Thirteen years ago, in January 1963, Konrad Adenauer, 87, arrived in Paris to sign the Franco-German friendship treaty with Charles de Gaulle, 73. The "mystical communion" between these two old Catholics was strong enough that not even de Gaulle's veto of British entry into the Common Market the week before could stay the signing. Both men also shared the same political belief: Europe was no stronger than the bonds that linked France and Germany. It was a far-reaching treaty, unique for both countries in the kind of consultative machinery it set up. Yet de Gaulle's veto of Britain did, in fact, send it into a quick eclipse. A few months later Adenauer and his "German Gaullists" were gone, Chancellor Ludwig Erhard and Atlanticism had arrived, the Bundestag had added a preamble to the treaty that de Gaulle told Willy Brandt was a "personal offense," and the General, wearily, would remark that treaties, like young girls and roses, faded all too quickly.
Thirteen years ago, in January 1963, Konrad Adenauer, 87, arrived in Paris to sign the Franco-German friendship treaty with Charles de Gaulle, 73. The "mystical communion" between these two old Catholics was strong enough that not even de Gaulle's veto of British entry into the Common Market the week before could stay the signing. Both men also shared the same political belief: Europe was no stronger than the bonds that linked France and Germany. It was a far-reaching treaty, unique for both countries in the kind of consultative machinery it set up. Yet de Gaulle's veto of Britain did, in fact, send it into a quick eclipse. A few months later Adenauer and his "German Gaullists" were gone, Chancellor Ludwig Erhard and Atlanticism had arrived, the Bundestag had added a preamble to the treaty that de Gaulle told Willy Brandt was a "personal offense," and the General, wearily, would remark that treaties, like young girls and roses, faded all too quickly.
Fade it did, but not away. Thirteen years later it remains the foundation of a relationship that has not ceased to evolve. The treaty has been severely tested, and in the worst days of Gaullist excess and German indifference was almost forgotten; but the mechanisms were still there, ticking away, so that the meetings went on, the consultations, the discussions, the negotiations. The treaty survived Erhard. It survived President Georges Pompidou, no more than an interlude in French history, a regent. It survived Brandt, who, with Ostpolitik to occupy himself with, did not have much left over. It survived Michel Jobert, a foreign minister who learned everything from the Gaullists except the one thing they never understood: you cannot make the Germans choose between France and the United States.
Throughout the years of estrangement, the process continued, the contacts deepened. "We leave Paris at 12, are in Bonn by 1:30, negotiate three hours and are back home for dinner," explained one official who knows the mechanisms well. By the time Chancellor Helmut Schmidt and President Valéry Giscard d'Estaing, nothing mystical about either of them, came along in 1974, the treaty had proven its staying power. Both men looked at Franco-German relations with a cold eye and without the old phobias. And they reached the same conclusion: France and Germany could gain more acting together than apart.
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
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.
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.
In a major address on July 4, 1962, the President called for a partnership between the United States and Europe. With the passage of the Trade Bill this "great design" seems to have come a step closer. To many, the Atlantic Community beckons as the great hope of the 1960s. The possibility of establishing a vital Atlantic system is indeed one of the great opportunities of our time. It may well be that to future historians it will appear the distinctive feature of our decade, far transcending in importance the crises which form the headlines of the day.
