Cold War

militarily defined by its opposition to the other.

To assure that no one misunderstood, Russia moved quickly to impose a

steel-like grip on Eastern Europe. In August 1947 the Soviets purged all

left-wing, anticommunist leaders from Hungary and then rigged elections to

assure a pro-Soviet regime there. Six months later, in February 1948,

Stalin moved on Czechoslovakia as well, insisting on the abolition of

independent parties and sending Soviet troops to the Czech border to back

up Soviet demands for an all new communist government. After Foreign

Minister Jan Masaryk either jumped or was pushed from a window in Prague,

the last vestige of resistance faded. "We are [now] faced with exactly the

same situation . . . Britain and France faced in 1938-39 with Hitler,"

Truman wrote. The Czech coup coincided with overwhelming approval of the

Marshall Plan by the American Congress. Two weeks later, on March 5,

General Lucius Clay sent his telegram from Germany warning of imminent war

with Russia. Shortly thereafter, Truman called on Congress to implement

Universal Military Training for all Americans. (The plan was never put in

place.) By the end of the month Russia had instituted a year-long blockade

of all supplies to Berlin in protest against the West's decision to unify

her occupation zones in Germany and institute currency reform. Before the

end of spring, the Brussels Pact had brought together the major powers of

Western Europe in a mutual defense pact that a year later would provide the

basis for NATO. If the Truman Doctrine, in Bernard Baruch's words, had been

"a declaration of ideological or religious war," the Marshall Plan, the

Molotov Plan, and subsequent developments in Eastern Europe represented the

economic, political, and military demarcations that would define the

terrain on which the war would be fought. The Cold War had begun.

Chapter 3: The Role of Cold War in American History and Diplomacy.

3.1 Declaration of the Cold War.

In late February 1947, a British official journeyed to the State

Department to inform Dean Acheson that the crushing burden of Britain's

economic crisis prevented her from any longer accepting responsibility for

the economic and military stability of Greece and Turkey. The message,

Secretary of State George Marshall noted, "was tantamount to British

abdication from the Middle East, with obvious implications as to their

successor." Conceivably, America could have responded quietly, continuing

the steady stream of financial support already going into the area. Despite

aid to the insurgents from Yugoslavia and Bulgaria, the war going on in

Greece was primarily a civil struggle, with the British side viewed by many

as reactionary in its politics. But instead, Truman administration

officials seized the moment as the occasion for a dramatic new commitment

to fight communism. In their view, Greece and Turkey could well hold the

key to the future of Europe itself. Hence they decided to ask Congress for

$400 million in military and economic aid. In the process, the

administration publicly defined postwar diplomacy, for the first time, as a

universal conflict between the forces of good and the forces of evil.

Truman portrayed the issue as he did, at least in part, because his

aides had failed to convince Congressmen about the merits of the case on

grounds of self-interest alone. Americans were concerned about the Middle

East for many reasons—preservation of political stability, guarantee of

access to mineral resources, a need to assure a prosperous market for

American goods. Early drafts of speeches on the issue had focused

specifically on economic questions. America could not afford, one advisor

noted, to allow Greece and similar areas to "spiral downward into economic

anarchy." But such arguments, another advisor noted, "made the whole thing

sound like an investment prospectus." Indeed, when Secretary of State

Marshall used such arguments of self-interest with Congressmen, his words

fell on deaf ears, particularly given the commitment of Republicans to cut

government spending to the bone. It was at that moment. Dean Acheson

recalled, that "in desperation I whispered to [Marshall] a request to

speak. This was my crisis. For a week I had nurtured it."

When Acheson took the floor, he transformed the atmosphere in the room.

The issue, he declared, was the effort by Russian communism to seize

dominance over three continents, and encircle and capture Western Europe.

"Like apples in a barrel infected by the corruption of one rotten one, the

corruption of Greece would infect Iran and alter the Middle East . . .

