In the case of Eastern Europe generally, even more so than in Poland, it seemed clear that Roosevelt, on a de facto basis, was prepared to live with spheres-of-influence diplomacy. Nevertheless, he remained constantly sensitive to the political peril he faced at home on the issue. As Congressman John Dingell stated in a public warning in August 1943, "We Americans are not sacrificing, fighting, and dying to make permanent and more powerful the communistic government of Russia and to make Joseph Stalin a dictator over the liberated countries of Europe." Such sentiments were widespread. Indeed, it was concern over such opinions that led Roosevelt to urge the Russians to be sensitive to American political concerns. In Eastern Europe for the most part, as in Poland, the key question was whether the United States could somehow find a way to acknowledge spheres of influence, but within a context of universalist principles, so that the American people would not feel that the Atlantic Charter had been betrayed.

The future of Germany represented a third critical point of conflict. For emotional as well as political reasons, it was imperative that steps be taken to prevent Germany from ever again waging war. In FDR's words, "We have got to be tough with Germany, and I mean the German people not just the Nazis. We either have to castrate the German people or you have got to treat them in such a manner so they can't just go on reproducing people who want to continue the way they have in the past." Consistent with that position, Roosevelt had agreed with Stalin at Tehran on the need for destroying a strong Germany by dividing the country into several sectors, "as small and weak as possible."

Still operating on that premise, Roosevelt endorsed Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau's plan to eliminate all industry from Germany and convert the country into a pastoral landscape of small farms. Not only would such a plan destroy any future war-making power, it would also reassure the Soviet Union of its own security. "Russia feared we and the British were going to try to make a soft peace with Germany and build her up as a possible future counter-weight against Russia," Morgenthau said. His plan would avoid that, and simultaneously implement Roosevelt's insistence that "every person in Germany should realize that this time Germany is a defeated nation." Hence, in September 1944, Churchill and Roosevelt approved the broad outlines of the Morgenthau plan as their policy for Germany.

Within weeks, however, the harsh policy of pastoralization came unglued. From a Soviet perspective, there was the problem of how Russia could exact the reparations she needed from a country with no industrial base. American policymakers, in turn, objected that a Germany without industrial capacity would prove unable to support herself, placing the entire burden for maintaining the populace on the Allies. Rumors spread that the Morgenthau plan was stiffening German resis-tance on the western front. American business interests, moreover, suggested the importance of retaining German industry as a key to postwar commerce and trade.

As a result, Allied policy toward Germany became a shambles. "No one wants to make Germany a wholly agricultural nation again," Roosevelt insisted. "No one wants 'complete eradication of German industrial production capacity in the Ruhr and the Saar.' " Confused about how to proceed, Roosevelt--in effect--adopted a policy of no policy. "I dislike making detailed plans for a country which we do not yet occupy," he said. When Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt met for the last time in Yalta, this failure to plan prevented a decisive course of action. The Russians insisted on German reparations of $20 billion, half of which would go to the Soviet Union. Although FDR accepted Stalin's figure as a basis for discussion, the British and Americans deferred any settlement of the issue, fearing that they would be left with the sole responsibility for feeding and housing the German people. The only agreement that could be reached was to refer the issue to a new tripartite commission. Thus, at just the moment when consensus on a policy to deal with their common enemy was most urgent, the Allies found themselves empty handed, allowing conflict and misunderstanding over another central question to join the already existing problems over Eastern Europe.

Directly related to each of these issues, particularly the German question, was the problem of postwar economic reconstruction. The issue seemed particularly important to those Americans concerned about the postwar economy in the United States. Almost every business and political leader feared resumption of mass unemployment once the war ended. Only the development of new markets, extensive trade, and worldwide economic cooperation could prevent such an eventuality. "The capitalistic system is essentially an international system," one official declared. "If it cannot function internationally, it will break down completely." The Atlantic Charter had taken such a viewpoint into account when it declared that all states should enjoy access, on equal terms, to "the raw materials of the world which are needed for their economic prosperity."

