What Did the Berlin Wall Carry With It Essay Example

for the rest of the Cold War. For the nearly thirty years it divided the city, the Berlin Wall stood as a symbol of the Iron Curtain and of the divide between communism and capitalism, while the tank standoff served as an emphatic reminder of the resolve of both East and West. As such, the Berlin Crisis can be considered the first climax of the Cold War.

But this raises a fundamental question: since there were no nuclear missiles in Berlin and neither the Americans nor the Soviets were directly threatened by the city, what made Berlin such a key player in the Cold War? And why, moreover, were the rival superpowers willing to bring the world so close to nuclear war over this city? The answer lies in the historical significance of Berlin.

BACKGROUND

During World War II, Berlin held a position of tremendous symbolic importance to the Allies: it was the enemy’s capital. As the seat of Nazi authority, it was viewed as the ultimate prize of a war for which millions of lives had been sacrificed. In early 1945, with Germany’s defeat then inevitable, the Big Three--Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill--met at Yalta to draw up plans for a postwar Europe. The priority was to pursue Nazi Germany’s unconditional surrender. However, the most pressing issue of the conference lay in the future of that country after its surrender, and the Big Three came to a consensus on policies of reparations, demilitarization, and denazification. Most importantly, it was agreed that both Germany and Berlin would be carved into four zones of occupation between the Big Three powers plus France. It was this decision that became a volatile

point of contention during the Cold War.

The overriding objective after Yalta remained the capture of Berlin. Allied forces raced each other to the city, each hoping to be able to claim responsibility for its capitulation. Ultimately, the Soviet Red Army took the capital, virtually unopposed by any other Allied forces. Berlin, devastated by bombs and battle, was in ruins. But in raising their flag at the Reichstag, itself nearly reduced to rubble, the Red Army had accomplished an act of great symbolic importance. In raw numbers alone, it was the Soviet Union that had played the most crucial role in Germany’s defeat, and they had suffered the greatest losses in their “Great Patriotic War” against the Nazis. The war had been devastating, and Berlin was the Soviets’ prize--a prize worth fighting for, and not one that they would be eager to give up anytime soon.

The postwar geopolitical scene settled into distinct Eastern and Western spheres of influence and so did Berlin. Its unique situation as a city half-controlled by Western forces but a hundred miles inside the Soviet Occupation Zone of Germany made it into a natural point of contention. Berlin was a city of little material importance, but, partitioned into four sectors, it was a microcosm of the larger East-West struggle and the key to the Cold War.

Both sides were well aware that the status of Berlin held great power, and it did not take long for that status to be first contested. In 1948, as a response to Allied efforts to fuse the French, British, and American sectors into a federal West German state, Stalin ordered his troops to block Allied ground access

to West Berlin--an effort to assume control over the whole of the city. This became known as the Berlin Blockade, and, although ultimately unsuccessful on Stalin’s part, it made a profound impression on Berlin and its occupying powers and resulted in the official formation of West and East Germany.

West Germany, officially the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG), established its capital at Bonn and elected seventy-six-year-old Konrad Adenauer as its first chancellor. In the 1950s, under the influence of Adenauer and due to the aid of the United States’ Marshall Plan, West Germany experienced the Wirtschaftswunder--an economic miracle—during which it transformed from a war-torn nation into the third largest economy in the world in an astonishingly short amount of time. Within a decade West Germany had achieved stability, international respect, and economic prosperity, becoming a prominent member of the international scene. Adenauer refused to adopt any pretense of neutrality, and in 1955 West Germany joined NATO. Soon after, the United States began a cautious process of rebuilding the German military, coming into conflict with the disarmament conditions of both the Yalta and Potsdam conferences. West Berlin, an enclave in the middle of East Germany, was de facto a part of West Germany but technically remained under joint French-British-American occupation. Because of this special status, West Berlin stood as a symbol of a Western commitment to the fight against communism and Soviet aggression, and, to be sure, a sharp thorn in the side of the Soviets.

East Germany, or the German Democratic Republic (GDR) as it was misleadingly named, held its capital in East Berlin. Established to act as a satellite state of the Soviet Union, its leader,

Walter Ulbricht, was a longtime communist and closely aligned with Stalin—but it would be a gross oversimplification to assume he was a mere pawn of the Kremlin. East Germany was economically stagnant under the Soviet iron boot and would serve as a stark contrast to its prosperous western counterpart. In the 1950s, emigration to West Germany became a significant problem as East Germany experienced a “brain drain” of its best and brightest, with defectors often choosing to escape to the West through West Berlin.

With the diverging directions in which the two Germanies were going, and in the context of the larger Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union, the West Berlin problem had reached critical mass by the end of the 1950s. The Berlin Wall was an inevitable consequence of this problem. The Cold War is all too often seen as a conflict between two superpowers, but the reality was far more complex and never so binary. This can be demonstrated in the struggle over Berlin, in which the actions of both the Americans and the Soviets were deeply affected by internal and external pressures, as well as the powerful interests of a third player, East Germany. And so, during what came to be known as Berlin Crisis from 1958 to 1961, it would be Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev, American president John F. Kennedy, and East German First Secretary Walter Ulbricht who would hold the decisive roles and who would be responsible for shaping the next thirty years of Cold War relations.

