Bridging The Gap

For that new generation in particular, Europe plus America is the only equation that makes geopolitical sense. Mike Williams of the Royal United Services Institute in London says the states of Central and Eastern Europe "see the U.S. as their primary defender against Russia, especially after the cold war, and they think the older allies [of Western Europe] are too skeptical about America." Aleks Szczerbiak of the European Institute at Sussex University in England notes that these nations, many of which are now EU members, welcome a revived transatlantic alliance: "The post-communist states have always been unhappy about being forced to choose between the U.S. and Europe. I suppose it's like being forced to choose between your mother and your father."

Washington has taken full advantage of the warming mood, seeking to erect a missile-defense network in Poland and the Czech Republic and constructing strategically important bases in Romania and Bulgaria. Moscow's unhappiness has done nothing to discourage its former client states. Czech Prime Minister Mirek Topolanek said last week that America's military presence is "one of the pillars of the country's foreign policy, security and transatlantic relations."

In Central and Eastern Europe, defense issues are at the heart of the New Atlanticism. But not in Western Europe. True, Britain and the United States are formidably close on military and intelligence matters. (One of Gordon Brown's first big defense decisions after becoming prime minister in June was to grant Washington permission to use an air base at Menwith Hill in Yorkshire as part of the controversial missile-defense system.) But France, the only other nuclear power in Western Europe, has had an on-and-off relationship with NATO, and Germany remains a hesitant military power. No, what draws Western Europe to America is the pull of history and culture, finance and trade.

Western Europe is also exceptional in that a big chunk of public opinion remains strongly opposed to America even as the leaders move in the other direction. According to the Pew Center Global Attitudes Project, European opinion of the United States—highly favorable during the post-9/11 year of 2002—nose-dived at the time of the invasion of Iraq and has only marginally recovered since then. In Germany in 2002, for example, 60 percent of the population had a favorable opinion of America. The figure sank to 25 percent in March 2003 and then rose a bit, to 30 percent, by the spring of this year.

This underscores the political difficulties that could lie ahead for leaders espousing closer and deeper transatlantic ties. Take the case of Spain, the only major European country where the public's favorable opinion of the United States has not risen between 2003 and this year. Bound by a campaign promise and the political realities of the Spanish electorate, Zapatero infuriated the Bush administration in 2004 when he withdrew all 1,300 Spanish troops from Iraq. Zapatero's predecessor, José María Aznar, had been one of Bush's most stalwart supporters; in part because of that, his center-right party was thrown out of office, presaging what would happen to Silvio Berlusconi in Italy last year.

Consumed by domestic politics, Zapatero has not reached out to Washington in the way Merkel or Sarkozy has, which may help explain why Spaniards are stuck in an anti-American rut. And Spain's relationship with the United States is further complicated by its strong ties to Cuba. On a June visit to Madrid, Condi Rice met with Spanish Foreign Minister Miguel Angel Moratinos. Talking to reporters, Moratinos and Rice sought to play down their differences. It almost worked. Then Moratinos defended his country's ties with Fidel Castro's government and said Rice would eventually see the merit of Spain's ways. Rice rolled her eyes and silently mouthed to U.S. reporters accompanying her, "Don't hold your breath."