To promote these objectives, the United States took the initiative at Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, in 1944 by creating a World Bank with a capitalization of $7.6 billion and the International Monetary Fund with a capitalization of $7.3 billion. The two organizations would provide funds for rebuilding Europe, as well as for stabilizing world currency. Since the United States was the major contributor, it would exercise decisive control over how the money was spent. The premise underlying both organizations was that a stable world required healthy economies based on free trade.

Attitudes toward economic reconstruction had direct import for postwar policies toward Germany and Eastern Europe. It would be difficult to have a stable European economy without a significant industrial base in Germany. Pastoral countries of small farms rarely possessed the wherewithal to become customers of large capitalist enterprises. On the other hand, a prosperous German economy, coupled with access to markets in Eastern and Western Europe, offered the prospect of avoiding a recurrence of depression and guaranteed a significant American presence in European politics as well. Beyond this, of course, it was thought that if democracy was to survive, as it had not after 1918, countries needed a thriving economy.

Significantly, economic aid also offered the opportunity either to enhance or diminish America's ties to the Soviet Union. Averell Harriman, the American ambassador to Moscow after October 1943, had engaged in extensive business dealings with the Soviet Union during the 1920S and believed firmly in the policy of providing American assistance to rebuild the Soviet economy. Such aid, Harriman argued, "would be in the self-interest of the United States" because it would help keep Americans at work producing goods needed by the Russians. Just as important, it would provide "one of the most effective weapons to avoid the development of a sphere of influence of the Soviet Union over eastern Europe and the Balkans."

Proceeding on these assumptions, Harriman urged the Russians to apply for American aid. They did so, initially, in December 1943 with a request for a $1 billion loan at an interest rate of one-half of 1 percent, then again in January 1945 with a request for a $6 billion loan at an interest rate of 2.25 percent. Throughout this period, American officials appeared to encourage the Soviet initiative. Secretary of the Treasury Morgenthau had come up with his own plan for a $10 billion loan at 2 percent interest. When Chamber of Commerce head Eric Johnson visited Moscow, Stalin told him: "I like to do business with American businessmen. You fellows know what you want. Your word is good, and, best of all, you stay in office a long time--just like we do over here." So enthusiastic were some State Department officials about postwar economic arrangements that they predicted exports of as much as $1 billion a year to Russia. Molotov and Mikoyan encouraged such optimism, with the Soviets promising "a voluminous and stable market such as no other customer would ever [offer]."

As the European war drew to a close, however, the American attitude shifted from one of eager encouragement to skeptical detach-ment. Harriman and his aides in Moscow perceived a toughening of the Soviet position on numerous issues, including Poland and Eastern Europe. Hence, they urged the United States to clamp down on lend-lease and exact specific concessions from the Russians in return for any ongoing aid. Only if the Soviets "played the international game with us in accordance with our standards," Harriman declared, should the United States offer assistance. By April 1945, Harriman had moved to an even more hard-line position. "We must clearly recognize," he said, "that the Soviet program is the establishment of totalitarianism, ending personal liberty and democracy." A week later he urged the State Department to view the Soviet loan request with great suspicion. "Our basic interest," he cabled, "might better be served by increasing our trade with other parts of the world rather than giving preference to the Soviet Union as a source of supply."

Congress and the American people, meanwhile, seemed to be turning against postwar economic aid. A public opinion poll in December 1944 showed that 70 percent of the American people believed the Allies should repay their lend-lease debt in full. Taking up the cry for fiscal restraint, Senator Arthur Vandenberg told a friend: "We have a rich country, but it is not rich enough to permit us to support the world." Fearful about postwar recession and the possibility that American funds would be used for purposes it did not approve, Congress placed severe constraints on continuation of any lend-lease support once the war was over and indicated that any request for a postwar loan would encounter profound skepticism.

