EUROPE	FEBRUARY 23, 1998 VOL. 151 NO. 8
	Countdown As the U.S. and Britain gird for war with Iraq, Europe remains largely lukewarm or reluctant By JAMES WALSH uring their long drumroll of threats against Iraq, U.S. policymakers in recent weeks must have felt at times like General Foch at the Second Battle of the Marne: "My center is giving way, my right retreats. Situation excellent, I am attacking!" Except for Britain, which came out early with foursquare support, few of America's most strategic partners in Europe seemed to want much to do with another blitz against slippery Saddam Hussein. Even last week's vote of confidence from Helmut Kohl was less than resounding. At a Munich symposium on international security, the German Chancellor expressed his "solidarity" with Washington. "For me it is completely clear that the air bases we have in Germany are available to the Americans," he declared, adding that, in negotiating with Saddam, "there will come a time when we have to say, 'Thus far, and no farther.'" He left open the question of how close that time might be. Kohl's icebreaker did, however, begin to clear the way for broader European support--on the diplomatic front, anyway. Italy, Spain and Portugal offered their military bases for logistical lifelines, while the Netherlands, Denmark and Norway were prepared to lend political backing. More forthcoming still were the three invited newcomers to NATO: Hungary volunteered to send a medical team, Poland a unit to counter chemical warfare, and the Czech Republic some experts on logistics and landmines. Since no ground warfare is planned, and since the air bases on offer may not be needed, these shows of help amount mainly to moral endorsements, which the U.S. was more than happy to receive. But Washington could not deny that Europe's responses to a possible Gulf War II have been spotty, often reluctant and, in some notable cases, openly adverse. France, one of the U.N. Security Council's Permanent Five, remains averse to the idea of striking Iraq, and Russia's foreign-policy establishment grows more nakedly antagonistic by the day. Bill Clinton keeps trying to paint a rosier picture, but the truth is that the U.S. President has mustered nowhere near the multinational alliance that waged 1991's counterinvasion of Kuwait. In itself, Western Europe, America's principal buttress in international crises, has evinced slow and fragmentary reactions, in keeping with suspicions that a common European security policy is still very much a distant dream. Last week's hasty lineup of some additional contributors to the Gulf venture at least averted the image of an entirely Anglo-Saxon spearhead against Saddam: the U.S. and Britain, backed up by Canada and Australia. In all likelihood, though, America's sole substantial partner will remain Britain, which last week ordered to the Gulf another carrier, H.M.S. Illustrious, to join the Invincible already in place along with a frigate and destroyer. Would Tony Blair's full Monty for Clinton backfire against him on continental Europe? Some British skeptics about the tight Anglo-American lockstep suggested so last week. In Washington, after all, the British Prime Minister, after having expressed hopes of leading Europe, gave his pal Clinton hugs of camaraderie so warm as to make European concerns seem a remote afterthought. "We have stood together before in the face of tyranny," Blair pronounced at the White House, and U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, coming out of her own talks in London earlier this month, declared that America and Britain stood "shoulder to shoulder." Yet few Europeans could honestly find fault with the British, who have behaved no differently, really, than their NATO and European Union partners: that is, hewing to the line that best serves their national interests and traditions. As an international player, France has long defined itself as the country that will say no to America, striking independent stances with respect to the Arab world in particular. Germany, used to quiescence, has long sought to keep its head down and mouth shut in any foreign shootouts. Kohl's statements in Munich marked a significant but still small departure from that role. Says Jochen Thies, political editor for Deutschland Radio: "Kohl's announcement wasn't voluntary. He's a man of emotion and felt he had to do it. It is his opinion, but he would have preferred it not to be known to the public." If Kohl worried about election-year repercussions, his mind must have been eased by the opposition Social Democrats' nearly identical sentiments--a notable change from pacifism. Some U.S. senators at the Munich conference had voiced warnings about America's position in Europe if the allies failed to rally around the Gulf cause. Senator John Warner of Virginia remarked, "Make no mistake: there is a direct relationship between decisions taken on Iraq in the next weeks and months and the future of U.S. support for NATO." Although Europeans did not take that to be a threat to NATO enlargement, given the White House's pushing of that project, the warnings seemed more relevant to the still uncertain plight of Bosnia, whose peace is underpinned by the tripwire of American forces. At heart, most Europeans would prefer to see diplomatic efforts pushed as hard and as long as possible with Saddam, but they accept the need to reinforce diplomacy with the threat of punishment. Whatever their national interests in the crisis, French policymakers believe that heavy bombings of Iraq will only play into Saddam's hands, producing shock waves of incalculable damage elsewhere. A French diplomat explains, "If we thought a strike could take Saddam out and get rid of him in a puff of smoke, we'd be all for it. But what we have here is a no-win scenario." In a crunch, Paris would probably end up endorsing punitive strikes, and Washington did not expect any E.U.-level security debate. America's real obstacle in Europe is Russia. Unlike his predecessors in leadership in 1991, Boris Yeltsin entertains no illusions of a magnanimous payoff from the West in return for tacit support of moves against Saddam. The Russian President last week was no longer talking about the dangers of "World War III," but his tone remained ominous. On a visit to Italy he warned of an "inferno" from any Gulf hostilities. As Europe stumbled around and while Britain, as usual, prepared to do the heavy lifting alongside America, the men in Moscow were making it clear that Clinton's battlefront was no more excellent--or invulnerable from the flank--than General Foch's. --Reported by Bruce Crumley /Paris, Helen Gibson /London, Andrew Meier /Moscow and Alexandra Stiglmayer /Bonn
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