Cold War

plan envisioned ultimate sharing of international control, it left the

United States with an atomic monopoly—and in a dominant position—until the

very last stage. The Soviets would have no veto power over inspections or

sanctions, and even at the end of the process, the United States would

control the majority of votes within the body responsible for developing

peaceful uses of atomic energy inside the Soviet Union. When the Russians

asked to negotiate about the specifics of the plan, they were told they

must either accept the entire package or nothing at all. In the context of

Soviet-American relations in 1946, the result was predictable—the genie of

the atomic arms race would remain outside the bottle.

Not all influential Americans were "pleased by the growing

polarization. Averell Harriman, who a year earlier had been in the

forefront of those demanding a hard-line position from Truman, now pulled

back somewhat. "We must recognize that we occupy the same planet as the

Russians," he said, "and whether we like it or not, disagreeable as they

may be, we have to find some method of getting along." The columnist Walter

Lippmann, deeply concerned about the direction of events, wondered whether

the inexperience and personal predilections of some of America's

negotiators might not be part of the problem. Nor were all the signs

negative. After his initial confrontation with Molotov, Truman appeared to

have second thoughts, sending Harry Hopkins to Moscow to attempt to find

some common ground with Stalin on Poland and Eastern Europe. The Russians,

in turn, had not been totally aggressive. They withdrew from Hungary after

free elections in that country had led to the establishment of a

noncommunist regime. Czechoslovakia was also governed by a coalition

government with a Western-style parliament. The British, at least,

announced themselves satisfied with the election process in Bulgaria. Even

in Romania, some concessions were made to include elements more favorably

disposed to the West. The Russians finally backed down in Iran—under

considerable pressure—and would do so again in a dispute over the Turkish

straits in the late summer of 1946.

Still, the events of 1946 had the cumulative effect of creating an aura

of inevitability about bipolar confrontation in the world. The

preponderance of energy in each country seemed committed to the side of

suspicion and hostility rather than mutual accommodation. If Stalin's

February prediction of inevitable war between capitalism and communism

embodied in its purest form Russia's jaundiced perception of relations

between the two countries, an eight-thousand-word telegram from George

Kennan to the State Department articulated the dominant frame of reference

within which Soviet actions would be perceived by U.S. officials. Perhaps

the preeminent expert on the Soviets, and a veteran of service in Moscow in

the thirties as well as the forties, Kennan had been asked to prepare an

analysis of Stalin's speech. Responding in words intended to command

attention to Washington, Kennan declared that the United States was

confronted with a "political force committed fanatically to the belief that

[with the] United States there can be no permanent modus vivendi, that it

is desirable and necessary that the internal harmony of our society be

broken if Soviet power is to be secure." According' to Kennan, the Russians

truly believed the world to be divided permanently into capitalist and

socialist camps, with the Soviet Union dedicated to "ever new heights of

military power" even as it sought to subvert its enemies through an

"underground operating directorate of world communism." The analysis was

frightening, confirming the fears of those most disturbed by the Soviet

system's denial of human rights and hardline posture toward Western demands

for free elections and open borders in occupied Europe.

Almost immediately, the Kennan telegram became required reading for the

entire diplomatic and military establishment in Washington.

2.3 The Marshall Plan.

The chief virtue of the plan Marshall and his aides were Grafting was

its fusion of these political and economic concerns. As Truman told a

Baylor University audience in March 1947, "peace, freedom, and world trade

are indivisible. . . . We must not go through the '3os again." Since free

enterprise was seen as the foundation for democracy and prosperity, helping

European economies would both assure friendly governments abroad and

additional jobs at home. To accomplish that ^ goal, however, the United

States would need to give economic aid directly rather than through the

United Nations, since only under those circumstances would American control

be assured. Ideally, the Marshall Plan would provide an economic arm to the

political strategy embodied —in the Truman Doctrine. Moreover, if presented

as a program in which even Eastern European countries could participate, it

would provide, at last potentially, a means of including pro-Soviet

countries and breaking Stalin's political and economic domination over

Eastern Europe.

On that basis, Marshall dramatically announced his proposal at Harvard

University's commencement on June 5, 1947. "Our policy is directed not

against any country or doctrine," Marshall said, "but against hunger,

poverty, desperation, and chaos. Its purpose should be revival of a working

economy. Any government that is willing to assist in the task of recovery

will find full cooperation ... on the part of the United States

government." Responding, French Foreign Minister George Bidault invited

officials throughout Europe, including the Soviet Union, to attend a

conference in Paris to draw up a plan of action. Poland and Czechoslovakia

expressed interest, and Molotov himself came to Paris with eighty-nine

aides.

Rather than inaugurate a new era of cooperation, however, the next few

days simply reaffirmed how far polarization had already extended. Molotov

urged that each country present its own needs independently to the United

States. Western European countries, on the other hand, insisted that all

the countries cooperate in a joint proposal for American consideration.

Since the entire concept presumed extensive sharing of economic data on

each country's resources and liabilities, as well as Western control over

how the aid would be expended, the Soviets angrily walked out of the

deliberations. In fact, the United States never believed that the Russians

would participate in the project, knowing that it was a violation of every

Soviet precept to open their economic records to examination and control by

capitalist outsiders. Furthermore, U.S. strategy was premised on a major

rebuilding of German industry—something profoundly threatening to the

Russians. Ideally, Americans viewed a thriving Germany as the foundation

for revitalizing the economies of all Western European countries, and

providing the key to prosperity on both sides of the Atlantic. To a

remarkable extent, that was precisely the result of the Marshall Plan.

Understandably, such a prospect frightened the Soviets, but the consequence

was to further the split between East and West, and in particular, to

undercut the possibility of promoting further cooperation with countries

like Hungary and Czechoslovakia.

In the weeks and months after the Russians left Paris, the final pieces

of the Cold War were set in place. Shortly after the Soviet departure from

Paris the Russians announced the creation of a series of bilateral trade

agreements called the "Molotov Plan," designed to link Eastern bloc

countries and provide a Soviet answer to the Marshall Plan. Within the same

week the Russians created a new Communist Information Bureau (Cominform),

including representatives from the major Western European communist

parties, to serve as a vehicle for imposing Stalinist control on anyone who

might consider deviating from the party line. Speaking at the Cominform

meeting in August, Andre Zhdanov issued the Soviet Union's rebuttal to the

Truman Doctrine. The United States, he charged, was organizing the

countries of the Near East, Western Europe, and South America into an

alliance committed to the destruction of communism. Now, he said, the "new

democracies" of Eastern Europe—plus their allies in developing

countries—must form a counter bloc. The world would thus be made up of "two

camps," each ideologically, politically, and, to a growing extent,

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

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