Late in the afternoon I was in the office of European Directorate Chief Bob Blackwill when the phone rang: Brent Scowcroft urgently needed an assessment of events in Berlin for the president. “Do you mean an update of this morning’s briefing?” Blackwill asked. “No,” he was told. “He wants to know about the fact that the East Germans have opened the wall. Turn on CNN.” I went home that night and watched the spectacle on television, joyful but shocked that this 30-year symbol of Europe’s division had fallen with hardly a whimper.
By the next day my jubilation gave way to the realization that we suddenly faced a policy problem of enormous gravity and complexity. Deputy national-security adviser Bob Gates and I were asked to receive the Russian ambassador at an unconscionably early hour. Russian President Mikhail Gorbachev had sent a letter to President Bush that emphasized the Soviet Union’s role as one of the four occupying powers in Germany and reminded us that the Soviets could veto events in Berlin and in Germany as a whole. Gorbachev warned that Helmut Kohl and the West Germans might go too far and inflame passions on both sides of the wall. And he made it clear that Moscow would defend its interests, pointing out not too subtly that the Soviet Union had 390,000 troops in East Germany. It was clear that nothing could be taken for granted in bringing the cold war to an end.
Everything changed that day. For those of us directly involved, there was no other issue but Germany. The revolution in Czechoslovakia and the bloody Romanian revolt were still to come. But I can barely remember our response. The fall of the wall was the start of the cold war’s endgame and everyone understood that.
We knew immediately that American triumphalism would backfire. We had to find a way to make the end of Soviet power in Europe and the continued existence of NATO seem to be in everyone’s interest, including Moscow’s. And we needed a Soviet Union coherent enough to agree to Germany’s eventual unification. It was not long before we realized that Gorbachev was the Soviet leader most likely to make that decision. Speed was of the essence as the Kremlin’s problems mounted at home.
There were other challenges, too. Managing the French and the British, neither of whom was particularly in favor of a united Germany, was one such problem. Some worried about a separate deal between Moscow and Berlin, but that possibility seemed remote. Indeed, President Bush was so strong in his personal belief in German democracy and the country’s Western orientation that we worried little about the emergence of a strong Germany in the center of Europe. Still, at times, the Germans seemed tone-deaf to how their slogan of the moment, “one nation, one people,” sounded.
Personally, I could not believe my great fortune. I was witnessing the kind of diplomacy that only comes at the end of great wars, when foreign ministers and presidents, not assistants and bureaucrats, sit across tables designing the geopolitical future. It was remarkable to watch East Germany and the Soviet Union weakening before my very eyes. By September Gorbachev had told his aides that with Eastern Europe and Germany lost, the task was to defend the integrity of the Soviet Union itself. That task, too, was beyond the Soviets’ power.
Ten years later Europe bears no open wounds from the resolution of the “German question.” The statecraft of the time must be judged a success. But the fall of the wall was not just a matter of Europe’s political future. Nov. 9 and what followed also changed forever the lives of Germany’s people.
I vividly recall one incident that brought that point home. I traveled to Berlin on July 1, the day of monetary unity and the day that the checkpoints between East and West were opened to permit a free flow of traffic between the two sides. During the cold war U.S. drivers drove Americans into East Berlin. This time, I was picked up by a West Berliner, now ostensibly free to drive into the East. As we approached the checkpoint he became visibly nervous. But when we arrived, there were no guards there. I thought about times past, when stern and threatening East Germans had insisted on searching the car. I do not know what went through the driver’s mind at that moment and I did not ask. But I could see the tears flowing from his eyes.
I was surprised to find that I was crying, too. For better or worse, the German people were no longer divided by a confrontation between great powers. The psychological, economic and political gulf between them remains; it may be generations before they are actually one. But the process that began that November day continues and Germany’s future is finally for Germans to decide.
title: “The White House And The Wall” ShowToc: true date: “2022-12-06” author: “Janet Boisse”
Late in the afternoon, I was in the office of European Directorate chief Bob Blackwill when the phone rang: Brent Scowcroft urgently needed an assessment of events in Berlin for the president. “Do you mean an update of this morning’s briefing?” Blackwill asked. “No,” he was told. “He wants to know about the fact that the East Germans have opened the wall. Turn on CNN and you’ll see.” I went home that night and watched the spectacle on TV, joyful but shocked that this 30-year symbol of Europe’s division had fallen with hardly a whimper.
By the next day, my jubilation had faded. We suddenly faced a policy problem of enormous gravity and complexity. Deputy national-security adviser Bob Gates and I were asked to receive the Russian ambassador at an unconscionably early hour. Russian President Mikhail Gorbachev had sent a letter to President Bush. Gorbachev emphasized the Soviet Union’s role as one of the four occupying powers in Germany and reminded us that the Soviets could veto events in Berlin and in Germany as a whole. He warned that Helmut Kohl and the West Germans might go too far and inflame passions on both sides of the wall. And he made it clear that Moscow would defend its interests, pointing out not too subtly that the Soviets had 390,000 troops in East Germany. It was clear that in bringing the cold war to an end, nothing could be taken for granted.
Everything changed that day. For those of us directly involved, there was no other issue but Germany. The revolution in Czechoslovakia and the bloody Romanian revolt were still to come. But I can barely remember our response to them. The fall of the wall was the start of the cold war’s endgame, and everyone understood that.
We knew immediately that American triumphalism would backfire. We had to find a way to make the end of Soviet power in Europe and the continued existence of NATO seem to be in everyone’s interest, including Moscow’s. And we needed a Soviet Union coherent enough to agree to Germany’s eventual unification. It was not long before we realized that Gorbachev was the Soviet leader most likely to make that decision. Speed was of the essence as the Kremlin’s problems mounted at home.
There were other challenges, too. Managing the French and the British, neither of whom was particularly in favor of a united Germany, was one problem. Some worried about a separate deal between Moscow and Berlin, but President Bush was so strong in his personal belief in German democracy and the country’s Western orientation that we worried little about the emergence of a strong Germany in the center of Europe.
Personally, I could not believe my great fortune; I was witnessing the kind of diplomacy that only comes at the end of great wars, when foreign ministers and presidents, not bureaucrats, sit across tables designing the geopolitical future. It was remarkable to watch East Germany and the Soviet Union weakening. By September, Gorbachev had told his aides that with Eastern Europe and Germany lost, the task was to defend the integrity of the Soviet Union itself. That task, too, was beyond the Soviets’ power.
Ten years later, Europe bears no open wounds from the resolution of the “German question.” The statecraft of the time must be judged a success. But the fall of the wall was not just a matter of Europe’s political future. Nov. 9 and what followed also changed forever the lives of Germany’s people.
I vividly recall one incident that brought that point home. I traveled to Berlin on July 1, the day that the checkpoints between East and West were opened to permit a free flow of traffic. During the cold war, U.S. drivers drove Americans into East Berlin. This time, I was picked up by a West Berliner, now ostensibly free to drive into the East. As we approached the checkpoint, he became visibly nervous. But when we arrived, there were no guards. I thought about times past, when threatening East Germans had insisted on searching the car. I do not know what went through the driver’s mind at that moment and I did not ask. But I could see the tears flowing from his eyes.
I was surprised to find that I was crying, too. For better or worse, the German people were no longer divided by a confrontation between great powers. The psychological, economic and political gulf between them remains; it may be generations before they are actually one. But the process that began that November day continues, and Germany’s future is finally for Germans to decide.
