In contemplating the use of air power as an alternative means to defeat the Japanese, FDR may already have moved ahead of the American Joint Chiefs of Staff in his thinking about this final stage of the conflict. This approach could render unnecessary Soviet participation in the Pacific War and give FDR more leverage when it came to Stalin’s requested concessions in the Far East. But if an invasion of Japan was not going to be necessary, why did FDR press ahead with the request for the Soviets to enter the war?
The answer has to do with FDR’s vision for the postwar world as well as with the part played by the United States and the Soviet Union as the two countries transitioned into the new era he hoped to launch in the wake of the final defeat of the Axis powers. Convinced that it was time for the United States to start “exercising the influence that power demands,” FDR was thinking in geopolitical terms. Hence, in what could be described as a reversal of President Nixon’s much-heralded overture to Beijing in the 1970s, he hoped to enlist Stalin’s support in achieving the twin goals of building up a strong, unified, and reasonably democratic China, on the one hand, and eventually removing the European colonial regimes he found so antithetical to his democratic principles, on the other. Thus he pressed ahead with the effort to secure Soviet participation in the Pacific War, even though the defeat of Japan through the use of air power alone now presented itself as a possibility.7
It was for reasons of maintaining Soviet-American cooperation in the postwar world that FDR also invited Edward Flynn to Yalta. The president was keenly aware that the greatest opposition among the American public to Soviet-American cooperation after the war came from the Roman Catholic Church. After all, the Catholic Church put up the strongest objections to his decision to recognize the Soviet Union in 1933—objections that FDR was able to counter by including a clause in the recognition agreement between Moscow and Washington regarding the extension of religious freedom to foreigners in Russia (that is, Roman Catholics). FDR hoped that Flynn’s current mission to secure the Freedom of Worship in Poland and the other parts of Eastern Europe that were bound to come under Soviet control after the war would help to placate American Catholic opinion. Instructing Flynn to continue on to Moscow and Rome after the conference, FDR even entertained the hope that he might be able to effect a rapprochement between the Kremlin and the staunchly anti-communist Holy See. Flynn would soon discover that this effort was in vain. The Soviets largely ignored his attempts to sign an agreement guaranteeing religious freedom in areas under their control. Nor was he any more successful in his conversations with Pope Pius XII. His Holiness, in fact, proved staunchly uncompromising in his attitude toward the Soviet regime and was nearly as hostile toward the Charter of the United Nations, which by April 1945 had been characterized by the Holy See as essentially nothing more than “an alliance among the Great Powers.”8
FDR was well aware of the many challenges associated with attempting to cooperate with the Soviet Union, but this did not dissuade him from trying. Indeed, his approach to Stalin in 1945 was entirely consistent with his thinking on this question in 1933. At that time, his decision to recognize Soviet Russia was based largely on the notion that Soviet-American cooperation would serve as a counterweight to Japanese power in Asia. And while it is true that this first attempt to establish a Soviet-American power-bloc in opposition to Japan failed, the final defeat of Japan presented a second opportunity for the president to pursue this goal, which had taken on new importance given the relative weakness of China. More critically, the Cold War had not yet started, and even though both sides in the Soviet-American divide harbored certain strong suspicions about the other, FDR’s forward-thinking geopolitical considerations in pursuit of Soviet-American cooperation had as much to do with his desire to counter British imperialism as with the need to maintain a strong front against Japan. FDR understood that there were certain “elements among the British, who, out of imperial considerations, desire a weak and disunited China in the post-war period.” Viewed from this perspective, his conversations with Stalin on the Far East at Yalta represented an effort to enlist Soviet support for what were essentially American interests in the Pacific region after the war.9
