It was only a few years ago that the East European countries moved back into the field of vision of Western policy. For a decade they were kept outside the scope of our active policy, though not out of our thoughts. Most of the paths we trod toward the East led through a frosty and monotonous political landscape, past a hundred million East Europeans and their capital cities directly to Moscow. These peoples and, as we can now see, their governments, did not voluntarily remain in the background nor renounce their right to shape their own future and their relations with the rest of the world. But as long as only the voice of Moscow was heard in reply to questions asked of them, the countries of the West had no choice but to speak with those whose voice alone mattered.
It was only a few years ago that the East European countries moved back into the field of vision of Western policy. For a decade they were kept outside the scope of our active policy, though not out of our thoughts. Most of the paths we trod toward the East led through a frosty and monotonous political landscape, past a hundred million East Europeans and their capital cities directly to Moscow. These peoples and, as we can now see, their governments, did not voluntarily remain in the background nor renounce their right to shape their own future and their relations with the rest of the world. But as long as only the voice of Moscow was heard in reply to questions asked of them, the countries of the West had no choice but to speak with those whose voice alone mattered.
Today this situation is changed. Beginning with the events in Poland and the uprising in Hungary in 1956, important and perhaps decisive things happened in the East European countries which increasingly influenced their relationship with the Soviet Union, with each other and with the Western world. Their individuality again became noticeable. We saw that national interests were a more permanent political force than ideological maxims, and that even the long practice of "proletarian internationalism" had not suppressed the desire for international relations as we understand them. Hence it made sense to regard the East European countries once again as active participants in international politics...
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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.
In Germany as in France, 1969 will be remembered as the year of the break in continuity. The principal break is in each case obvious: the departure of General de Gaulle after eleven years in power and the relegation of the Christian Democrats to the opposition after twenty years in power. But the nature and import of these breaks call for interpretation.

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