Roosevelt's response, in the face of such attitudes, was once again to procrastinate. Throughout the entire war he had ardently espoused a generous and flexible lend-lease policy toward the Soviet Union. For the most part, FDR appeared to endorse Secretary Morgenthau's attitude that "to get the Russians to do something [we] should ... do it nice. . . . Don't drive such a hard bargain that when you come through it does not taste good." Consistent with that attitude, he had rejected Harriman's advice to demand quid pro quos for American lend-lease. Economic aid, he declared, did not "constitute a bargaining weapon of any strength," particularly since curtailing lend-lease would harm the United States as much as it would injure the Russians. Nevertheless, Roosevelt accepted a policy of postponement on any discussion of postwar economic arrangements. "I think it's very important," the president declared, "that we hold back and don't give [Stalin] any promise until we get what we want." Clearly, the amount of American aid to the Soviet Union--and the attitude which accompanied that aid-- could be decisive to the future of American-Soviet relations. Yet in this--as in so many other issues--Roosevelt gave little hint of the ultimate direction he would take, creating one more dimension of uncertainty amidst the gathering confusion that surrounded postwar international arrangements.

The final issue around which the Cold War revolved was that of the atomic bomb. Development of nuclear weapons not only placed in human hands the power to destroy all civilization, but presented as well the critical question of how such weapons would be used, who would control them, and what possibilities existed for harnessing the incalcu-lable energy of the atom for the purpose of international peace and cooperation rather than destruction. No issue, ultimately, would be more important for human survival. On the other hand, the very nature of having to build the A-bomb in a world threatened by Hitler's madness mandated a secrecy that seriously impeded, from the beginning, the prospects for cooperation and international control.

The divisive potential of the bomb became evident as soon as Albert Einstein disclosed to Roosevelt the frightening information that physi-cists had the capacity to split the atom. Knowing that German scientists were also pursuing the same quest, Roosevelt immediately ordered a crash program of research and development on the bomb, soon dubbed the "Manhattan Project." British scientists embarked on a similar effort, collaborating with their American colleagues. The bomb, one British official noted, "would be a terrific factor in the postwar world . . . giving an absolute control to whatever country possessed the secret." Although American advisors urged "restricted interchange" of atomic energy information, Churchill demanded and got full cooperation. If the British and the Americans worked together, however, what of the Soviet Union once it became an ally?

In a decision fraught with significance for the future, Roosevelt and Churchill agreed in Quebec in August 1943 to a "full exchange of information" about the bomb with "[neither] of us [to] communicate any information about [the bomb] to third parties except by mutual consent." The decision ensured Britain's future interests as a world power and guaranteed maximum secrecy; but it did so in a manner that would almost inevitably provoke Russian suspicion about the intentions of her two major allies.

The implications of the decision were challenged just one month later when Neils Bohr, a nuclear physicist who had escaped from Nazi-occupied Denmark, approached Roosevelt (indirectly through Felix Frankfurter) with the proposal that the British and Americans include Russia in their plans. Adopting a typically Rooseveltian stance, the president both encouraged Bohr to believe that he was "most eager to explore" the possibility of cooperation and almost simultaneously reaf-firmed his commitment to an exclusive British-American monopoly over atomic information. Meeting personally with Bohr on August 26, 1944, Roosevelt agreed that "contact with the Soviet Union should be tried along the lines that [you have] suggested." Yet in the meantime, Roosevelt and Churchill had signed a new agreement to control available supplies of uranium and had authorized surveillance of Bohr "to insure that he is responsible for no leakage of information, particularly to the Russians." Evidently, Roosevelt hoped to keep open the possibility of cooperating with the Soviets--assuming that Bohr would somehow communicate this to the Russians--while retaining, until the moment was right, an exclusive relationship with Britain. Implicit in Roosevelt's posture was the notion that sharing atomic information might be a quid pro quo for future Soviet concessions. On the surface, such an argument made sense. Yet it presumed that the two sides were operating on the same set of assumptions and perceptions--clearly not a very safe presumption. In this, as in so many other matters, Roosevelt appears to have wanted to retain all options until the end. Indeed, a meeting to discuss the sharing of atomic information was scheduled for the day FDR was to return from Warm Springs, Georgia. The meeting never took place, leaving one more pivotal issue of contention unresolved as the war drew to a close.

Conclusion.

