France, in F. Mitterrand, Œuvres, vol. IV (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018), 791 ff.; see also the introduction by F. Bozo, 723–36. (The book was first published by Fayard in January 1986.) 66. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Déclaration éventuelle du président de la République à l’issue du sommet franco-allemand, 25 February 1986, AN, 5AG4/CD164, dossier 2. 67. MRE, Direction des affaires politiques, Compte-rendu de la réunion des ministres de la défense et des ministres des relations extérieures à l’occasion du sommet franco-allemand, 27 February 1986, AN, 5AG5/CD164, dossier 2; see also Gespräch der

278

68.

69.

70. 71. 72.

73.

74.

75.

76. 77. 78. 79.

80. 81.

82.

Frédéric Bozo

Bundesminister Genscher und Wörner mit dem französischen Auβenminister Dumas und Verteidigungsminister Quilès in Paris, 27 February 1986, AAPD 1986 (I), doc. no. 57, 314–27. Védrine handwritten note for Bianco, no date, AN, 5AG4/CD164, dossier 2; and Bianco handwritten note for Mitterrand, no date, AN, 5AG4/6579 (Bianco told Mitterrand that ‘since the Germans are demandeurs, we might ask for a quid pro quo involving perhaps German support in the Hermès space-shuttle project or the CAP [common agricultural policy]’). H. Védrine, Les Mondes de François Mitterrand: A l’Elysée, 1981–1995 (Paris: Fayard, 1996), 405; see the text of the declaration in Kimmel and Jardin, Die deutsch-französischen Beziehungen, 262–65. The declaration also mentioned the decision to create a secure link between the Élysée and the Chancellery and to explore joint training of military officers. Perhaps as part of the quid pro quo desired by Paris, Bonn’s decision to consider German participation in the Hermès project was evoked – in rather noncommittal terms – in a separate statement. Bonn Telegram no. 400, 4 March 1986, AN, 5AG4/CD164, dossier 2. Bonn Telegram no. 547, 1 April 1986; and Védrine note for Mitterrand, 2 April 1986, AN, 5AG4/CD164, dossier 2. MRE, ASP, note a.s. le point sur la coopération franco-allemande en matière de sécurité, 3 September 1986; and Rapport de la commission franco-allemande de sécurité et de défense aux ministres des affaires étrangères et de la défense [no date – October 1986], AN, 5AG4/CD165, dossier 1. Sitzung des deutsch-französischen Ausschusses für Sicherheit und Verteidigung, 23 July 1986, AAPD 1986 (II), doc. no. 213, 1122–39; see also Aufzeichnung des Vortragenden Legationsrat Bertram, 18. Juli 1986, Betr.: Deutsch-französiche Konsultationen über Nuklearfragen, AAPD 1986 (II), doc. no. 201, 1054–55. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Votre visite à Baden-Baden, 15 January 1986, AN, 5AG4/ CD186, dossier 2; Forray note for Mitterrand, objet: coopération franco-allemande, 25 August 1986, AN, 5AG4/CD165, dossier 1; and Aufzeichnung des Vortragenden Legationsrat Bertram, 18 July 1986, Betr.: Deutsch-französiche Konsultationen über Nuklearfragen, AAPD 1986 (II), doc. no. 201, 1054–55. Forray note for Mitterrand, objet: sommet franco-allemand des 27–28 octobre 1986; questions relatives à la défense; and Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Sommet de Francfort. Coopération franco-allemande en matière de sécurité et suites du sommet de Reykjavik, 24 October 1986, 5AG4/EG/155, dossier 1. Bruno Racine, note A/S coopération franco-allemande en matière de sécurité, 6 January 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de Bruno Racine, 19900130/1, dossier 4. Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Freiherr von Richthofen, 8 January 1987, AAPD 1987 (I), doc. no. 4, 21–28. On this, see Bozo, ‘France’, in Nuti et al., Euromissile Crisis. On intra-coalition tensions over INF in Bonn in the run-up to the INF treaty, see AAPD 1987 (I), e.g. Bundesminister Genscher an Bundeskanzler Kohl, 18 May 1987, doc. no. 139, 709. See also Jacques Attali note for Mitterrand, Déjeuner avec M. Telschik [sic, read: Horst Teltschik, Kohl’s adviser on security affairs] à Bonn le 7 avril, 8 April 1987, AN, 5AG4/EG70. On this, see Yannick Pincé’s chapter in this volume. On France’s stance in the latter phase of the INF negotiations, see Parisi, La France; and Bozo, ‘France’, in Nuti et al., Euromissile Crisis. See also F. Bozo, ‘François Mitterrand et les enjeux stratégiques, 1984–1988’, in G. Saunier (ed.), François Mitterrand 1984–1988: Les années d’alternance 1984–1986/1986–1988 (Paris: Nouveau Monde Editions, 2019). Quoted in Favier and Martin-Roland, La Décennie, vol. 2, 654.

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83. Mitterrand annotation on Védrine note for Mitterrand, 17 March 1987, AN, 5AG4/ EG70. 84. Védrine note for Mitterrand, 27 April 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD259. 85. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Propositions à Chatham House en matière de défense européenne, 13 January 1987, AN, 5AG4/EG70. 86. Mitterrand’s speech at Chatham House on 15 January 1987, in G. Saunier and P. Vial (eds), La France et sa défense: Paroles publiques d’un président, 1981–1995 (Paris: Nouveau Monde éditions, 2015), 263 ff. (here 270). 87. Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirektors Freiherr von Richthofen, 8 January 1987, AAPD 1987 (I), doc. no. 4, 21–28. 88. Ambassade de RFA, bulletin no. 5, March 1987, Déclaration gouvernementale du chancelier de la RFA devant le Bundestag, 18 March 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD165, dossier 2. 89. Schwarz, Helmut Kohl, 419 ff. (quote on p. 423). 90. Kohl-Mitterrand meeting, Chambord, 28 March 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD73, dossier 1; see also Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand auf Schloβ Chambord, 28 March 1987, AAPD 1987 (I), doc. no. 89, 423–45. 91. Attali note for Mitterrand, Déjeuner avec M. Telschik [sic] à Bonn le 7 avril, 8 April 1987, AN, 5AG4/EG70; Védrine, Les Mondes, 410–12; see also Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand in Venedig, 9 June 1987, AAPD 1987 (I), doc. no. 166, 819–21. 92. Racine note for Chirac, Objet: commentaires sur l’initiative de M. Kohl: création d’une brigade franco-allemande, 22 June 1987; and Racine note for Chirac, A/S Coopération franco-allemande, 19 June 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de Bruno Racine, 19900130/1, dossier 4. 93. Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand in Brüssel, 30 June 1987, AAPD 1987 (I), doc. no. 189, 956–59. 94. Attali note for Mitterrand, objet: rencontre du vendredi 24 juillet 1987 à Bonn, 24 July 1987; and Védrine handwritten notes, conversations de Bonn, a.s. Brigade 24-7-87, AN, 5AG4/CD166, dossier 1; see also Védrine note for Mitterrand, 8 July 1987, AN, 5AG4/6579; Schwarz, Helmut Kohl, 429–30; and Aufzeichnung des Ministerialdirigenten Hartmann, Bundeskanzleramt, 28. Juli 1987, Betr.: Deutsch-französiches Gespräch über sicherheitspolitische Zusammenarbeit am Freitag, 24 July 1987, AAPD 1987 (II), doc. no. 223, 1117–26. 95. Attali note for Mitterrand, 27 August 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD166, dossier 1; Racine and Jean Picq note for Chirac, CR d’entretien avec MM. Attali et Védrine, ce jeudi 27 août 1987, 27 August 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de Bruno Racine, 19900130/1, dossier 4; see also Schwarz, Helmut Kohl, 429–30; and Aufzeichnung des Legationsrats I. Klasse von Morr, 28. August 1987, Betr.: Deutsch-französiches Gespräch über sicherheitspolitische Zusammenarbeit am Donnerstag, den 27. August in Paris (ÉlyséePalast), AAPD 1987 (II), doc. no. 239, 1203–10. 96. Chirac letter to Mitterrand, 8 September 1987; see also Chirac note for Giraud, 28 August 1987; Racine and Picq note for Chirac, A/S Coopération franco-allemande – projets de l’Élysée, 4 September 1987; and Picq and Racine note for Chirac, Objet: Relations franco-allemandes. Entretien avec le Chancelier Kohl, 17 September 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de Bruno Racine, 19900130/1, dossier 4. 97. Aufzeichnung des Vortragenden Legationsrats Bitterlich, Bundeskanzleramt, 29. September 1987, Betr.: Deutsch-französische sicherheitspolitische Zusammenarbeit; hier: Dritte Gesprächsrunde am 23. September 1987, AAPD 1987 (II), doc. no. 273, 1386–91; see also Védrine handwritten notes, Bonn, 23 September 1987, AN, 5AG5/ CD166, dossier 1. 98. Védrine note for Mitterrand, 23 September 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD166, dossier 1; Racine note for Chirac, A/S place de la RFA dans la politique de sécurité française, 27

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99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105.

106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111.

112.

113. 114.

Frédéric Bozo

September 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de Bruno Racine, 19900130/1, dossier 4; Bujon de l’Estang note for Chirac, A/S Relations franco-allemandes en matière de défense, 18 September 1987; and Bujon de l’Estang note for Chirac, A/S Conseil de défense franco-allemand. Rendez-vous manqué avec M. Teltschik, 29 October 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de François Bujon de l’Estang, 19900003/1; see also Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Eventuelle déclaration le 24 septembre à l’occasion des manœuvres Kecker Spatz, 21 September 1987, AN, 5AG4/6579. General Jean Fleury [Mitterrand’s military chief of staff] note for Mitterrand, Objet: Manoeuvre ‘Moineau hardi’ (Kecker Spatz), 21 September 1987, AN, 5AG4/6579. Forray note for Mitterrand, 25 August 1986; Musitelli handwritten notes, ‘8/7. Kecker Spatz’; and Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: présentation de la manœuvre ‘Kecker Spatz’, 2 September 1987, AN, 5AG5/CD186, dossier 3. Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: manœuvre ‘Kecker Spatz’, 4 September 1987, AN, 5AG5/CD186, dossier 3. Musitelli and Védrine note for Mitterrand, A/S Programme de votre visite en RFA, 1 September 1987; and Bianco note for Mitterrand, Objet: votre visite d’Etat en RFA, 7 September 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD186, dossier 4. Védrine note for Mitterrand, Avant-projet de discours – Aix-la-Chapelle – plan détaillé [no date – October 1987]; and Bonn Telegram no. 2148, 17 October 1987, AN, 5AG4/ CD186, dossier 4. On this, see Védrine, Les Mondes, 720 ff. Védrine summary of a conversation between Mitterrand, Reagan, Thatcher, Kohl, [Japanese Premier Yasuhiro] Nakasone, [Italian Premier Amintore] Fanfani, and Delors, Venice, 8 June 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD/67, dossier 1; see also Védrine, Les Mondes, 411–12 and 725–28. Kohl-Mitterrand meeting, Chambord, 28 March 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD73, dossier 1; and Gespräch des Bundeskanzlers Kohl mit Staatspräsident Mitterrand auf Schloβ Chambord, 28 March 1987, AAPD 1987 (I), doc. no. 89, 423–45. Attali note for Mitterrand, Déjeuner avec M. Telschik [sic] à Bonn le 7 avril, 8 April 1987, AN, 5AG4/EG70. Mitterrand-Vogel meeting, 9 July 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD73, dossier 1. Védrine, Les Mondes, 720–21. Védrine note for Mitterrand, 21 May 1987, AN, 5AG4/EG70. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Stratégie de représailles massives et riposte graduée, 16 October 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD179, dossier 4. Védrine later wrote that Mitterrand in 1981 had in effect inherited a ‘strategic inconsistency’, which de Gaulle and Pompidou had created when it was decided that the French army would be equipped with a sizable number of Plutons; Védrine explained this decision by the fact that the French strategic concept was ‘not fully clarified’ at the time and by de Gaulle’s alleged willingness to placate the army after the end of the Algeria war and in the context of the creation of the force de frappe, both of which threatened to lead to its marginalization vis-à-vis the navy and the air force: Védrine, Les Mondes, 720–21. Mitterrand’s speech at Aachen city hall, 20 October 1987. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.elysee.fr/francois-mitterrand/1987/10/20/discours-de-m-francoismitterrand-president-de-la-republique-a-lhotel-de-ville-daix-la-chapelle-sur-la-construction-europeenne-lemploi-des-armes-prestrategiques-francaises-et-la-dissuasionnucleaire-mardi-20-octobre-1987. Quoted in Saunier and Vial, La France et sa défense, 348–49. Védrine note on Bonn Telegram no. 2188-91 and 2195-7, 23 October 1987, AN, 5AG4/ CD186, dossier 4.

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115. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Sommet franco-allemand de Karlsruhe. Questions de défense et de sécurité, 10 October 1987; and Bonn Telegram no. 2379, 14 November 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD179, dossier 4; and Védrine, Les Mondes, 414–45. 116. Mitterrand’s interview with Le Nouvel observateur, 18 December 1987, in Saunier and Vial, La France et sa défense, 364 (italics added). 117. Mitterrand-Vogel meeting, 17 December 1987, private papers. 118. Forray note for Mitterrand, Objet: consultations sur l’emploi éventuel des armes pré-stratégiques, 18 May 1987, private papers. 119. Attali note for Mitterrand, Objet: rencontre du vendredi 24 juillet 1987 à Bonn, 24 July 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD166, dossier 1. 120. Chirac note for Giraud, 28 August 1987; and Racine and Picq note for Chirac, CR d’entretien avec MM. Attali et Védrine, ce jeudi 27 août 1987, 27 August 1987, AN, Cabinet Chirac, Archives de Bruno Racine, 19900130/1, dossier 4. 121. Attali note for Mitterrand, 27 August 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD166, dossier 1. 122. Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: coopération militaire franco-allemande, 4 September 1987, private papers. 123. Fleury note for Bianco, Objet: liaison présidence-chancellerie par télécopie, 21 September 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD6579. 124. Mitterrand letter to Chirac, 3 October 1987, private papers. (Although as president Mitterrand was the commander in chief, the military chief of staff, Saulnier, nominally reported to the minister of defence and the prime minister.) 125. Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: entretiens Général Saulnier-Amiral Wellershoff, 24 November 1987, private papers. 126. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Sommet franco-allemand de Karlsruhe. Questions de défense et de sécurité, 10 November 1987, AN, 5AG4/CD179, dossier 4. 127. Védrine, Les Mondes, 416. 128. MAE, sous-direction affaires stratégiques, Note, L’affaire SNF; problématique et enjeux, 21 December 1988, AD, ASD 1985–1990, box 15; and Védrine note for Mitterrand, 19 November 1988, private papers. 129. Letter, Ehmke to Bianco, 20 September 1988; Parti Socialiste, Secrétariat international [no author], note for Védrine, Objet: ratification par le SPD du protocole franco-allemand sur la défense, 3 October 1988; Ministère de la défense, cabinet du Ministre, Compte-rendu, Objet: entretien avec M. Ehmke, député SPD, 18 October 1988; and Musitelli note for Mitterrand, 3 November 1988, AN, 5AG4/CD176, dossier 2; see also Le Monde, 21 April 1989. 130. See Schwarz, Helmut Kohl, 449. 131. Ehmke speech to the Ecole centrale, 25 February 1988, sent to the Élysée by the German embassy, 5AG5/CD166, dossier 2. 132. Ministère de la défense, cabinet du ministre, note by Pascal Boniface, Objet: compterendu de la réunion SPD-PS du 13 janvier 1989 à Bonn, AN, 5AG4/CD167, dossier 1. 133. Chevènement note for Mitterrand, 29 March 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD167, dossier 2. 134. Kohl letter to Mitterrand, 18 April 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD167, dossier 2. 135. See Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: accords secrets U.S.A-R.F.A. concernant les armes nucléaires tactiques, 6 January 1988, private papers. 136. Projet d’accord [Schmitt-Wellershoff], no date, and Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: projet d’accord franco-allemand sur les consultations nucléaires, 3 April 1989, private papers; and Chevènement note for Mitterrand, 29 March 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD167, dossier 2. 137. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Projet d’accord franco-allemand sur les consultations nucléaires, 13 April 1989, private papers. Védrine believed that writing in a document, even a confidential one, that a pre-strategic strike would need to inflict casualties primarily on the aggressor and limit damages on German territory was both useless

282

138. 139. 140.

141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149.

150. 151.

152.

153. 154. 155.

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since it was stating the obvious and dangerous since it ran contrary to the uncertainty required by deterrence; as to mentioning in a document that French pre-strategic weapons might at some point be displaced onto German territory, Védrine believed that it could lead to ‘disastrous’ reactions in public opinion if this came to be known ‘by accident’. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. préparation du Conseil de défense et de sécurité franco-allemand, 14 April 1989, private papers. Védrine note for Mitterrand, 18 April 1989, private papers. Musitelli handwritten notes, ‘Déj Pdt’ [Déjeuner Président], 19 April 1989; and Bianco summary for Georgette Elgey, 20 April 1989, private papers. Mitterrand went on to muse that a nuclear last warning could be delivered by other weapon systems such as the ASMP and aim at symbolic targets such as a ship rather than troop concentrations. Fleury note for Mitterrand, Objet: projet d’accord franco-allemand sur les consultations nucléaires, 4 April 1989, private papers. Védrine and Lanxade note for Mitterrand, 21 July 1989; and Védrine note for Mitterrand, 19 July 1989, private papers. MAE, le directeur des affaires politiques, Première réunion du Conseil franco-allemand de défense et de sécurité, 24 April 1989, AD, Directeur Politique 1988–1991, box 305. Ibid. Dumas note for Mitterrand, Visite de M. Genscher, 2 May 1989, 5AG4/CDM33, dossier 1. On this, see Bozo, Mitterrand, the End of the Cold War, and German Unification, 44–47. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a.s. Avenir des stratégies française et otanienne de dissuasion nucléaire, 7 June 1989, private papers; see also R. Debray, Tous azimuts: L’Europe stratégique (Paris: Odile Jacob, 1989). Ministère de la défense, note by Christian Connan, compte-rendu d’entretien du ministre avec M. Egon Bahr (mercredi 7 juin, 8h–10h), 9 June 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD167, dossier 2. Bahr put his ideas in writing in an essay he sent to Bianco later during the summer: see Bahr letter to Bianco, July 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD168, dossier 1. The essay was published in the autumn of 1989 under the title ‘Es reicht mit Frankreich’ in Bahr’s research institute’s yearly publication Friedensgutachten as well as, in a shorter version, in Le Monde on 7 October 1989. The title of Bahr’s essay (‘Enough with France’) was of course ambivalent, signalling both impatience and satisfaction with France’s deterrence posture. Védrine note for Mitterrand, a/s: votre dîner avec le chancelier Kohl mardi 24 octobre – questions de défense, 23 October 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD168, dossier 1. Chevènement handwritten note for Mitterrand, 23 October 1989, private papers (the Germans wanted to include France in the same zone as the FRG in the CFE in order to avoid a singularization of German territory, but Chevènement believed that this amounted to negating France’s own status and interests as a nuclear power: see Chevènement note for Mitterrand, 29 March 1989, AN, 5AG4/CD167, dossier 2). The Élysée realized that the lingering Franco-German misunderstanding derived from a failure on the part of French officials, from 1986 to 1989, to clearly signify to the Germans the limits of the conversations between the two military chiefs: see Védrine note for Mitterrand, 2 November 1989, private papers. Védrine note for Mitterrand, 5 February 1990, private papers. Bianco summary for Elgey, 25 and 31 January 1990, private papers. Védrine, Les Mondes, 722; see also F. Heisbourg, ‘Réflexions sur la politique de défense de la France’, Politique étrangère 1 (1990), 157–69; and personal interview with François Heisbourg, 27 December 2017.

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156. Personal interviews with Jean-Pierre Chevènement, Marc Perrin de Brichambaut and Christian Connan. 157. Le Monde, 28 April 1990. 158. Védrine, Les Mondes, 722; and L. Gautier, Mitterrand et son armée 1990–1995 (Paris: Grasset, 1999), 97 ff. 159. See E. Maître, ‘Le couple franco-allemand et les questions nucléaires: vers un rapprochement?’, Note de la Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique, 18/2017.

Bibliography Bozo, F. La France et l’OTAN: De la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen. Paris: Masson, 1991.  . ‘Chronique d’une décision annoncée: le retrait de l’organisation militaire (1965–1967)’, in M. Vaïsse, P. Mélandri and F. Bozo (eds), La France et l’OTAN 1949–1996 (Paris: Complexe, 1996).  . Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States and the Atlantic Alliance 1958–1969. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001.  . Mitterrand, the End of the Cold War, and German Unification. New York: Berghahn Books, 2009.  . ‘François Mitterrand et les enjeux stratégiques, 1984–1988’, in G. Saunier (ed.), François Mitterrand 1984–1988: Les années d’alternance 1984–1986/1986– 1988 (Paris: Nouveau Monde Editions, 2019).  . ‘The Sanctuary and the Glacis: France, the Federal Republic of Germany, and Nuclear Weapons in the 1980s’, Part 1. Journal of Cold War Studies 22(3) (2020), 119–79; and ‘The Sanctuary and the Glacis: France, the Federal Republic of Germany, and Nuclear Weapons in the 1980s’, Part 2. Journal of Cold War Studies 22(4) (2020), 175–228. Chaput, P. La France et l’Initiative de défense stratégique de Ronald Reagan. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2013. Debray, R. Tous azimuts: L’Europe stratégique. Paris: Odile Jacob, 1989. Favier, P., and M. Martin-Roland. La Décennie Mitterrand, vol. 2, Les Épreuves. Paris: Seuil, 1991. Gautier, L. Mitterrand et son armée 1990–1995. Paris: Grasset, 1999. Heisbourg, F. ‘Réflexions sur la politique de défense de la France’.  Politique étrangère 1 (1990), 157–69. Kimmel, A., and P. Jardin (eds). Die deutsch-französischen Beziehungen seit 1963: Eine Dokumentation. Opladen: Leske + Budrich, 2002. Kohl, H. Erinnerungen 1982–1990. Munich: Droemer, 2005. Lappenküper, U. Mitterrand und Deutschland: Die enträtselte Sphinx. Munich: Oldenburg, 2011. Livre blanc sur la défense nationale, vol. I. Paris: Ministère de la défense nationale, 1972. Maître, E. ‘Le couple franco-allemand et les questions nucléaires: vers un rapprochement?’. Note de la Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique, 18/2017. Mitterrand, F. Réflexions sur la politique extérieure de la France, in F. Mitterrand, Œuvres, vol. IV (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 2018).

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Nuti, L., F. Bozo, B. Rother, and M.-P. Rey (eds). The Euromissile Crisis and the End of the Cold War. Washington, DC/Stanford, CA: Woodrow Wilson Center/ Stanford University Press, 2015. Parisi, I. La France et la crise des Euromissiles, 1977–1987, PhD dissertation. Paris: Sorbonne Nouvelle, 2017. Saunier, G., and P. Vial (eds). La France et sa défense: Paroles publiques d’un président, 1981–1995. Paris: Nouveau Monde éditions, 2015. Schabert, T. Wie Weltgeschichte gemacht wird: Frankreich und die deutsche Einheit. Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 2002. Schmidt, H. Die Deutschen und ihre Nachbarn. Berlin: Siedler, 1990.  . Menschen und Mächte. Berlin: Siedler, 1999. Schwarz, H.-P. Helmut Kohl: Eine politische Biographie. Munich: DVA, 2012. Soutou, G.-H. L’Alliance incertaine: Les rapports politico-stratégiques franco-allemands, 1954–1996. Paris: Fayard, 1996. Védrine, H. Les Mondes de François Mitterrand: A l’Elysée, 1981–1995. Paris: Fayard, 1996.

