people had become casualties, with the backbone of the pro-London resistance
movement brutally crushed. Although some Americans, then and later, accepted
Soviet claims that logistical problems had prevented any assistance being
offered, most Americans endorsed the more cynical conclusion that Stalin had
found a convenient way to annihilate a large part of his Polish opposition
and facilitate acquisition of a pro-Soviet regime. As Ambassador Averell
Harriman cabled at the time, Russian actions were based on "ruthless
political considerations."
By the time of the Yalta conference, the Red Army occupied Poland, leaving
Roosevelt little room to maneuver. When one American diplomat urged the
president to force Russia to agree to Polish independence, Roosevelt
responded: "Do you want me to go to war with Russia?" With Stalin having
already granted diplomatic recognition to the Lublin regime, Roosevelt could
only hope that the Soviets would accept enough modification of the status quo
to provide the appearance of representative democracy. Spheres of influence
were a reality, FDR told seven senators, because "the occupying forces [have]
the power in the areas where their arms are present." All America could do
was to use her influence "to ameliorate the situation."
Nevertheless, Roosevelt played what cards he had with skill. "Most Poles," he
told Stalin, "want to save face. ... It would make it easier for me at home
if the Soviet government could give something to Poland." A government of
national unity, Roosevelt declared, would facilitate public acceptance in the
United States of full American participation in postwar arrangements. "Our
people at home look with a critical eye on what they consider a disagreement
between us. ... They, in effect, say that if we cannot get a meeting of minds
now . . . how can we get an understanding on even more vital things in the
future?" Although Stalin's immediate response was to declare that Poland was
"not only a question of honor for Russia, but one of life and death," he
finally agreed that some reorganization of the Lublin regime could take place
to ensure broader representation of all Poles.
In the end, the Big Three papered over their differences at Yalta by agreeing
to a Declaration on Liberated Europe that committed the Allies to help
liberated peoples resolve their problems through democratic means and
advocated the holding of free elections. Although Roosevelt's aide Admiral
William Leahy told him that the report on Poland was "so elastic that the
Russians can stretch it all the way from Yalta to Washington without ever
technically breaking it," Roosevelt believed that he had done the best he
could under the circumstances. From the beginning, Roosevelt had recognized,
on a de facto basis at least, that Poland was part of Russia's sphere of
influence and must remain so. He could only hope that Stalin would now show
equal recognition of the U.S. need to have concessions that would give the
appearance, at least, of implementing the Atlantic Charter.
The same basic dilemmas, of course, occurred with regard to the structure of
postwar governments in all of Eastern Europe. As early as 1943, Roosevelt had
made clear to Stalin at Tehran that he was willing to have the Baltic states
controlled by the Soviets. His only request, the president told Stalin, was
for some public commitment to future elections in order to satisfy his
constituents at home for whom "the big issues . . . would be the question of
referendum and the right of self-determination." The exchange with Stalin
accurately reflected Roosevelt's position over time.
Significantly, Roosevelt even sanctioned Churchill's efforts to divide Europe
into spheres of influence. With Roosevelt's approval, Churchill journeyed to
Moscow in the fall of 1944. Sitting across the table from Stalin, Churchill
proposed that Russia exercise 90 percent predominance in Romania, 75 percent
in Bulgaria, and 50 percent control, together with Britain, in Yugoslavia and
Hungary, while the United States and Great Britain would exercise 90 percent
predominance in Greece. After extended discussion and some hard bargaining,
the deal was made. (Poland was not even included in Churchill's percentages,
suggesting that he was acknowledging Soviet control there.) At the time,
Churchill suggested that the arrangements be expressed "in diplomatic terms
[without use of] the phrase 'dividing into spheres,' because the Americans
might be shocked." But in fact, as Robert Daliek has shown in his superb
study of Roosevelt's diplomacy, the American president accepted the
arrangement. "I am most pleased to know," FDR wrote Churchill, "you are
reaching a meeting of your two minds as to international policies." To
Harriman he cabled: "My active interest at the present time in the Balkan
area is that such steps as are practicable should be taken to insure against
the Balkans getting us into a future international war." At no time did
Roosevelt protest the British-Soviet agreement.