Given the nature of the personalities and the nations involved, it was perhaps not surprising that, as the war drew to an end, virtually none of the critical issues on the agenda of postwar relationships had been resolved. Preferring to postpone decisions rather than to confront the full dimension of the conflicts that existed, FDR evidently hoped that his own political genius, plus the exigencies of postwar conditions, would pave the way for a mutual accommodation that would somehow satisfy both America's commitment to a world of free trade and democratic rule, and the Soviet Union's obsession with national security and safely defined spheres of influence. The Russians, in turn, also appeared content to wait, in the meantime working militarily to secure maximum leverage for achieving their sphere-of-influence goals. What neither leader nor nation realized, perhaps, was that in their delay and scheming they were adding fuel to the fire of suspicion that clearly existed between them and possibly missing the only opportunity that might occur to forge the basis for mutual accommodation and coexistence.

For nearly half a century, the country had functioned within a political world shaped by the Cold War and controlled by a passionate anticommunism that used the Kremlin as its primary foil. Not only did the Cold War define America's stance in the world, dictating foreign policy choices from Southeast Asia to Latin-America; it defined the contours of domestic politics as well. No group could secure legitimacy for its political ideas if they were critical of American foreign policy, sympa-thetic in any way to "socialism," or vulnerable to being dismissed as "leftist" or as "soft on communism." From national health insurance to day care centers for children, domestic policies suffered from the crippling paralysis created by a national fixation with the Soviet Union.

Now, it seemed likely that the Cold War would no longer exist as the pivot around which all American politics revolved. However much politicians were unaccustomed to talking about anything without anti-communism as a reference point, it now seemed that they would have to look afresh at problems long since put aside because they could not be dealt with in a world controlled by Cold War alliances.

In some ways, America seemed to face the greatest moment of possibility in all of postwar history as the decade of the 1990s began. So much positive change had already occurred in the years since World War II--the material progress, the victories against discrimination, the new horizons that had opened for education and creativity. But so much remained to be done as well in a country where homelessness, poverty, and drug addiction reflected the abiding strength that barriers of race, class, and gender retained in blocking people's quest for a decent life.

Glossary:

Cold War - is the term used to describe the intense rivalry that developed after World War II between groups of Communist and non-Communist nations/ On one side were the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) and its Communist allies, often referred to as the Eastern bloc. On the other side were the United States and its democratic allies, usually referred to as the Western bloc. The struggle was called the Cold War because it did not actually lead to fighting, or "hot" war, on a wide scale.

Iron Curtain - was the popular phrase, which Churchill made to refer to Soviet barriers against the West. Behind these barriers, the USSR steadily expanded its power.

Marshall Plan - encouraged European nations to work together for economic recovery after World War II (1939-1945) / In June 1947, the United States agreed to administer aid to Europe in the countries would meet to decide what they needed/ The official name of the plane was the European Recovery Program. It is called the Marshall Plane because Secretary of the State George C. Marshall first suggested it.

Potsdam Conference -was the last meeting among the Leaders of Great Britain, the Soviet Union and the United States, during World War II. The conference was held at Potsdam, Germany, near Berlin. It opened in July 17, 1945, about two months after Germany's defeat in the war. Present at the opening were U.S. President Harry S. Truman, British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, and the Soviet Premier Josef Stalin.

Yalta Conference - was one of the most important meetings of key Allied Leaders during World War II. These Leaders were President Franklin D. Roosevelt of the United States, Prime Minister Winston Churchill of Great Britain, and Premier Josef Stalin of the Soviet Union. Their countries became known as the "Big Three". The conference took place at Yalta, a famous Black Sea resort in the Crimea, from Feb. 4 to 11, 1945. Through the years decisions made there regarding divisions in Europe have stirred bitter debates.

The reference list.

William H. Chafe

"The Unfinished Journey: America since World War II" New York Oxford, Oxford University press, 1991.

David Caute "The Great Fear", 1978

Michael Belknap "Cold War Political Justice", 1977

Allen D. Harper "The politics of Loyalty", 1959

Robert Griffin "The politics of Fear", 1970

James Wechler "The Age Suspicion" 1980

Alistair Cooke "A Generation on Trial", 1950

An outline of American History

World Book

Henry Borovik "Cold War", 1997

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