Converging on Paris this week, the foreign ministers of the NATO nations all chanted the same defiant cry: we will not surrender Berlin. But when it came to concrete proposals on just how to counter the Russian threat to Berlin, the NATO war cry turned out to be subject to as many shades of interpretation as a Biblical text.
Beyond its sharp rejection of Khrushchev's proposal to turn West Berlin into a "free city," nobody knew what else the U.S. thought should be done. Just out of the hospital, Secretary Dulles—who carries the U.S. State Department in his hat—took along position papers to study on the plane that bore him to Paris. Britain's Selwyn Lloyd saw a chance, in Germany's difficulties, to impress on the West Germans that British exclusion from Europe's Common Market is quite as important in British eyes as the Berlin crisis. On Berlin itself, the British argued that instead of rejecting the Soviet ultimatum outright, the West should counter by proposing a summit talk to discuss other matters as well, including German reunification and disarmament.
To the French, Britain seemed to be exhibiting far more "nervousness" than the Berlin crisis warranted. "The worst thing in the world," said one French official in tones of Gallic superiority, "would be to become alarmist and lose one's sangfroid." As for West Germany's Chancellor Konrad Adenauer, he regarded the British approach as downright dangerous. "Eliminate the Berlin threat," growled Adenauer, in one private session, his cold-hoarsened voice trembling with anger. "Wipe it out entirely. Then I will talk about something else."
Shiny Attraction. Part of the reason for Adenauer's stand was his conviction (based on "intelligence sources") that Khrushchev is currently engaged in some kind of power struggle in Moscow, as evidenced by the dismissal of the hated police boss Ivan Serov (see below), and that an uncompromising Western stand on Berlin would strengthen the hand of Nikita's critics within the Politburo. The Kremlin has indeed been sounding an uncertain note of late, in its diplomatic huffing and puffing on Berlin. It threatens time limits, then withdraws them. It fills the air with windy ultimatums. Last week the Russians said again that unless the Western powers showed themselves ready to discuss the status of Berlin "in a businesslike manner," the U.S.S.R. would turn control of the ground and air corridors to Berlin over to the East Germans, and if an attempt was made to keep the corridors open by force, warned Khrushchev, "this would mean war."
Beneath the sound of saber rattling could be heard one steady note, that Russia is there to stay in East Germany, and that the usefulness of this unhappy but economically valuable possession is jeopardized by West Berlin's shiny attraction. West Berlin continues to draw up to 10,000 East German refugees each month—including much of the intellectual elite, doctors, technicians, professors and university students.