Since President Donald J. Trump’s second inauguration, Europe has been in a quagmire. Most European nations had previously defunded or minimised their armies, relying on the off chance of serving as a complement to American military power. Now, not only are they faced with the need to rapidly re-arm in the wake of Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, but also with the looming spectre of Trumpian isolationism—which threatens to remove American security guarantees and commitments to NATO. There have been many proposed solutions, of varying merit. However, any solution to the European security dilemma must have the buy-in of the major continental military powers: France, Germany, Italy, the UK, and Poland. This is not currently possible. Due to the events surrounding the emergence of a free Poland, and its accession into NATO, Poland is not in a position, politically nor geopolitically, to join a defensive system that does not include the United States. The reasons for this can be traced back to the actions of former German Chancellor Helmut Kohl.
In 1989, the nascent Polish state emerged into a world devoid of certainty. Bipolarity, the basis of international politics for over half a century, was coming to a sudden and non-violent end. As nations were freed of shackles and governments fell, agreements had to be reaffirmed. One of the many technicalities and treaties subject to this uncertainty was the German-Polish Border on the Oder and Neisse Rivers (The Oder-Neisse line).
Chancellor Kohl oversaw the re-unification of Germany in the early 1990s. Among the many titanic and bureaucratic issues he had to confront was the affirmation of a border between a unified German state and the newly liberated Poland. Kohl had historically rejected the Oder-Neisse line, a border that follows the path of the two titular rivers—alongside the 1970 Treaty of Warsaw that confirmed it. He led the Christian Democratic Union and the Christian Social Union (CDU-CSU) in voting against it when the treaty was considered under the chancellorship of Willi Brandt. When the question of the border arose again during reunification, he publicly rejected the Oder-Neisse line. He stated that he would seek adjustments by means of diplomacy or force during meetings with then-Presidents Bush and Mitterrand in the spring of 1990. Only after backlash from President Bush and British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, did Kohl relent and sign the 1990 affirmation treaty, accepting the Oder-Neisse line without reservation. While this incident is a political footnote to the larger project of German East-West integration, it was a major shock in Poland. Whatever Chancellor Kohl’s political reasoning, the spectacle of a German Chancellor again demanding to renegotiate borders, at the potential threat of war, was a nationally traumatic moment of the utmost irony.
Similarly, recently de-classified files from the German Foreign Ministry detailed Kohl’s efforts to reject and delay the accession of the Vysechrad group (Poland, Hungary, Czechia, and Slovakia) into NATO, in order to attain Russian acquiescence. While acknowledging the security concerns of the newly independent Eastern European countries, Kohl prioritised a normalisation of relations between Russia and NATO. Unfortunately, this delay led to significant mistrust between Poland and Germany, much like the Oder-Neisse border debacle.
The actions of Chancellor Kohl in these two situations, taken together with the Polish experience of the twentieth century, make transatlanticism a cornerstone of the Polish national security posture. To Poland, Russia cannot be trusted because it seeks the suzerainty of Poland for the sake of a defensive buffer zone. Aside from the aforementioned incidents, modern Germany has consistently pursued a policy of friendship with Russia under the guise of Ostpolitik and ‘Wandel durch Handel’, both of which only ended with the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Moreover, modern Germany has shown a willingness to prioritise Russian concerns over Polish concerns, such as in the case of Poland’s NATO accession. Consequently, Poland faces a dearth of allies willing to help it secure its borders. The only other continental options—France and the United Kingdom—are limited in their military’s expeditionary abilities, and their political commitment to defending Polish sovereignty has remained doubtful since the so-called “September betrayal” of 1939. This only leaves the United States of America. The US’s expeditionary military infrastructure enables it to come to Poland’s defence, and its penchant for interventionism indicates that, in theory, the political will to act may exist when necessary.
Poland’s insistence on defensive transatlanticism damages the prospect of an independent Europe. With the Trump administration’s isolationist rhetoric turning into action, a European nation that refuses to let go of American ties prevents Europe from being able to pursue an independent geopolitical strategy. Instead, it is forced to negotiate the chasm between its own needs and an increasingly disinterested and transactional United States. This insistence is the product of local history, the aforementioned actions of Helmut Kohl, and repeated reminders of these issues by reactionary Polish politicians—such as Słowimir Mentzen or Grzegoż Braun who regularly accuse the pro-European Tusk government of acting on Germany’s behalf.
Reconciliation, should it happen, will not be easy nor rapid. There is ample material to divide and limited will to unite. There is no quick fix. Nationalists on both sides of the Oder need to be quieted and a confrontation with sins of the past must occur. Such an effort can only occur if there is a will to do so on both sides. Germany has recently shown a willingness to confront the past—Poland, however, is in a more complex place societally and politically.
Written by Marek M. Jaros, Edited by Esther Linton-Kubelka
Photo Credit: 1947 CDU Poster (ACDP)