Having sketched out his thinking about postwar Asia, FDR suggested that the United States, the Soviet Union, and China should manage the trusteeship of Korea. The president estimated that this would lead to full independence within a period of twenty-five to thirty years—a time frame significantly shorter that the fifty years first articulated in the Cairo Declaration of 1943. He also insisted that there should be no British participation in this effort, to which Stalin wryly responded by saying “Churchill will kill us.” And FDR made it clear that he fully expected to establish a trusteeship in Indochina and had no interest “in giving it back to the French” as preferred by the British, undoubtedly out of the latter’s concern for the “implications” this might have for their control over Burma.10
Much like FDR’s conversation with Arthur Bliss Lane at the end of November over the future of Poland, his conversation with Stalin over the future role of the Soviet Union and the United States in Asia had major import. His observation that France “had done nothing” to improve the lot of the native population indicates that FDR continued to view colonialism as a form of shameless exploitation. Moreover, even though FDR still insisted, though less strenuously, that he favored “international” as opposed to “national” trusteeships, his determination that “we must find a formula to resolve the relations between the White and Yellow races”—one that would ultimately lead to independence for peoples in the Far East—remained steadfast.11
Hence, there was a parallel between, on the one hand, Stalin’s use of the German threat as a means to secure Anglo-American acquiescence over Poland and, on the other, FDR’s hope to use the threat of a resurgent Japan as a means of fostering Soviet support for his efforts to establish a unified China, maintain postwar security in Asia, and bring an end to the bankrupt system of imperialism in the Far East. As FDR observed while bringing the conversation to a close, he had been trying to keep “China alive” for some time, not an easy task given the dissension between the Nationalist government “and the so-called communists.” FDR allowed that the greater fault lay with the Nationalists. Still, the president was optimistic that he would be able to bring the two sides together now that he had established new American leadership in China under Ambassador Patrick Hurley and General Albert Wedemeyer.
Stalin concurred, noting that “there were some good people in the Kuomintang [and] he did not understand why they were not brought forward.” Echoing FDR, he said that “he did not understand why they did not get together” to form a “united front” against Japan under Chiang’s leadership. Stalin’s reference to a “united front” was exactly the sort of comment FDR was looking for—an indication not only that the American and Soviet leaders understood each other but also that Soviet support for the American agenda in China and the Far East was possible. FDR must have felt a great deal of satisfaction as the two men finished this amicable tête-à-tête before entering what turned out to be the most difficult meeting of the entire conference.12
THE PLENARY SESSION THAT TOOK PLACE AT THE YALTA CONFERENCE on Thursday, February 8, 1945, was marked by a sharp contrast between the relatively agreeable opening discussions on the world organization and the angry stalemate that emerged over Poland. Owing to FDR’s decision to accept the Soviet request for the addition of the two Soviet Republics in the General Assembly, Anthony Eden, who was tasked with giving the Foreign Ministers report that day, confirmed that a mutual understanding on the world organization had been reached. He also announced that he and his two Russian and American counterparts, Foreign Ministers Molotov and Stettinius, had agreed that the historic conference to draft the UN Charter would open in San Francisco on April 25, 1945.
