Pergamon
Ideas, Vol. 19, Nos
History of European
1994 Copyright63 1994 4-6,Elsevicr pp. 877-881, ScienceLtd Printedin Great Britain.All rightsreserved 0191-6599/94 $7.00+ 0.630
CULTURAL BIAS IN THE SIWDY OF HISTORY
DE LA MANCHE AU CHANNEL ANNE-SOPHIE
MARTIN*
As a Frenchwoman of the late-twentieth century, my perspective on British history is bound to be different from that of an English male colleague. Or is it? This paper addresses the ‘perception-gap’, a perennial plague of historians, from the standpoint of trauseuropean studies. The year may be 1992, but as far as my study of European integration is concerned, national feelings prevail. My research interest-B~tain’s attitude to the European Defence community (EDC) project between 19% and 1954-4s highly charged: the question of national armies on the verge of disappearing in corporate international bodies does not lend itself to quiet and sober discussion. Moreover, the involvement, or lack thereof, of the British governments of the time in European integration are part of an extant mythology of Britain as the ‘perfidious Albion’, a cross between proud insularity and weak kowtowing to ~ashington~s demands. At least, this is the popular image, in France, of the episode, inasmuch as there is one. An interest in myths prompted me to test the validity of that particular one. Using the European Defence ~ommuni~ as a case-study, I am trying to trace the origins of Britain’s reluctance to join the venture. In itself, the study of Britain’s involvement with European institutions explodes the myth of a common European history: in Churchill’s words, ‘Britain was with it, but not of it’.’ The strength of the unity myth on the Continent was obviously not shared in Britain, where there was no need ‘to paint rearmament in the popular colours of European unity’2 in order to achieve consensus on the subject. The newspapers of the time show a deep awareness of Britain’s separateness: there is a constant stream of references to the Commonweaith~ to Britain’s so-called special status as one of the Big Three victorious Powers3 It is true that, on paper, Britain could still appear as a world power in the immediate aftermath of the war. Yet, as the independence of India and the surrendering of the Palestine mandate, as well as of the peace-keeping forces in Greece showed, the giant had feet of clay, and the empire was cracking. The tell-tale signs of this loss of power included the virtual collapse of the British economy immediately after the war. This is not the place to rehearse the well-known causes of Britain’s economic decline, but what is striking is the absence of correlation between the public perception of the country’s greatness and its relative economic weakness, although the latter was very pervasive.4 There was no public recognition that Britain could no longer afford the means of its policies. Civil servants and politicians were more aware of the fact, as policy documents testify, but did not always draw all the logical consequences. As one retired diplomat testified: *Universite de Paris III, Sorbonne Nouvelle, Imtitut du Monde Anglophone, 13,rue de Sonteuil, ‘75005Paris, France.
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we did, I think, have a feeling that we were playing our full part, which we were, I mean we had big armed forces all around the place, and that somehow, ‘somehow’ is perhaps the right word as we were not quite sure ‘how’, we would emerge again as
what we had been in the war, as one of the ‘Big Three’. And I think this may have been a mistake.5 This projected image of a strong and powerful Britain played into the hands of the partisans of EDC abroad, who felt that it was essential to ascertain the collaboration of such an ally. Even though the French Assembly was ultimately responsible for burying the European Defence Community, this perception of Britain made it difficult to accept the British Government’s continued refusals to have a more formal link with the proposed European army, something which might have speeded up the ratification of the Bonn Agreements of 1952. From a late-twentieth century vantage point, it is easier to see the global picture on a given issue than from a desk in a Whitehall office in the early 1950s. It also makes it easier to justify a posteriori the decisions taken then. My brief, however, is not just descriptive, but analytical: as a French historian of British post-war European policy, I must show the biases informing the latter, I do not have to go along with them. In other words, it is my task to show to what extent, and all other things being equal, certain decisions taken could only have been taken by the British, as distinct from the French or the Americans, for instance. This is rather a difficult exercise, as one tends to grow so accustomed to the perceptions of one’s subject that one begins to think through the same prism, not so much because one forgets about oneself, but because one wants to avoid looking at facts in the light of one’s experience. Furthermore, there is the risk that I may base my judgments on a subliminal French concept of what is essentially British, i.e. pragmatism, insularity, to name but a few. It is however possible to argue that the British themselves may have had similar pre-conceptions of their decisions. A lot of the rhetoric of the time focussed on the ideas of ‘island’, and on the rejection of ‘alien bureaucracies’. The ‘Mother of Parliaments’ was not to be subjugated to any outside interference. A typical example would be this editorial from The Times, dated 15 September 195 1, entitled ‘Britain and Europe’: ‘No one with any knowledge of British history and British politics or of the complex relations that govern the British Commonwealth of Nations could ever have seriously supposed that this country would join a federal union of Europe’.6 It is interesting to note how the leader writer proceeds by assertions of facts which he never pauses to criticise or put in perspective. Indeed, there was no need for him to do so as less than three years later, the same newspaper carried fulsome reports of the new Queen’s stately progress through her dominions, with prominent pictures of cheering Commonwealth subjects adorning most editions during that period. And yet, if ‘Imperial’ news were given as much coverage as ‘Foreign’ news, the nature of the latter showed the gradual shift of ties: Danish butter imports or Germany’s status warranted as much space, in a paper-rationed newspaper, as news from the Empire. All this means that, to look objectively at the British side of the debate, this historian has to forget that she is French, but to assess the impact of the British policy decisions, she must be wary of becoming too anglophile. One example of this dilemma is the evolution of Churchill’s attitude to the European Army, later EDC, project. Most Englishmen remember that he called it ‘a sludgy amalgam’.
