France and Germany in the New Europe
On August 2, 1914, a young officer burst into the office of General Lyautey in Rabat to inform him that hostilities had just broken out between France and Germany. Lyautey, who had spent the greater part of his career in Asia and in Africa and had acquired the habit of looking at problems not on the scale of a general staff map but on the scale of a world map, stopped to think, then lifted his eyes and said slowly: "They are crazy; it is a civil war." The young officer closed the door behind him without understanding. For him, as for most men of his time, the history of the twentieth century, like that of the nineteenth, could only be written by the European peoples; their strife, however tragic the consequences, was thus in the nature of things.
On August 2, 1914, a young officer burst into the office of General Lyautey in Rabat to inform him that hostilities had just broken out between France and Germany. Lyautey, who had spent the greater part of his career in Asia and in Africa and had acquired the habit of looking at problems not on the scale of a general staff map but on the scale of a world map, stopped to think, then lifted his eyes and said slowly: "They are crazy; it is a civil war." The young officer closed the door behind him without understanding. For him, as for most men of his time, the history of the twentieth century, like that of the nineteenth, could only be written by the European peoples; their strife, however tragic the consequences, was thus in the nature of things.
Only one well-known Frenchman looked upon this great tragedy in the same light as Lyautey-the pacifist writer Romain Rolland, an admirer of Tolstoy. After taking refuge in Switzerland in order to avoid having to choose sides, he published as early as September 1914 a pamphlet entitled "Au- dessus de la mêlée," in which this passage appears: "Thus the three great peoples of the West, the guardians of civilization, are rushing headlong toward their ruin and are calling to their rescue Cossacks, Turks, Japanese, Singhalese, Sudanese, Senegalese, Moroccans, Egyptians, Sikhs and sepoys, barbaric peoples from the pole and from the equator, peoples and races of all colors! It looks like the Roman Empire at the time of the tetrarchy appealing to the hordes of the whole universe in order that they might devour one another. Is our civilization so firmly rooted then that you do not fear to weaken its pillars? Do you not see that, if one single column is destroyed, everything will come crashing down about you?" Lyautey and Romain Rolland were two men with ideas and beliefs as different as could possibly be. But they had one thing in common: they had both taken the trouble to observe the masses of Asia and Africa. They needed to do no more in order to be 40 years ahead of their time.
This is a premium article
You must be a Foreign Affairs subscriber to continue reading. If you are already a print subscriber, click here to activate your online access.
Log In
Buy PDF
Buy a premium PDF reprint of this article.Related
FOR five years between 1925 and 1929, a certain portion of mankind, like those parched travelers in the desert who think they have glimpsed the oasis which will save them, believed the gate to lasting peace was at hand. This, as we now know, was only a mirage. But such a mirage had never before existed. People had never believed so fervently in the blessings of peace, or hoped so passionately that peace would be perpetual. Optimism rose to new heights. "Away with cannon and machineguns: instead, conciliation, arbitration, and peace!" At the meeting of the League of Nations on September 10, 1926, when Germany, recently defeated, was received as a member, the French Foreign Minister Aristide Briand touched a new intensity of emotion with these celebrated words.
I Write this article not long after my visit to France, where I spent seven eventful days of great political importance. One essential purpose of my visit was to demonstrate to the German and French peoples and, indeed, to the whole world that the reconciliation between the two neighboring peoples on both sides of the Rhine has now become a reality.
Franco-GERMAN relations are at once much better and much worse than is generally imagined in the United States. Better, because the frigid atmosphere and tensions of 1964-1965 obscure the solidity of the links forged between France and the Federal Republic. Worse, because these tensions are not solely attributable to General de Gaulle but are the expression of a profound divergence in perspective.