In the case of Eastern Europe generally, even more so than in Poland, it
seemed clear that Roosevelt, on a de facto basis, was prepared to live with
spheres-of-influence diplomacy. Nevertheless, he remained constantly
sensitive to the political peril he faced at home on the issue. As
Congressman John Dingell stated in a public warning in August 1943, "We
Americans are not sacrificing, fighting, and dying to make permanent and more
powerful the communistic government of Russia and to make Joseph Stalin a
dictator over the liberated countries of Europe." Such sentiments were
widespread. Indeed, it was concern over such opinions that led Roosevelt to
urge the Russians to be sensitive to American political concerns. In Eastern
Europe for the most part, as in Poland, the key question was whether the
United States could somehow find a way to acknowledge spheres of influence,
but within a context of universalist principles, so that the American people
would not feel that the Atlantic Charter had been betrayed.
The future of Germany represented a third critical point of conflict. For
emotional as well as political reasons, it was imperative that steps be taken
to prevent Germany from ever again waging war. In FDR's words, "We have got
to be tough with Germany, and I mean the German people not just the Nazis. We
either have to castrate the German people or you have got to treat them in
such a manner so they can't just go on reproducing people who want to
continue the way they have in the past." Consistent with that position,
Roosevelt had agreed with Stalin at Tehran on the need for destroying a
strong Germany by dividing the country into several sectors, "as small and
weak as possible."
Still operating on that premise, Roosevelt endorsed Secretary of the Treasury
Henry Morgenthau's plan to eliminate all industry from Germany and convert
the country into a pastoral landscape of small farms. Not only would such a
plan destroy any future war-making power, it would also reassure the Soviet
Union of its own security. "Russia feared we and the British were going to
try to make a soft peace with Germany and build her up as a possible future
counter-weight against Russia," Morgenthau said. His plan would avoid that,
and simultaneously implement Roosevelt's insistence that "every person in
Germany should realize that this time Germany is a defeated nation." Hence,
in September 1944, Churchill and Roosevelt approved the broad outlines of the
Morgenthau plan as their policy for Germany.
Within weeks, however, the harsh policy of pastoralization came unglued. From
a Soviet perspective, there was the problem of how Russia could exact the
reparations she needed from a country with no industrial base. American
policymakers, in turn, objected that a Germany without industrial capacity
would prove unable to support herself, placing the entire burden for
maintaining the populace on the Allies. Rumors spread that the Morgenthau
plan was stiffening German resistance on the western front. American
business interests, moreover, suggested the importance of retaining German
industry as a key to postwar commerce and trade.
As a result, Allied policy toward Germany became a shambles. "No one wants to
make Germany a wholly agricultural nation again," Roosevelt insisted. "No one
wants 'complete eradication of German industrial production capacity in the
Ruhr and the Saar.' " Confused about how to proceed, Roosevelt—in
effect—adopted a policy of no policy. "I dislike making detailed plans for a
country which we do not yet occupy," he said. When Churchill, Stalin, and
Roosevelt met for the last time in Yalta, this failure to plan prevented a
decisive course of action. The Russians insisted on German reparations of $20
billion, half of which would go to the Soviet Union. Although FDR accepted
Stalin's figure as a basis for discussion, the British and Americans deferred
any settlement of the issue, fearing that they would be left with the sole
responsibility for feeding and housing the German people. The only agreement
that could be reached was to refer the issue to a new tripartite commission.
Thus, at just the moment when consensus on a policy to deal with their common
enemy was most urgent, the Allies found themselves empty handed, allowing
conflict and misunderstanding over another central question to join the
already existing problems over Eastern Europe.
Directly related to each of these issues, particularly the German question,
was the problem of postwar economic reconstruction. The issue seemed
particularly important to those Americans concerned about the postwar economy
in the United States. Almost every business and political leader feared
resumption of mass unemployment once the war ended. Only the development of
new markets, extensive trade, and worldwide economic cooperation could
prevent such an eventuality. "The capitalistic system is essentially an
international system," one official declared. "If it cannot function
internationally, it will break down completely." The Atlantic Charter had
taken such a viewpoint into account when it declared that all states should
enjoy access, on equal terms, to "the raw materials of the world which are
needed for their economic prosperity."
