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  CIVILIZING THE ENEMY 
 German Reconstruction and the Invention of the West 
 By Patrick Thaddeus Jackson  THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN PRESS 
 Copyright © 2006  University of Michigan 
All right reserved.  ISBN: 978-0-472-06929-3 
    Chapter One 
                          The West Pole Fallacy    
     When the rain began Pooh was asleep. It rained, and it rained, and it rained, and he     slept and he slept and he slept. You remember how he discovered the North Pole;     well, he was so proud of this that he asked Christopher Robin if there were any other     Poles such as a Bear of Little Brain might discover.  
        "There's a South Pole," said Christopher Robin, "and I expect there's an East     Pole and a West Pole, though people don't like talking about them."  
        Pooh was very excited when he heard this ...                               -A. A. Milne, The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh  
  
  On 7 may 1945, Admiral Karl Dönitz, recently appointed Führer of the  Third Reich by Hitler's last will and testament, approved the signing of documents  accepting an unconditional German surrender (Botting 1985: 89). The  following day, three representatives of the German High Command signed an  "Act of Military Surrender" in Berlin, bringing the Second World War in  Europe formally to a close (Ruhm von Oppen 1955: 28-29). The country was  in shambles, having been devastated by Allied strategicbombing and the  "scorched earth" policy pursued by the retreating German army, as well as by  the damage inflicted by the victorious armies themselves. "Out of a total of 16  million houses" in the occupied areas of Germany, "2.34 million had been  completely destroyed and 4 million had sustained 25 percent (or more) damage.  ... In western Germany as a whole 20 million people were homeless....  Less than half the locomotives in Germany were in working order and only a  third of the coaches were reparable" (Botting 1985: 122-25).  
     A month later, on 5 June 1945, representatives of the four Allied governments-Eisenhower   for the United States, Zhukov for the Soviet Union,  Montgomery for the United Kingdom, and de Lattre de Tassigny for the Provisional  Government of the French Republic-issued a "Declaration Regarding  the Defeat of Germany and the Assumption of Supreme Authority with  Respect to Germany," in which they proclaimed:  
     There is no central government or authority in Germany capable of accepting     responsibility for the maintenance of order, the administration of the country     and compliance with the requirements of the victorious Powers.... The Governments     of the United Kingdom, the United States of America and the     Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and the Provisional Government of the     French Republic, hereby assume supreme authority with respect to Germany,     including all the powers possessed by the German Government, the High     Command and any state, municipal, or local government or authority. (Ruhm     von Oppen 1955: 29-30)  
  
  Germany thus ceased to exist as an independent member of international society,  with responsibility for and authority over the lands it had occupied being  assumed by the victorious Allies (Kelsen 1945).  
     On 5 May 1955, almost ten years to the day after the unconditional surrender  of the Reich, Konrad Adenauer, chancellor of the Federal Republic of  Germany (BRD), signed documents officially making the BRD a party to the  North Atlantic Treaty and terminating the occupation regime, except for a  few residual rights pertaining to the status of Berlin (Ninkovich 1988: 100-11).  Shorn of some of its eastern territories, the former enemy state was now a  staunch military ally of many of the countries that had been bitterly fighting  against it a decade previously, and it was bound by treaty to come to their  defense-and vice versa. Unlike the declaration of ten years before, the Soviet  Union was not a part of the festivities, except as the implied opponent of both  the BRD and of the other members of the North Atlantic Alliance, against  which the Alliance had been erected. Commenting on that occasion, Adenauer  declared,  
     We had won the friendship of our former opponents.... The treaties were a     serious commitment for us, and corresponded to our deepest inner conviction     that there was only one place for us in the world: a place on the side of the free     peoples of the world. This also conformed to the sense of German history and     the striving, if in vain, of earlier governments to come to a firm friendly relationship     with the nations of the West. (1966b: 434)  
  