Africa . . . Italy and France." The struggle was ultimate, Acheson

concluded. "Not since Rome and Carthage has there been such a polarization

of power on this earth. . . . We and we alone are in a position to break

up" the Soviet quest for world domination. Suddenly, the Congressmen sat up

and took notice. That argument, Senator Arthur Vandenberg told the

president, would be successful. If Truman wanted his program of aid to be

approved, he would—like Acheson—have to "scare hell" out of the American

people.

By the time Truman came before Congress on March 12, the issue was no

longer whether the United States should extend economic aid to Greece and

Turkey on a basis of self-interest, but rather whether America was willing

to sanction the spread of tyrannical communism everywhere in the world.

Facing the same dilemma Roosevelt had confronted during the 1930S in his

effort to get Americans ready for war, Truman sensed that only if the

issues were posed as directly related to the nation's fundamental moral

concern—not just self-interest— would there be a possibility of winning

political support. Hence, as Truman defined the question, the world had to

choose "between alternative ways of life." One option was "free," based on

"representative government, free elections, guarantees of individual

liberty, and freedom of speech and religion." The other option was

"tyranny," based on "terror and oppression, a controlled press and radio, .

. . and a suppression of personal freedoms." Given a choice between freedom

and totalitarianism, Truman concluded, "it must be the policy of the United

States to support free peoples who are resisting attempted subjugation by

armed minorities."

Drawing on the "worst case" scenario implicit in Kennan's telegram,

Truman, in effect, had presented the issue of American-Soviet relations as

one of pure ideological and moral conflict. There were some who criticized

him. Senator Robert Taft, for example, wondered whether, if the United

States took responsibility for Greece and Turkey, Americans could object

to the Russians continuing their domination over Eastern Europe. Secretary

of State Marshall was disturbed at "the extent to which the anticommunist

element of the speech was stressed." And George Kennan, concerned over how

his views had been used, protested against the president's strident tone.

But Truman and Acheson had understood the importance of defining the issue

on grounds of patriotism and moral principle. If the heart of the question

was the universal struggle of freedom against tryanny—not taking sides in

a civil war— who could object to what the government proposed? It was,

Senator Arthur Vandenberg noted, "almost like a presidential request for a

declaration of war. . . . There is precious little we can do except say

yes." By mid-May, Truman's aid package had passed Congress overwhelmingly.

On the same day the Truman Doctrine received final approval, George

Marshall and his aides at the State Department were busy shaping what

Truman would call the second half of the same walnut— the Marshall Plan of

massive economic support to rebuild Western Europe. Britain, France,

Germany, Italy, Belgium—all were devastated by the war, their cities lying

in rubble, their industrial base gutted. It was difficult to know if they

could survive, yet the lessons of World War I suggested that political

democracy and stability depended on the presence of a healthy and thriving

economic order. Already American officials were concerned that Italy—and

perhaps France—would succumb to the political appeal of native communists

and become victims of what William Bullitt had called the "red amoeba"

spreading all across Europe. Furthermore, America's selfish economic

interests demanded strong trading partners in Western Europe. "No nation in

modern times," Assistant Secretary of State Will Clayton had said, "can

long expect to enjoy a rising standard of living without increased foreign

trade." America imported from Europe only half of what it exported, and

Western Europe was quickly running out of dollars to pay for American

goods. If some form of massive support to reconstruct Europe's economy were

not developed, economic decay there would spread, unemployment in America

would increase, and political instability could well lead to communist

takeovers of hitherto "friendly" counties.

3.2 Cold War Issues.

Although historians have debated for years the cause of the Cold War,

virtually everyone agrees that it developed around five major issues:

Poland, the structure of governments in other Eastern European

countries, the future of Germany, economic reconstruction of Europe, and

international policies toward the atomic bomb and atomic energy. All of

these intersected, so that within a few months, it became almost impossible

to separate one from the other as they interacted to shape the emergence of

a bipolar world. Each issue in its own way also reflected the underlying

confusion and conflict surrounding the competing doctrines of

"universalist" versus "sphere-of-influence" diplomacy. Examination of these

fundamental questions is essential if we are to comprehend how and why the

tragedy of the Cold War evolved during the three years after Germany's

defeat.