FDR—mindful of the risk of waiting until war’s end to convert the wartime cooperation of the “United Nations Alliance” into a long-term commitm
ent to cooperation in the form of the new “United Nations Organization”—was delighted by this outcome, even though the conference would not open in March, as he had originally desired. Organizing a major international gathering in a mere two and a half months would be no small task. The first matter to be dealt with concerned which nations would be invited. As Eden explained, and as was widely understood by the three parties, the initial delegation to the San Francisco conference would include representatives from each of the states that had signed the “Declaration of United Nations”—in essence, a declaration of war—that FDR had crafted on January 1, 1942. As of February 8, 1945, the list of signatories included a total of thirty-seven states.13
A point of contention quickly arose, however, when Stalin remarked that ten of the countries represented in the Declaration of United Nations had no diplomatic relations with the USSR. FDR, who was perhaps overly optimistic about the prospects of the Flynn mission, brushed aside this concern, maintaining that he was quite sure most of these states wanted to establish relations with the USSR but had simply not got around to doing so. It was only in those countries “where the influence of the Roman Catholic Church was very strong,” the president said, that there was any real reluctance to move ahead with recognition.14
The three leaders then turned to the question of whether an invitation should be extended to a number of other states, including many of the Latin American Republics, that had assisted in the war effort but had not yet signed the declaration. After a good deal of discussion, led largely by FDR, it was agreed that only those countries that had declared war against the Axis by March 1, 1945, would be invited; that former enemy states, such as Italy, would not be; and that the addition of Byelorussia and Ukraine to the General Assembly would not occur immediately, as Stalin proposed, but would be put before the conference for a vote; the full support of both Great Britain and the United States would virtually guarantee their admittance to the body.15
By proposing this process for the two Soviet Republics, FDR was seeking political cover, a means by which he might counter domestic criticism that he had abandoned the one-nation-one-vote principle. It would not be long, however, before he began to have second thoughts. A number of his senior advisers, including Leahy, Byrnes, and Hopkins, had not yet heard that FDR planned to support the Soviets on this matter. After the plenary, all of them voiced their objections, highlighting the possibility that FDR’s decision might be used by isolationists in the US Congress to argue against American participation in the United Nations. Accordingly, FDR wrote a letter to Stalin asking the Soviet leader if the latter would object to the possibility of the Americans being granted an additional two seats in the Assembly (represented by two American states). Neither Stalin nor Churchill (who was also consulted) voiced an objection, and so FDR would return to the United States with this understanding—one that he kept secret for the time being.
That decided, the delegations returned to the thorny issue of Poland, which quickly devolved into an acrimonious standoff. In response to the counterproposals circulated by the British and the Americans earlier, Stalin and Molotov made quite clear that they would not accept any proposal involving the creation of a new provisional government, in any guise. They explained that the most they would accept was an expansion of the current Lublin/Warsaw regime, as put forward by Molotov in his six-point proposal. This led to a heated exchange between Churchill and Stalin, with the former declaring that, according to British sources, the Lublin government did not command the support of the vast majority of the Polish people. If the British were to “brush away” their support for the London Polish government under such circumstances, Churchill said, he would be denounced at home and “there would be a world outcry.”16
In response, Stalin demanded to know why the Allies were willing to extend recognition to de Gaulle’s provisional government, which was not elected, and yet were not able to do the same for the Lublin Poles, whom, he insisted—in a direct challenge to Churchill—had the enthusiastic support of the Polish people. Churchill all but scoffed at this notion, although he did admit that it was hard to gain a complete picture of what was happening in Poland—a comment that Stalin shrewdly rebuffed by noting how little the Soviets knew about events in Greece.
The vehemence with which the Soviets insisted that they would not agree to the formation of an entirely new government effectively meant that the two sides had reached an impasse.
In the moment, FDR decided there was no point in allowing this contentious debate to continue. Exercising his prerogative as chair, he shifted the discussion away from the makeup of the Polish provisional government and toward the question of elections. This proved to be a fateful move. Given that the Soviets, when pressed, said that a general election might take place in as little as thirty days, it appeared that the only remaining problem, the president remarked, was how Poland would be governed between now and the time of the election. Although FDR stopped short of saying it, implicit in this observation was the fact that the makeup of the interim Polish Provisional government was perhaps not as important as the democratic nature of the elections to follow, particularly if it was to be in power for such a short time. This opened up a whole new avenue of discussion about how the Allies might arrive at a solution to the Polish problem. FDR’s comments and questions at this critical juncture also indicate that his worn appearance belied the sharp workings of his mind. He clearly desired a solution that would allow all three powers to move beyond the interminable discussions over Poland toward what he viewed as the far more important task of setting up the world organization. But in light of the tensions in the room, he thought it best to bring the plenary to a close and ended the meeting with the familiar suggestion that the matter of the Polish elections be turned over to the three foreign ministers.17
THE SESSION OVER, FDR PREPARED FOR A FORMAL DINNER HOSTED BY Stalin and the Soviet delegation. The president could take satisfaction in the fact that after five arduous days, he had achieved two of his three critical objectives—settling the outstanding issues blocking the establishment of the United Nations Organization and securing Soviet participation in the war against Japan. These were no small accomplishments. The breakthrough on the UNO was universally embraced, while Admiral Leahy remarked that the Russian agreement to declare war on Japan “was worth the whole trip.”18 But the difficulties over Poland continued to worry FDR as he was wheeled to the waiting car that would take him and Anna to the banquet that Marshal Stalin would host at the Yusupov Palace.
