The rift between the US and 'old Europe' over Iraq is not a one-off conflict but part of an ongoing historical trend, writes Jonathan Eyal
Regardless of how the Iraq episode ultimately concludes, one thing is certain: the old links between Europe and the US are being slowly dismantled by both sides. The process of separation on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean has been going on for quite some time; it was merely accelerated by the current dispute over Iraq.
When stripped of its diplomatic noise and histrionics, the transatlantic debate reveals a profound difference in psychology. Americans cannot understand why the United Nations should be regarded as a final authority; for the Europeans, even questioning the UN's status is absurd. Besides, the Americans see their actions in Iraq as a reassertion of UN authority; in Europe's eyes, however, a war signifies defeat for the UN.
The Americans fret about the alleged dangers to their own people from Iraqi weapons; the Europeans (who are actually much closer to the range of any missiles Saddam may have) choose to worry instead about the plight of Iraqi citizens. In short, the latest spat over Iraq is not just a temporary misunderstanding, but a clash of two different sets of attitudes, a profound divide which seems to get worse with every new international crisis.
Europe and the US have had their debates before. But on all previous occasions, the first rule for all politicians was to exercise self-restraint.
This time, however, Germany's chancellor used the row as a central plank in his re-election campaign. And the tactic worked, delivering a lesson which other European leaders are unlikely to forget: transatlantic disputes may not be fun, but they certainly help with harvesting votes. The same thing happened in France, where President Chirac's popularity soared on the back of his opposition to the war. The conclusion is, therefore, inescapable: the old habit of transatlantic partnership has now been superseded by an instinct for differentiation, the idea that the natural and even desirable response for the Europeans is to disagree with the Americans.
Two further events serve to underline this growing differentiation. US Defence Secretary Donald Rumsfeld's dismissal of Germany and France as "old Europe" may have been both undiplomatic and simplistic, but it stung Paris and Berlin because it was fundamentally true. The former communist countries of Eastern Europe now joining both the European Union and NATO do bring to these organisations a different perspective. The new member-states feel that they still owe a debt of gratitude to the US for helping with their liberation from dictatorship. They also regard Western Europe's inability to contemplate the use of force as inherently suspect because this, they feel, was precisely the instinct that left Eastern Europe under Soviet dictatorship in the past. Nor are they persuaded by the argument that the UN should be the ultimate arbiter of world legality; the idea that Russia should be able to circumscribe US actions remains anathema in former communist states. But, above everything else, the East Europeans deprecate the West Europeans' temptation to bait the Americans, as the French and increasingly the Germans are now doing.
Yet this does not mean - as Washington evidently still hopes - that the transatlantic debate is merely a transitory phenomenon, a blast from "old" Europe, soon to be tempered by the entry of the East Europeans.
The former communist countries are relatively poor and small. Since they cannot afford to annoy France or Germany constantly, their preferred policy will be to keep silent while their bigger continental brethren fire off verbal missiles across the Atlantic. The difference now, however, is that both Washington and the bigger European states will periodically force them to clarify their position and make a choice. A fight for influence is now developing between the US on the one hand, and France on the other. It is being conducted behind the diplomatic scenes, away from the public gaze. Nevertheless, it remains very serious, for it is a battle for the loyalty of smaller European countries. And it is destined to continue for many years to come.
But the unseen and yet most important backdrop to this dispute is a growing military gap between Europe and the US. The gap is widening because of two simultaneous trends: the refusal of some key Europeans, notably Germany, to invest in their armed forces and the staggering concomitant growth in the US defence budget. Both trends are now clearly observable in the Iraq war: most of the European countries are left to watch from the sidelines, with a mixture of awe and disdain, as US troops display the latest military technology and precision munitions. As far as the Americans are concerned, the Europeans have become military "couch potatoes", content just to watch the US engage in military conflict on their television screens. To be sure, Britain and France still have important military capabilities. And many Europeans made a conscious decision not to become involved in the Iraq war, because they did not subscribe to Washington's logic. Nevertheless, the reality remains that the US military does not need the Europeans for any future military operation, and the Europeans cannot prevent the US from resorting to war.
The Europeans remain politically useful, partly because no Washington administration wishes to be seen to be fighting on its own, and partly because the image of the US as a leader of a "coalition" reassures the American public that they continue to fight "in the service of humanity". The US will therefore retain an interest in attracting Europeans to its cause; the careful, almost schoolmasterly way by which the US administration enumerated in every public communiqué the number of countries supporting its Iraq war is a clear indication of this desire. The problem is, however, that Washington has little interest in making any compromise in order to have Europe's support; the Europeans are welcome to provide political backing, but they are also at liberty to bark from the sidelines.
Paradoxically, given the current acrimonious dispute, the immediate aftermath of the Iraq war is likely to give both Europe and the US plenty of opportunities to patch up relations. In all recent wars, the US military was eager to finish the job and get out as quickly as possible, leaving the task of picking up the pieces, or "nation-building" as Washington dismissively calls it, to (usually) the Europeans. Not this time, for the US is determined to keep its troops in Iraq for quite some time. So, the Europeans who criticised the US most will be able to "redeem" themselves by undertaking disarmament and reconstruction operations in Iraq, alongside US forces. But even then, the lull in the dispute will be relatively short: soon, allegations will emerge about the involvement of some European commercial firms in sanctions-busting trade with Iraq during Saddam Hussein's rule, and these will sour the mood yet again.
Nor is Washington likely to forget the real significance of its recent tussle, and the temptation to repay France and Germany by excluding both countries from any influence in Iraq and from lucrative oil deals could be too great to resist. Germany, Europe's biggest single power, will continue to be ignored by the US, as long as it is led by Chancellor Schröder. France will persist with its tactic of pin-pricking the Americans, but with increasingly diminishing returns. The smaller former communist countries in Europe will continue to fret about such disputes, but will be unable to influence them.
And Britain will go on trying to act as a new transatlantic bridge, earning the brickbats of many other Europeans for its efforts. Meanwhile, the US will continue to regard the Europeans as an amorphous mass of rich but weak states, who may be picked one by one or in groups in order to make up "coalitions", provided US leadership in any war is guaranteed.
Europe will not stand still, and some of the searing disputes at the moment may be forgotten. However, the continent has been rocked to its foundation, and the current shocks are unlikely to be absorbed easily.
The emergence of an alliance between the East Europeans, Italy, Spain and the UK, designed to counter-balance the Franco-German axis, is certainly one of the most significant events in recent modern history. It may just be a temporary arrangement, or the start of a much more complicated affair, which can split Europe right down the middle. Both sides will have to exercise restraint, or will have to face some severe consequences.
From almost every perspective, therefore, the Iraq crisis is not so much an isolated mishap but the logical conclusion of a historic process. The military links between Europe and the US were built at a time when both sides faced a common enemy. They would have survived the disappearance of this enemy, provided both sides shared a similar approach to international crises, but they can no longer be maintained at a time when the US has different strategic priorities, and a radically different perspective on new threats.
The two continents are unlikely to drift apart completely. But they are not likely to return to the old, cosy relationship of the past.
• Jonathan Eyal is Director of Studies at the Royal United Services Institute in London