Poland constituted the most intractable and profound dilemma facing

Soviet-U.S. relations. As Secretary of State Edward Stettinius observed in

1945, Poland was "the big apple in the barrel." Unfortunately, it also

symbolized, for both sides, everything that the war had been fought for.

From a Soviet perspective, Poland represented the quintessence of Russia's

national security needs. On three occasions, Poland had served as the

avenue for devastating invasions of Russian territory. It was imperative,

given Russian history, that Poland be governed by a regime supportive of

the Soviet Union. But Poland also represented, both in fact and in symbol,

everything for which the Western Allies had fought. Britain and France had

declared war on Germany in September 1939 when Hitler invaded Poland, thus

honoring their mutual defense pact with that victimized country. It seemed

unthinkable that one could wage war for six years and end up with another

totalitarian country in control of Poland. Surely if the Atlantic Charter

signified anything, it required defending the right of the Polish people to

determine their own destiny. The presence of 7 million Polish-American

voters offered a constant, if unnecessary, reminder that such issues of

self-determination could not be dismissed lightly. Thus, the first issue

confronting the Allies in building a postwar world would also be one on

which compromise was virtually impossible, at least without incredible

diplomatic delicacy, political subtlety, and profound appreciation, by each

ally, of the other's needs and priorities.

Roosevelt appears to have understood the tortuous path he would have to

travel in order to find a peaceful resolution of the conflict. Given his

own commitment to the Atlantic Charter, rooted in both domestic political

reasons and personal conviction, he recognized the need to advocate an

independent and democratic government for the Polish people. "Poland must

be reconstituted a great nation," he told the country during the 1944

election. Yet the president also repeatedly acknowledged that the Russians

must have a "friendly" government in Warsaw. Somehow, Roosevelt hoped to

find a way to subordinate these two conflicting positions to the higher

priority of postwar peace. "The President," Harry Hopkins said in 1943,

"did not intend to go to the Peace Conference and bargain with Poland or

the other small states; as far as Poland is concerned, the important thing

[was] to set it up in a way that [would] help maintain the peace of the

world."

The issue was first joined at the Tehran conference. There, Churchill

and Roosevelt endorsed Stalin's position that Poland's eastern border, for

security reasons, should be moved to the west. As Roosevelt had earlier

explained to the ambassador from the Polish government-in-exile in London,

it was folly to expect the United States and Britain "to declare war on Joe

Stalin over a boundary dispute." On the other hand, Roosevelt urged Stalin

to be flexible, citing his own need for the Polish vote in the 1944

presidential election and the importance of establishing cooperation

between the London Poles and the Lublin government-in-exile situated in

Moscow. Roosevelt had been willing to make a major concession to Russia's

security needs by accepting the Soviet definition of Poland's new

boundaries. But he also expected some consideration of his own political

dilemma and of the principles of the Atlantic Charter.

Such consideration appeared to be forthcoming in the summer of 1944

when Stalin agreed to meet the prime minister of the London-Polish

government and "to mediate" between the two opposing governments-in-exile.

But hopes for such a compromise were quickly crushed as Soviet troops

failed to aid the Warsaw Polish resistance when it rose in massive

rebellion against German occupation forces in hopes of linking up with

advancing Soviet forces. The Warsaw Poles generally supported the London

government-in-exile. As Red Army troops moved to just six miles outside of

Warsaw, the Warsaw Poles rose en masse against their Nazi oppressors. Yet

when they did so, the Soviets callously rejected all pleas for help. For

eight weeks they even refused to permit American planes to land on Soviet

soil after airlifting supplies to the beleaguered Warsaw rebels. By the

time the rebellion ended, 250,000 people had become casualties, with the

backbone of the pro-London resistance movement brutally crushed. Although

some Americans, then and later, accepted Soviet claims that logistical

problems had prevented any assistance being offered, most Americans

endorsed the more cynical conclusion that Stalin had found a convenient way

to annihilate a large part of his Polish opposition and facilitate

acquisition of a pro-Soviet regime. As Ambassador Averell Harriman cabled

at the time, Russian actions were based on "ruthless political

considerations."