Part IV

Nuclear Uncertainties in the Post-Cold War Era

Chapter 11

France, Germany and Nuclear Deterrence since the End of the Cold War From Estrangement to Rapprochement? Guillaume de Rougé

Introduction

T

hroughout the Cold War, the Franco-German relationship evolved in a complex ‘web of linkages’ giving birth to a unique ‘balance of unbalances’.1 Nuclear deterrence played a key role in this precarious balance, fuelling at least three sets of intertwined tensions. First, both nations dealt with the inherent uncertainty of U.S. extended deterrence through diverse NATO, European and/or national options. The question of whether these options were complementary or should substitute each other was always at stake, as much as the strategic coupling with the U.S. Second, these options were not only meant to ensure a credible defence and deterrence posture against the Warsaw Pact, which required an FRG firmly anchored to the West, but also to promote the no less necessary implementation of ‘détente’ with the East. Third, stemming from the two other sources of tension and continuously at play between France and its allies, a debate remained open on the articulation between nuclear deterrence and conventional defence policies and plans. Since the late 1970s, historians have shown that the FRG’s key priority was to recover its sovereignty through a form of equality of status rather than to look for an autonomous deterrent. This choice was made through a specific linkage in the 1960s: as compensation for German renunciation of both a national deterrent and an autonomous command and control upon NATO weapons, transatlantic arrangements guaranteed the FRG a say in the Alliance’s nuclear policy and plans, putting the country

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on a path of cautious ‘normalization’.2 Symmetrically, historians have demonstrated that, despite a resolute choice for nuclear independence in the 1960s, France’s political and military leadership made room for solidarity, and conceived its deterrent neither as purely limited to its national territory nor as isolated from the rest of its foreign and defence policy.3 However, history is not memory, and until the end of the Cold War, nuclear deterrence remained so tightly linked to a mutual perception of German dependence and French independence that it kept acting as a glass ceiling for the strategic relationship between the two countries, including for conventional cooperation that had nonetheless known many improvements. In 1986, when President Mitterrand raised the prospect of consultations with Chancellor Kohl in the hypothesis of nuclear use, the latter tried in return to open a dialogue at the planning level, but Mitterrand eventually turned a blind eye to it, convinced as he was that the misunderstandings accumulated between France and its allies on nuclear deterrence could not be entirely dissipated without a broader reform of NATO nuclear arrangements.4 The post-Cold War era largely confirmed these patterns. As early as 1990, France reaffirmed its independence, and Germany its ‘dependence’ as a reunified country fully integrated into NATO. Echoing the missed opportunities of the late 1980s, the deadlock in the mid-1990s on the extension of French vital interests to its neighbourhood and on potential nuclear ‘concertation’ with the FRG convinced political-military actors that nuclear deterrence would durably remain a non-starter in the bilateral dialogue, and therefore had to be put aside henceforth for the sake of future conventional cooperation. Admittedly, the post-Cold War environment was supposed to make this evolution easier, as deterrence was rapidly devaluated at least in Europe, and no longer permeated every level of strategy. Nevertheless, despite the decreasing salience of nuclear deterrence in global strategies, this chapter demonstrates that deterrence still played a major role in the limited development of conventional cooperation during the 1990s between Paris and Berlin: it remained a persistent glass ceiling for Franco-German cooperation on conventional defence. Thus, this chapter traces out the formation and evolution of linkages between the conventional and nuclear realms, including both ‘functional linkages’ (i.e. objective interdependences acknowledged and used as such by statesmen as bargaining tools in international negotiations) and ‘issue linkages’ (i.e. artificial connections created on purpose, in order to offset weaknesses in a negotiation).5 In order to avoid stovepipe biases, this study systematically contextualizes cooperative dynamics on nuclear deterrence (understood either as informal exchanges,

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formalized projects or concrete initiatives) and reconnects them with European cooperative dynamics on conventional matters.6 The hypothesis of the persistence of functional or issue linkages between deterrence and defence cooperation is reinforced by the assumption that, in the immediate post-Ukrainian crisis era, both deterrence and defence were gradually re-evaluated in the Franco-German duo, reigniting a common willingness to share a common ‘horizon of expectation’ for European defence, notwithstanding the fact that it has also shed new light on structural divergences and difficulties.7 Thus, this chapter bridges the gap between two key periods: the immediate post-Cold War era and the immediate ‘post-post-Cold War era’ (2013–16), the Ukrainian crisis in 2013–14 being posited here as the terminus ad quem of the post-Cold War era.8 It firstly reassesses the role of transatlantic nuclear coupling in the failure of the French-led project for an autonomous European conventional force, in three phases: the persistence of Cold War ‘functional linkages’ in the transatlantic debate on the future of NATO (1990–91), their gradual transformation into ‘issue linkages’ during the Gulf War and early years of the Yugoslavian Wars (1991–93), and the eventual recognition of a long-term Franco-German stalemate on nuclear deterrence issues (1994–98). After a brief account of the long interlude in which France and Germany drifted apart on both nuclear deterrence and disarmament (1999–2013), this chapter then focuses on ‘present history’ (from 2014 onwards), trying to understand how the Ukrainian crisis paved the way for a renewed era of convergences, while also shedding light on important challenges to the relationship.

1990–98: Toying with a Post-Cold War Virtuality In 1990–93, the French attempt to launch an autonomous European mole ended up in the advent of an embryonic European pillar that remained largely integrated within NATO. The reasons for the failure of the French project, especially its inability to secure Germany’s full support, will be reassessed through the lens of the Euro-Atlantic debate on defence and deterrence, bearing in mind that inherited ‘functional linkages’ between conventional defence and nuclear deterrence gave way to more artificial, or ‘issue linkages’, although these evolutions remained implicit in most of the discussions. In turn, this reappraisal sheds new light on the ensuing episode of the contrasted years 1993–97, when France raised the prospect of a ‘concerted deterrence’ to which Germany turned a blind eye, against the backdrop of a broader defence dialogue that was largely in disarray at that time.

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1990–91: ‘Heroic vs. Prefab Model’? France, Germany and the Nuclear Background of NATO Reform in the Immediate Post-Cold War Era The first guidelines of the post-Cold War NATO reform were launched by the U.S. on the road to the London summit, initially scheduled at the end of 1990, but moved forward to July 1990 by Washington in order to pre-empt the debates and secure underlying political objectives, first of all the integration of the reunified FRG into NATO.9 In such a context, the U.S. president, George Herbert Bush, announced a major reduction of its nuclear forces in Europe, a measure that did not lead to strong reactions, let alone to open criticism. The only remaining U.S. system, the B-61 gravity bomb deployed on European allies’ territories under NATO airborne sharing arrangements, constituted a more adaptable and flexible deterrent against a residual Soviet threat; it served as a symbol of the Alliance’s cohesion, and was an alternative to a full ‘denuclearization’ of continental Europe – even though France’s force de frappe and ‘offshore’ U.S. and UK national deterrents still existed. A doctrinal adaptation accompanied this reform, the ‘flexible response’ doctrine being replaced by a ‘last resort’ doctrine, officially aimed at accommodating German public opinion, but mainly intended to assuage Moscow’s fears vis-à-vis NATO. From the Élysée’s point of view, these moves went indeed in the right direction, but no official reaction was required, to the extent that France remained out of the NATO Nuclear Planning Group (NPG), and that the French ‘weak-to-strong deterrence’ and the ‘ultimate warning’ concept remained incompatible with the new NATO doctrine as much as they did with the old one. Admittedly, this reform led to the limited resurgence of intra-French debates on whether France should try to recreate a nuclear Standing Group substituting the SACEUR, or reaffirm a cautious and conservative policy of independence, following the notion of ‘dissuasion par constat’ (literally, deterrence by observation, or de facto deterrence), understood as an implicit ‘functional linkage’ between the French participation in the defence of the FRG and the nuclear threat weighing on any aggressor of the French conventional troops deployed in the FRG.10 However, not much came out of the hypotheses raised in the entourage of President François Mitterrand, especially no trace of potential cooperation with the FRG. One of the most revealing French assessments of the ongoing changes lay in an early 1991 note to the president, basically stating that ‘ambiguity’ would ‘remain the rule’ in nuclear matters, the key being that it would be ‘now possible for the Europeans and the Americans to discuss strategy without immediately raising the deterrence strategy issue’.11 Nevertheless, this assumption

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was misleading. Conventional planning, command and control would indeed reveal themselves as key issues, but deterrence would quickly re-emerge in the discussions. In the run-up to the London NATO summit in July, Gabriel Robin, the French Permanent Representative to NATO, suggested that the reform of the collective defence system should leave more room for European crisis management, and not artificially prolong the military balance between the two blocs. Thus, forward defence should be replaced by mobile and concentrated conventional forces in the FRG, while Command, Control, Communications and Intelligence (C3i) as well as logistic assets should be enhanced to ensure a long-range projection capability, but also rapid reinforcement in case of resurgence of the Soviet threat. Following this logic, the French suggested that the Alliance could rest on a mainly WEUled Central Europe command, ‘depending at 90% (and not only 60% anymore) on European forces’, liaising with U.S. forces that would remain the lynchpin of an Atlantic Command ‘for general coordination and for the flanks’. The integrated, hierarchical command structures could be replaced by horizontal structures combining European and Atlantic headquarters headed by chiefs of staff’s committees in charge of force generation planning, allowing them ‘to switch, if needed, in a configuration of integration’ in case of activation of article 5. Thus, the French plan cautiously anticipated a necessary coupling with U.S. forces for collective defence scenarios. However, in many respects, this bold plan openly jeopardized the integrated military structure, promoting instead an unprecedented rebalancing in favour of the Europeans’ politico-military might: ‘SHAPE, for instance, could benefit from being unified with the International Military Staff (IMS), under the authority of the Military Committee (MC), whose President would assume some of the attributions formerly held by SACEUR’.12 Thus, the planning ‘machine’ represented by SHAPE would be reduced through its fusion with the IMS, and controlled by the intergovernmental body of the chiefs of staff (the MC), instead of the traditional American ‘Supremo’, alias SACEUR. Due to the new requirements of crisis management, mainly intended for outof-area missions, purely intergovernmental bodies (the MC supported by the IMS, the Defence Planning Committee and the NPG) should be reinforced to the detriment of the most integrated structures, SACEUR and SHAPE, where decisions were still taken by default.13 Unsurprisingly, under the auspices of the White House National Security Adviser, Brent Scowcroft, the U.S. quickly put NATO on a train of reforms completely at odds with French objectives, with strong support from British Prime Minister John Major, as well as from German Chancellor Helmut Kohl and his Foreign Minister Hans Dietrich

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Genscher – the former to preserve the ‘special relationship’, and the latter to achieve reunification rapidly. The most pressing issue stemmed from the new NATO missions (i.e. non-article 5 crisis management), for which NATO as a whole should prepare. This involved a deep restructuring of European armies for better burden-sharing, through investments in interoperability, multi-nationality, readiness, projection and C3i. Admittedly, the U.S. plans did include the scenario of a potential resurgence of a major threat, so NATO would still have to ‘rely more heavily on the ability to build up larger forces if and when they might be needed’.14 Nevertheless, such a reinforcement strategy did not bear the same consequences for the French as for the Americans in terms of European autonomy. Misunderstandings were bound to re-emerge when key questions were raised, such as: when does a crisis management operation escalate towards an article 5 operation? When and how does nuclear deterrence get involved, if not from the start? How should the most appropriate Command and Control structures be defined, as well as defence planning processes, in such a fluid context? Admiral Jacques Lanxade, the French president’s military aide, expressed the following warning on the eve of the summit: If the suppression of the forward defence concept and the reform of the nuclear strategy are moving in the right direction …, the emphasis placed on multinational units goes hand in hand with a growth of the integrated command organisation. [It] only confirms that we should retain our traditional stance vis-à-vis the integrated organisation … and demonstrate our willingness, when the time has come, to adapt the plans that organise our force engagement in case of hostilities.15

Accordingly, France tried to Europeanize the existing Command and Control tools dedicated to non-article 5 missions, and to rapidly launch projects to develop complementary means.16 Thus, Paris proposed the constitution, within the WEU, of ‘European Intervention Forces’ composed of national and multinational units under European ad hoc operational control, or NATO control if they operated in the NATO area.17 Paris also developed the concept of a ‘European Rapid Reaction Force’ (FARE, Force d’action rapide européenne), on land and at sea, with a geographical focus on the Mediterranean area, as a complement of (but also competitor with) NATO’s Allied Rapid Reaction Corps (ARRC), meant to focus on the Northern and Eastern flanks under UK leadership, and which greatly benefited from NATO and U.S.-owned infrastructures and C3i means and culture. Nevertheless, these ideas of autonomy were once again not well received among France’s allies, including the FRG. As early as January

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1991, Mitterrand’s entourage, and first of all his main diplomatic advisor, Hubert Védrine, became aware of the limits of French grand designs for a European autonomous crisis management capability. The first argument against this ambition was not the obvious lack of conventional capabilities in the realm of C3i, but rather the lack of an ‘absolute’ distinction between non-article 5 and article 5 scenarios, leading to a major French conceptual concession. On the one hand, the principle of independence was reaffirmed: ‘Europeans must be in the capacity to act by themselves, including if the Alliance does not deem necessary to intervene [and if] the application of the article V of the Brussels Treaty [WEU, 1948] is not conditioned by the article 5 of the Washington Treaty’. On the other hand, ‘local threats can escalate into broader conflicts putting at stake the EuroAtlantic solidarity’. The distinction between article 5 operations and crisis management depended more on ‘the intensity and the political nature of the threats than on their geography … In a complex and unpredictable environment, [such a distinction could not be] absolute. [Therefore] in time of crisis and war, the principle of unity of command shall be retained, [SHAPE guaranteeing] the nuclear coupling and the effectiveness of the rapid reinforcement’, and SACEUR guaranteeing the coordination between regional Commands ‘restructured by the directly concerned nations’, in accordance with increasing demands for projection.18

1991–93: Nuclear Deterrence as a Glass Ceiling for European Conventional Cooperation At the Élysée, Mitterrand and his main advisers (first of all Jacques Lanxade and Hubert Védrine) now feared that the necessity to preserve the Atlantic strategic coupling could end up permeating the whole European security and defence architecture in the long term. Building autonomous projection and C3i capabilities represented a major challenge for European defence autonomy in the short to medium term, whereas the question of nuclear coupling seemed to turn this grand design into a labour of Sisyphus. In a nutshell, nuclear deterrence was about to become a very low glass ceiling for European conventional cooperation, if only because no European partner would dare get involved in duplications of conventional strategic assets like projection and C3i capabilities, and so doing, run the risk of nurturing U.S. suspicion of ‘peer-competition’ ambitions. This could eventually lead to a self-fulfilling prophecy of U.S. withdrawal, thus jeopardizing the transatlantic nuclear coupling. In an ultimate attempt at damage control, the French Defence Ministry explored the idea of reintegrating NATO command structures and accompanying the reform of the NATO nuclear arrangements, either by

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taking part in the International Military Staff (IMS), including the NPG, through the creation of a ‘European group of nuclear concertation’, or by joining discussions on deterrence ‘as observer (at the NPG) on U.S. or cooperative systems planning’. As bold as these proposals could appear – that is, to join NATO structures including their nuclear dimension, in order to ‘Europeanize’ them from the inside – they never gained traction for two main reasons. First, at that particular time the French still stuck to their predictions regarding the relative dilution of NATO: it would be reduced to the MC and the IMS, in order to ‘permit U.S. participation to the defence of Europe’. A few entities would remain attached to the MC and manage ‘the coordination between European forces under the European command and U.S. forces either deployed in Europe or earmarked as forces of reconstitution’.19 Second, President Mitterrand persisted in a consistent obstruction to reintegration, not only because of the aforementioned reason – indeed, he still did not believe in NATO’s survival in the long term, or at least did not want to caution it – but also for the sake of an orthodox Gaullist legacy and for attached domestic political costs. And yet, the Gulf War (January–March 1991) had set the stage for a renewed ‘Franco-French’ debate on ‘influence vs. independence’ in which Gaullism suddenly appeared as the most obvious scapegoat for the difficulties met by armed forces during the war.20 According to a growing number of high-level military officers, the illusion of independence had been nurtured too long at the expense of real influence, and the military, especially the Land army, was now paying the price. Nuclear deterrence appeared as too salient and costly in the general doctrine, with dire consequences for the budgets of conventional forces. Associated with the 1966 withdrawal from NATO, it was erected by a growing part of the military establishment as the symbol of Gaullism’s expiration. Following this analysis, the main glass ceiling for French and European influence, if not autonomy, was nuclear indeed, not in itself, but rather for its negative effect on the projection and C3i means that France, and Europe as a whole, so desperately needed to manage contemporary crises. Thus, the French military leadership was in favour of a full NATO reintegration for its conventional, not nuclear added value. However, eager to reaffirm his leadership, François Mitterrand reiterated his refusal to reintegrate NATO command structure as a whole as early as April 1991.21 Therefore, the fallback option followed by France consisted in accompanying the devaluation and marginalization of nuclear deterrence, in order to save resources for conventional assets on the domestic front, and to ‘de-link’ nuclear issues from other strategic fields of cooperation at the European level – in a similar manner to what François Mitterrand

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had tried to do with the FRG in the 1980s, when he proposed to redirect bilateral cooperation towards conventional and space domains instead of nuclear deterrence.22 It eventually worked well, one might say beyond expectations. In less than a decade, European non-nuclear states lost their grip with the nuclear realities still at play in Europe and beyond, only to rediscover their salience with the rise of proliferation crises and Russia’s assertiveness throughout the 2000s. This temporary devaluation of deterrence in the 1990s was indeed a by-product of a more benign strategic environment which nurtured in Western Europe a quest for the so-called ‘peace dividends’. This context also reinforced the risk of an anarchic race to disarmament in Europe, and contributed to Europeans’ inability to act collectively in their own neighbourhood, first of all in the Western Balkans. Indeed, on the one hand, the Euro-Atlantic strategic failure to act in the Yugoslav Wars (1991–95) demonstrated the need for Europe to acquire an autonomous crisis management capacity, confirming the relevance of French claims. Europeans were gradually led to increase defence cooperation between 1995 and 1999. On the other hand, the U.S. political leadership was required throughout the crisis, despite the fact that it was a ‘non-article 5’ crisis in an area that was not at first considered of strategic interest for Washington. As a result, NATO was de facto reaffirmed as the unique embodiment of strategic coupling between Europe and America. In these times of upheaval, with Russia remaining a major threat both because of its still formidable military might and its growing instability, U.S. extended deterrence remained the key life insurance policy for Europe. It also prevented a deeper de-linkage between NATO nuclear deterrence arrangements and NATO’s conventional defence integrated system. Whereas the U.S.-led NATO nuclear defence and deterrence system was preserved with French tacit approval, it retained its role as a glass ceiling for further European work on contingency planning, with disastrous consequences for force generation, capability development, autonomous command and control capabilities, and industrial armament policies.23 One could build an embryo of a ‘European army’ without nuclear weapons, but not with scenarios that could escalate into collective defence situations, that is, involving NATO or admittedly WEU article V, unless one was ready to take the risk of a transatlantic decoupling. European dependency in terms of conventional projection and C3i capabilities became of utmost strategic importance in the transatlantic covenant, but only cumulated with, and did not supplant, the forty-yearold European dependency on the U.S. nuclear umbrella that had lost part of its vigour but remained relevant after the end of the Cold War. Despite the apparent opening of an era of stability and cooperation with Eastern

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Europe and Russia and the consecration of non-article 5 missions, article 5 scenarios remained a theoretical option and, as such, required planning and reinforcement options, if only to avert any transatlantic decoupling. Therefore, despite their obvious erosion, the functional linkages inherited from the Cold War had begun to morph into ‘issue linkages’, becoming more artificial, even though they still played a key role in the transatlantic bargain and European defence debate. The highly complex 1990–93 phase eventually led the French to a bitter conclusion: instead of freeing themselves from a NATO system largely built on a structural nuclear dependency that was bound to erode rapidly and eventually vanish, Europeans would now be caught in a new ‘web of linkages’ made of two coexisting and intertwined dependencies, nuclear and conventional. Although the nuclear dimension of the transatlantic coupling would decrease throughout the 1990s, this double conundrum would cripple the development of European defence throughout the decade, from the failed Franco-German attempt to relaunch a common defence policy in 1996 to the – retrospectively much overrated – ‘golden age’ of the European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP) in the years 1998–99.