     This is quite a startling transformation, both in the status of Germany as an  entity and in the general texture of world politics that surrounded and produced  that alteration in status. How should we account for this transformation,  whereby the BRD was reconstructed as an actor on the world political  stage? Reconstruction, as I will use the term, refers to the process by which a  nonactor becomes an actor again: how the authority for various governmental  functions, particularly for those involving interstate relations, was transferred  to West German authorities, who thereby became the authorized representatives  of a new actor in interstate relations. In particular, three aspects of this  reconstruction stand in need of explanation: Why was a German state rebuilt  so soon after the end of the Second World War-a war that had, after all,  been fought against a German state? Why did the United States take the leading  role in this rebuilding of the western zones of occupation? And why was  this reconstruction carried out primarily through the Marshall Plan and  NATO, placing the BRD on somewhat of an equal footing with the other  members of what quite recently had been an anti-German coalition?  
     I believe that the key to explaining these aspects of reconstruction lies in  the civilizational language that Adenauer deployed when discussing the Federal  Republic's accession to the North Atlantic Treaty: the notion that the  BRD belonged firmly within a community of Western nations. It is my contention  that West German reconstruction can be satisfactorily explained by a  focus on public rhetoric, on the rhetorical commonplaces that were used to  render certain policy options legitimate and others unacceptable. The presence  of the notion of 'Western Civilization' in the debates about German  reconstruction made possible the integration of the western zones of occupied  Germany into the institutional structures of what was ordinarily characterized  as 'the West.' Absent this rhetorical commonplace, events might well have  turned out quite differently.  
  
                  Civilizations in World Politics  
  My emphasis on civilizational language participates in a broader intellectual  movement within the social sciences that might be characterized as "bringing  civilization and civilizations back in." Samuel Huntington's popular best  seller (1996), while perhaps the best-known recent work on the subject, by no  means exhausts the trend. Indeed, Huntington's "cultural" understanding of  civilizations (Schäfer 2001: 310) places him somewhat at odds with many of  the other contemporary civilizational analysts. Be that as it may, Huntington's  central thesis-that increasingly, the most significant tensions and conflicts in  world politics would be those between members of different civilizations-and   the books and articles that he has written exploring it are undoubtedly  partially responsible for the recent resurgence of civilizational analysis.  
     Published only a few years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union,  Huntington's book represents part of a broader effort to rethink the study  of world politics after the demise of the bipolar balancing dynamic that had  captivated analysts for decades. As part of this effort, many scholars looked  toward concepts and authors that had largely hovered on the fringes of the  social-scientific mainstream during the height of the U.S.-Soviet rivalry.  Huntington's deployment of "civilization" as part of a reconceptualization  of world politics participated in a broader "return" of culture and identity to  center stage in international relations (IR) theory (Lapid 1996), even as  Huntington's specific implementation of that return came in for a not  insignificant amount of criticism. Some argued that Huntington had inaccurately  represented the fluidity and dynamism of civilizations-that his  approach rested on theoretical or conceptual misstatements about the character  of social identity (O'Hagan 2004: 32-34). Others argued that the primary  problem with Huntington's analysis was empirical, in that it misstated  the essential core of the civilizations under investigation, particularly Western  Civilization. Along these lines, David Gress set out to provide "a fuller  and more accurate delineation of Western identity" that divided the history  of the West into two phases: "the Old West, identified as the synthesis of  classical, Christian, and Germanic cultures, and the New West, the synthesis  of reason, liberty, and progress" (Gress 1998: 16). These two phases are  not separate, but essentially linked.  
     To see the new west as a radical break, begun in the fifteenth and completed in     the nineteenth century, was to deny that its roots lay deep in the Old. To progressives     and radicals, the secular, rational freedom of modernity was inexplicable     as a fruit of the past; it was the original creation of the bold spirits of the     Enlightenment and the era of revolution. Such a definition ignored the triple     legacy of Western freedom-from the Greeks through the Romans, from     Christianity, and from the Germans. (261)  
  
     Like Huntington, Gress advanced an argument about the need for the  West to mount a vigorous defense of its fundamental values and institutions,  while acknowledging the diversity of such values and institutions abroad. For  both, civilizational analysis is primarily about conserving traditions, and in  particular about ensuring that the United States return to its fundamentally  Western heritage in order to ensure that Western Civilization as a whole survives  (Gress 1998: 552-55; Huntington 1996: 306-7).  
     Much of the other contemporary academic work on civilizations rejects  this stance. Although the concept of "civilization" had largely vanished from  the social-scientific lexicon over the course of the twentieth century  (Tiryakian 2001: 282-83), there was a vibrant older tradition of civilizational  analysis that had been kept alive by world-systems theorists (Chase-Dunn and  Hall 1997; Wallerstein 1974) and by members of the Annales historical school  (Braudel 1995). This tradition was far more interested in the political economy  of civilizations than Huntington had been, and it spent far more time analyzing  how networks of interaction affected the dynamics of hegemonic rise and  decline (Wilkinson 2000). Scholars influenced by this tradition relax the  metahistorical assumption that civilizations are closed cultural systems (Arnason  2001: 397-98) and seek instead to specify the complex interrelationships  of factors that affect long-term social change. "Civilizations" are a conceptual  tool used to help make sense of such dynamics (Melko 1969: 4).  
     But for all their invocations of fluidity and flux, these civilizational analysts  retain an essential continuity with Huntington inasmuch as they continue to insist that civilizations are objects with essentially continuous core features. To  engage in civilizational analysis is to treat a civilization as a discrete object, as  a "thing-like entity" with "an enduring essence" (Collins 2001: 422). This  remains the case even when analysts qualify their specification of a civilization's  essential qualities with references to the ambiguity and internal complexity  of civilizations; in the end, they return to the position that civilizations  are essentially different from one another. Huntington offers perhaps the  most revealing qualification.  
     Civilizations have no clear-cut boundaries and no precise beginnings and endings.     People can and do redefine their identities and, as a result, the composition     and shapes of civilizations change over time. The cultures of people interact     and overlap. The extent to which the cultures of civilizations resemble or     differ from each other also varies considerably. Civilizations are nonetheless     meaningful entities, and while the lines between them are seldom sharp, they     are real. (1996: 43, emphasis added)  
  