Like many previous dinners at Yalta, this one was largely a social affair, highlighted, on this occasion, by the presence of “the three ladies,” Anna, Sarah Churchill, and Kathleen Harriman. After the afternoon’s tensions, perhaps the most significant aspect of the soiree was the unexpected warmth with which Marshal Stalin toasted Winston Churchill, whom he saluted as the “bravest figure in the world,” given the “courage and stanchness” he showed as England stood alone against Hitler.19
Clearly moved, and not to be outdone, Churchill reciprocated by raising a glass to Marshal Stalin, “the mighty leader of a mighty country that absorbed the full shock of the German war machine, had broken its back, and had driven the tyrants from her soil.”20 The two men then “rose to such heights of oratory” that their interpreters struggled to find adequate expressions in their respective languages. This fact apparently did not go unnoticed by Stalin, who, at one point in the evening, stood up with glass in hand to say: “Tonight, and on other occasions, we three leaders have got together. We talk, we eat and drink, and we enjoy ourselves. But meanwhile our three interpreters have to work, and their work is not easy. They have no time to eat or drink. We rely on them to transmit our ideas to each other. I propose a toast to our interpreters!” He then left the table to clink glasses with each of the three men in turn, while Churchill exclaimed to uproarious laugher: “Interpreters of the world unite! You have nothing to lose but your audience!”21
At this point Stalin
proposed a toast to the president of the United States, whose nation “had been the chief forger of the instruments which had led to the mobilization of the world against Hitler.” FDR responded by offering a toast to the family-like atmosphere that existed among the three of them, and to the hope that through the cooperation of the three powers gathered around the table they could “meet their objectives… to give every man, woman and child on this earth the possibility of security and well-being.”22 Stalin concurred, observing that “it was not so difficult to keep unity in time of war,” when there was a “joint aim to defeat a common enemy.” The more difficult task, he said, “came after the war when diverse interests tended to divide the allies.” But he was “confident that the allies would meet this test,” and that “their relations in peacetime would be as strong as they had been in war.”23
All in all it was, as Stettinius later recalled, the most cordial of evenings, and perhaps the most important dinner of the entire conference. Kathleen Harriman was certainly in agreement, noting “that she had never seen Stalin in such great form.”
FDR, however, had remained unusually quiet for most of the occasion. It was true, as he had said in his toast, that the three powers had come a long way and could accomplish a great deal if they continued to cooperate. But they had been arguing over Poland for three full days and, only hours before, had very nearly come to an open breach over the issue. The protracted discussions over Poland were clearly taking a toll on FDR’s health. When he returned to the Livadia Palace at 1:00 a.m., Dr. Bruenn found him in a miserable state, gray in color and “greatly fatigued,” after what FDR described as an “emotionally disturbing” session that had left him “worried and upset about the trend of the discussions… [over] Poland.” Bruenn determined that the president was suffering from pulsus alternans, a condition that can indicate severe ventricular failure. He insisted that FDR’s “hours of activity” be “rigidly controlled.” This meant at least an hour of rest every afternoon before the start of the plenary sessions and no visitors allowed before noon—an order that FDR agreed to but that he would violate first thing the next morning.24
The Last 100 Days Page 15