By the time of the Yalta conference, the Red Army occupied Poland,

leaving Roosevelt little room to maneuver. When one American diplomat urged

the president to force Russia to agree to Polish independence, Roosevelt

responded: "Do you want me to go to war with Russia?" With Stalin having

already granted diplomatic recognition to the Lublin regime, Roosevelt

could only hope that the Soviets would accept enough modification of the

status quo to provide the appearance of representative democracy. Spheres

of influence were a reality, FDR told seven senators, because "the

occupying forces [have] the power in the areas where their arms are

present." All America could do was to use her influence "to ameliorate the

situation."

Nevertheless, Roosevelt played what cards he had with skill. "Most

Poles," he told Stalin, "want to save face. ... It would make it easier for

me at home if the Soviet government could give something to Poland." A

government of national unity, Roosevelt declared, would facilitate public

acceptance in the United States of full American participation in postwar

arrangements. "Our people at home look with a critical eye on what they

consider a disagreement between us. ... They, in effect, say that if we

cannot get a meeting of minds now . . . how can we get an understanding on

even more vital things in the future?" Although Stalin's immediate response

was to declare that Poland was "not only a question of honor for Russia,

but one of life and death," he finally agreed that some reorganization of

the Lublin regime could take place to ensure broader representation of all

Poles.

In the end, the Big Three papered over their differences at Yalta by

agreeing to a Declaration on Liberated Europe that committed the Allies to

help liberated peoples resolve their problems through democratic means and

advocated the holding of free elections. Although Roosevelt's aide Admiral

William Leahy told him that the report on Poland was "so elastic that the

Russians can stretch it all the way from Yalta to Washington without ever

technically breaking it," Roosevelt believed that he had done the best he

could under the circumstances. From the beginning, Roosevelt had

recognized, on a de facto basis at least, that Poland was part of Russia's

sphere of influence and must remain so. He could only hope that Stalin

would now show equal recognition of the U.S. need to have concessions that

would give the appearance, at least, of implementing the Atlantic Charter.

The same basic dilemmas, of course, occurred with regard to the

structure of postwar governments in all of Eastern Europe. As early as

1943, Roosevelt had made clear to Stalin at Tehran that he was willing to

have the Baltic states controlled by the Soviets. His only request, the

president told Stalin, was for some public commitment to future elections

in order to satisfy his constituents at home for whom "the big issues . . .

would be the question of referendum and the right of self-determination."

The exchange with Stalin accurately reflected Roosevelt's position over

time.

Significantly, Roosevelt even sanctioned Churchill's efforts to divide

Europe into spheres of influence. With Roosevelt's approval, Churchill

journeyed to Moscow in the fall of 1944. Sitting across the table from

Stalin, Churchill proposed that Russia exercise 90 percent predominance in

Romania, 75 percent in Bulgaria, and 50 percent control, together with

Britain, in Yugoslavia and Hungary, while the United States and Great

Britain would exercise 90 percent predominance in Greece. After extended

discussion and some hard bargaining, the deal was made. (Poland was not

even included in Churchill's percentages, suggesting that he was

acknowledging Soviet control there.) At the time, Churchill suggested that

the arrangements be expressed "in diplomatic terms [without use of] the

phrase 'dividing into spheres,' because the Americans might be shocked."

But in fact, as Robert Daliek has shown in his superb study of Roosevelt's

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