1994–98: Franco-German Nuclear Missed Opportunities Mirroring the Conventional Ones Under Alain Juppé’s leadership, first as foreign minister under ‘cohabitation’ (1993–95) and then as prime minister (1995–97) under Jacques Chirac’s presidency (1995–2007), France relaunched the idea of a dialogue with Germany through the concept of ‘concerted deterrence’.24 Located between information sharing in time of peace and consultation in time of crisis, the notion of ‘concertation’ suggested a form of sharing that could possibly even include some features of common ‘preplanning’ – as was the case with Kohl’s follow-up to Mitterrand’s evocation of potential ‘consultations’ in the years 1986–87.25 However, Mitterrand refused any further exploration of such a dialogue, informed as he was by the dead-end of the 1980s; any hint of departure from national independence was out of the question as his mandate neared its end. Any form of sharing remained just a bold idea and could only represent the ultimate step of European defence, implicitly understood as a ‘horizon of expectation’, supposed to crown a long process of unification in defence and foreign policy.26 President Chirac and Prime Minister Juppé nevertheless pushed forward the concept of ‘concerted deterrence’, trying to link it to other dynamics, or rather to dilute it in a broader agenda for bilateral defence cooperation. In the run-up to the Intergovernmental Conference of the

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European Union (EU) scheduled for spring 1996, an embryo of space cooperation came up as a complement – and soon as a substitute – to nuclear cooperation, and a military observation programme was announced at the Baden-Baden bilateral summit in December 1995. Furthermore, the two governments got involved in the elaboration of a ‘common strategic concept’ intended to fuel the ambitions for a ‘common defence policy’ enshrined in 1992 in the Maastricht Treaty (Title V, Article J.4.1), and fill in a few symbolic gaps inherited from the Cold War, namely the official retirement of the Hadès missiles and the withdrawal of the last French troops stationed in the FRG (Forces Françaises d’Allemagne, FFA). Nevertheless, the Franco-German ‘Nuremberg common concept’ remained a shallow declaration, not to say an empty one with regard to nuclear issues, limiting itself to the evocation of a ‘readiness to engage dialogue on the function of nuclear deterrence in the context of European defence policy’.27 The French initiative had emerged at such a low point in the bilateral defence relationship, to say the least, that it ran the risk of undermining the credibility of a genuine strategic dialogue on deterrence: it eventually buried such a dialogue for the next twenty years. The reasons for this failure were twofold.28 Firstly, the ‘concerted deterrence’ concept came up as France was operating its ultimate campaign of nuclear tests, rendering the issue all the more sensitive for German public opinion. Secondly, President Chirac had just announced two major reforms: the professionalization of the armed forces and the rapprochement with NATO.29 France’s reintegration in NATO was looming on the horizon, with a potential observer status in nuclear policy discussions at the MC. Despite their centrality in French defence policy and their direct implications for cooperation with Germany, these reforms had been prepared without any consultation with the German partner, thus revealing French national and Atlantic priorities. Eventually, the ‘common concept’ was leaked in the French press in January 1997, one month after its finalization.30 The FRG immediately reaffirmed its attachment to NATO through the voice of its defence minister, Volker Rühe, just as France was stopping its reintegration process after a disagreement with the U.S. over the AFSOUTH Command – a quarrel that revealed the cultural gap and misunderstandings accumulated since the 1960s between France and its NATO partners, including Germany. Such disarray in the Franco-German relationship contrasted with the concomitant Franco-British rapprochement, especially in the nuclear realm. France succeeded in enhancing Franco-British nuclear cooperation, reaching an unprecedented convergence of declaratory policies at the Chequers bilateral summit in October 1995. Indeed, President Chirac and Prime Minister Major declared that they could not ‘imagine a

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situation where the vital interests of one country could be threatened without the other’s being also threatened’.31 Giving ground to the idea of a strong ‘issue linkage’ between conventional and nuclear cooperation, the Chequers declaration had no immediate causal relation but coincided with a high point in bilateral conventional cooperation in the Balkans: the Rapid Reaction Force was successfully deployed in Bosnia in June 1995, both to coerce the Serbian forces and convince U.S. President Clinton to act decisively in the NATO framework.32 Nevertheless, in the longer term, although the political commitment of the Chequers declaration was later confirmed at key bilateral summits like Le Touquet (2003), London (2010) and Paris (2012), it did not lead to any major operational or diplomatic breakthrough. Discreet scientific and technical cooperation prevailed and deepened at the bilateral level, demonstrating once again the British preference for selective engagement with ‘strategic Europe’, and the difficulty for France to bring Germany on board. A similar British attitude prevailed in the conventional realm. In the immediate aftermath of the Saint-Malo agreement signed in late 1998, which is still considered as the founding act of the ESDP, the years 1999 and 2000 actually saw the UK quickly backpedalling.33 Indeed, when France began in the summer of 1999 to devise a roadmap for a European force of sixty thousand troops deployable in sixty days, London agitated the spectre of a transatlantic decoupling. Although the French-led plan was eventually enacted in December 1999 as the ‘Helsinki Headline Goal’, it never took off, suffering from a consistent British refusal to assign a substantial number of troops and capabilities to prospective European non-U.S. operations. Such a move, British officials feared, would have had the potential to prevent the UK from siding with the U.S. in case of a concomitant U.S.led operation. Again, with a diluted nuclear flavour, the same rationale still produced the same deleterious effects in 1999 as in 1991.

Interlude. 1999–2013: The Long 2000s At the global scale, the 2000s were characterized by an indisputable affirmation of the ‘second nuclear age’, namely a renewed emphasis on nuclear armaments in the planning of nuclear powers, especially in the Asia-Pacific region, nuclear and ballistic proliferation among revisionist and/or emergent powers, and a diversification of postures fuelling instability. However, at the European scale, the 2000s appeared rather as a continuation of the 1990s, a period of continuing devaluation of nuclear deterrence. The apparent return of the U.S. and Russia to arms control, and the U.S.’s no less apparent renewed enthusiasm for disarmament at

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the end of the decade, seemed to embolden the hitherto rather passive European majority in its pro-disarmament engagement at the expense of deterrence. Therefore, the drift widened between France and Germany. France retained a cautious stance vis-à-vis disarmament and adapted its deterrent to the second nuclear age;34 it also pursued pragmatic technical and scientific cooperation with the U.S. and the UK, although France was keen to preserve its nuclear autonomy, as shown by the reintegration into NATO command structure initiated by President Sarkozy in 2007, which excluded any reintegration within the NPG. By contrast, Germany, whose entire nuclear policy and planning were shaped by NATO, appeared increasingly critical of NATO nuclear mechanisms for the sake of disarmament. Meanwhile, in the conventional realm, beyond a fundamental post-Saint-Malo agreement between Paris and Berlin on the EU institutional architecture, convergences in capabilities, operations and strategic cultures remained very limited. Consequently, at the end of the 2000s, the strategic dialogue seemed in disarray, and was completely devoid of any nuclear dimension. It took the renewed assertiveness of Russia – firstly in a veiled manner in Georgia in 2003 and Ukraine in 2004, then in an openly coercive way in South Ossetia and Abkhazia in 2008 – to reignite a constructive strategic dialogue between Paris and Berlin. This time, the bilateral dialogue could not but take into account the increasingly nuclear dimension of the Russian challenge.

2013 Onwards: Struggling with ‘Post-Post-Cold War’ Realities Bringing back nuclear realities at the heart of Europe, the Ukrainian crisis ignited a legitimate need for an overall reaffirmation of mutual commitment to collective defence, including both reassurance and deterrence, with a major impact on French and German policies; it led to key convergences and at the same time shed light on important limits in the bilateral dialogue. Most of the following analysis is focused on France, the country for which the Russo-Ukrainian crisis entailed the most contradictory consequences. The Ukrainian crisis clearly spurred France to reaffirm its solidarity vis-à-vis its European allies, through national declaratory policy and enhanced strategic dialogues. In parallel, the need to redefine collectively the Alliance’s assurance and adaptation measures led to an increased, although selective French participation in NATO discussions on nuclear policy. In return, this intensification of exchanges raised the recurrent issue of French participation in NATO planning processes, while confirming both the difficulties in reforming NATO nuclear arrangements and the persistent singularities of the French deterrence

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doctrine.35 Meanwhile, Germany demonstrated substantial signs of evolution both in the nuclear realm and in broader defence policy issues, favouring renewed convergences with France.

French Deterrence Policy in the Aftermath of the Ukrainian Crisis: A ‘Tous Azimuts’ Occasionalism In the aftermath of the Russian annexation of Crimea, France was more prompt – and better armed – than other allies to reaffirm the nuclear nature of the Alliance, that is, to maintain a strong NATO declaratory policy on nuclear deterrence. A second pragmatic and correlated objective was to foster the Western allies’ nuclear culture, that is, their knowledge and understanding of the common nuclear concepts and processes, and, drawing virtue out of necessity, to gain influence in the allies’ debates on deterrence. This was both a long-term objective and a short-term ‘damage control’ policy aimed at preventing any risk of NATO escalation with Russia, a cautious stance largely shared with the FRG both in the nuclear and conventional realms. Both countries rapidly advocated respect of the ‘Three No’s’ of the 1997 NATO-Russia Founding Act (‘no reason, no intention, no plan’ to deploy nuclear weapons on the territory of new members) – notwithstanding that the parallel key threshold set in the conventional domain for the stationing of ‘substantial combat forces’ remained open to various interpretations.36 France conducted high-level dialogues with its allies and increased exchanges with NATO structures. Upgrading bilateral dialogue with Scandinavian and Baltic allies or other EU member states at the level of defence policy deputy directors, Paris exchanged views on Russia’s military strategy, especially in the nuclear realm, as well as on its own deterrence doctrine, as part of a reassurance policy. As early as 2014, high-level French officials also intervened on nuclear matters at the North Atlantic Council (NAC), and visited NATO Dual-Capable Aircraft (DCA) bases, in particular Ghedi in Italy, where they attended a nuclear exercise.37 Conversely, France welcomed NATO delegations on its nuclear facilities in 2014 and 2015, in order to underscore the national investment allocated to the force de frappe and address the traditional criticisms vis-à-vis France’s refusal to assign part of its conventional forces to the NATO Defence Planning Process, as they support the deterrent mission. Nevertheless, the French government did not go as far as organizing a NATO nuclear symposium in Paris in 2016, as the NATO Deputy Secretary General for nuclear policy, Fred S. Frederickson, had suggested.38 This last consideration sheds light on the third major objective of France in the post-Crimea debate about deterrence within the Alliance:

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to foster its own national ‘Gaullist consensus’ on independence, inherited by President Mitterrand, then Chirac, and eventually Sarkozy, as the 2009 NATO reintegration, as seen above, remained a pro-European bet and excluded any participation in the NPG. For President Hollande, any rapprochement with NATO had to be, at best, confidential and incremental, because of policy and operational implications, but even more because of domestic politics. Additionally, any occasion to consolidate the Gaullist consensus had to be seized in a time of growing influence of the abolitionist antinuclear movement among European public opinions. Therefore, French nuclear declaratory policy was updated through a key presidential speech in February 2015, reaffirming both France’s wish to contribute to ‘the definition of the Alliance’s nuclear policy’ and the specific role of its independent strategic force, thus justifying French non-participation in the NPG.39 From 1991 onwards, the activities of the NPG dramatically decreased, to the point of no longer gathering at the level of Permanent Representatives (PR). In 2011, following an ad hoc arrangement, it was bypassed by the NATO Defence Planning Process Division (NDPP-D), in order to include France in policy discussions at the deputy PR level. In 2015, the role of the MC was raised as a supporter and adviser to the NAC and NPG in peace-time consultations, an evolution also aimed at favouring France’s participation. However, these initiatives only confirmed that the NATO concept of ‘nuclear policy’ included some planning issues that France still refused to discuss for the sake of autonomy. Indeed, a key reason for France’s auto-exclusion from the NPG was the fact that NATO had never tackled crucial planning issues related to the U.S. (and UK) commitments, and still did not.40 More generally, from the French point of view, nuclear consultations within NATO had been constrained from the very beginning, since the ‘Athens guidelines’ of 1962 mentioned that they would occur ‘time and circumstances permitting’.41 Although these guidelines remained theoretically under NAC approval, they never explicitly required its intervention.42 The U.S. consistently made sure that consultation mechanisms would remain sufficiently ambivalent, so that it could preserve strictly national control, including via SACEUR, on the ultimate decision to order a nuclear strike. Mutatis mutandis, the same was true for the U.S./DCA allies dual-key system through Permissive Action Links (PAL). Thus, the status quo seemed to prevail in France: a cautious attitude remained predominant in the defence community. However, according to some officials, especially among the military, it had become counterproductive when taking into account the increasing complexities attached to France’s auto-exclusion from the NPG.43 Beyond an apparent

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rapprochement at the highest political level and in the field of communication, the Ukrainian crisis had contradictory effects on France-NATO nuclear relations. The ‘one foot in, one foot out’ policy became harder to sustain, as the Russian challenge had blurred the line between nuclear policy and nuclear planning. However, a consistent demonstration of Alliance cohesion also encouraged France to tackle the reform of NATO nuclear processes, which had been postponed for so long. This reform was perceived as a precondition from which a pragmatic rapprochement with the European allies, first of all Germany, could potentially emerge. It took the Ukrainian crisis for the allies to pay more attention to NATO decision making and its prospect for reform, especially for the newest members suffering from a limited nuclear culture.44 However, cohesion in the Alliance posture required above all a common assessment of the Russian challenge. France had to take part in the discussions about this topic, but it could do so only selectively, due to the intricacies of the nuclear policy and planning issues addressed. In 2014–15, the MC successively assumed three mandates related to nuclear policy. The first one, dedicated to Russia’s nuclear strategy, was divided into three phases (assessment, implications for NATO, and potential measures to be taken). According to public and mainstream converging analyses, the Russian strategy combined three pillars: at the global scale, a classic ‘deterrence by punishment’, involving the capacity to inflict unacceptable and irreparable damages; at the regional scale, a readiness to wage a potentially non-limited war, including the seizure of large territories, nuclear blackmail and potential escalation to force the adversary to ‘de-escalate’ (it should be noted that this last point remains controversial to date, and is not integrated as an operative hypothesis in the official Russian doctrine); at the theatre scale, strategies of exclusion and interdiction that entail a role for nuclear deterrence.45 Two basic realities underpinned such a multi-scale integrated strategy: an increased salience of ‘Revolution in Military Affairs’ (RMA) assets and supra-conventional capabilities (long-range strike, SEAD – Suppression of Enemy’s Air Defences, missile defence, and space domain); and the implementation of innovative irregular and hybrid strategies, in a complex continuum between military actions and the instrumental use of cyberspace, information, civil unrest and political opposition. Such evolutions in the Russian strategy could undermine the Alliance’s credibility in time of peace (causing anxiety, debate and division, slowness) as well as vulnerabilities to nuclear bargain in time of crisis. Indeed, NATO suffered from both a lack of options in the escalation ladder, notably with regard to the notion of ‘de-escalation strike’, and a ‘fossilization’ of its nuclear arrangements.

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In a nutshell, a relative consensus had emerged on the challenges that Russia posed to strategic stability in Europe, whether it was understood narrowly as a low level of first strike probability, or more broadly as the right articulation of capabilities, arms control and Confidence and Security Building Measures (CSBM), in order to limit the risks of escalation into a first strike.46 Therefore, the second MC mandate dealt with the ‘complementarity between conventional and nuclear assets’, suggesting a limited participation of France since planning issues would inexorably be raised. This was also the case, though at a lesser degree, for the third mandate, which was dedicated to ‘Stratcom’ – or strategic communication, defined broadly as verbal and non-verbal communication stemming from regular military actions conducted in time of peace or crisis (deployments, tests, exercises and training, as well as manoeuvres) that inherently send messages to friends and foes alike. French participation encapsulated both the complementarity of French and NATO deterrents from a ‘policy’ perspective – a French contribution would reinforce the credibility of the Alliance’s deterrence – and the intricacies of the ‘planning’ issue, as Stratcom might require peace-time cooperation with respect to high-level technical Command and Control (C2) issues.47

An Apparent Resurgence of Cold War Misunderstandings in France and NATO Planning The refusal of flexible response and its counterforce variant stemmed from the same political and military reasons for which France had chosen to ‘proliferate’: flexible response was not only out of reach, or unsustainable, for a middle power like France facing Soviet conventional superiority; it also supposed a form of resignation to the possibility of a nuclear war that, from a European point of view, could hardly remain ‘limited’.48 For these reasons, the French doctrine has consistently been based on deterrence by punishment, as an effective reality permanently weighing on the calculus of any potential adversary. Accordingly, French nuclear assets are not supposed to play any operational role, either by providing an advantage on the battlefield or by fulfilling an offensive purpose. Thus, any idea of a continuum between nuclear deterrence and conventional defence is excluded. Nevertheless, when circumstances of crisis forced the French to reassure the FRG and prove their strategic solidarity, France was confronted with the limits of its ‘all or nothing’ strategy. In order to reconcile its political and military objectives, France gradually increased its conventional commitment to the theatre of Centre-Europe, without ever delegating control of national assets to SACEUR. At the same time, the French developed the concept of ‘ultime avertissement’ (ultimate warning),

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initially conceived of as a tactical, then ‘pre-strategic’ strike between 1983 and 1991 (rebranded mostly to stress the deterrent nature of the weapon).49 These doctrinal evolutions concerning both conventional forward defence and nuclear ultimate warning gradually resulted in a tighter association of the conventional and nuclear manoeuvres, notwithstanding that no continuum between the two was ever envisaged contrary to what ‘flexible response’ entailed. So the idiosyncrasy of French ‘pure deterrence’ was preserved, but it was also, to a certain extent, overdramatized over the years: indeed, as the French doctrine went beyond the ‘extreme case’ scenario of a Franco-Soviet duel, it lost some of its ‘purity’; similarly, it lost some of its clarity with the incorporation of conventional and tactical nuclear manoeuvres. These evolutions brought the French doctrine closer to NATO doctrine, while at the same time increasing uncertainty, which was, and still remains the essence of deterrence, especially when the issue at stake was the threshold for an ultimate warning that aimed at re-establishing deterrence in case it had failed.50 As seen above, doctrinal rapprochement remained limited between France and NATO in the post-Cold War era and, confronted with the dilemmas provoked by contemporary Russia, the allies had discussions that inexorably converged towards the traditional vanishing points of the French doctrine, namely extended deterrence, flexible response and limited nuclear war. Considering the new potential vulnerability of NATO in an escalation crisis with Russian forces, France could hardly elude key aspects of the transition from a conventional to a nuclear response to the Russian challenge. Sticking to its traditional opposition to limited nuclear war, Paris, in full convergence with Berlin, consistently insisted on the idea that deterrence and reassurance measures should not follow a logic of tit for tat imitation of Russia, and thus fuel escalation dynamics. Nevertheless, without subscribing to the idea of a continuum, France might feel the need to rethink the links between deterrence and defence, if it wanted both to demonstrate solidarity with its European allies and develop the European dimension of its deterrent, in concert with Germany. French ‘stricte suffisance’ or minimal deterrence, as a contribution to the Alliance, and consequently to a form of European defence and deterrence, was not questioned in itself when it came to deterring the Russian threat. Rather, it was criticized because it resulted in a limited French involvement in forward conventional defence, a domain that NATO allies call ‘conventional deterrence’ where dynamics of escalation begin, and demand higher credibility. Thus, the French posture has not been well perceived because of a long-standing misunderstanding on its nuclear doctrine. The fact that this doctrine excluded any ‘functional linkage’ between conventional defence and nuclear deterrence, both in

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its deterrence dialogue with a potential adversary, and in its policy of solidarity vis-à-vis allies, could be interpreted as a reluctance to assign large troops on the Eastern flank and to get involved in a new form of ‘forward conventional defence’ because France’s strategic priority was focused on other challenging areas – a misunderstanding also inherited from the Cold War era, when French conventional forces fought in decolonization wars in the 1950s and early 1960s. From the summer of 2014 onwards, in the run-up to the Wales summit of the Alliance in September, the first one since the annexation of Crimea, France perceived a potential difficulty in its contribution to NATO’s adaptation to the Russian challenge. By appearing as the keeper of the flame of ‘pure deterrence’ versus ‘flexible response’, France adopted a position that could be perceived as an excuse for refusing an increased conventional presence in the East. Such a risk of misperception required further explanation of France’s views. Under Polish leadership, most of the Central and Eastern European allies had pleaded for a reinforcement of advanced planning activities, as well as for the permanent stationing or at least the assignment of forces to specific plans on a permanent basis in time of peace, under SACEUR operational control (thus, for a predefined mission).51 Such claims did not only reignite the old France-NATO debate on delegation of national forces.52 They also fuelled the debate on large stationing of troops on the Eastern flank, since Eastern allies (first of all Poland) seemed to understand the reassurance measures as a strategy of conventional deterrence against Russia, a slippery slope that both France and the FRG refused to follow. Therefore, the French consistently tried to mitigate their Eastern allies’ call for such massive stationing, stressing a risk of ‘regionalization’ and ‘fossilization’ of the NATO posture in the East, at the expense of investments for flexible and highly reactive forces. Thus, along with short-term, limited ‘assurance measures’ like the deployment of small harpoon units, France advocated ‘adaptation measures’ for the long term. Nevertheless, although the relevance of French claims was acknowledged by a majority of allies, above all within the Quad (U.S., UK, Germany and France), they were formulated in a period of French military overstretch, with operations going on in Africa, the Middle East, and then on the domestic front (operation ‘Sentinel’). In such a context, an increased French contribution to the Alliance’s nuclear deterrence could run the risk of being perceived as part of a ‘compensation strategy’ in which France would offset conventional deficiencies on the Eastern flank by a reaffirmation of nuclear deterrence. As a result, such an ‘issue linkage’ could weaken both French deterrence and conventional defence credibility. The risk was nevertheless limited in the short term, as France

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had made a substantial contribution to assurance measures in the East: at the Wales summit in 2014, France became involved in the Readiness Action Plan and supported an increased budgetary effort.53

Germany’s Cautious Nuclear Normalization: Limited but Substantial Convergences with France Meanwhile, Germany’s foreign and defence policy has demonstrated substantial signs of evolution in the nuclear realm in the post-Crimea period, in a broader context of normalization that led to strong convergences with France. Since the late 1990s, part of the FRG’s political elite became increasingly vocal against the deployment of NATO B-61 nuclear bombs (to date, twenty of these bombs are deployed at the Büchel air base), a trend that was mainly supported by the SPD but paradoxically culminated in 2009 with the accession to power of the Christian Democratic and Liberal (CDU/CSU-FDP) coalition. Furthermore, still in 2009, the German priority for disarmament found an echo in the U.S. renewed ambitions for disarmament; President Barack Obama’s Global Zero agenda was announced in April 2009 in Prague.54 This state of mind permeated into the NATO debates before the 2010 summit in Lisbon, which saw Paris and Berlin at loggerheads regarding the wording of the new Strategic Concept on nuclear deterrence. The resulting paragraph was unsatisfactory for both countries, stating that ‘deterrence, built around an appropriate mix of nuclear and conventional capabilities, remains a central element of our overall strategy’.55 Retrospectively though, part of the German criticisms regarding NATO nuclear sharing were probably misleading, to the extent that, rather than questioning transatlantic strategic coupling, they intended to initiate a bold reform of NATO nuclear arrangements, admittedly without any precise option for replacement. Despite the decreasing operational value of the shared airborne component, first of all against Russian air defence, it remains politically inconceivable to put an end to it until a credible substitute has emerged.56 By default, Paris and Berlin have adopted converging views on the airborne component, seen as a political asset, both embodying transatlantic coupling and contributing to the allies’ nuclear culture, including via SNOWCAT (Support of Nuclear Operations with Conventional Air Tactics, in which fifteen allies take part). The status quo led the DCA allies back to the traditional issues of the preservation and modernization of the B-61 bomb (financed by the U.S.) and the replacement of the DCA national fleets, at a time when German aircraft were approaching the end of their life cycle. This issue has gained a French dimension since the confirmation in 2018 of a bilateral cooperation on a

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future aircraft. Nevertheless, this new aircraft should not be operational in due time to ensure the replacement of the German Tornados assigned to the nuclear mission, which are expected to be removed from service by 2025.57 Regarding French-German nuclear discussion within NATO, things were eventually settled in favour of France at the Chicago summit in May 2012, where the Deterrence and Defence Posture Review (DDPR) reaffirmed a robust posture, and emphasized the role of nuclear weapons as ultimate guarantee of allies’ security. Missile defence was mentioned as a complement that could not offer a substitute to defence and deterrence; further progress in disarmament had to take into account the strategic environment and level of threat. In Berlin, the Auswärtiges Amt nevertheless stressed the link between denuclearization and progress in arms control with Russia, and the French Quai d’Orsay consented to the creation of a consultative committee on arms control, limiting its scope to temporary review of NATO transparency measures vis-à-vis Russia. Remaining divergences still risked becoming real disagreements, but substantial changes occurred with the Russian invasion of Crimea. Admittedly, the FRG initially supported a moderate reaction to the Crimea crisis, in both nuclear and conventional matters. The German government had to take into account a public opinion that was still lukewarm regarding deterrence and more broadly the use of force, but it also feared that NATO initiatives could fuel escalation with Russia, especially in the nuclear realm. Thus, it stressed the need to pursue ongoing efforts in conventional and defensive capabilities, including missile defence, while preserving a channel for dialogue with Moscow that would be reopened in due time. On this point, as well as on the need to preserve the 1997 NATO-Russia Founding Act, France and Germany were in total agreement. Nevertheless, this option rapidly appeared as far remote, as the dialogue with Moscow quickly unravelled, especially in the field of disarmament. Initially, Germany had brought its support to the request of seven states favouring disarmament (Netherlands, Norway, Belgium, Luxembourg, Denmark, Italy and Spain) for an increased involvement of NATO in disarmament discussions. However, in 2014, as soon as Russia announced that it would maintain its exchanges with NATO committees on missile defence and nuclear issues, the Alliance accepted it, and relaunched the activity of the long-paused committee on proliferation in politico-military format, in accordance with France’s official policy on disarmament, which holds that discussions on disarmament must go hand in hand with discussions on proliferation. Therefore, Germany’s position has rapidly evolved and converged with the French one. According to French officials, the preparatory work