To promote these objectives, the United States took the initiative at Bretton
Woods, New Hampshire, in 1944 by creating a World Bank with a capitalization
of $7.6 billion and the International Monetary Fund with a capitalization of
$7.3 billion. The two organizations would provide funds for rebuilding
Europe, as well as for stabilizing world currency. Since the United States
was the major contributor, it would exercise decisive control over how the
money was spent. The premise underlying both organizations was that a stable
world required healthy economies based on free trade.
Attitudes toward economic reconstruction had direct import for postwar
policies toward Germany and Eastern Europe. It would be difficult to have a
stable European economy without a significant industrial base in Germany.
Pastoral countries of small farms rarely possessed the wherewithal to become
customers of large capitalist enterprises. On the other hand, a prosperous
German economy, coupled with access to markets in Eastern and Western Europe,
offered the prospect of avoiding a recurrence of depression and guaranteed a
significant American presence in European politics as well. Beyond this, of
course, it was thought that if democracy was to survive, as it had not after
1918, countries needed a thriving economy.
Significantly, economic aid also offered the opportunity either to enhance or
diminish America's ties to the Soviet Union. Averell Harriman, the American
ambassador to Moscow after October 1943, had engaged in extensive business
dealings with the Soviet Union during the 1920S and believed firmly in the
policy of providing American assistance to rebuild the Soviet economy. Such
aid, Harriman argued, "would be in the self-interest of the United States"
because it would help keep Americans at work producing goods needed by the
Russians. Just as important, it would provide "one of the most effective
weapons to avoid the development of a sphere of influence of the Soviet Union
over eastern Europe and the Balkans."
Proceeding on these assumptions, Harriman urged the Russians to apply for
American aid. They did so, initially, in December 1943 with a request for a
$1 billion loan at an interest rate of one-half of 1 percent, then again in
January 1945 with a request for a $6 billion loan at an interest rate of 2.25
percent. Throughout this period, American officials appeared to encourage the
Soviet initiative. Secretary of the Treasury Morgenthau had come up with his
own plan for a $10 billion loan at 2 percent interest. When Chamber of
Commerce head Eric Johnson visited Moscow, Stalin told him: "I like to do
business with American businessmen. You fellows know what you want. Your word
is good, and, best of all, you stay in office a long time—just like we do
over here." So enthusiastic were some State Department officials about
postwar economic arrangements that they predicted exports of as much as $1
billion a year to Russia. Molotov and Mikoyan encouraged such optimism, with
the Soviets promising "a voluminous and stable market such as no other
customer would ever [offer]."
As the European war drew to a close, however, the American attitude shifted
from one of eager encouragement to skeptical detachment. Harriman and his
aides in Moscow perceived a toughening of the Soviet position on numerous
issues, including Poland and Eastern Europe. Hence, they urged the United
States to clamp down on lend-lease and exact specific concessions from the
Russians in return for any ongoing aid. Only if the Soviets "played the
international game with us in accordance with our standards," Harriman
declared, should the United States offer assistance. By April 1945, Harriman
had moved to an even more hard-line position. "We must clearly recognize," he
said, "that the Soviet program is the establishment of totalitarianism,
ending personal liberty and democracy." A week later he urged the State
Department to view the Soviet loan request with great suspicion. "Our basic
interest," he cabled, "might better be served by increasing our trade with
other parts of the world rather than giving preference to the Soviet Union as
a source of supply."
Congress and the American people, meanwhile, seemed to be turning against
postwar economic aid. A public opinion poll in December 1944 showed that 70
percent of the American people believed the Allies should repay their lend-
lease debt in full. Taking up the cry for fiscal restraint, Senator Arthur
Vandenberg told a friend: "We have a rich country, but it is not rich enough
to permit us to support the world." Fearful about postwar recession and the
possibility that American funds would be used for purposes it did not
approve, Congress placed severe constraints on continuation of any lend-lease
support once the war was over and indicated that any request for a postwar
loan would encounter profound skepticism.
Roosevelt's response, in the face of such attitudes, was once again to
procrastinate. Throughout the entire war he had ardently espoused a generous
and flexible lend-lease policy toward the Soviet Union. For the most part, FDR
appeared to endorse Secretary Morgenthau's attitude that "to get the Russians
to do something [we] should ... do it nice. . . . Don't drive such a hard
bargain that when you come through it does not taste good." Consistent with
that attitude, he had rejected Harriman's advice to demand quid pro
quos for American lend-lease. Economic aid, he declared, did not "constitute a
bargaining weapon of any strength," particularly since curtailing lend-lease
would harm the United States as much as it would injure the Russians.