  The assertion that civilizations are "real," coming on the heels of an ample  demonstration of the flexibility and even the fuzziness of the concept, is striking.  What does it mean to say that civilizations and the differences between  them are "real," even though their boundaries and the precise content of their  central cores change over time? If "both Magna Carta and Auschwitz are  emblematic of European civilization" (Melleuish 2000: 118), why talk about  an entity called "European Civilization" at all?  
  
                          The West Pole Fallacy  
  There is an important conceptual continuity between the scholarly analyses of  civilizations and political pronouncements about civilizations. Although  politicians tend to be less nuanced in their specification than scholars are, the  basic gesture is almost identical. To give only two examples:  
     1. In 2004, Gerhard Schröder, Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany,        accepted an invitation from French President Jacques Chirac to participate        in the ceremonies commemorating the anniversary of the invasion of Normandy        (D-Day). Schröder's acceptance was especially significant since his        predecessor Helmut Kohl had declined a similar invitation two decades previously        on the grounds that he did not want to celebrate an event in which        many German soldiers were killed. Justifying his decision to participate,        Schröder argued that his presence would be "a sign of recognition of the role        of Germany, of postwar Germany, as an established democracy and as a part        of the Western community of values" (Bernstein and Landler 2004).  
     2. The same year, U.S. Representative Tom Tancredo (R-Colorado) launched        "The Western Civilization Project," an initiative designed to "ensure that        the concepts and ideals embodied by Western civilization are effectively        taught in public schools" in the United States. Chief among these principles        were "democratic institutions and the rule of law, the concept of universal        human rights, the development of science and technology, and religious        tolerance" (Eagle Forum 2004).  
  
     I am not claiming that there are no significant differences between these  two political expressions of civilizational loyalty and the existing scholarship  on civilizations. Civilizational scholars have a far more precise and careful  delineation of what a civilization (like the West) consists of, and ordinarily  bring considerable empirical evidence to bear to support their claims. But like  civilizational politics, civilizational analysis is an essentialist form of social  activity. Both civilizational politics and civilizational analysis seek to identify  an essential core to the civilizations to which they refer, and to draw conclusions  about specific institutions and action from this specification. A civilization  is presumed to rest on "continuities in human thought and practices  through which different human groups attempt to grapple with their consciousness  of present problems" (Cox 2002: 157), and this presumption animates  both scholarly and political uses of the concept.  
     This connection between civilizational politics and civilizational analysis  becomes clearer if we consider a basic logical problem iassociated with efforts  to precisely define the essence of a civilization. Such exercises become tautological  to the extent that they derive the essential character of a community  from empirical observation of some subset of humanity and then use that  essentialist definition to delineate the empirical extent of the community.  Thus, Gress identifies a medieval synthesis of ideals and institutions that he  calls "Christian ethnicity"; he opposes this to universalism and argues that the  former, not the latter, represents the actual soil from which the modern West  grew, and its truest heart (1998: 211-13). In so doing, he condemns most  philosophers after Rousseau for abandoning this synthesis, and he critiques  many if not most of the social movements of the twentieth century for having  followed that false path (Jackson 1999: 146-48). So the logic is: the essence of  Western Civilization is X; these people/movements do not uphold X; hence  they are not Western. But this conclusion is in no way a surprise, because the  exclusion of those people/movements is already built into the definition. Why  not simply redefine the essence of the West to incorporate these currents of  thought and action?  
  (Continues...)  
     
 
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