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on the declaration of the 2016 NATO summit in Warsaw, in comparison with what had happened in 2012 at the Chicago summit, was evidence of such a rapprochement.58 Germany did not support any decrease of the nuclear salience in the posture of NATO, and accepted the notion of an ‘appropriate mix’ of conventional defence, missile defence and nuclear deterrence, giving up any notion that missile defence might supplant nuclear deterrence, even in the distant future. These alterations of the diplomatic language were evidence of deeper evolutions in the public sphere, resulting in a few unprecedented calls for a German deterrent, that echoed the juridical recognition of the possibility for Germany to cofinance the French and British deterrent.59 Though iconoclast, provocative and rather marginal, these expressions suggested real evolutions in the German public opinion and elites, and new perspectives for bilateral discussions.60 In addition, similarly to France, Germany disapproved of the polarization of the European debate after the signature in July 2017 of the treaty abolishing nuclear weapons, which Berlin did not support; it never went beyond participating, with an observer status, in the early stage of the process. Interestingly, confirming here the idea of a linkage between nuclear and conventional trends in the actors’ overall policy with respect to European defence cooperation, Germany’s conventional dynamics by and large followed the same chronology, Berlin sending positive signs of commitment to European security in the immediate aftermath of the Crimea crisis, starting with its own national apparatus. In contrast to a reluctance to bolster its defence policy that culminated in 2011 with its abstention at the United Nations Security Council vote on the intervention in Libya, Berlin then demonstrated an ambition for ‘normalization’ during Chancellor Merkel’s second ‘grand coalition’ government (2013–17). The Auswärtiges Amt, then headed by the SPD leader Franz-Walter Steinmeier, supported the creation of the ‘Rühe Commission’ in 2014–15, aimed at easing the procedure of parliamentary authorization for foreign interventions. Germany also took on the command of the EU Training Mission (EUTM) in Mali in the first semester of 2016 and launched a substantial reform of the Bundeswehr. Last but not least, the White Paper published in 2016 contained a commitment to increase the defence budget by 8 billion euros over the next four years.61 Besides these national reforms, the FRG engaged more firmly in multilateral cooperation. In synergy with France, it promoted the implementation of the EU Permanent Structured Cooperation (PESCO). This mechanism is a variant of the Amsterdam Treaty ‘enhanced cooperation’ (1997), specifically dedicated to defence, and aims at increased investments and cooperation in developing capabilities; it had so far remained untested since its institutionalization in the

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Lisbon Treaty. Berlin also initiated an industrially focused initiative, the ‘framework nation concept’ (FNC), that aimed at diversifying the formats of capacity development cooperation, in a pragmatic move to reform the NATO planning process and reach better transatlantic burden-sharing. The fact that both initiatives were open to non-EU member states (for PESCO) and non-NATO allies (for the FNC) reveals a general willingness to maximize the opportunities for cooperation (and, as far as PESCO was concerned, to plan for the post-Brexit era). All in all, Germans showed an unprecedented degree of voluntarism that could permeate the nuclear realm, both at the European and NATO levels, in which Berlin displayed ambitions for a selective leadership in the conventional domain.62 Thus, Germany’s trajectory after the Crimea crisis testifies to limited but substantial convergences with France in the conventional as well as nuclear realm, regarding both deterrence and disarmament and arms control agendas. Admittedly, the evolutions of the domestic debate in postMerkel Germany are highly uncertain; it will remain difficult for Berlin to initiate a reform of the NATO nuclear arrangements inherited from the Cold War and propose an alternative. To some extent, these mixed results bring the Franco-German duo back to the question of its future cooperation for the reform of NATO, including in its nuclear dimension.

Conclusion The French-German dialogue on nuclear deterrence is correlated not only to narrowly defined nuclear issues, including disarmament and arms control policies, but also to the dynamics of conventional cooperation, to the broader context of defence reforms at the national level, to panEuropean security dynamics and, last but not least, to deeper evolutions of strategic cultures. The re-emerging debate on Euro-deterrence, for which Russia’s renewed assertiveness appears as a key ignition factor, might represent an opportunity for France to reassess its deterrence doctrine vis-à-vis Europe, and try to determine, in close cooperation with the FRG, to what extent the French deterrent could be Europeanized, as well as whom it may concern, how it could materialize, how it would fit in the existing institutional landscape – especially within NATO. Regarding the latter, reform of its nuclear arrangements will be a crucial condition for a sustainable Franco-German nuclear cooperation and its potential Europeanization. Deeper cooperation to define more robust and credible engagements at the European level entails moving beyond the French concept of

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‘deterrence by observation’ (or ‘par constat’, as seen above) inherited from the late Cold War context, and devising specific arrangements regarding information sharing, consultations, planning and execution – similarly to what NATO has been experiencing since the late 1960s. However, a reproduction of NATO arrangements at the bilateral level remains difficult to imagine. The Franco-German nuclear cooperation and, beyond that, the question of Europeanization of bilateral security arrangements, could hardly be addressed in the same way as the extension of U.S. deterrence to Europe in the NATO framework, for at least three intertwined reasons, echoing the Cold War-era tensions listed in the introduction of this chapter. Firstly, at the political level, the de facto solidarity between European neighbours could be deemed stronger than the transatlantic one, both because of geography and because any transatlantic arrangement would always have to take into account the potential contradiction between the United States’ European and global interests. Nevertheless, such a statement would be highly controversial in the perspective of Central and Eastern European countries. For them, any credible European defence arrangement that could be perceived as a potential alternative to the U.S. extended deterrence guarantee would be far from desirable. Moreover, any Franco-German nuclear arrangement would be based on the fundamental and implicit ‘linkage’, or ‘Junktim’, between French political-military leadership and German economic might. This linkage, which could be identified as an intermediate combination of ‘functional’ and ‘issue’ linkages, has been a key factor in the emergence of the euro, as well as in the common approval of European defence as a ‘horizon of expectation’ in the aftermath of the Cold War. In the highly volatile economic and strategic contemporary context, in which the euro is widely perceived as a German-led economic instrument, and where nuclear deterrence is perceived as France’s instrument to upgrade its political position in continental Europe at the lowest possible price, Paris and Berlin would need to display skilful pedagogy to enlarge this foundational bilateral linkage to European partners. Foreign Affairs Minister Alain Juppé alluded to this Junktim in his first public speech on concerted deterrence in January 1995: ‘Could the adoption of a unique currency and a new Franco-German contract remain without any effect on French perception of its vital interests?’63 Secondly, at the political-strategic level, the idea of a French extended deterrence would not only run the risk of reigniting old suspicions regarding France’s traditional ambitions for European defence in terms of intentions, but also in terms of feasibility – is not France once again prioritizing ends over means, and bold visions over concrete agendas, as

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Stanley Hoffmann, one of de Gaulle’s most lucid admirers, noticed about his legacy?64 In order to move beyond the dominant narratives and pave the way to creative policies, the first step towards a more nuanced assessment may lie precisely in an effort to reconnect the role of ideas with their implementation on a daily basis. This second set of considerations leads to a third and last tension, at the military-strategic level: if French deterrence was extended, could France assume a credible deterrence for every European partner, or would it reinforce existing asymmetries in Europe, for instance regarding the defence of the Baltic states, or even create new strategic fault lines in Europe? This credibility issue, already raised by Mitterrand in the 1980s with regard to the extension of deterrence towards the FRG, is crucial nowadays when the potential extension of deterrence concerns the Eastern partners and allies, especially the Baltic states. This observation once again suggests that a thorough analysis of the prospects for a truly European deterrence has to incorporate conventional defence cooperation. More generally, a potential lesson of the post-Cold War era would be that, although a bilateral convergence in the nuclear realm in itself cannot be a top-down solution to the many weaknesses of the Common Security and Defence Policy (CSDP), it can help by asking the right questions and reaffirming the long-term objectives. Despite its crucial importance, European deterrence should not be considered as a prerequisite for the progress of European defence. Joint efforts have shown in the past that Europe could act autonomously without a common deterrence capability. Thus, in addition to this common reappraisal of the ‘web of linkages’ that could determine the efficiency and legitimacy of a European deterrence system, German and French officials should better articulate their daily defence policy with the common ‘horizon of expectation’ regarding European defence. Eventually they should bring their European partners on board, including the UK as the only other European global military and nuclear power, betting on the British willingness to keep a hand in European strategy despite Brexit. Guillaume de Rougé is Lecturer  in Contemporary  History and head of the History Department, at the Université Catholique de l’OuestBretagne-Sud (Vannes). He is also a Fellow at the Centre for Nuclear and Strategic Studies (CIENS), at the École Normale Supérieure (Paris-Ulm). He is a former civil servant of the French Ministry of Defence, DAS/ DGRIS, U.S. and NATO defence planning (2011–16). An edited version of his PhD thesis (Sorbonne, 2010), ‘Ariadne’s Thread: France and European Defense from Maastricht to Laeken (1991–2001)’, will be published in 2022 under a different title (Presses Universitaires de Rennes).

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Notes  1. Both phrases ‘web of linkages’ and ‘balance of unbalances’ are quoted from M. Trachtenberg’s analysis of the transatlantic and intra-European relationships. He also uses the metaphor of a ‘Calder mobile’. See M. Trachtenberg, A Constructed Peace: The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999).  2. For a first comprehensive study on this aspect, see C. McArdle Kelleher, Germany and the Politics of Nuclear Weapons (New York: Columbia University Press, 1975). See also A. Lutsch’s chapter in this volume.  3. See the French attitude during the Second Berlin Crisis and the Euromissile Crisis, in F. Gloriant and I. Parisi’s chapters in this volume.  4. See F. Bozo’s chapter in this volume, and F. Bozo, La France et l’OTAN: De la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen (Paris: Masson, 1991).  5. R.J. Art, ‘The Fungibility of Force’, in R.J. Art and K.N. Waltz (eds), The Use of Force: Military Power and International Politics (Boston, MA: Rowman & Littlefield, 2004), 3–22. ‘Issue linkages’ are voluntarily made by statesmen; they bear no causal effect, but if the connection sticks, then the bargaining effect is the same as for functional linkages. According to the author, the key difference is that an artificial linkage allows strength to offset weakness, whereas in a functional linkage, ‘weakness begets weakness and strength begets strength’ (18).  6. Further research could also include disarmament and arms control, space, and the recent cyber domain. Also, from a socio-historical perspective, the nuclear realm could – and should – eventually be reconnected to long-term evolutions in European strategic cultures.  7. The concept of ‘horizon of expectation’, as opposed to the concept of ‘field of experience’, is borrowed from Reinhart Koselleck’s work and defined as a long-term vision based on both predictive cognitive elements and normative expectative elements, in a combination that nurtures the actors’ imagination while influencing their behaviours, acting as a rationalizing factor in the bureaucratic processes. For a detailed analysis of the French conception of European defence as a ‘horizon d’attente’ during and after the Cold War, see G. de Rougé, Le Fil d’Ariane, la France et la Défense européenne dans l’après-Guerre froide [Ariadne’s Thread: France and European Defence in the Post-Cold War Era) (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, to be published in 2022).  8. The first part of this chapter, focusing on the 1990s, relies on PhD research-based consultation of declassified WEU (Western European Union) and NATO files of the French Presidential Archives for the years 1989–95, released on derogatory access, as well as more than fifty interviews with French officials covering the years 1995–2001, conducted under conditions of anonymity, in Paris and Brussels between 2006 and 2008. The second part focuses on the post-Ukrainian crisis era and, as such, benefited from open sources and interviews with French officials, under condition of anonymity, through an oral campaign conducted in 2015–16.  9. Both phrases in the subtitle are quoted from M.-E. Sarotte, 1989: The Struggle to Create Post-Cold War Europe (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009) in which she emphasizes the contrast between a ‘heroic’ French vision of post-Cold War European settlement that included a genuine pan-European security architecture, and a ‘prefab’ U.S.-led NATO-centric European security architecture, one that would eventually prevail but, still according to the author, missed the opportunity to integrate Russia. 10. For a maximalist variant of French freedom of manoeuvre into NATO, including in nuclear affairs, see J. Villars [pseudonym for Olivier Debouzy], ‘La France, l’OTAN, le Président’, Libération, 24 May 1990. The concept of ‘deterrence by observation’, initiated by General Charles-Georges Fricaud-Chagnaud, was based on the idea of the

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13. 14. 15. 16.

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quasi-impossibility of a nuclear war in Europe, which was itself a consequence of the impossibility to foresee the chain reaction that would be provoked in case of a first nuclear strike in a four-player system (U.S., USSR, France, UK). This ‘deterrence by observation’ concept was connected to the role that Fricaud-Chagnaud played in the conversion of the Socialist Party to nuclear deterrence, as well as in the evolution of the army’s operational concepts towards a Rapid Reaction Force in 1983. For an overview of Fricaud-Chagnaud’s contribution, see J. Guisnel, Les Généraux: Enquête sur le pouvoir militaire en France (Paris: La Découverte, 1990). The concept of ‘deterrence by observation’ had a strong influence on the defence minister J.-P. Chevènement’s positions both during the Socialist Party conversion to nuclear deterrence (late 1970s–early 1980s) and after the end of the Cold War. For instance, French National Archives (hereafter AN), Fifth Republic Presidential Series, 5AG4, CD 92, Lettre du ministre de la Défense au Président, 26 May 1990, including the following thoughts: ‘To keep France’s role and rank in Europe at the horizon of the year 2000 between the military superpower [the USSR] and the economic and political superpower [the FRG], whereas the maritime superpower [the U.S.] would have withdrawn across the ocean, [we must] maintain our defence posture as independent and sufficient as it is now … and thus continue to exist as the third European power’. AN, 5AG4, CD 92, anonymous, A/s, La France, l’OTAN et l’UEO: vrais et faux problèmes de l’intégration, 2 February 1991. AN, 5AG4, CD 92, Gabriel Robin, Réflexions sur la réforme de l’Alliance. Prospective 1995–2000, June 1990; AN, 5AG4, CD 92, Note for the Defence Minister, Réorganisation de l’Alliance et identité européenne de défense. Aspects politico-militaires et militaires, 28 January 1991. AN, 5AG4, Working document of the Secrétariat Général de la Défense Nationale (SGDN, Prime Minister service), SGDN/EDS/ESS/DR, n.3022, Adaptation des structures de l’alliance atlantique au nouveau contexte international, 18 April 1990. NATO’s Declaration on a Transformed North Atlantic Alliance issued at its London summit of 5–6 July 1990, §14. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.nato.int/cps/ en/natohq/official_texts_23693.htm. AN, 5AG4, CD 92, Note, Lanxade to the Secrétaire Général de l’Elysée, Sommet de l’OTAN, 25 June 1990. This sequence is typical of post-Cold War French ‘occasionalism’ (the notion is borrowed from René Descartes’ philosophy), i.e. a French assertive way of promoting a more autonomous European defence, not only by seizing opportunities as they arise, but also by provoking, anticipating and taking advantage of any occasion looming ahead, whether in the realm of institutions, operations, capacity-building or armament industry. On this feature of French European defence policy, see de Rougé, Ariadne’s Thread. AN, 5AG4, CD 92, Note for the Defence Minister, Réorganisation de l’Alliance et identité européenne de défense. Aspects politico-militaires et militaires, 28 January 1991. AN, 5AG4, Note of the Foreign Affairs Ministry ‘ahead of the meeting of 30 January, as seen by Defence Ministry’, L’Alliance dans la nouvelle Europe, Philippe Guelluy to Hubert Védrine, 30 January 1991. Although it concerned a matter of principle, this concession was a major one: de facto, France recognized a competence for NATO in non-article 5 operations. This would be made official only at the NATO Oslo summit in July 1992. The issue would then remain at the heart of the negotiations: at the NATO Brussels summit in January 1994, France would recognize that the European Security and Defence Identity (ESDI, a codename for a European pillar within NATO) was only competent for non-article 5 operations. AN, 5AG4, CD 92, Note for the Defence Minister, Réorganisation de l’Alliance et identité européenne de défense. Aspects politico-militaires et militaires, 28 January 1991.

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20. The twelve thousand French troops of the ‘Daguet Division’ (the main ground component of the ‘Daguet Operation’) were painfully gathered and deployed in January 1991, and did not play a substantial role on the ground, by comparison with their British counterparts. This difficult experience ignited a strong reaction against President Mitterrand’s conservatism among the military officers, and led to a partial aggiornamento in favour of a more pragmatic European policy at the Defence Ministry. On the technical details and consequences of this operation for French military debates, see J.-F. Durand, ‘Les Forces Terrestres françaises au rendez-vous de l’interopérabilité’, Doctrines 11 (2007), 96–99; P. Streit, ‘Opération Daguet (1990–1991): une logistique de projection’, Revue Militaire Suisse, 2006. On the Daguet Division’s ability to adapt, or rather to ‘improvise’, see S. Gregory, French Defence Policy into the Twenty-First Century (London: Macmillan, 2000), 46; F. Heisbourg, ‘Quelles leçons stratégiques de la guerre du Golfe’, Politique Etrangère 56(2) (1991), 411–22; J. Roper and N. Gnesotto, ‘L’Europe occidentale et le Golfe: une étude des réactions des pays de l’Europe occidentale à la guerre du Golfe’ (WEU Security Studies Institute, 1992). 21. François Mitterrand, speech at the Ecole Supérieure de Guerre, 11 April 1991. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/135492-allocution-de-m-francois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-sur-la. 22. On Mitterrand’s interest in conventional and space cooperation (the latter being partly expressed in reaction to U.S. President Ronald Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative), see F. Bozo’s chapter in this volume. On the perceived risk of marginalization of nuclear deterrence in the early 1990s, see F. Bozo, ‘Le nucléaire entre marginalisation et banalisation’, Politique Etrangère 60(1) (1995), 95–104. 23. The French Ministry of Foreign Affairs was particularly aware of the risks that the assertiveness of U.S. companies created on European markets: AN, 5AG4, Note from Thierry Dana, Ministry of Foreign Affairs (sous-direction des affaires stratégiques et des pactes), n.244/ASP/FR, A/s.: Réunion ministérielle du Groupe Européen Indépendant de Programmes (Oslo, 5–6 March), 1 March 1992. 24. The concept was firstly mentioned by the Secrétaire d’état à la defense Jacques Mellick in 1992, in Le Monde, 4 February, ‘M. Mellick recense les différentes formules d’une doctrine nucléaire européenne’: ‘“Concerted deterrence” would consist, for a nuclear power, in retaining its independence in decision making, while consulting its partners about the dispositions required to implement nuclear fire’. In turn, Foreign Minister Alain Juppé mentioned it in January 1995 in an address to the French MFA ‘planning unit’ (Centre d’Analyse et de Prévision), then as prime minister, after Jacques Chirac’s election, in a speech at the Institute for Advanced National Defence Studies (IHEDN) on 7 September 1995. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/ discours/156074-declaration-de-m-alain-juppe-premier-ministre-sur-lavenir-de-ladiss. In this last speech, Juppé underscored the limits of the French traditional doctrine, stating that it had been built ‘on the “weak vs. strong” deterrence model, i.e. on a reduction of the strategic equation to a duel between France and the former USSR. This is what mathematicians call an “extreme case” (cas limite) as it does not take into account, among other things, our belonging to alliances. I think that, in a time when we aim at reaching a common defence policy with our European partners, including Great Britain, while trying to renovate the transatlantic link, we must learn to introduce the collective dimension as a constitutive factor of our doctrine’. 25. See F. Bozo’s chapter in this volume. 26. Mitterrand’s statement on defence policy and nuclear deterrence, 5 May 1994. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/130530-intervention-de-mfrancois-mitterrand-president-de-la-republique-sur. 27. 68th Franco-German Summit, 16th Franco-German Security and Defence Council, Nuremberg, 9 December 1996, Communiqué available at https://www.cvce.eu/content/

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28. 29.

30. 31.

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35. 36.

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publication/2005/2/18/0215e246-27fd-46e5-8e83-8cefb0397592/publishable_fr.pdf (accessed 11 April 2019). On the following elements, see de Rougé, Ariadne’s Thread. On President Chirac’s insistence on ending conscription, and the subsequent misunderstandings between French and German Defence Ministers, Charles Millon and Volker Rühe, see H. Coudurier, Le Monde selon Chirac: Les Coulisses de la diplomatie française (Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1998), 110–14. D. Vernet, ‘Défense européenne, la querelle de Nuremberg’ [European Defence, the Nuremberg Quarrel], Le Monde, 31 January 1997. Joint press conference of President Chirac and Prime Minister Major, London, 30 October 1995, concluding the 18th Franco-British Summit, Chequers, 29–30 October 1995. French version online: https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/178978-conferencede-presse-conjointe-de-mm-jacques-chirac-president-de-la-re (accessed 11 April 2019). See de Rougé, Ariadne’s Thread. The Saint-Malo agreement, signed on 4 December 1998 by the UK and France, called for the implementation of an ‘autonomous EU crisis management capability’, setting a precedent and testifying to an unprecedented convergence between London and Paris. President Chirac’s speech at IHEDN, 8 June 2001, in J. Chirac, ‘Politique de défense et de sécurité’, Revue Défense Nationale (633) (July 2001), 5–19; President Chirac’s speech at Ile Longue (Oceanic Strategic Forces headquarters), 16 January 2006, in J. Chirac, ‘Dissuasion’, Revue Défense Nationale (683) (February 2006), 5–12. This part of the study is based on open sources complemented by a campaign of oral interviews with French officials under conditions of anonymity led by the author in 2015–16. The ‘Three No’s’ are mentioned as follows in the NATO-Russia Founding Act adopted in 1997: ‘The member States of NATO reiterate that they have no intention, no plan and no reason to deploy nuclear weapons on the territory of new members, nor any need to change any aspect of NATO’s nuclear posture or nuclear policy – and do not foresee any future need to do so. This subsumes the fact that NATO has decided that it has no intention, no plan, and no reason to establish nuclear weapon storage sites on the territory of those members, whether through the construction of new nuclear storage facilities or the adaptation of old nuclear storage facilities. Nuclear storage sites are understood to be facilities specifically designed for the stationing of nuclear weapons, and include all types of hardened above or below ground facilities (storage bunkers or vaults) designed for storing nuclear weapons’. The NATO-Russia Founding Act also states that ‘NATO reiterates that in the current and foreseeable security environment, the Alliance will carry out its collective defence and other missions by ensuring the necessary interoperability, integration, and capability for reinforcement rather than by additional permanent stationing of substantial combat forces’. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.nato.int/cps/en/natohq/official_texts_25468.htm. According to a recent NATO Defence College Report, ‘NATO and Russia have never reached an agreement on a specific definition of “substantial combat forces”. However, during the preparatory work on the enhanced Forward Presence for the NATO 2016 Warsaw Summit, they referred to Russian proposals during negotiations in the late 1990s on the Adapted CFE Treaty as providing a reasonable benchmark. In those negotiations, Russia sought to set a limit of one army brigade per country as the definition of “substantial combat forces”’. W. Alberque, ‘“Substantial Combat Forces” in the Context of NATO-Russia Relations’ (Rome: NATO Defence College, 2016), http://www.ndc.nato. int/news/news.php?icode=962 (accessed 11 April 2019). Among the highest-ranking officials were the Deputy Director of the General Directorate for International Relations and Strategy of the Defence Minister (DGRIS)

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40.