Nevertheless, Roosevelt accepted a policy of postponement on any discussion of
postwar economic arrangements. "I think it's very important," the president
declared, "that we hold back and don't give [Stalin] any promise until we get
what we want." Clearly, the amount of American aid to the Soviet Union—and the
attitude which accompanied that aid— could be decisive to the future of
American-Soviet relations. Yet in this—as in so many other issues—Roosevelt
gave little hint of the ultimate direction he would take, creating one more
dimension of uncertainty amidst the gathering confusion that surrounded postwar
international arrangements.
The final issue around which the Cold War revolved was that of the atomic
bomb. Development of nuclear weapons not only placed in human hands the power
to destroy all civilization, but presented as well the critical question of
how such weapons would be used, who would control them, and what
possibilities existed for harnessing the incalculable energy of the atom for
the purpose of international peace and cooperation rather than destruction.
No issue, ultimately, would be more important for human survival. On the
other hand, the very nature of having to build the A-bomb in a world
threatened by Hitler's madness mandated a secrecy that seriously impeded,
from the beginning, the prospects for cooperation and international control.
The divisive potential of the bomb became evident as soon as Albert Einstein
disclosed to Roosevelt the frightening information that physicists had the
capacity to split the atom. Knowing that German scientists were also pursuing
the same quest, Roosevelt immediately ordered a crash program of research and
development on the bomb, soon dubbed the "Manhattan Project." British
scientists embarked on a similar effort, collaborating with their American
colleagues. The bomb, one British official noted, "would be a terrific factor
in the postwar world . . . giving an absolute control to whatever country
possessed the secret." Although American advisors urged "restricted
interchange" of atomic energy information, Churchill demanded and got full
cooperation. If the British and the Americans worked together, however, what
of the Soviet Union once it became an ally?
In a decision fraught with significance for the future, Roosevelt and
Churchill agreed in Quebec in August 1943 to a "full exchange of information"
about the bomb with "[neither] of us [to] communicate any information about
[the bomb] to third parties except by mutual consent." The decision ensured
Britain's future interests as a world power and guaranteed maximum secrecy;
but it did so in a manner that would almost inevitably provoke Russian
suspicion about the intentions of her two major allies.
The implications of the decision were challenged just one month later when
Neils Bohr, a nuclear physicist who had escaped from Nazi-occupied Denmark,
approached Roosevelt (indirectly through Felix Frankfurter) with the proposal
that the British and Americans include Russia in their plans. Adopting a
typically Rooseveltian stance, the president both encouraged Bohr to believe
that he was "most eager to explore" the possibility of cooperation and almost
simultaneously reaffirmed his commitment to an exclusive British-American
monopoly over atomic information. Meeting personally with Bohr on August 26,
1944, Roosevelt agreed that "contact with the Soviet Union should be tried
along the lines that [you have] suggested." Yet in the meantime, Roosevelt
and Churchill had signed a new agreement to control available supplies of
uranium and had authorized surveillance of Bohr "to insure that he is
responsible for no leakage of information, particularly to the Russians."
Evidently, Roosevelt hoped to keep open the possibility of cooperating with
the Soviets—assuming that Bohr would somehow communicate this to the
Russians—while retaining, until the moment was right, an exclusive
relationship with Britain. Implicit in Roosevelt's posture was the notion
that sharing atomic information might be a quid pro quo for future Soviet
concessions. On the surface, such an argument made sense. Yet it presumed
that the two sides were operating on the same set of assumptions and
perceptions—clearly not a very safe presumption. In this, as in so many other
matters, Roosevelt appears to have wanted to retain all options until the
end. Indeed, a meeting to discuss the sharing of atomic information was
scheduled for the day FDR was to return from Warm Springs, Georgia. The
meeting never took place, leaving one more pivotal issue of contention
unresolved as the war drew to a close.
Conclusion.
Given the nature of the personalities and the nations involved, it was
perhaps not surprising that, as the war drew to an end, virtually none of the
critical issues on the agenda of postwar relationships had been resolved.