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That is true; but it is equally true that he referred to it in more positive terms until quite late in the day, and that his words were reported to the British public. There are various ways in which this could be interpreted: l l l
Churchill did not know what he was talking about; his response varied in accordance to changing external political factors; he was a ‘Realpolitiker’ who knew how to adapt to his audiences.
Depending on your point of view, you may accept one or all of these interpretations: the point is, the one you are most ready to accept is inextricably linked to your personal history. After careful reflexion, you may come to quite different conclusions, but they will be the fruit of a corrective exercise. If we now look at the history of the European Defence Community, we find that it is virtually impossible to discuss it in terms of a ‘European’-meaning a step towards integration-historical event. Each country had a hidden agenda-France’s was to contain German rearmament as much as possible. Germany’s to regain its sovereignty, Britain’s to avoid being dragged in any supranational institution-which makes a history of the whole episode look like a game of mirrors. The same words take on different meanings, depending on your geographical position. A Foreign Office communique would have meant one thing to its author, another, probably quite close to the original, to the French Ambassador in London, and something altogether different to the Quai d’Orsay officials required to draft a reply: the scope for misunderstandings was vast, as RenC Massigli’ saw when he aptly titled his memoirs A Comedy ofErrors. The problem, as I see it, when one tries to assess these various elements, is not to be taken in by the perceptions of one’s subject, but also to try not to project one’s misconceptions on it. For instance, it is easy to read reports of British involvement in the European Defence Community negotiations as signs of positive interest, because one wants to believe that all British decision-makers of the time were not mere blinkered ‘little Englanders’. Conversely, it is equally dangerous to decrypt all statements issued by the British Government at the time as coded statements of a firm non-participatory stance. Where is the truth? Probably somewhere in between, and the historian’s task, of course, is to track it down. The traps, however, are numerous, as a lot of the really interesting records are unavailable, and as direct witnesses tend to colour their recollections of the events in the light of their own general attitude to European integration. The issue of federalism is one of the most pressing ones as far as the history of European integration is concerned. In the case of EDC, so as to prevent German domination of the supranational force intended, the French were trying to obtain some sort of formal commitment from the British to maintain troops in Germany, in order to sell the EDC ratification to their own Parliament. It is doubtful whether this would have succeeded, given the coalition of anti-EDC interests within the Assemblee Nationale, but the British did eventually commit themselves to maintain troops on the Continent less than two months after the collapse of EDC within the framework of the Western European Union, This was essentially a Foreign Ofice brainchild, a reinforcement of the provisions of the Brussels Treaty, which avoided what had been the characteristic of EDC, namely supranationality. The WEU called for no super Defence
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Minister, could work within the framework of NATO, and involved virtually no delegation of sovereignty. In other words, it did not commit the British to much, as they were also allowed to revise their troop commitment, should circumstances (essentially budgetary constraints) make it necessary. The general perception of WEU was that it provided a way out of the impasse in which European defence found itself, as well easing the way for German rearmament within the tried and proven constraints of the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation. In other words, federalism was rejected for a politically ‘safer’ solution, thus enabling the British to get away from the quagmire of supranationalism, which remained throughout, and, some would argue, still is, the driving impulse behind their policy. At the time it was indubitably a setback for European integration, pushing back the cause of federalism and supranational institutions. However, as studies of French public opinion of the period show, the overriding factor for the French was a fear of the Germans so strong that it could not be quelled by reason. The English, for their part, were much more concerned with sovereignty. Although there certainly existed mistrust of the Germans, there does not seem to have been a groundswell of opinion against German rearmament. Letters to the a peculiarly British form of public expression, are as good an newspapers, indicator as any of this, as they usually tend to represent the views of an articulate and vociferous minority: on the whole, very few were concerned with the dangers of rearming Germany. The British perception of the risks at stake were much more in tune with Cold War preoccupations: fear of the ‘Russian Bear’ ran much higher. To decode the various factors involved in the forming of British perceptions of the European Defence Community project, one has therefore, if one is French, to replace fear of Germany with fear of Russia. Any study of the whole enterprise at European level would thus founder on the rocks of generality, because it would fail to take into account such-arguably essential-regional variations. Most interpreters agree that the project had very little chance of succeeding, but few agree on the reasons for its failure. It has now become clear that external factors (such as the alterations in the balance of power game between the two Cold War camps) were, as much as anything else, responsible for its demise. This should not, however, prevent us from trying to look dispassionately at one another’s reasons for refusing to go down the path of military integration between 1950 and 1954. By attempting to internalise the perceptions of a given population, one can of course risk losing one’s sense of perspective on the subject and write an apology. The balancing net required simultaneously to neutralise one’s prejudices, recognise their existence in one’s subject, and assess the way in which they influenced the outcome of the question, is difficult. It is also extremely challenging, in so far as it provides the historian with a unique opportunity to look at a common episode of European history from a transnational perspective. Anne-Sophie Universitt
de Paris III
Martin
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NOTES Quoted in The Times, 2 February 1954. Alfred Grosser, Les Occidentaux (Paris, 1981), p. 156. Cf. passim The Times and The Spectutor, 1950-1954. Paul Kennedy illustrates this discrepancy in his The Rise and Fall of the Great Powers (1988): he focuses more specifically on the British situation in The Realities Behind Diplomacy (1981). 5. Sir Frank Roberts, Interview with author, 24 January 1992. 6. The Times 15 September 1951, leading article, p. 5. 7. Then French Ambassador at the Court of Saint James.
1. 2. 3. 4.