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44. 45.

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and the Director of Strategy at the Military Affairs Directorate of the Atomic Energy Agency (Commissariat à l’Energie Atomique et aux énergies alternatives, CEA-DAM). Interview by the author with a French MoD official, Paris, September 2015.  F. Hollande, Discours sur la dissuasion nucléaire, déplacement auprès des Forces aériennes stratégiques, Istres, 19 February 2015. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www. vie-publique.fr/discours/193954-declaration-de-m-francois-hollande-president-de-larepublique-sur-la. For the record, nuclear information sharing among NATO allies, historically the original mission of the NPG, has always been led by the U.S. which, as the main supplier, logically relayed to allies equipped with Dual-Capable Aircraft information regarding programmes, doctrine, safety and security, communication systems, weapons deployment and use, and so on. The nuclear planning system includes targeting (or target identification), tightly linked to weapon-system assignment (including the yield for each target, of utmost importance for the FRG in the Cold War context, in the hypothesis of a strike on German soil) and, last but not least, the nuclear command and control systems (C2). In turn, these C2 systems entail three dimensions: firstly, command authorities, nuclear control systems and command centres to analyse data, make decisions, carry out directions and control forces; secondly, sensors, including intelligence systems, providing inputs of warning and attack characterization; and thirdly, communication links to distribute warning data and ensure the proper execution of commands. See S. Gregory, Nuclear Command and Control in NATO: Nuclear Weapons Operations and the Strategy of Flexible Response (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1996), introduction. For a detailed analysis of the so-called ‘Athens guidelines’ that the U.S. Defense Secretary Robert McNamara got adopted by NATO in 1962, see F. Bozo, Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States, and the Atlantic Alliance (Boston, MA: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002), 74–76. The mechanisms were reformed by the 1969 Provisional Political Guidelines for the tactical use of nuclear weapons, and the whole process was updated in the 1986 General Political Guidelines, without publicly known reform since then. See K.H. Kamp and R. Remkes, ‘Options for NATO Nuclear Sharing Arrangements’, in S. Andreasen and I. Williams (eds), Reducing Nuclear Risks in Europe: A Framework for Action (Washington, DC: Nuclear Threat Initiative, 2011), 76–96, https://www.nti.org/ media/pdfs/NTI_Framework_full_report.pdf?_=1322694001?_=1322694001 (accessed 11 April 2019). The Alliance nuclear capability rests on two pillars: on the one hand, a strategic capability brought by the three nuclear members, the French contribution being recognized since the 1974 Ottawa declaration; on the other hand, the nuclear sharing arrangements based on U.S. non-strategic nuclear weapons stationed in Belgium, the FRG, Italy, the Netherlands and Turkey, resulting from the 1960s negotiations and the MLF failure in 1964–66. NATO nuclear arrangements theoretically cover four areas: information sharing; nuclear consultations; common nuclear planning; and common execution. See Kamp and Remkes, ‘Options for NATO Nuclear Sharing Arrangements’. Kamp and Remkes, ‘Options for NATO Nuclear Sharing Arrangements’. On the Russian doctrine, see D. Adamsky, ‘From Moscow with Coercion: Russian Deterrence Theory and Strategic Culture’, Journal of Strategic Studies 41(1–2) (2018), 23–26. For a mainstream account of the Western assessment of Russia’s strategy, see D. Johnson, ‘Russia’s Conventional Precision Strike Capabilities, Regional Crises, and Nuclear Thresholds’, Livermore Papers on Global Security, no. 3 (2018), https://cgsr.llnl. gov/content/assets/docs/Precision-Strike-Capabilities-report-v3-7.pdf (accessed 30 June 2018) (Nota bene: the author has worked since 2005 as a staff officer in the NATO International Staff Defence Policy and Planning Division).

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46. C. Brustlein, ‘The Erosion of Strategic Stability and the Future of Arms Control in Europe’, Ifri, Proliferation Paper no. 60 (November 2018), https://www.ifri.org/sites/ default/files/atoms/files/brustlein_erosion_strategic_stability_2018_3.pdf (accessed 11 April 2019). 47. Interviews, Ministry of Defence, Paris, September 2015. 48. See F. Gloriant’s chapter in this volume. 49. See F. Bozo’s chapter in this volume. 50. On the details of French doctrinal evolutions during the second half of the Cold War, see Bozo, La France et l’OTAN. De Gaulle himself seemed to have an increasing consideration for ‘tactical’ nuclear weapons at the end of his mandate, but more for its political value as a symbol of solidarity with Germany than for its military relevance. De Gaulle’s views on this matter require further research, but would certainly confirm the ‘strategic’ role of ‘tactical’ nuclear weapons according to French thinking. See B. Tertrais, ‘Destruction Assurée: The Origins and Development of French Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1981’, in H.D. Sokolski (ed.), Getting MAD: Nuclear Mutual Assured Destruction, Its Origins and Practice (Carlisle Barracks, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S. Army War College, 2004). 51. Contingency plans were still considered and updated by NATO allies, including on the Eastern flank, where operations could escalate into an article 5 scenario involving nuclear manoeuvres – although generic nuclear missions had replaced specific targeting since the 1999 Alliance Strategic Concept. 52. France has always refused any SACEUR operational command on French forces, but accepts operational control for predefined missions in space and time. See Bozo, La France et l’OTAN. 53. According to the ‘Defence pledge’ taken at the Wales summit, the allies pledged to allocate 2 per cent of GDP to defence, from which 20 per cent would be invested in future capabilities at the 2025 horizon. On the main reassurance decisions taken by the Alliance, see S. Erlanger et al., ‘NATO Plans a Special Force to Reassure Eastern Europe and Deter Russia’, New York Times, 5 September 2014, https://www.nytimes. com/2014/09/06/world/europe/nato-summit.html (accessed 11 April 2019). 54. A. Lutsch, ‘The Persistent Legacy: Germany’s Place in the Nuclear Order’, Nuclear Proliferation International History Project Working Paper Series, no. 5 (May 2015), http:// www.wilsoncenter.org (accessed 11 April 2019). For Obama’s speech, see: https:// obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/remarks-president-barack-obamaprague-delivered (retrieved 6 August 2021). 55. Strategic Concept for the Defence and Security of the Members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, adopted by Heads of State and Government at the NATO summit in Lisbon on 19–20 November 2010. 56. Options for reform include the creation of double-hatted liaison officers at the U.S. Strategic Command, based on the UK model, and the assignment of U.S. nuclear weapons to NATO. See Kamp and Remkes, Options for NATO Nuclear Sharing Arrangements. 57. D. Goure, ‘Germany’s Tornado Replacement Could Undermine NATO’, Defense News, 6 July 2018, https://www.defensenews.com/smr/nato-priorities/2018/07/06/ germanys-choice-for-a-tornado-replacement-could-undermine-nato/ (accessed 11 April 2019). See O. Meier’s chapter in this volume. 58. Interviews, Ministry of Defence, Paris, November 2016. 59. U. Kühn, T. Volpe and B. Thompson, ‘Tracking the German Nuclear Debate’, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 7 September 2017, https://carnegieendowment. org/2018/08/15/tracking-german-nuclear-debate-pub-72884 (accessed 11 April 2019). 60. Ibid.; U. Kühn and T. Volpe, ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education: Why a Few Elites Are Testing a Taboo’, The Washington Quarterly 40(3) (2017).

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61. Compared to French ‘Livres Blanc’ that usually pave the way to ‘Lois de Programmation Militaire’, German White Books still have limited political value. On Germany’s recent ‘normalization’ dynamics, see B. Kunz, S. Martens and H. Stark (eds), L’Allemagne sur la scène internationale: En quête de stabilité dans un monde qui change (Lille: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2017). 62. R.L. Glatz and M. Zapfe, ‘Ambitious Framework Nation: Germany in NATO Bundeswehr Capability Planning and the “Framework Nations Concept”’, SWP Comment C35 (2017), https://www.swp-berlin.org/fileadmin/contents/products/ comments/2017C35_glt_zapfe.pdf (accessed 11 April 2019). 63. Foreign Affairs Minister Alain Juppé, 30 January 1995, address to the MFA planning centre (CAP), personal translation: ‘L’adoption d’une monnaie unique, un nouveau contrat franco-allemand pourraient-ils d’ailleurs rester sans effet sur la perception par la France de ses propres intérêts vitaux?’ Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// www.vie-publique.fr/discours/221537-declaration-de-m-alain-juppe-ministre-desaffaires-etrangeres-sur-la. 64. See S. Hoffmann and I. Hoffmann, ‘The Will to Grandeur: De  Gaulle  as  Political Artist’, Daedalus 97(3) (1968), 829–87.

Bibliography Adamsky, D. ‘From Moscow with Coercion: Russian Deterrence Theory and Strategic Culture’. Journal of Strategic Studies 41(1–2) (2018), 23–26. Alberque, W. ‘“Substantial Combat Forces” in the Context of NATO-Russia Relations’. Rome: NATO Defence College, 2016, http://www.ndc.nato.int/ news/news.php?icode=962 (accessed 11 April 2019). Art, R.J. ‘The Fungibility of Force’, in R.J. Art and K.N. Waltz (eds), The Use of Force: Military Power and International Politics (Boston, MA: Rowman & Littlefield, 2004), 3–22. Bozo, F. La France et l’OTAN: De la guerre froide au nouvel ordre européen. Paris: Masson, 1991.  . ‘Le nucléaire entre marginalisation et banalisation’. Politique Etrangère 60(1) (1995), 95–104.  . Two Strategies for Europe: De Gaulle, the United States, and the Atlantic Alliance. Boston, MA: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002. Brustlein, C. ‘The Erosion of Strategic Stability and the Future of Arms Control in Europe’. Ifri, Proliferation Paper no. 60, November 2018, https://www.ifri.org/ sites/default/files/atoms/files/brustlein_erosion_strategic_stability_2018_3. pdf (accessed 11 April 2019). Coudurier, H. Le Monde selon Chirac: Les Coulisses de la diplomatie française. Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1998. De Rougé, G. Le Fil d’Ariane, la France et la Défense européenne dans l’après-Guerre froide [Ariadne’s Thread: France and European Defence in the Post-Cold War Era]. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes (adapted from the author’s PhD dissertation, to be published in 2022). Durand, J.-F. ‘Les Forces Terrestres françaises au rendez-vous de l’interopérabilité’. Doctrines 11 (2007), 96–99.

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Erlanger, S., et al. ‘NATO Plans a Special Force to Reassure Eastern Europe and Deter Russia’. New York Times, 5 September 2014, https://www.nytimes. com/2014/09/06/world/europe/nato-summit.html (accessed April 2019). Glatz, R.L., and M. Zapfe. ‘Ambitious Framework Nation: Germany in NATO Bundeswehr Capability Planning and the “Framework Nations Concept”’. SWP Comment C35 (2017), https://www.swp-berlin.org/fileadmin/contents/ products/comments/2017C35_glt_zapfe.pdf (accessed 11 April 2019). Goure, D. ‘Germany’s Tornado Replacement Could Undermine NATO’. Defense News, 6 July 2018, https://www.defensenews.com/smr/natopriorities/2018/07/06/germanys-choice-for-a-tornado-replacement-couldundermine-nato/ (accessed 11 April 2019). Gregory, S. Nuclear Command and Control in NATO: Nuclear Weapons Operations and the Strategy of Flexible Response. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 1996.  . French Defence Policy into the Twenty-First Century. London: Macmillan, 2000. Guisnel, J. Les Généraux: Enquête sur le pouvoir militaire en France. Paris: La Découverte, 1990. Heisbourg, F. ‘Quelles leçons stratégiques de la guerre du Golfe’. Politique Etrangère 56(2) (1991), 411–22. Hoffmann, S., and I. Hoffmann. ‘The Will to Grandeur: De  Gaulle  as  Political Artist’. Daedalus 97(3) (1968), 829–87. Johnson, D. ‘Russia’s Conventional Precision Strike Capabilities, Regional Crises, and Nuclear Thresholds’. Livermore Papers on Global Security no. 3, 2018, https://cgsr.llnl.gov/content/assets/docs/Precision-Strike-Capabilitiesreport-v3-7.pdf (accessed 30 June 2018). Kamp, K.H., and R. Remkes. ‘Options for NATO Nuclear Sharing Arrangements’, in S. Andreasen and I. Williams (eds), Reducing Nuclear Risks in Europe: A Framework for Action (Washington, DC: Nuclear Threat Initiative, 2011), 76–96. https://www.nti.org/media/pdfs/NTI_Framework_full_report. pdf?_=1322694001?_=1322694001 (accessed 11 April 2019). Kuhn, U., and T. Volpe. ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education: Why a Few Elites Are Testing a Taboo’. The Washington Quarterly 40(3) (2017). Kuhn, U., T. Volpe and B. Thompson. ‘Tracking the German Nuclear Debate’. Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 7 September 2017, https:// carnegieendowment.org/2018/08/15/tracking-german-nuclear-debatepub-72884 (accessed 11 April 2019). Kunz, B., S. Martens and H. Stark (eds). L’Allemagne sur la scène internationale: En quête de stabilité dans un monde qui change. Lille: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion, 2017. Lutsch, A. ‘The Persistent Legacy: Germany’s Place in the Nuclear Order’. Nuclear Proliferation International History Project Working Paper Series, no. 5, May 2015. McArdle Kelleher, C. Germany and the Politics of Nuclear Weapons. New York: Columbia University Press, 1975. Roper, J., and N. Gnesotto. ‘L’Europe occidentale et le Golfe: une étude des réactions des pays de l’Europe occidentale à la guerre du Golfe’. WEU Security Studies Institute, 1992.

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Sarotte, M.-E. 1989: The Struggle to Create Post-Cold War Europe. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009. Streit, P. ‘Opération Daguet (1990–1991): une logistique de projection’. Revue Militaire Suisse, 2006. Tertrais, B. ‘Destruction Assurée: The Origins and Development of French Nuclear Strategy, 1945–1981’, in H.D. Sokolski (ed.), Getting MAD: Nuclear Mutual Assured Destruction, Its Origins and Practice (Carlisle Barracks, PA: Strategic Studies Institute, U.S. Army War College, 2004). Trachtenberg, M. A Constructed Peace:  The Making of the European Settlement, 1945–1963. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999. Vernet, D. ‘Défense européenne, la querelle de Nuremberg’ [European Defence, the Nuremberg Quarrel]. Le Monde, 31 January 1997.

Chapter 12

Walking Together in Different Directions

Prospects for French-German Cooperation on Nuclear Deterrence and Arms Control after the End of the Cold War Oliver Meier

Introduction

T

he question of closer French-German cooperation on nuclear issues has been revisited periodically since the end of the Cold War.1 It was usually Paris, rather than Berlin, that raised the issue of a European dimension of nuclear deterrence, thereby implicitly also addressing the issue of whether Germany and France could and should work together more closely on strategic nuclear issues. In 1992, President François Mitterrand stated that the issue of a common European deterrent would ‘quickly become one of the major questions in the construction of a common European defence’.2 At the time, there was little response from other Europeans, including Germany. In September 1995, Prime Minister Alain Juppé used the concept of a ‘concerted deterrent’ to argue that ‘we [French] should learn to make the collective dimension an integral part of our doctrine’.3 In 1996, President Jacques Chirac went one step further by stating that discussions on a European dimension of nuclear deterrence are ‘about drawing all the consequences of a community of destiny, of a growing entanglement of our vital interests’.4 The French and German governments in December 1996 attempted to open the path to dialogue on nuclear deterrence. However, the tentative agreement to place the issue of nuclear deterrence in the context of a

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European security and defence policy faltered, partly because of French sensitivities about preserving the independence of the force de frappe.5 In 2001, Chirac placed the nuclear issue again in a European context by saying that any decision by France to use nuclear weapons ‘would naturally take into account the growing solidarity of European Union countries’.6 For the next ten to fifteen years, however, the issue was put on the shelf of German-French relations. As Bruno Tertrais observed, the concept of ‘Europeanization’ of the French nuclear deterrent enjoyed broad political support in Paris but ‘there are very few ideas how to do that’.7 In Berlin, the issue of a ‘Europeanization’ of the French nuclear deterrent was unattractive because of the strong anti-nuclear sentiment in the public. Discussions in the 1990s rarely moved beyond the inner circles of security policy experts. Implicitly, the issue of giving nuclear deterrence a European dimension came up whenever the concept of an integrated ‘European army’ was discussed. However, rather than tackling the issue head-on, decision-makers carefully tiptoed around the nuclear issue. All in all, nuclear deterrence as well as arms control, disarmament and non-proliferation largely remained blind spots on the agenda of FrenchGerman consultations on security and defence for the first quarter of a century after the end of the Cold War.8 Since 2014, by contrast, the issue of closer French-German cooperation on nuclear deterrence and arms control, disarmament and nonproliferation has clearly moved up the agenda. Four developments over the course of 2014 to 2017 were catalysts for this new European debate on nuclear issues in Berlin and Paris. First, following the Russian annexation of Crimea in March 2014, many believe that nuclear deterrence is again playing a greater role in European security. Particularly, Russian nuclear chest-beating has revived concerns about nuclear blackmail. Second, the 23 June 2016 decision by the United Kingdom to leave the European Union will affect European security, including the role of nuclear weapons. Once Brexit becomes reality, France will remain the only nuclear weapon state in the EU. Third, Donald Trump, in the eyes of most German and French decision-makers, has fundamentally weakened transatlantic security ties. Since he was elected U.S. President on 8 November 2016, Trump has called into question the reliability of U.S. security assurances for Europe, including extended deterrence commitments. Fourth, the lack of progress on nuclear disarmament and the increased reliance on nuclear deterrence by the nuclear weapons possessors have polarized the nuclear global debate on nuclear issues. The adoption of

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a Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) by 122 states in the UN General Assembly on 7 July 2017 is an expression of the frustration of the majority of nations with the current situation regarding arms control and disarmament. The call for a comprehensive prohibition of nuclear weapons has affected the nuclear disarmament discourse in Berlin, and to some degree in Paris too. One could expect these four factors – growing nuclear threats, the decision of the nuclear-armed United Kingdom to leave the EU, weakened U.S. security guarantees and growing radicalization of the disarmament discourse – and others, such as North Korea’s nuclear threats and the U.S. breach of the Iran nuclear accord, to drive Germany and France closer together on nuclear issues. And indeed, at first sight, there appear to be changes. In Germany, a number of articles and op-eds about the possibility and desirability of a European (or even a national) nuclear option have been published since 2017.9 Strategic nuclear issues have also been on the agenda of a series of Franco-German track 1.5 meetings.10 However, has there been substantive movement towards closer alignment of French and German policies on nuclear deterrence, non-proliferation, arms control and disarmament? What are the reasons for (the lack of) greater coherence? To take a deeper look at these questions, this chapter will first briefly describe the different political contexts of nuclear debates in Germany and France. It then reviews relevant developments, primarily from a German perspective, in four issue areas, namely nuclear deterrence, nonproliferation, arms control and disarmament, over the last few years. It is argued here that cooperation between France and Germany for the foreseeable future is more likely on issues unrelated to the role of French nuclear weapons. The reason is simple: Germany justifies its involvement in nuclear sharing and consultation arrangements as a way to influence the policies of nuclear-armed allies. One of Berlin’s goals in such arrangements, particularly in NATO, has been to bring nuclear partners to the table of negotiations on nuclear arms control and disarmament. France, however, has been unwilling so far to reduce significantly the role of nuclear weapons in its deterrence and defence posture. Nuclear consultations, in which partners are given a say on the French nuclear posture, remain anathema to French nuclear thinking. Thus, while Berlin and Paris are willing and ready to work together on nuclear arms control and non-proliferation, they will most likely continue to walk in different directions on nuclear disarmament and strategic nuclear policy issues, which would impact the future of the force de frappe.

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Two Nuclear Cultures Decision-makers’ views of nuclear issues are determined by the specific cultural and political contexts in which they operate.11 Berlin and Paris pursue similar interests within the international nuclear order. Both believe that strong international institutions, based on the rule of law, provide the best means to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons. Germany and France also are interested in working through EU and NATO when addressing nuclear weapons issues. Yet, at the same time, Berlin and Paris approach nuclear issues from different, sometimes opposite directions. France embraces the military and civilian use of nuclear technology. Paris considers that the nuclear order is inevitably shaped by nuclear weapons. As an NPT nuclear weapon state, France continues to value its force de frappe as an indispensable guarantee of its national security. Nuclear deterrence is widely viewed as a positive instrument of assuring independence and freedom of action. French presidents, at the beginning of their tenure, often demonstrate their support for the national nuclear deterrent with highly symbolic visits to nuclear bases, sometimes posing in front of nuclear submarines. Domestically, the basic tenets of French nuclear policies are not seriously contested.12 Even though the 11 March 2011 accident in Fukushima has somewhat reduced the French enthusiasm for nuclear energy, phasing out the civil use of nuclear energy is not an option. Exports of nuclear technology are seen as a means of political influence.13 Germany is a non-nuclear weapon state and its public remains deeply sceptical of all things nuclear. The security policy elite, in large parts, is convinced that nuclear deterrence can and does increase German security. German involvement as a host nation in NATO nuclear sharing is justified in terms of gains of political influence on nuclear weapon states’ decision-making. However, the German involvement in NATO nuclear sharing and the continued deployment of about twenty U.S. B61 gravity bombs at the German air force base in Büchel is a topic that decision-makers try to avoid addressing directly. This is because the broader public continues to emphasize the need for nuclear disarmament. Polls consistently show support for a withdrawal of nuclear weapons from Germany and Europe.14 There is general agreement that, at least in the long term, a nuclear-weapon-free world is a desirable goal. No major political actor has seriously contested the conservative-liberal government’s 2011 decision to completely phase out civil nuclear energy use by 2022. An attempt to increase cooperation between Berlin and Paris on nuclear issues has to take into account these different political contexts and bridge, at least partly, the gap between these different nuclear cultures.

