The Lives, Legacies, and Historical Impact of Helmut Schmidt and Helmut Kohl
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Central European History 51 (2018), 282–309. © Central European History Society of the American Historical Association, 2018 doi:10.1017/S0008938918000389 FORUM In Memory of the “Two Helmuts”: The Lives, Legacies, and Historical Impact of Helmut Schmidt and Helmut Kohl A Forum with Clayton Clemens, Ronald Granieri, Mathias Haeussler, Mary Elise Sarotte, Kristina Spohr, and Christian Wicke Introduction by Andrew I. Port ost observers would likely agree, regardless of political couleur, that the Federal Republic of 1998—Helmut Kohl’s final year as chancellor—was, in most respects, a much different Mcountry from the Federal Republic of 1974, the year that his immediate predecessor, Helmut Schmidt, assumed the reigns of political power. Governing successively for almost a quarter- century, the “two Helmuts”—the subject of the following forum—led the Federal Republic during what were, no doubt, some of its most turbulent years; this included the so-called German Autumn of 1977, as well as the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989 and the protracted process of unification that followed. To mark their recent deaths (Schmidt in November 2015, Kohl in June 2017), Central European History invited a half dozen experts—five historians and one political scientist, all based in the United States, Britain, and the Netherlands—to comment on the lives, legacies, and historical impact of these two major political figures. Each of the participants—Clayton Clemens, Ronald Granieri, Mathias Haeussler, Mary Elise Sarotte, Kristina Spohr, and Christian Wicke—was given wide latitude to approach this cluster of issues and themes in any way he or she saw fit, but the results are still, in some ways, surprising. For one, only half the contributors consider both chancellors in their initial statements, whereas the other three focus almost exclusively on Kohl. Given his role as the so-called Chancellor of Unity, this might speak to Kohl’s greater historical importance—though it might also merely reflect the scholarly interests of the participants. In any event, Spohr, who recently published a major study of Helmut Schmidt as “the global chancellor,” vigorously defends the legacy of the latter, arguing that Schmidt was “no less of a pioneer in international politics” than his successor. That assessment draws attention to another unan- ticipated feature of this forum: its focus, by and large, on the international roles of the “two Helmuts,” rather than on their domestic legacies (apart from unification and “memory politics”). But this, too, is not entirely suprising or unwarranted: after all, as Clemens observes, both politicians saw their actions in that arena as their “main legacy.” Taken together, the contributions to this forum have a number of other features in common. They all go beyond the prevailing hoary stereotypes—Schmidt as a “pragmatic” and “rational” Macher, Kohl as someone driven by more “emotive” considerations; they argue, furthermore, that the approaches and 282 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. IP address: 170.106.35.229, on 01 Oct 2021 at 00:12:45, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938918000389 In Memory of the “Two Helmuts” 283 policies of the two men were more similar, in the end, than commonly assumed. In fact, the participants seem to agree that, for better or worse, there was a great deal of continuity in the actual policies adopted by Schmidt and Kohl—that both men largely “preserved” what they had inherited domestically, while pushing Europe forward “along a path that had already been paved” (Clemens). Finally, the participants all seem to agree (with Zhou Enlai in a much different context…) that it is still too early to judge what the legacies of the “two Helmuts” will be. That issue is still “up in the air,” Haeussler suggests, adding that one cannot be certain whether the policies they embraced will work in the future—though it would perhaps be more surprising if ones adopted decades ago were indeed able to do so in our rapidly changing world. It is here that Sarotte provocatively criticizes Kohl for failing to introduce “needed renovations” to the existing international system; that, she argues, lies at the crux of many of the problems that Europe faces today. Spohr rightly reminds us, however, that one must consider “how much freedom of maneuver political leaders really enjoy.” Or, as the first Chancellor of Unity supposedly put it over a century and a half ago: “Politics is the art of the possible…” Initial Statements Kristina Spohr (London School of Economics) ETWEEN them, the chancellorships of the “two Helmuts” span nearly a quarter- century of German history. Helmut Schmidt led the country from 1974 to 