Before flying back to Geneva for the second week of the foreign ministers conference, Russia's Vyacheslav Molotov attended a bibulous Moscow reception celebrating the38th anniversary of the
Bolshevik Revolution. It was a heady affair ringing with Old Bolshevik Kaganovich's boast that the 20th century would be "the century of Communism, was a tonic to abstemious old Vyacheslav Molotov who has never been able to disguise his implacable hostility to the West or to play with any conviction the role ot a man out to relax tensions. That night he exulted to a newsman: "I have heard many good things in Moscow. I am leaving for Geneva with even better baggage than I brought."
There were some in the West who took this to mean that Russia would be more reasonable about German reunification. Molotov did not wait long to disabuse them. Back in Geneva, face to face with the Western Big Three around the green-topped table in the Salle du Conseil, Molotov revealed with relish that the "better baggage" he brought from Moscow was a fresh blast of cold war.
Two Germanys. As the Russian began to speak, John Foster Dulles made notes, France's Pinay chain-smoked, Britain's Macmillan sat erect as a Grenadier Guardsman (which he once was). Harshly Molotov plunged in. He rejected out of hand the West's plan for German unity. He accused the Western powers—including, of all people, the French—of seeking "a revival of German militarism." What the West wants, he said, is to re-establish throughout Germany "the rule of big monopolies, Junker and militarists" and to "liquidate the social gains of the [East German Communist Republic]." The West had pleaded with Moscow to let the Germans decide for themselves; Molotov would have none of that. The Soviet Union, he said without a trace of embarrassment, could not stand idly by and watch free elections "lead to the infringement of the interests of the working masses." Molotov then made plain what the West had long suspected: that the Kremlin intends to partition Germany indefinitely. "There are two Germanys, he said, and only one of them—the Communist East—is the "real Fatherland."
When the Russian finished speaking, a chill silence lay across the conference table. In Molotov's brutal frankness, the Western Ministers recognized a deliberate shattering of the Geneva spirit. In their hearts, the Western Big Three had not expected the Soviet Union to set the East Germans free, but Molotov had gone further than that. By espousing partition, he and the Soviet Union were openly disavowing Bulganin's promise, made at the summit parley, to find ways of uniting Germany and making Europe secure.
After a moment's silence, John Foster Dulles asked for time out. Over drinks in the delegates' bar, he agreed with Macmillan and Pinay that the conference must go on, but that the West should delay its reply until the next day.
Item I. Overnight the West worked out a common strategy. Molotov had accepted the onus of keeping Germany divided: the West would therefore see to it that the onus stuck. Promptly at 4 p.m., the conference came to order and Harold Macmillan took the floor. His voice was icy with anger.