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Where do these two concepts of nuclear order overlap, and where are they at odds with each other? A more in-depth look at positions on nuclear deterrence, non-proliferation, arms control and disarmament can help to answer this question

Nuclear Deterrence and Missile Defence Germany’s foreign and security policy elite sees nuclear sharing as a way to strengthen collective defence and coherence in the Alliance, rather than as a sharp tool to deter enemies and competitors. Thus, the 2016 White Paper of the German Ministry of Defence states that the strategic nuclear capabilities of NATO, and in particular those of the United States, are the ultimate guarantee of the security of its members. NATO remains a nuclear alliance. Through nuclear sharing, Germany continues to be an integral part of NATO’s nuclear policy and planning.15

Nuclear consultations and cooperation are seen as an instrument to influence the nuclear policies of nuclear-armed allies.16 Integration of nuclear forces is a core element of this approach.17 However, this argument for German involvement in consultations and cooperation on nuclear issues is difficult to apply in a French-German context. France insists on maintaining full political and operational independence of its nuclear forces. In 2015, French President François Hollande reconfirmed that France ‘does not and will not participate in the NATO nuclear planning mechanisms’. At the same time, he stated that ‘France does wish to contribute actively to the drafting of the Alliance’s nuclear policy’.18 Some interpreted this to mean that Paris might wish to participate in NATO’s Nuclear Planning Group, but so far no such movement has been detectable. Thus, for the time being, France prefers to ‘live in the best of both worlds’ by not exposing its nuclear policy to discussions with allies, while at the same time keeping open the option to veto any outcome it does not like in NATO’s political decision-making bodies, such as the North Atlantic Council, which meet ‘at 29’.19 This approach became evident for example in 2009–10, when the newly elected German conservative-liberal government initiated a debate on the possible withdrawal of U.S. tactical nuclear weapons from Europe.20 While France officially remained agnostic on issues related to nuclear sharing, including on a withdrawal of the 100-150 U.S. nuclear weapons from Belgium, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands and Turkey, it rejected any changes in NATO’s nuclear doctrine that could have affected its own posture. Between 2010 and 2012, France in a similar vein opposed

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a German push to change NATO’s declaratory policy to narrow the circumstances under which NATO would threaten the use of nuclear weapons. Thus, the self-declared French nuclear isolationism makes it difficult for Berlin to justify nuclear consultations with Paris by invoking the same arguments that are used in the NATO context, namely that they could lead to changes in French nuclear policies. While France and Germany have different institutional roles in NATO’s nuclear policy, both are closer on substantive issues related to nuclear deterrence. Berlin and Paris traditionally view nuclear weapons primarily as ‘political weapons’. Both reject proposals that NATO should increase the ‘credibility’ of nuclear deterrence by mirroring certain aspects of Russia’s nuclear posture, such as signalling willingness to use nuclear weapons through exercises and a closer coupling of nuclear and conventional capabilities. Specifically, the idea to use nuclear weapons to ‘de-escalate’ a conflict is seen as dangerous in Berlin and in Paris. Germany and France would agree, in principle, that the threshold for use of nuclear weapons should remain high. Any perceived change in these policies can lead to conflicts between Berlin and Paris. For example, when President Chirac in his 2006 speech on French nuclear weapons policy suggested that states sponsoring WMD terrorism could become targets of nuclear retaliation, he triggered angry reactions from across the political spectrum in Germany.21 Germany and France are wary of suggestions that NATO’s territorial missile defence system could serve as a deterrent vis-à-vis Russia, though for different reasons. The notion of ‘deterrence by denial’ – that is, convincing an adversary that any attack is futile because it will be defeated – runs counter to French nuclear thinking, which rests on the idea of deterrence by punishment – that is, credibly demonstrating to an enemy that any attack will trigger a response that may cause an unacceptable level of damage. Missile defence systems are thus seen as complementary to nuclear deterrence but not as a possible replacement.22 France, like some in Germany, is also concerned about the lack of European control over NATO missile defence capabilities in Europe.23 Germany reluctantly went along with including territorial missile defence in NATO’s 2010 Strategic Concept as a core element of collective defence. Berlin at the time hoped that the project could help to build bridges towards Moscow and increase coherence within NATO.24 Some in Germany, such as the analyst Oliver Thränert at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs, also argued that an effective missile defence system could lead to an end of the forward presence of U.S. nuclear weapons in Europe.25 None of these expectations have proven realistic, and as a consequence, arguments in favour of missile defence

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hold little sway in the German debate. Thus, Germany’s current support for NATO missile defence lacks a strategic rationale.26 Paris and Berlin also share an interest in missile defence being based primarily on European technology, though there is little direct cooperation between the two countries in projects aimed at developing sensors or interceptors.

Nuclear Non-Proliferation France and Germany share a similar outlook on proliferation of weapons of mass destruction. Both are members of the same international regimes and coordinate their approaches through relevant EU and NATO committees. The threat analyses in Berlin and Paris are mostly congruent. The peak of French-German coordination on WMD non-proliferation was the joint opposition in 2003 to the U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, which was based on fabricated proliferation claims.27 The two countries, however, view differently the relationship between disarmament and non-proliferation. Germany tends to emphasize that both issues are closely interlinked and ‘two sides of the same coin’. It sees further steps by nuclear weapon states to reduce the numbers and roles of nuclear weapons as a precondition for a strengthened non-proliferation regime.28 Thus, the lack of progress towards Global Zero by all nuclear weapon states, as the argument in Berlin goes, will complicate efforts to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons because it will decrease trust in the effectiveness of the non-proliferation regime generally.29 Germany therefore has emphasized the politically binding character of the disarmament commitments contained in the 64-step Action Plan agreed at the 2010 NPT review conference and continues to see their implementation as an important condition for a strong and robust non-proliferation regime.30 French analysts and decision-makers tend to reject the notion that the force de frappe is part of the proliferation equation. Thus, some in Paris downplay the argument that disarmament is an intrinsic part of the ‘NPT bargain’ and thus linked to non-proliferation.31 Quite to the contrary, France in line with other nuclear weapon states argues that ‘responsible stewardship’ of nuclear weapons can reduce proliferation pressures. In the NPT context, Paris frames disarmament as a variable dependent on improvements in strategic stability. In line with this view, Paris has argued that commitments made at NPT review conferences have to be understood in the political context under which they were agreed. Accordingly, France has opposed stronger language on disarmament at NPT meetings.32

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Berlin and Paris closely coordinate their non-proliferation policies but this does not preclude subtle differences in dealing with specific non-proliferation problems. Thus, Germany and France have played somewhat different roles in the context of the E3/EU+3 negotiations on an agreement to solve the conflict over Iran’s nuclear programme, which were first conducted by the E3 (France, Germany and the United Kingdom) and then broadened to include the E3, the EU as well as China, Russia and the United States (E3/EU+3). At least until 2010, France took a tougher line vis-à-vis Tehran than Germany, for example, by making the goal of ‘zero enrichment’ a condition for an agreement. Berlin, by contrast, has been more flexible in seeking a compromise on Iran’s peaceful nuclear capabilities.33 The Trump administration has rendered such nuances irrelevant when it rejected the nuclear deal, without showing any willingness to accommodate European interests. In particular, the imposition of U.S. secondary sanctions and the refusal to grant any exemptions for European companies pursuing legitimate trade with Iran has left no room for pursuing different transatlantic approaches. The Trump administration’s breach of the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA) has therefore pushed France, Germany and the UK as well as other Europeans closer together.34

Incremental Measures to Reduce Roles and Number of Nuclear Weapons France attempts to portray itself as a leader on nuclear arms control, highlighting its declaration of an upper limit of three hundred nuclear warheads in its arsenal and trying to be more open and assertive about the steps taken to reduce and limit its nuclear arsenal. After ceasing the production of plutonium in 1992 and of highly enriched uranium in 1996, and subsequently declaring a moratorium on the production of fissile material for nuclear weapons, Paris decided to dismantle relevant facilities. In addition, France has ended nuclear testing in 1996, closed down its nuclear test site at Mururoa Atoll in the Pacific and joined the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty (CTBT). Given the strong opposition in Germany to nuclear testing, this was a necessary precondition for aligning more closely German and French nuclear arms control policies. France has also implemented a number of transparency measures to demonstrate the measures undertaken.35 Germany continues to call on all nuclear weapon states, including France, to further reduce the numbers and roles of nuclear weapons.

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Parliamentary debates on nuclear issues in Berlin often focus on arms control and disarmament. Cooperative measures to reduce nuclear weapons incrementally are a common denominator on which critics as well as supporters of Germany’s continued involvement in NATO nuclear sharing can agree. Against this background of a shared interest in highlighting arms control as a means to strengthen the international order, it is not surprising that Berlin and Paris are both committed to the step-by-step approach and in favour of preserving existing arms control agreements. France and Germany are members of the so-called ‘progressive group’ of states that advocate a ‘building block’ approach to disarmament in NPT meetings and other multilateral fora. Germany and France also call on Russia and the United States to preserve existing arms control agreements and take additional steps. Berlin and Paris also tend to view further isolation of Russia not as an end in itself but rather as a means towards the goal of getting Moscow back to the table, including on nuclear arms control. Many in Germany, including key Social Democrats and Green Party members, are concerned that a tit-for-tat response to the nuclear sabre-rattling by Russia could lead to a dangerous new nuclear arms race.36 The fear of such nuclear competition is one reason why France and Germany have also been somewhat cautious before endorsing the U.S. position that Russia is in noncompliance with its obligations under the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) treaty.37 France and Germany, however, have parted ways whenever Berlin has pursued initiatives that would affect the French nuclear posture. Thus, Germany helped to initiate a debate on strengthened negative security assurances – that is, commitments made by nuclear weapon states not to use or threaten to use nuclear weapons against non-nuclear weapon states.38 Yet, France has always strongly resisted the notion that such assurances are a useful step to improve the conditions for nuclear disarmament. At best, negative security assurances are seen as meaningless. Some point out that they can easily be revoked in times of war. It is also argued that such guarantees are even dangerous because they undermine the credibility of nuclear deterrence.39 Germany and France have sometimes also worked against each other in NATO discussions on arms control, disarmament and nonproliferation (ADN). Thus, Germany between 2010 and 2012 has tried to strengthen the Alliance’s role on ADN, first in the context of discussions on a new Strategic Concept adopted in 2010 in Lisbon and then during discussions on the Deterrence and Defence Posture Review report, agreed at the 2012 Chicago summit. France, however, resisted any such

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efforts and specifically opposed a German proposal to set up a new arms control committee in the Alliance.40 Among other things, France was concerned that establishing such a committee would be the first step on a slippery slope towards discussions on the French nuclear posture.

Nuclear Disarmament France and Germany are advocates of a nuclear-weapon-free world but frame the issue in different ways. As a result, Berlin and Paris have repeatedly ended up at opposite ends of the table during disarmament discussions, in the plenary sessions of NPT meetings, but also within the EU and the Western European and Others Group in the United Nations (UN).41 Differences in nuclear disarmament became particularly visible in response to President Barack Obama’s Prague 2009 speech on a nuclearweapon-free world. The initiative was enthusiastically embraced in Germany and many saw it as an encouragement to push for further disarmament steps. In Paris, however, the U.S.-led discussion was seen as a threat, rather than as an opportunity.42 France makes pursuit of Global Zero contingent on a number of conditions, most notably the preservation of strategic stability and the need for unreduced security of nuclear weapon possessor states.43 Germany, by contrast, has been advocating the goal of a world free of nuclear weapons more unconditionally. Thus, the 2018 government programme simply states that ‘arms control and disarmament remain priority goals of German foreign and security policy’ and that ‘a world free of nuclear weapons remains the goal’ of the government’s policy.44 Berlin is slightly less strict about the conditions for Global Zero than NATO as a whole. Thus, the German government’s 2016 White Paper deviates from NATO’s 2010 Strategic Concept by stating that ‘as long as nuclear weapons can be employed in military conflicts, there will always be a need for nuclear deterrence’.45 The NATO document, by contrast, states that ‘as long as nuclear weapons exist, NATO will remain a nuclear alliance’.46 The lowest common denominator between Berlin and Paris remains the NATO goal of ‘creating the conditions’ for a nuclear-weapon-free world. The international push for a TPNW forced France and Germany to be more specific on their positions regarding nuclear disarmament. Berlin and Paris, from the early days of the initiative, were united in their opposition to a comprehensive, legally binding prohibition of nuclear weapons. For some time, however, there was a debate within German

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political circles on whether and to what degree Berlin should try to influence the outcome of talks on a ban treaty from the inside, rather than, as Paris, from the outside.47 Berlin was an active participant in all three international conferences on the Humanitarian Impact of Nuclear Weapons, which took place in 2013 in Oslo (Norway) and 2014 in Nayarit (Mexico) and Vienna (Austria). France, by contrast, is the only Western nuclear weapon state that has stayed away from all three meetings.48 Berlin, however, did not endorse the Humanitarian Pledge tabled by Austria at the 2015 NPT review conference. The statement was seen as incompatible with NATO nuclear policies because it opposed the use of nuclear weapons ‘under any circumstances’.49 Yet Germany, unlike France, participated in the 2016 Open-Ended Working Group on Taking Forward Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament in Geneva, which preceded the UN negotiations on the TPNW. German wavering ended after the UN General Assembly in December 2016 voted in favour of launching negotiations on a legally binding instrument to prohibit nuclear weapons. Berlin quickly decided not to participate in these UN negotiations. On 9 February 2017, in a letter to ban treaty supporters, the government explained its position. The Foreign Ministry argued that a ban treaty would not have the desired effect in terms of nuclear disarmament because the nuclear weapon states did not support it, because it lacked effective verification provisions and because it did not ‘reflect the international security context’.50 This marked the first time that Germany did not participate in talks on a multilateral arms control, disarmament or non-proliferation agreement. Shortly after the adoption of the ban treaty, NATO collectively rejected it, arguing that it ‘disregards the realities of the increasingly challenging international security environment’ and stating that ‘there will be no change in the legal obligations on our countries with respect to nuclear weapons’.51 Thus, the Alliance adopted a stance that was largely identical to the view of France, which has unequivocally and consistently rejected all discussions on the prohibition of nuclear weapons as ideological.52 The United States and the United Kingdom have made similar arguments. Ever since NATO declared its position, the German government has stuck to its rejection of the ban treaty on the basis of the NATO decision.53 In parliamentary debates, only the Green and Left opposition parties have criticized the government for their decision not to engage with ban treaty supporters. In the public debate, however, the ban treaty failed to get much attention, even after the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons received the Nobel Peace Prize in 2017.

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Trump, Putin, Brexit: The Changing Political Context for the French-German Nuclear Debate For the first twenty-five years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, France and Germany joined hands on many arms control and non-proliferation issues, yet were unable – and often unwilling – to cooperate on nuclear deterrence and disarmament. On both sides of the Rhine, there was little sense of urgency. Transatlantic relations were fundamentally stable, differences with Moscow mostly manageable and European integration was slowly but steadily making progress. Since 2014, things have changed dramatically. First, Russia annexed Crimea and in the process used its nuclear weapons to warn off Western powers. Then came the election of Donald Trump as U.S. President in November 2016. Trump had campaigned on a nationalist agenda and repeatedly called into question U.S. extended deterrence commitments. Over the course of President Trump’s first eighteen months in office, most decision-makers in Berlin concluded that structural shifts were happening in transatlantic relations and would have significant implications, including the need for a closer European integration in matters of security and defence. Yet, by and large, changes in Germany’s nuclear weapons policy remained off the agenda. In parliamentary debates, the issue continued to be of little interest. Nevertheless, Trump’s election resulted in a debate among academics and pundits in Germany on the question of whether Germany and Europe need an independent nuclear deterrent. The discussion was triggered by statements of Roderich Kiesewetter, a senior conservative Member of Parliament. In several interviews Kiesewetter argued that against the background of Brexit and the change of administration in Washington, there should not be any ‘taboos’ in thinking about European defence.54 He seemed to suggest a ‘concerted deterrence’ arrangement, though details remained hazy. His suggestion was happily taken up by editors of journals and op-ed pages. Several articles began to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of such an option.55 A November 2016 op-ed in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, titled ‘After Trump’s Election Victory: The Totally Unthinkable’, even considered a German nuclear option.56 Remarkably, these arguments did not at all resonate with the body politic in Germany. No other German decision-maker, beyond Kiesewetter, was provoked into joining the exchange.57 There was also no echo from Paris, at least none that was publicly noticeable. Russia’s aggression against Ukraine, its nuclear posturing and the acute crisis of nuclear arms control did, however, re-energize the discourse on

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nuclear arms control. For example, the 2017 government coalition agreement contains a new paragraph on the crisis of the 1987 INF treaty.58 In a way, Berlin and Paris continued to talk past each other. Germany has emphasized the greater need for reducing tensions in Europe through arms control. In France, as can be expected in a nuclear weapon state, the discussion was focused on how to adapt to Russia’s more assertive nuclear policy and the implications for (nuclear) deterrence.59 Brexit is also likely to influence the German-French debate on nuclear issues. The United Kingdom’s withdrawal from the EU could lead to a further hardening of French positions. Paris might feel that its staunch opposition to nuclear disarmament rests on a responsibility to defend its position as the sole ‘responsible nuclear weapon state’ in the EU.60 It is all the more likely that London in the past has often tried to act as a mediator between nuclear weapon states and non-nuclear weapon states on issues related to arms control and disarmament.61 Should Paris, London and Washington continue to coordinate their nuclear policies even after the United Kingdom leaves the European Union, this would create a situation where the sole EU nuclear weapon state would in effect consult on deterrence with two non-EU states.62 At the same time, France has resisted the idea of nuclear consultations with EU partners. Some Europeans might also be concerned that a European deterrent based on the force de frappe might give France undue influence over European security and defence. Germany could become part of this discussion, should the ‘Quad’ (the informal forum for coordinating British, French, German and U.S. defence policies) also get a more pronounced nuclear dimension. While Berlin has consistently been trying to use the Quad to increase its influence over its nuclear-armed allies, France, as far as strategic and deterrence issues are concerned, sees its affinities primarily with the two other Western nuclear powers, the United Kingdom and the United States.63

Hardware Convergence? A French-German Nuclear-Capable Aircraft Several different strands of French and German nuclear policies intersect in the debate about a Future Combat Air System (FCAS). Berlin and Paris agreed in April 2018 to jointly develop such a new combat aircraft (or system of manned/unmanned aircraft), potentially making it the largest French-German joint military project ever.64 For Berlin and Paris, FCAS has a distinct nuclear dimension. Indeed, the airplane will replace the French Rafale aircraft, the air-based leg of

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the force de frappe. So, in its French version, it is likely that the plane will be nuclear-capable. In Germany, FCAS could replace the ageing Tornado PA-200 aircraft, which is currently the only German dual-capable aircraft.65 There are two problems with FCAS taking on the role of the German dual-capable aircraft and replacing the Tornado. The first issue is the programme’s timeline. Indeed, the Tornado could be phased out some time after 2030 and most expect the aircraft to be completely retired before 2040. The first FCAS, however, will become available by 2040 at the earliest. The first planes are expected to go to France. Thus, it is highly probable that there will be a significant time gap to be bridged between the two systems. The second problem is related to FCAS’s certification as a delivery system of U.S. nuclear weapons. Certification requires intrusive access by U.S. personnel and would therefore potentially reveal technical secrets and commercial proprietary information to the Americans.66 Whether and how these problems could be resolved will be important factors influencing a German (and possible French) decision to enable FCAS to become the first German-French military project with a distinct nuclear dimension.

Conclusion Closer cooperation between Germany and France on strategic nuclear issues has been discussed repeatedly over the last twenty-five years. Attempts to forge a closer European security and defence union, concerns about the reliability of U.S. extended deterrence commitments and/or perceived nuclear threats from Russia or countries outside the EuroAtlantic area have triggered such debates. Yet little progress has been made. So far, there is no shared narrative to convince the publics of both countries that closer cooperation is a positive project. For such a narrative to emerge, France would probably have to be willing to bring its nuclear weapons policies closer to the German position. Until this happens, discussions on nuclear issues will remain an anomaly in French-German relations because the overlap of interests and norms is much smaller than on other issues. Whenever debates between Paris and Berlin venture into nuclear disarmament or nuclear doctrines, things have become difficult. France remains unwilling to consult with other partners on the purpose or posture of the force de frappe. Without such a quid pro quo, however, German decision-makers will have a hard time selling French-German nuclear

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cooperation to their sceptical public. For Germany, nuclear weapons remain political weapons. A main reason and justification for participating in NATO nuclear sharing has been the possibility of being informed about and influencing the strategic nuclear policies of Berlin’s nucleararmed allies. As long as nuclear weapons for France remain symbols of independence and a national security asset, while Germany sees these weapons mainly as a liability, Berlin and Paris might decide to walk together on nuclear non-proliferation and arms control but need to be realistic about the fact that they do not want to end up in the same place on nuclear disarmament. Dr Oliver Meier is Senior Researcher at the Berlin office of the Institute for Peace Research and Security Policy at the University of Hamburg (IFSH). Previously, he was Deputy Head of the International Security Division at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs (SWP). He was also International Representative and Correspondent of the U.S. Arms Control Association and has worked as a staffer in the German Bundestag. Dr Meier has also held the position of Senior Arms Control and Disarmament Researcher with the Verification Research, Training and Information Centre (VERTIC) in London. He holds a PhD in political science from the Free University of Berlin.

Notes  1.  2.  3.  4.

 5.  6.  7.  8.  9. 10.

This chapter reflects developments until the summer of 2018 but not thereafter. Quoted in B. Tertrais, Nuclear Policies in Europe (Oxford: Adelphi series 327, 1999), 56. Quoted in ibid., 56. J. Chirac, speech to the Institut des Hautes Études de Défense Nationale, Paris, 8 June 1996. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/discours/150114discours-de-m-jacques-chirac-president-de-la-republique-sur-la-reform. The author thanks Frédéric Gloriant for the translation. S.R. Sloan, ‘French Defense Policy: Gaullism Meets the Post-Cold War World’, Arms Control Today, no. 4 (1997), https://www.armscontrol.org/act/1997_04/sloan. Quoted in B. Tertrais, ‘The Last to Disarm? The Future of France’s Nuclear Weapons’, The Nonproliferation Review 14(2) (2007), 251–73, footnote 72. See ibid., 263. P. Schmidt, ‘Die nukleare Frage in den deutsch-französischen Beziehungen’, Europäische Sicherheit, no. 11 (2004), 57–61, 59. T. Volpe and U. Kühn, ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education: Why a Few Elites Are Testing a Taboo’, The Washington Quarterly 40(3) (2017), 7–27. Track 1.5 diplomacy entails mixed meetings of officials and experts, often in a confidential setting to facilitate an open exchange. On this specific set of meetings, see E. Maitre, Le couple franco-allemand et les questions nucléaires: vers un rapprochement? (Paris: Fondation pour la Recherche Stratégique (FRS), Note de la FRS, 18/2017), https://www.frstrategie.org/publications/notes/

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12. 13. 14.

15. 16.

17.

18. 19. 20.