1982; Bhis successor, Helmut Kohl, served until 1998. But the verdict on their respective tenures has been very different. Kohl was seen as a bumbling provincial when he came to office in 1982 but, by the end of his second term, he had won a place in the history books as the “Chancellor of Unity” (Einheitskanzler). By the time he lost the election for what would have been his fifth term, he was hailed as the “master-builder” (Baumeister)of Europe for his decisive role in furthering the European Community’s political and economic integration through the Maastricht Treaty and the introduction of the Euro. Schmidt, by contrast, came to office with a reputation for high administrative competence and intellectual prowess, but left the chancellery under a cloud. Der Spiegel spoke for many commentators when it dismissed him as a “good chancellor with a bad record”; few features of his period in office stood out as “proof of success.” Schmidt, it was said, had been a mere crisis manager and “problem-solver” (Macher) who lacked broader vision, so that “little endured of historical significance.”1 This has also been the verdict of many historians.2 There is no doubt that Kohl’s achievements were indeed remarkable. When the Berlin Wall came down in November 1989, he quickly took command with his Ten-Point Plan, putting German unification firmly on the international agenda. Grasping the urgency of the situation, he came up with cogent ideas for accomplishing his goals: economically by exporting the deutschmark (DM) to the German Democratic Republic (GDR), and politically by absorbing East Germany into the Federal Republic via Article 23 of the Basic Law. Kohl 1“Dreizehn Jahre geliehene Macht (I),” Der Spiegel, Sept. 27, 1982; “Kanzler Schmidt: Hoffen auf den Macher,” Der Spiegel, May 13, 1974. 2See, e.g., Archie Brown, The Myth of the Strong Leader: Political Leadership in the Modern Age (London: Bodley Head, 2014), 101, 136; Ronald J. Granieri, “Building a Social Democratic Hall of Fame,” H-German (Oct. 2005): http://www.h-net.org/reviews/showrev.php?id=11199. Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. IP address: 170.106.35.229, on 01 Oct 2021 at 00:12:45, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938918000389 284 In Memory of the “Two Helmuts” was equally adept at handling the wider international setting of German diplomacy. He managed to square the four victor powers, whose Allied reserved rights still trammeled German sovereignty: the so-called 2 + 4 forum allowed him to control the process and to negotiate the final settlement of German unity with the United States, the Soviet Union, Britain, and France, from a position of quasi-equality. In particular, he propitiated the French, still fearful of German power, by agreeing to give up the DM—talisman of the West German “economic miracle”—within a new European monetary union. And he led the move to deepen Europe’s political union by promoting the Maastricht Treaty of 1992. Kohl was also very conscious of the challenges that German unity posed for the Soviet Union and its successor, the Russian Federation. At a time when the Americans were hanging back, he came up with the funds to buy Mikhail Gorbachev’s support for unified Germany to remain in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), and for the rapid withdrawal of the Red Army from German soil. Out of this came the new “Friendship Treaty” with Moscow in September 1990, which put relations on a new footing. Kohl continued this policy even after Boris Yeltsin replaced Gorbachev, pumping money into the new Russia and drawing it into the Group of Seven (G7) to help tie it to the West. At the same time, he supported Polish, Czech, and Hungarian membership in NATO as a sort of reinsurance against possible Russian revanchism.3 Kohl was intensely aware of historical precedent. In dealing with France, he aligned himself consciously with the principles of Westbindung and self-restraint laid down by Konrad Adenauer in the 1950s. In his dealings with Russia, he aspired to transcend the legacy of Adolf Hitler’s war. And the media also saw him as a maker of history. After the Caucasus summit with Gorbachev in July 1990, the cover of Der Spiegel proclaimed: “Allianz Bonn/Moskau: Der Krieg ist zu Ende” (Bonn/Moscow Alliance: The War Is Over).4 Here Kohl had shown himself to be a statesman with the discernment and daring to seize the historical moment of decision. With a knowing wink to Otto von Bismarck, he told Gorbachev, “You have to grab the mantle of history.”5 Personal relationships were central to Kohl’s diplomacy. He felt comfortable deploying the traditional repertoire of provincial male bonding—be it over Riesling and Saumagen (pig’s stomach) at the Deidesheimer Hof in his beloved Palatinate Heimat, or sweltering in a Siberian sauna and knocking back a few vodkas with Yeltsin.