Preferring to postpone decisions rather than to confront the full dimension
of the conflicts that existed, FDR evidently hoped that his own political
genius, plus the exigencies of postwar conditions, would pave the way for a
mutual accommodation that would somehow satisfy both America's commitment to
a world of free trade and democratic rule, and the Soviet Union's obsession
with national security and safely defined spheres of influence. The Russians,
in turn, also appeared content to wait, in the meantime working militarily to
secure maximum leverage for achieving their sphere-of-influence goals. What
neither leader nor nation realized, perhaps, was that in their delay and
scheming they were adding fuel to the fire of suspicion that clearly existed
between them and possibly missing the only opportunity that might occur to
forge the basis for mutual accommodation and coexistence.
For nearly half a century, the country had functioned within a political
world shaped by the Cold War and controlled by a passionate anticommunism
that used the Kremlin as its primary foil. Not only did the Cold War define
America's stance in the world, dictating foreign policy choices from
Southeast Asia to Latin-America; it defined the contours of domestic politics
as well. No group could secure legitimacy for its political ideas if they
were critical of American foreign policy, sympathetic in any way to
"socialism," or vulnerable to being dismissed as "leftist" or as "soft on
communism." From national health insurance to day care centers for children,
domestic policies suffered from the crippling paralysis created by a national
fixation with the Soviet Union.
Now, it seemed likely that the Cold War would no longer exist as the pivot
around which all American politics revolved. However much politicians were
unaccustomed to talking about anything without anti-communism as a reference
point, it now seemed that they would have to look afresh at problems long
since put aside because they could not be dealt with in a world controlled by
Cold War alliances.
In some ways, America seemed to face the greatest moment of possibility in
all of postwar history as the decade of the 1990s began. So much positive
change had already occurred in the years since World War II—the material
progress, the victories against discrimination, the new horizons that had
opened for education and creativity. But so much remained to be done as well
in a country where homelessness, poverty, and drug addiction reflected the
abiding strength that barriers of race, class, and gender retained in
blocking people's quest for a decent life.
Glossary:
Cold War - is the term used to describe the intense
rivalry that developed after World War II between groups of Communist and
non-Communist nations/ On one side were the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
(USSR) and its Communist allies, often referred to as the Eastern bloc. On the
other side were the United States and its democratic allies, usually referred
to as the Western bloc. The struggle was called the Cold War because it did not
actually lead to fighting, or "hot" war, on a wide scale.
Iron Curtain - was the popular phrase, which Churchill made
to refer to Soviet barriers against the West. Behind these barriers, the USSR
steadily expanded its power.
Marshall Plan - encouraged European nations to work together
for economic recovery after World War II (1939-1945) / In June 1947, the United
States agreed to administer aid to Europe in the countries would meet to decide
what they needed/ The official name of the plane was the European Recovery
Program. It is called the Marshall Plane because Secretary of the State George
C. Marshall first suggested it.
Potsdam Conference -was the last meeting among the Leaders of Great
Britain, the Soviet Union and the United States, during World War II. The
conference was held at Potsdam, Germany, near Berlin. It opened in July 17,
1945, about two months after Germany's defeat in the war. Present at the
opening were U.S. President Harry S. Truman, British Prime Minister Winston
Churchill, and the Soviet Premier Josef Stalin.
Yalta Conference - was one of the most important meetings of key Allied
Leaders during World War II. These Leaders were President Franklin D. Roosevelt
of the United States, Prime Minister Winston Churchill of Great Britain, and
Premier Josef Stalin of the Soviet Union. Their countries became known as the
"Big Three". The conference took place at Yalta, a famous Black Sea resort in
the Crimea, from Feb. 4 to 11, 1945. Through the years decisions made there
regarding divisions in Europe have stirred bitter debates.
The reference list.
1. William H. Chafe
"The Unfinished Journey: America since World War II" New York Oxford, Oxford
University press, 1991.
2. David Caute "The Great Fear", 1978
3. Michael Belknap "Cold War Political Justice", 1977
4. Allen D. Harper "The politics of Loyalty", 1959
5. Robert Griffin "The politics of Fear", 1970
6. James Wechler "The Age Suspicion" 1980
7. Alistair Cooke "A Generation on Trial", 1950
8. An outline of American History
9. World Book
10. Henry Borovik "Cold War", 1997