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le-couple-franco-allemand-et-les-questions-nucleaires-vers-un-rapprochement-18-2017. The author of this chapter has participated in a few of these meetings, which took place under the Chatham House rule. On the influence of strategic culture on nuclear arms control, see, for example, C.S. Gray, Nuclear Strategy and National Style (Lanham, MD: Hamilton Press, 1986); S. Weber, ‘Interactive Learning in U.S.-Soviet Arms Control’, in G.W. Breslauer and P.E. Tetlock (eds), Learning in U.S. and Soviet Foreign Policy (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991), 784–824; E. Adler, ‘The Emergence of Cooperation: National Epistemic Communities and the International Evolution of the Idea of Nuclear Arms Control’, in International Organization (Cambridge University Press, 1992), 101–45; and more generally P. Katzenstein (ed.), The Culture of National Security: Norms and Identities in World Politics (New York: CUP, 1996). For a good description of political processes and determinants, see Tertrais, ‘The Last to Disarm?’. J. Tandler, ‘French Nuclear Diplomacy’, The Nonproliferation Review 21(2) (2014), 125–48. Such polls are often commissioned by disarmament advocacy groups. The results, however, consistently indicate 60–70 per cent or larger majorities in favour of nuclear disarmament and a withdrawal of U.S. nuclear weapons from German territory. See, for example, ‘Umfrage: Deutsche wollen Abzug der Atomwaffen’, International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons Germany, 6 July 2018. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// www.pressenza.com/de/2018/07/umfrage-deutsche-wollen-abzug-der-atomwaffen/. ‘White Paper 2016 on German Security Policy and the Future of the Bundeswehr’, Federal Ministry of Defence, Berlin, 2016, 64–65. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// issat.dcaf.ch/download/111704/2027268/2016%20White%20Paper.pdf. This is a long-standing interest of Germany and in many ways has been a decisive reason for the creation of nuclear sharing arrangements. See, for example, A. Lutsch, ‘Merely “Docile Self-Deception”? German Experiences with Nuclear Consultation in NATO’, Journal of Strategic Studies 39(4) (2016), 535–58. See S. Lunn, ‘NATO  Nuclear Sharing:  Operational  Factors and Procedures’; and S. Lunn, ‘NATO  Nuclear Sharing:  Consultation’, both in S. Andreasen, I. Williams, B. Rose, H. M. Kristensen and S. Lunn (eds), ‘Building a Safe, Secure, and Credible NATO Nuclear Posture’, Nuclear Threat Initiative, Washington DC, January 2018, 47–50; 41–46. https://www.nti.org/media/documents/NTI_NATO_RPT_Web.pdf. F. Hollande, ‘Speech by the President of the French Republic on the Nuclear Deterrent’, Istres, 19 February 2015. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.vie-publique.fr/ discours/193954-declaration-de-m-francois-hollande-president-de-la-republique-sur-la. See, for example, S. von Hlatky, ‘Revisiting France’s Nuclear Exception After Its “Return” to NATO’, Journal of Transatlantic Studies 12(4) (2014), 392–404. See, for example, P. Zajac, ‘NATO’s Defense and Deterrence Posture Review: A French Perspective on Nuclear Issues’, in P. Ingram and O. Meier (eds), Reducing the Role of Tactical Nuclear Weapons in Europe: Perspectives and Proposals on the NATO Policy Debate (Washington, DC: Arms Control Association, 2011), 39–41. A. Bernard, ‘France Broadens Its Nuclear Doctrine’, New York Times, 20 January 2006, https://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/20/world/europe/20iht-france.html. The French president was criticized both for seemingly expanding the role of nuclear weapons and also for his failure to consult with Germany before the speech. See ‘German Politicians Criticize Chirac for Nuclear Comments’, Deutsche Welle, 20 January 2006, https://www. dw.com/en/german-politicians-criticize-chirac-for-nuclear-comments/a-1861747. See, for example, Zajac, ‘NATO’s Defense and Deterrence Posture Review’.

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23. J.E. Barnes and R. Wall, ‘U.S., France Differ over Readiness of NATO MissileDefense Shield’, Wall Street Journal, 18 May 2016, https://www.wsj.com/ articles/u-s-france-differ-over-readiness-of-nato-missile-defense-shield-1463578322. 24. K. Kubiak, ‘A Strategic Culture Analysis of German Ballistic Missile Defense Policy’, Comparative Strategy 36(4) (2017), 333–53. 25. See O. Thränert, ‘NATO, Missile Defence and Extended Deterrence’, Survival 51(6) (2009–10), 63–76; I. Traynor, ‘Germany and France in Nuclear Weapons Dispute ahead of NATO Summit’, The Guardian, 18 November 2010, https://www.theguardian.com/ world/2010/nov/18/nato-summit-nuclear-weapons-row. 26. M. Dickow, K. Kubiak, O. Meier and M. Paul, ‘Germany and NATO Missile Defence: Between Adaptation and Persistence’, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, Berlin (SWP Comments, 2016/C 22). Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://dnb.info/1187186627/34. 27. ‘France and Germany Unite against Iraq War’, The Guardian, 22 January 2003, https:// www.theguardian.com/world/2003/jan/22/germany.france. 28. For example, the Deputy Federal Government Commissioner for Disarmament and Arms Control, Susanne Baumann, argued at the 2018 Preparatory Committee Meeting for the 2020 NPT Review Conference that ‘because of the current security situation and the threat to non-proliferation, Germany pursues an ambitious nuclear disarmament agenda’. Statement by Susanne Baumann, Head of the Delegation of the Federal Republic of Germany at the Second Session of the Preparatory Committee Meeting for the 2020 NPT Review Conference, Geneva, 23 April 2018, 5. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://reachingcriticalwill.org/images/documents/Disarmament-fora/ npt/prepcom18/statements/23April_Germany.pdf. See O. Meier, ‘A Civilian Power Caught between the Lines: Germany and Nuclear Non-Proliferation’, in S. Harnisch and H. Maull (eds), Germany as a Civilian Power? The Foreign Policy of the Berlin Republic (Manchester/New York: Manchester University Press/Palgrave, 2001), 68–87. 29. See, for example, H. Maas, ‘The Future of the Nuclear Order:  Challenges for Diplomacy. Speech of the Foreign Minister at the Tiergarten Conference of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung’, Tiergartenkonferenz, Berlin, 27 June 2018. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.auswaertiges-amt.de/en/newsroom/news/ maas-fes-tiergarten-konferenz/2113728. 30. Implementation of the 2010 Action Plan (retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www. international.gc.ca/world-monde/issues_development-enjeux_developpement/ peace_security-paix_securite/action_plan-2010-plan_d_action.aspx?lang=eng) is one the goals of the Nonproliferation and Disarmament Initiative (NPDI), a crossregional group of twelve countries. Germany sees the NPDI as an important group in which it pursues its nuclear non-proliferation and disarmament goals. See ‘Bericht der Bundesregierung zum Stand der Bemühungen um Rüstungskontrolle, Abrüstung und Nichtverbreitung sowie über die Entwicklung der Streitkräftepotenziale: Jahresabrüstungsbericht 2017’, Berlin, 2018, 21–22. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.auswaertiges-amt.de/blueprint/servlet/blob/2122114/8fccd71252a309496 e16991c6bd3f62e/abrbericht2017-data.pdf. 31. B. Tertrais, ‘France and Nuclear Abolition: The Odd Country Out?’, Washington, DC, 3 September 2009. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.carnegieendowment.org/ publications/index.cfm?fa=view&id=23789. 32. See, for example, Wikileaks. ‘FRANCE’S POSITION ON NUCLEAR ISSUES IN THE RUN-UP TO THE NPT REVCON’. Retrieved from http://www.wikileaks.ch/ cable/2009/07/09PARIS1039.html. 33. O. Meier, ‘The Role of the EU  in Controlling Sensitive Nuclear Technologies’, in S. Blavoukos, D. Bourantonis and C. Portela (eds), The EU  and the Non-Proliferation of

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35.

36.

37.

38.

39. 40.

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Nuclear Weapons: Strategies, Policies, Actions (Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 95–116. The E3/EU have articulated their opposition to U.S. policies in a series of high-level statements. See, for example, ‘Joint Statement from Prime Minister May, Chancellor Merkel and President Macron Following President Trump’s Statement on Iran’, 8 May 2018, retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.gov.uk/government/news/ joint-statement-from-prime-minister-may-chancellor-merkel-and-presidentmacron-following-president-trumps-statement-on-iran; ‘Joint Statement by the EU, German, French and UK Foreign Ministers Following the Re-imposition of US Sanctions on Iran Due to Its Withdrawal from the Iran Nuclear Deal’, 6 August 2018, retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.gov.uk/government/news/ joint-statement-on-the-re-imposition-of-us-sanctions-on-iran. France organized three visits to the Pierrelatte and Marcoule production sites for weapons-grade fissile materials. Representatives of member states of the Conference on Disarmament (16 September 2008), non-governmental experts (16 March 2009) and international journalists (3 July 2009) were allowed participation in on-site inspections. ‘Nuclear Disarmament: France’s Concrete Commitment: Dismantling the Fissile Material Production Facilities for Nuclear Weapons’, Working Paper submitted by France during the NPT Review Conference 2010. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// undocs.org/NPT/CONF.2010/WP.37. In April 2016, the French government invited ambassadors of the member states of the Geneva-based Conference on Disarmament to visit the air base at Luxeuil, where part of the French nuclear-capable aircraft had been previously based. J-H. Simon-Michel, ‘Intervention prononcée par M. Jean-Hugues Simon-Michel lors de la visite de la base aérienne de Luxeuil, le 16 avril 2015’, https:// www.francetnp.gouv.fr/IMG/pdf/2015-04-14_discours_luxeuil_-fr_et_ang_final.pdf. The same month, NATO ambassadors and members of the Military Committee were invited to visit the French Strategic Nuclear Forces at L’Ile Longue; NATO, ‘The North Atlantic Council Visits French Nuclear Strategic Force’, 27 April 2016, https://www. nato.int/cps/en/natohq/news_130438.htm. See, for example, the warning of the senior member of the Social Democrats in the Bundestag regarding the risk of a new arms race, in case of an end to the INF treaty: Rolf Mützenich, ‘Rückkehr des nuklearen Denkens: Mit der Kündigung des INF-Vertrages droht ein neues nukleares Wettrüsten in Europa’, 4 December 2018. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.ipg-journal.de/rubriken/aussen-und-sicherheitspolitik/artikel/ rueckkehr-des-nuklearen-denkens-3128/. On the German position, see, for example, M. Gebauer, C. Schult and K. Wiegrefe, ‘Alleged INF Treaty Violation: U.S. Demands NATO Action on Russian Missiles’, 8 December 2017. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.spiegel.de/international/ world/us-delivers-ultimatum-to-nato-regarding-russian-missiles-a-1182426.html. Germany submitted, together with Belgium, Canada, the Netherlands and Sweden, a working paper in the Open-Ended Working Group on nuclear disarmament. Germany then later chaired the subsidiary body on negative security assurances in the Conference on Disarmament. See ‘Open-Ended Working Group Taking Forward Multilateral Nuclear Disarmament Negotiations’, ‘Security Assurances’, Submitted by Belgium, Canada, Germany, Netherlands and Sweden, A/AC.286/WP.26. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.reachingcriticalwill.org/images/documents/Disarmament-fora/ OEWG/2016/Documents/WP26.pdf. See, for example, B. Tertrais, ‘Security Assurances and the Future of Proliferation’, in P.R. Lavoy and J.J. Wirtz (eds), Over the Horizon Proliferation Threats (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2012), 240–65, 256–57. O. Meier, ‘France and Germany Agree on Truce over Nuclear Arms Control Committee as NATO Works on Deterrence and Defense Posture Review’, ArmsControlNow, 11

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42.

43.

44.

45. 46. 47.

48.

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October 2011. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.armscontrol.org/blog/201110-03/france-germany-agree-truce-over-nuclear-arms-control-committee-nato-worksdeterrence. The mandate of the Special Advisory and Consultation Committee on Arms Control, Disarmament and Non-Proliferation was eventually agreed in February 2013. The body has two roles, namely as an advisory body on forming positions regarding NATO-Russian transparency measures on tactical nuclear weapons and as a forum in which the United States can consult with its allies on the full range of U.S.-Russian strategic stability topics. See, for example, H. Müller, ‘Die gespaltene Gemeinschaft: Zur gescheiterten Überprüfung des Nuklearen Nichtverbreitungsvertrags’, HSFK-Report (Frankfurt am Main: Hessische Stiftung Friedens- und Konfliktforschung, 2015). Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.hsfk.de/fileadmin/HSFK/hsfk_downloads/report0115.pdf. The Western European and Others Group (WEOG) is one of five unofficial regional groupings in the UN system. Participants, which include most ‘Western’ EU members, as well as the United States, Canada, Japan and Australia, coordinate policies before and during meetings of states parties. Thus, the French president’s strategic advisor François Richier warned U.S. counterparts in October 2009 that Washington ‘must not try to impose a “demonization” of nuclear weapons or reduce their role in military strategy’ and stated clearly that France would not join multilateral arms control talks even if the United States were to reduce its nuclear forces to French levels. Quoted in Wikileaks, ‘French Officials Repeat Disarmament Concerns’, Paris, 2 October 2009. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/09PARIS1355_a.html. In a similar vein, Paris threatened in July 2009 to ‘stonewall’ U.S.-led disarmament initiatives should Washington ignore French ‘sensitivities’ on the issue. See Wikileaks, ‘FRANCE’S POSITION ON NUCLEAR ISSUES IN THE RUN-UP TO THE NPT REVCON’, Paris, 31 July 2009. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/09PARIS1039_a.html. In 2010, France accepted that NATO allies, in the new Strategic Concept, endorsed for the first time the goal ‘to create the conditions for a world without nuclear weapons’, but insisted that this should be done ‘in a way that promotes international stability, and is based on the principle of undiminished security for all’. See NATO, ‘Active Engagement, Modern Defence: Strategic Concept for the Defence and Security of the Members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation’, adopted by Heads of State and Government in Lisbon, 19 November 2010. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www. nato.int/cps/en/natolive/official_texts_68580.htm. For an explanation of the French position, see, for example, Zajac, ‘NATO’s Defense and Deterrence Posture Review’. ‘Ein neuer Aufbruch für Europa. Eine neue Dynamik für Deutschland. Ein neuer Zusammenhalt für unser Land. Koalitionsvertrag zwischen CDU, CSU und SPD’, 2018, 150. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.zeit.de/politik/deutschland/2018-02/ koalitionsvertrag.pdf. ‘White Paper 2016 on German Security Policy and the Future of the Bundeswehr’, Federal Ministry of Defence, Berlin, 2016, 64–65. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// issat.dcaf.ch/download/111704/2027268/2016%20White%20Paper.pdf. NATO, ‘Active Engagement, Modern Defence’, http://www.nato.int/cps/en/natolive/ official_texts_68580.htm, paragraph 17. O. Meier, ‘Germany and the Role of Nuclear Weapons: Between Prohibition and Revival’, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, Berlin (SWP Comments, 2016/C 02). Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.swp-berlin. org/fileadmin/contents/products/comments/2016C02_mro.pdf. The United Kingdom and the United States reluctantly participated in the last of the conferences, in Vienna in 2014.

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49. ‘Humanitarian Pledge’, International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons, March 2015. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.bmeia.gv.at/fileadmin/user_upload/ Zentrale/Aussenpolitik/Abruestung/HINW14/HINW14vienna_Pledge_Document.pdf. 50. S. Baumann, ‘Brief an Nichtregierungsorganisationen’, Berlin, 9 February 2017. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://www.icanw.de/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/deabsage-banconf.pdf. 51. ‘North Atlantic Council Statement on the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons’, NATO, Brussels, 20 September 2017. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// www.nato.int/cps/ua/natohq/news_146954.htm. 52. ‘Adoption of a Treaty Banning Nuclear Weapons’, Ministère des Affaires étrangères et du Développement international, Paris, 7 July 2017. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://cd-geneve.delegfrance.org/Official-and-joint-press-statements-Treaty-banningnuclear-weapons-New-York-7. This rejection of multilateral nuclear disarmament talks has existed for some time. See, for example, Wikileaks, ‘FRENCH OFFICIALS REPEAT DISARMAMENT CONCERNS’, 2 October 2009. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https:// wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/09PARIS1355_a.html. 53. See, for example, H. Maas, ‘The Future of the Nuclear Order:  Challenges for Diplomacy. Speech of the Foreign Minister at the Tiergarten Conference of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung’, Tiergartenkonferenz, Berlin, 27 June 2018. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.auswaertiges-amt.de/en/newsroom/news/ maas-fes-tiergarten-konferenz/2113728. 54. See, for example, R. Kiesewetter, ‘EU-Verteidigungspolitik nach der US-Wahl: “Wir werden mehr Geld für unsere Sicherheit ausgeben müssen”’, Deutschlandfunk, 18 November 2016, http://www.deutschlandfunk.de/eu-verteidigungspolitik-nach-derus-wahl-wir-werden-mehr.694.de.html?dram:article_id=371737. 55. Summaries can be found here: U. Kühn, ‘The Sudden German Nuke Flirtation’, Washington, DC, Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 6 December 2016. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http://carnegieendowment.org/2016/12/06/suddengerman-nuke-flirtation-pub-66366; Volpe and Kühn, ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education’. 56. B. Kohler, ‘Nach Trumps Wahlsieg: Das ganz und gar Undenkbare’, FAZ, 27 November 2016, http://www.faz.net/aktuell/politik/wahl-in-amerika/nach-donald-trump-siegdeutschland-muss-aussenpolitik-aendern-14547858.html. 57. Quite the contrary, Kiesewetter was even implicitly reprimanded by the Chancellery for calling into question the transatlantic alliance. Head of the Chancellery, Minister Peter Altmeier, argued that the United States did not provide part of NATO’s nuclear deterrent out of generosity but also to defend its vital security interests. R. Alexander and J. Schuster, ‘Altmaier: Deutschland braucht keine eigenen Atomwaffen’, Die Welt, 4 December 2016, https://www.welt.de/politik/deutschland/article159950957/ Amerika-wird-uns-nicht-den-Ruecken-zukehren.html. 58. The new government highlighted the importance of ‘strict compliance with the INF treaty’ and warned that a Russian violation of the accord ‘for which there are justified concerns’ would have ‘severe implications’. ‘Ein neuer Aufbruch für Europa’, 150, http://www.zeit.de/politik/deutschland/2018-02/koalitionsvertrag.pdf [translation Oliver Meier]. In the new German Parliament, three competing resolutions were introduced on INF; all of them, however, emphasized the need to preserve the treaty. 59. See, for example, B. Tertrais, ‘Russia’s Nuclear Policy: Worrying for the Wrong Reasons’, Survival 60(2) (2018), 33–44. 60. See, for example, B. Tertrais, ‘France and Nuclear Abolition: The Odd Country Out?’, http://www.carnegieendowment.org/publications/index.cfm?fa=view&id=23789. 61. See W. Walker, ‘Managing, Reconciling, and Manipulating the Deterrence and Disarmament Norms: The Case of the United Kingdom’, Contemporary Security Policy 39(3) (2018), 419–40.

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62. J. Lewis and B. Tertrais, ‘Deterrence at Three: US, UK and French Nuclear Cooperation’, Survival 57(4) (2015), 29–52. 63. Ibid. 64. ‘Airbus and Dassault Join Forces to Build Next Fighter Aircraft’, BBC World News, 25 April 2018. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/ business-43895648. 65. FCAS would also replace the non-nuclear multi-role Eurofighter Typhoon. See T. Gutschker, ‘Luftkrieg der Zukunft’, Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung, 17 June 2018. 66. J. Trevithick, ‘The German Air Force Wants to Know If Its Eurofighters Can Carry U.S. Nuclear Bombs’, The Drive, 21 June 2018. Retrieved 6 August 2021 from http:// www.thedrive.com/the-war-zone/21679/the-german-air-force-wants-to-know-if-itseurofighters-can-carry-u-s-nuclear-bombs?xid=emailshare.

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Power? The Foreign Policy of the Berlin Republic (Manchester/New York: Manchester University Press/Palgrave, 2001), 68–87.  . ‘The Role of the EU  in Controlling Sensitive Nuclear Technologies’, in S. Blavoukos, D. Bourantonis and C. Portela (eds), The EU  and the NonProliferation of Nuclear Weapons: Strategies, Policies, Actions (Basingstoke, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2016), 95–116. Schmidt, P. ‘Die nukleare Frage in den deutsch-französischen Beziehungen’. Europäische Sicherheit, no. 11 (2004), 57–61. Sloan, S.R. ‘French Defense Policy: Gaullism Meets the Post-Cold War World’. Arms Control Today, no. 4 (1997). Tandler, J. ‘French Nuclear Diplomacy’. The Nonproliferation Review 21(2) (2014), 125–48. Tertrais, B. Nuclear Policies in Europe. Oxford: Adelphi series 327, 1999.  . ‘The Last to Disarm? The Future of France’s Nuclear Weapons’. The Nonproliferation Review 14(2) (2007), 251–73.  . ‘Security Assurances and the Future of Proliferation’, in P.R. Lavoy and J.J. Wirtz (eds), Over the Horizon Proliferation Threats (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2012), 240–65.  . ‘Russia’s Nuclear Policy: Worrying for the Wrong Reasons’. Survival 60(2) (2018), 33–44. Thränert, O. ‘NATO, Missile Defence and Extended Deterrence’. Survival 51(6) (2009–10), 63–76. Traynor, I. ‘Germany and France in Nuclear Weapons Dispute ahead of NATO Summit’. The Guardian, 18 November 2010. Trevithick, J. ‘The German Air Force Wants to Know If Its Eurofighters Can Carry U.S. Nuclear Bombs’. The Drive, 21 June 2018. Volpe, T., and U. Kühn. ‘Germany’s Nuclear Education: Why a Few Elites Are Testing a Taboo’. The Washington Quarterly 40(3) (2017), 7–27. Von Hlatky, S. ‘Revisiting France’s Nuclear Exception after Its “Return” to NATO’. Journal of Transatlantic Studies 12(4) (2014), 392–404. Walker, W. ‘Managing, Reconciling, and Manipulating the Deterrence and Disarmament Norms: The Case of the United Kingdom’. Contemporary Security Policy 39(3) (2018), 419–40. Weber, S. ‘Interactive Learning in U.S.-Soviet Arms Control’, in G.W. Breslauer and P.E. Tetlock (eds), Learning in U.S. and Soviet Foreign Policy (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991), 784–824. Zajac, P. ‘NATO’s Defense and Deterrence Posture Review: A French Perspective on Nuclear Issues’, in P. Ingram and O. Meier (eds), Reducing the Role of Tactical Nuclear Weapons in Europe: Perspectives and Proposals on the NATO Policy Debate (Washington, DC: Arms Control Association, 2011), 39–41.

Appendix

Figures of the French Nuclear Arsenal and of the U.S. Nuclear Warheads Deployed in NATO-Europe

Year

French nuclear warheads1

U.S. nuclear warheads deployed in NATO-Europe2

1954

0

0

1955

0

107

1957

0

660

1959

0

1,785

1961

0

3,929

1963

0

4,571

1964

4

5,072

1965

32

6,161

1967

36

6,947

1969

36

7,215

1971

45

7,304

1973

116

6,893

1975

188

6,965

1977

228

6,607

1980

250

≈ 5,800

1985

360

≈ 6,000

1990

505

≈ 4,000

1991

540

≈ 2,500

1995

500

≈ 480

2000

470

≈ 480

2007

350

≈ 200

2011

300

≈ 150–200

2019

300

≈ 100–150

Notes  1. For the figures from 1954 to 2011, see H.M. Kristensen and R.S. Norris, ‘Global Nuclear Weapons Inventories, 1945–2013’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 69(5) (2013),

344

Appendix

75–81. For the 2019 number, see SIPRI [Stockholm International Peace Research Institute] YEARBOOK 2020: Armaments, Disarmament and International Security (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2020).  2. The figures of nuclear weapons deployed during the Cold War by the United States specifically in the FRG or in any other NATO host country (Belgium, Greece, Italy, Netherlands, Turkey, United Kingdom) remain classified. On this subject, see W. Burr (ed.), ‘The U.S. Nuclear Presence in Western Europe, 1954–1962’, National Security Archive / Briefing Book #714 (July 2020): ‘Much about the U.S.-NATO nuclear enterprise has been secret since its inception. The numbers of U.S. nuclear weapons deployed and their locations in NATO Europe was classified secret during the Cold War and has remained so’. For figures until 1977, see R.S. Norris, United States Nuclear Weapons Deployments Abroad, 1950–1977 (Washington, DC: Natural Resources Defense Council, 1999); from 1980 to 1991, H.M. Kristensen, U.S. Nuclear Weapons in Europe: A Review of Post-Cold War Policy, Force Levels, and War Planning (Washington, DC: Natural Resources Defense Council, 2005), 26–28; from 1995 to 2000, see ‘U.S. Nuclear Weapons in Europe, 1954–2004’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 60(6) (2004), 76–77; from 2007 to 2011, R.S. Norris and H.M.  Kristensen, ‘US Tactical Nuclear Weapons in Europe’, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 67(1) (2011), 64–73. For the 2019 estimate, see H.M. Kristensen, ‘U.S. Nuclear Weapons in Europe’, Federation of American Scientists, 1 November 2019, https://fas.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/Brief2019_EuroNukes_ CACNP_.pdf (accessed 13 April 2021).

Index

A Acheson, Dean, 70 Adenauer, Konrad, 1–2, 8, 13–14, 16–17, 25, 29, 31–35, 50, 56, 65, 70, 75–76, 79, 85n63, 92–95, 97–98, 100–101, 104–109, 112n32, 113n47, 115n83, 115n91, 115n96, 122, 153, 169, 233, 244 Ailleret-Lemnitzer Agreement, 36, 153, 274n4 Algerian War, 53 Alphand, Hervé, 56, 101–104, 115n87 Altenburg, Wolfgang, 243–244, 249, 251, 261 Apel, Hans, 191n59 Aron, Raymond, 9–11, 20n24, 27–37, 38n3, 39n17 Atlantic Alliance. See North Atlantic Alliance Atlanticism, 12, 20n16, 37, 96, 115n83, 191n59, 233, 247 Atomic Energy Act. See McMahon Act Attali, Jacques, 190n46, 224, 255–256, 258, 261, 266 B Bahr, Egon, 17, 124–125, 127–131, 134–135, 148–149, 158, 160, 216, 238, 264–265, 269–270, 273, 282n149 Bainville, Jacques, 38n3 Balken, Richard, 103

Ball, George W., 78 Balladur, Edouard, 203 Barre, Raymond, 180, 226 Barrès, Maurice, 38n3 Berlin blockade (1948–1949), 29, 96 Berlin Crisis (1958–1963). See Second Berlin Crisis Berlin Wall, 4, 98, 104, 124, 270, 273, 332 Bianco, Jean-Louis, 222, 225, 260, 264, 266 Biden, Joe, 6 Bigeard, Marcel, 219 bipolarity, 1, 3, 5, 7, 12–13, 67, 91–92, 144 Bismarck, Otto von, 38n3 Blum, Léon, 38n3 Bohlen, Charles, 92, 95 Bourgès-Maunoury, Maurice, 53–54 Brandt, Willy, 8–9, 13, 16, 18n6, 121–136, 137n3, 137n9, 143–146, 148–154, 156–158, 160–162, 170–171, 190n39, 216–218, 221–222, 225, 227 Brentano, Heinrich von, 101, 105 Brexit, 6, 309, 311, 322, 332–333 Brezhnev, Leonid, 143, 145, 147–148, 150–152, 154–155, 157, 216 Brodie, Bernard, 34 Bujon de l’Estang, François, 224 Bulganin, Nikolai, 56 Bundeswehr, 30, 68, 198, 308 Bundy, McGeorge, 32, 34, 72–73 Bush, George H. W., 268, 271, 290

346

C Callaghan, James, 171 Carter, Jimmy, 171 Chaban-Delmas, Jacques, 48, 54–56 Chauvel, Jean, 46 Chevènement, Jean-Pierre, 204, 265, 269–271, 282n151, 313n10 Cheysson, Claude, 217, 238, 246 Chirac, Jacques, 172, 203, 207, 222–224, 226, 228n5, 251–253, 255–256, 261, 263, 271, 296–297, 301, 314n24, 315n29, 321–322, 326 Christian Democratic Union of Germany (CDU, Christlich Demokratische Union Deutschlands), 122, 214, 216–217, 223–224, 239, 264, 306 Christian Social Union in Bavaria (CSU, Christlich-Soziale Union in Bayern), 122, 216–217, 239, 264, 306 Churchill, Winston, 27 Clausewitz, Carl von, 30, 35 Clinton, Bill, 298 Colomb-Béchar Protocol, 54–56 Commissariat à l’énergie atomique (CEA, French Atomic Energy Commission), 51–53 Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe (CSCE), 5, 14, 143, 146, 148–152, 158–160, 162 Confidence-Building Measures (CBM), 152, 159–160 Conventional Forces in Europe (CFE), 268–270, 282n151, 315n36 Courcel, Geoffroy de, 159 Couve de Murville, Maurice, 99, 101, 104–105 Crépin, Jean, 53 Cuban missile crisis, 79 D D’Ormesson, Wladimir, 38n3 Daguet Operation (1991), 314n20 Daillet, Jean-Marie, 219 De Gaulle, Charles, 4–5, 7, 9–10, 14–17, 18n6, 20n16, 20n24, 25, 29, 31–32, 35, 37, 51, 57, 64, 68–69, 71,

Index

73–76, 78, 83n28, 90–101, 103–109, 110n4, 112n32, 112n35, 113n47, 113–114n65, 114–115n83, 115n91, 121–122, 126–127, 129, 131, 134, 136, 144–146, 153, 155, 169, 175, 198–199, 206, 212n21, 226, 230n66, 233, 237, 244, 280n111, 311, 317n50 Debré, Michel, 32–33, 155 Delors, Jacques, 254 Descartes, René, 313n16 Détente, 2, 14, 18n6, 114n83, 121, 123, 126, 128–132, 135–136, 143–146, 148, 150, 155, 158, 160–161, 186, 216, 252, 287 Dien Bien Phu (defeat of ~, 1954), 43, 53 Douglas-Home, Alec (Lord Home), 99, 112n42 Dregger, Alfred, 224, 264 Dual Track Decision (1979), 171, 181–183, 189n37, 206, 214–217, 219–221, 227, 237, 239, 253 Dulles, John Foster, 33, 43, 47, 55–56, 163n16 Dumas, Roland, 223, 246, 268 E Ehmke, Horst, 225, 264 Eichmann, Adolf, 125 Eisenhower, Dwight David, 45–46, 49, 54, 62, 64, 68–69, 80n2, 98, 169 Ély, Paul, 44 Élysée Treaty (1963), 15–16, 35, 40n42, 75–76, 92, 96, 108, 139n40, 169, 172, 176, 182, 187n8, 206, 208, 214, 224, 233, 238–239, 248, 254, 256, 260, 263 Erhard, Ludwig, 8, 76, 104, 114–115n83, 122, 134, 206 Erler, Fritz, 122 Euratom. See European Atomic Energy Community Euro-deterrent (or European deterrent), 17, 28, 30–31, 34, 36, 43, 53, 57, 126, 204, 272, 309, 311, 321, 333 Euromissile Crisis, 2, 15, 17, 177–178, 181–182, 199, 205–206, 208, 210, 216, 218, 221, 237

Index

European Atomic Energy Community (Euratom), 31, 50–51, 53 European Coal and Steel Community (ECSC), 50–51 European Defence Community (EDC), 4, 30, 32, 43, 49–50, 53 European deterrent. See Euro-deterrent European Economic Community (EEC), 31, 50–51, 75, 95, 112n32, 129, 132, 147, 157, 160, 190n50, 230n66, 254 European Political Cooperation (EPC), 144, 146, 151, 154, 156, 158, 160–161, 230n55 European Security and Defence Policy (ESDP), 296, 298, 311, 313n18, 322, 333–334 European Union (EU), 297, 299–300, 308–309, 315n33, 322–324, 327–328, 330, 333 Extended nuclear deterrence, 1, 6, 11, 14, 35–36, 68, 94, 106, 144, 147, 151, 154, 157, 160, 163n16, 175, 180, 184, 202, 204, 208, 210, 233, 235, 243, 257, 287, 295, 304, 310–311, 322, 332, 334 F F-I-G (French-Italian-German) agreements (1957–1958), 14, 31, 47, 55–56, 85n63, 91–92 Faure, Edgar, 53 FDP. See Liberal Democratic Party Fifth Republic (French), 1, 4, 9, 20n26, 90, 175, 197 Fillon, François, 219, 224 Fleury, Jean, 262, 266 flexible response, 30, 37, 39n17, 68, 127–128, 147, 163n16, 176–177, 179–181, 185, 198–199, 202, 233, 235, 240, 248, 257–258, 260, 263, 266, 269, 290, 303–305 Force d’action rapide (FAR), 172, 191n60, 202, 209, 218–219, 223, 240–241, 244–246, 248–251, 257, 272, 292, 298, 312–313n10 Forray, Gilbert, 247–248, 255 Fouchet Plans, 70 Fourquet, Michel, 153 Fourth Republic (French), 4, 29, 57, 197

347

Franco-German brigade, 185, 191n60, 209, 223–225, 255 Franco-German defence and security council, 185, 224–226, 230n63, 255–256, 261, 263, 265–268, 270 Frederickson, Fred S., 300 Fricaud-Chagnaud, Charles-Georges, 312–313n10 Future Combat Air System (FCAS), 10–11, 333–334, 341n65 G Gaillard, Félix, 47–48, 52–53, 55 Gallois, Pierre Marie, 30, 32, 40n49, 52 Gaullism (or Gaullo-Mitterrandianism), 7, 9–10, 19–20n15–16, 57, 76, 90, 110n4, 129, 136, 144–146, 148, 191n59, 215, 225–227, 230n66, 235, 258, 294, 301 Gavin, James M., 71 Gehlhoff, Walter, 159 Genscher-Colombo Plan, 183, 190n50 Genscher, Hans-Dietrich, 183, 190n50, 217, 219–220, 223, 225–226, 253, 262–264, 268, 292 German Democratic Republic (GDR), 29–30, 39n14, 149, 160, 185, 217, 245, 266 German question, 3–4, 9, 11, 13, 15–16, 38n3, 39n11, 70, 92, 97, 109, 123, 129, 137n9, 175, 188n15, 210, 270 Gilson, Étienne, 29 Giraud, André, 223, 253 Giscard d’Estaing, Valéry, 10, 12, 36, 160, 171, 180–181, 198, 200, 203–205, 211n2, 214, 221, 233–237, 242 Goldschmidt, Bertrand, 52–53 Gorbachev, Mikhaïl, 208, 223, 252–254, 263 Great Debate, 28, 33, 35–36, 79 Green Party (die Grünen), 216–217, 226, 329, 331 Gremetz, Maxime, 219 Grewe, Wilhelm, 101, 103–105, 114n65 Gromyko, Andrei, 101–103, 106, 108, 169 Grosser, Alfred, 20n26 Guille, Georges, 53

348

H Hadès (missile), 16–17, 199–200, 206, 208, 217, 239–241, 259–260, 263–264, 267, 269–273, 297 Hallstein, Walter, 29, 39n14 Hassel, Kai-Uwe von, 86n64 Hassner, Pierre, 20n23, 90 Heath, Edward, 158 Heisbourg, François, 240 Hernu, Charles, 201, 209, 217, 240–241, 245, 249 Hitler, Adolf, 27, 34, 125 Hoffmann, Stanley, 10, 20n24–25, 311 Hollande, François, 173, 301, 325 Home (Lord). See Douglas-Home, Alec Hood, Samuel, 102–103 Huntzinger, Jacques, 220 I Intermediate Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, 183, 185, 190n39, 190n53, 200–201, 208, 215–216, 219–220, 223, 236–237, 239, 246, 252–254, 258, 260, 262, 329, 333, 338n36, 340n58 Ismay, Hastings (Lord), 47 J Jobert, Michel, 154, 156 Johnson, Lyndon Baines, 8, 145 Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), 328 Juin, Alphonse, 52 Juppé, Alain, 296, 310, 314n24, 321 Juquin, Pierre, 219, 228n26 K Kant, Immanuel, 91, 110n5 KC-135 (jet tanker plane), 72, 79, 84n51 Kecker Spatz (Moineau Hardi, military exercise), 172, 209, 223, 229n52, 256 Kennedy, John Fitzgerald, 8, 31–32, 34, 62, 64, 68, 70–74, 76–77, 84n51, 85n58, 86n64, 86n68, 98–101, 103, 105–109, 112n42, 113n48, 113–114n65, 114n67, 126 Khrushchev, Nikita, 96–98, 100, 107, 111n22, 169 Kiesewetter, Roderich, 332, 340n54, 340n57

Index

Kiesinger, Kurt Georg, 130, 133, 136 Kissinger, Henry, 85n63, 129, 151, 154, 254 Kohl, Helmut, 2, 11, 15–16, 37, 172, 182, 190n53, 195, 206–207, 210, 214–217, 219, 221, 223–227, 235, 238–241, 243–249, 251, 253, 255–256, 258, 260, 262–268, 270–271, 288, 291 Kohler, Foy David, 102–104, 113n65 Koselleck, Reinhart, 312n7 L Lacaze, Jeannou, 201, 240, 244, 247 Lafontaine, Oskar, 220 Laloy, Jean, 102, 104, 108, 114n68 Lanxade, Jacques, 266–267, 292–293 Lavaud, Gaston, 53–54, 72, 83–84n47 Lecanuet, Jean, 225 Leroy, Roland, 219, 228n26 Liberal Democratic Party (FDP, Freie Demokratische Partei), 104, 216–217, 222–223, 226, 239, 306, 324–325 Lloyd, Selwyn, 56 Lucet, Charles, 104 M Maastricht Treaty, 4, 204–205, 210, 297 Macmillan, Harold, 46, 55, 70–71, 73–74, 77, 97–100, 105–108, 112n36, 112n42, 169 Mahoney, Daniel J., 20n24 Major, John, 207, 297 Manent, Pierre, 20n24 Mansfield, Mike, 145, 148, 151, 164n20 Marchais, Georges, 218–219 massive retaliation, 31, 53, 128, 163n16, 202 Mauroy, Pierre, 199 Maurras, Charles, 9, 32, 37, 38n3 McGhee, George, 82n16 McMahon Act, 34, 45–49, 55, 69, 80n3 McNamara, Robert S., 72–73, 84n51, 163n16, 316n41 Méhaignerie, Pierre, 225 Mendès France, Pierre, 48, 53 Merkel, Angela, 173, 308–309 Mertens, Alois, 220 Méry, Guy, 180, 204, 235

Index

Mirage IV (French aircraft), 31, 39n25, 72, 84n51, 170, 200 Mitterrand, François, 5, 9–10, 14–16, 20n16, 36–37, 40n51, 172, 181–182, 185, 190n40, 190–191n53, 191n55, 195, 197–210, 211n1, 214–218, 221–227, 228n5, 233, 235–251, 253–273, 280n111, 282n140, 288, 290, 293, 294, 296, 301, 311, 321 Moineau Hardi. See Kecker Spatz Mollet, Guy, 53, 57 Monnet, Jean, 30, 50 Mouvement républicain populaire (MRP, Popular Republican Movement), 50 Multilateral Force (MLF), 31, 76–77, 115n83, 125, 138n16, 316n43 Musitelli, Jean, 266 Mutual and Balanced Forces Reductions (MBFR), 136, 143, 145–153, 155, 158–159, 162 Mutual Defence Agreement (AngloAmerican ~, 1958), 66, 69 N Nassau agreement, 74–76, 84n56, 85n58 Nazism, 7–8, 16, 27, 34, 125, 128, 133, 136, 188n15 Nixon, Richard, 129, 143, 148, 150–151, 154, 156–157 Non-Proliferation Treaty, 1, 8, 12–13, 16, 122, 125, 133–136, 137n3, 144, 324, 327, 329–331, 337n28, 338n35 Norstad, Lauris, 46, 48, 83n32 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 2, 6–7, 10–11, 14–15, 28–30, 32, 35–37, 43–44, 46–50, 52, 54–58, 61–62, 64, 66–71, 74–76, 79, 80n4, 84n56, 91–93, 95–96, 98, 100, 102, 109, 113n47, 124–126, 128–130, 132, 134–135, 143–146, 150, 152–154, 158–159, 161, 163n16, 176–177, 179–183, 187, 197–198, 200–202, 204, 208–210, 214–218, 220–221, 225, 227, 233–235, 240, 243–244, 246–249, 251, 253–254, 256–257, 261, 268–269, 272, 274n4, 287–310, 312n9–10, 313n18, 315n36, 316n43, 317n51, 323–327,

349

329–331, 335, 339n40, 339n43, 343, 344n2 Nuclear Planning Group (NPG), 154, 233, 235, 290–291, 294, 299, 301, 316n40, 325 Nuclear restraint (German ~), 8, 16, 122–123, 126, 133–136 O Obama, Barack, 306, 317n54, 330 Ostpolitik, 2, 5, 13, 17, 18n6, 119, 121–122, 127, 129, 132, 136, 143–145, 148–149, 152, 160–162, 198, 238 P Palewski, Gaston, 53 Paris Agreements (1954), 32–34, 55 Parti communiste français (PCF, French Communist Party), 49, 215, 218–220, 228n26 Pershing II (missile), 37, 182, 189n38, 214, 216–217, 220, 236, 241, 253 Pineau, Christian, 46, 55–56 Pluton (missile), 12, 16, 36, 180, 184–185, 189n33, 198, 200, 206, 209, 217, 234, 238–240, 258–259, 263–264, 270, 280n111 Poincaré, Raymond, 38n3 Polaris (missile), 74–75, 79, 85n58, 86n67 Pompidou, Georges, 5, 143, 145–158, 160–161, 170–171, 198, 280n111 Poroshenko, Petro, 173 Potsdam (Conference and agreements), 4, 144, 177, 188n15 Putin, Vladimir, 173, 332 Q Quilès, Paul, 249 R Rapacki Plan, 123, 137n8, 146, 149–150 Rassemblement du Peuple Français (RPF, Rally of the French People), 9, 28 Rassemblement pour la république (RPR, Rally for the Republic), 222 Reagan, Ronald, 183, 208–209, 245, 252–253, 258

350

reconciliation (between France and Germany), 27–28, 38n3, 210, 244 reunification (German ~), 2–5, 13–14, 16, 29–30, 34, 39n11, 90, 92, 97, 102, 106, 114–115n83, 124–125, 127, 130–131, 134, 143, 146–147, 149, 156, 158, 161, 177, 204, 210, 214–215, 223, 292 Robin, Gabriel, 291 Rose, François de, 82n22, 152, 158 Rühe, Volker, 297, 308 Rühl, Lothar, 20n26, 241 Rumsfeld, Donald, 158 Rusk, Dean, 84n48, 99, 101–102, 106, 108, 112n42 S SACEUR, 10, 46–47, 68, 204, 290–291, 293, 301, 303, 305, 317n52 Sagan, Scott, 122–123, 133–134, 140n68 Saint-Malo Agreement, 298–299, 315n33 Sandys, Duncan, 31 Sarkozy, Nicolas, 299, 301 Saulnier, Jean, 242, 247, 249, 251, 261–262, 265, 281n124 Schmid, Carlo, 149 Schmidt, Helmut, 2, 11–12, 122, 160, 177–178, 182, 189n37, 190n39, 190n46, 198, 206–207, 214–217, 221–222, 233–238, 242, 246, 248, 269 Schmitt, Maurice, 265–267, 270–271 Schröder, Gerhard, 104, 107, 122, 134 Schumann, Maurice, 147, 149, 152 Scowcroft, Brent, 291 Second Berlin Crisis (1958–1963), 2, 5, 7, 13, 15, 61, 70–71, 90–91, 96–97, 101, 107, 109, 111n22, 114–115n83, 169 Second World War, 1, 4, 7, 45, 57, 92, 121, 146, 197 Seydoux, François, 1, 114n73 Shultz, George, 198, 211n1 Single European Act, 224, 230n55, 245, 256 Social-Democratic Party (SPD, Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands), 121–123, 126,

Index

138n19, 182, 189–190n37–39, 214–222, 225–227, 237–239, 258, 262–264, 267–269, 306, 308, 329, 338n36 Socialist Party (Parti Socialiste), 182, 214, 218–223, 227, 264, 312–313n10 Sonnenfeldt, Helmut, 151 Soutou, Georges-Henri, 4–5, 37, 20n23, 90 Soutou, Jean-Marie, 20n23, 104 Sovereignty, 31–33, 91–92, 207, 220, 226, 287 Spaak, Paul-Henri, 47, 50 Special relationship, 45–46, 66, 99, 155, 292 Speidel, Hans, 85n63 Sputnik (Soviet satellite), 14, 44–46 SS-20 (Soviet missile), 37, 176, 181–182, 193, 205, 215 Stalin, Joseph, 29, 39n11 Standing Group (NATO ~), 44, 290 Steinmeier, Franz-Walter, 308 Stevenson, Adlai E., 112n42 Stoltenberg, Gerhard, 271 Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT), 143, 145–148, 151, 153, 157, 159, 178, 181, 186, 237 Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), 209, 215, 222, 227, 245–247, 252, 314n22 Strauß, Franz Josef, 31, 54–56, 73, 84n52, 85–86n64, 122, 217 Suez Crisis (1956), 14, 43, 45, 49–51, 53, 57n1 Szilard, Leo, 29 T Teltschik, Horst, 224, 255–256, 258, 261, 267, 270 Thatcher, Margaret, 202, 253, 258 Thompson, Llewellyn E., 103–105, 108, 115n91 Thucydides, 28 Trachtenberg, Marc, 4, 20n19, 20n24, 32–35, 80n2, 84n51, 90–91, 99–101, 113n48, 312n1 Treitschke, Heinrich von, 33

Index

Trump, Donald, 6, 20n15, 210, 322, 328, 332 U Ukrainian Crisis (2013–2014), 6, 9, 173, 289, 299–300, 302, 305–309, 312n8, 322, 332 ultimate warning (‘ultime avertissement’), 179, 200–204, 234, 248, 258–260, 266, 282n140, 290, 303–304 Union pour la démocratie française (UDF, Union for French Democracy), 219 United Nations (UN), 132, 134–135, 208, 308, 323, 330–331, 339n41 V Valentin-Ferber agreements, 153 Valluy, Jean Étienne, 44 Védrine, Hubert, 9, 20n16, 226, 240, 243, 246–247, 250–251, 254–256, 259–260, 264–267, 270–271, 280n111, 281– 282n137, 293 vital interests (‘intérêts vitaux’), 14, 175, 177, 179, 184, 201, 204–205, 207, 234, 238, 240–241, 243–245, 249, 272, 288, 298, 310, 321 Vogel, Hans-Jochen, 217, 258, 260, 267

351

W Warsaw Pact, 102, 128, 130–133, 147, 150–151, 159, 217, 287 Washington Ambassadorial Group, 101, 103, 113n52 weak-to-strong deterrence (‘dissuasion du faible au fort’), 32, 52, 290, 314n24 Weber, Max, 27 Weimar Republic, 27, 29 Weinberger, Caspar, 222 Weiss, Seymour, 82n16 Wellershoff, Dieter, 261–262, 265–267, 270–271 Western European Union (WEU), 46, 50, 56, 156, 191n58, 208, 213n38, 225, 291–293, 295 Wilson, Harold, 61 Wörner, Manfred, 206, 218, 220, 239, 241, 245 Y Yalta Conference, 91, 188n15