Khrushchev, who had succeeded Stalin following his death, was the initial mastermind of the Berlin Crisis. It was he who instigated

the diplomatic deadlock with a 1958 ultimatum, but his was not a spur of the moment decision. Rather, it was a necessary reaction to the festering threat of West Germany. Khrushchev recognized the problems posed by the presence of the West Berlin enclave and understood that something had to be done if he were to prevent the delicate balance of Cold War power from falling out of Soviet reach. “West Berlin has turned into a malignant tumor of fascism and revanchism,” he announced in 1958 at a rare press conference, “So, we decided to do some surgery.”

KHRUSHCHEV

In November 1958, Nikita Khrushchev issued an ultimatum addressed to the three Allied occupiers of Berlin, unleashing a crisis that ended with the erection of the Berlin Wall three years later.

Khrushchev declared that by rebuilding West Germany’s military and inducting that country into NATO the western Allies had broken promises made at the Yalta and Potsdam conferences, which in turn meant that the Soviets were no longer obligated to hold up their end of the deal. His ultimatum demanded that the Allies withdraw all military presence from Berlin within six months and turn West Berlin into a demilitarized “free city.” If they failed to do so, Khrushchev warned, the Soviet Union would give East Germany control over all Allied communication lines to West Berlin, jeopardizing its very existence. It was a sudden and aggressive escalation of the Cold War--but a highly calculated one. Khrushchev was carrying out his power as a single authoritarian figure. He had acted without the input of his own Communist Party leadership and did not even notify the East Germans of his intentions beforehand. The

ultimatum was, then, a unilateral decision on Khrushchev’s part, the deadline and harsh terms of which were meant to speed up a decisive solution to the West Berlin problem that had been festering for far too long.

The Soviet Premier was fully aware of the Allies’ determination to stay in Berlin and of the fact that they would never simply agree to the terms of his ultimatum. What was important was his hope that the ultimatum would succeed in provoking a strong reaction from the West. West Berlin’s unique situation and geographic location made it convenient leverage for Moscow to use in drawing concessions from the West, especially the United States. “Berlin is the testicle of the West,” Khrushchev would later remark, “When I want the West to scream, I squeeze on Berlin.” Stalin had mistakenly counted on this leverage when he launched the failed Berlin Blockade in 1948. But, ten years later, the Soviets were in a stronger position to make demands and take action. They themselves had experienced a postwar economic growth spurt. More importantly, having conducted its first successful test of an atomic bomb in 1949, the Soviet Union now possessed a full nuclear arsenal, overcoming the American monopoly. The Soviets no longer made empty threats.

The timing of the ultimatum was critical. To be sure, West Berlin had always been more of an enormous liability than it was any kind of leverage for the Soviets. Never had this been more true than in November of 1958. The menacing rise of West Germany as a growing economic and military power coincided with a deteriorating economic situation in the GDR. Adenauer’s calls for German reunification

and his desire to adopt a nuclear program greatly worried Moscow, increasingly embarrassed by the self-evident disparity in the welfare of the two Germanies. Perhaps the contrast would not have been so worrying if East Germans were not defecting to the West at an alarming rate. GDR authorities used the term Republikflucht--desertion from the republic--to describe the nearly one-sixth of the East German population that had escaped to the capitalist west. In 1952, the Inner German border was closed and a barbed wire fence erected along its length. Accordingly, Berlin became the main “loophole” by which defectors chose to escape. It still functioned as a single city--though it was divided into West and East, there was a regular intermixing of people; for example, many Berliners lived in one sector and worked in the other. This made it relatively easy for would-be defectors to escape: they would “visit” West Berlin, claim political asylum, and never return. Such was the destiny of millions of East Germany’s best and brightest.

Nothing could be more humiliating for the Soviets. It undermined their position as the leaders of world communism and those responsible for the success of communist expansion. Republikflucht refuted any pretense of communist superiority or socialist utopia that the Soviets had strived to cultivate. The responsibility of solving the West Berlin problem now fell on Khrushchev, who, soon after coming to power, had denounced Stalin’s harsh and hawkish approaches as well as his cult of personality, instead pushing for a policy of detente and peaceful coexistence with the western powers. The Stalinist hardliners that remained in Khrushchev’s communist party in turn strongly criticized Khrushchev for being too weak in

the face of western aggression, claiming that he had not been doing enough about Republikflucht. They distrusted what they interpreted as his reckless decision making--Khrushchev had recently put down a coup from within his own party, but the threat of internal conflict still remained. The 1958 ultimatum coincided with an increasingly precarious outlook on the future of the Soviet Union as the sole communist superpower and an insecure place of Khrushchev as leader of his own party. And so, Berlin was not just a liability but also an opportunity. In decisively solving the Berlin problem Khrushchev hoped to be able to reassert his dominance at home and in the communist world.

Khrushchev had been pressing the western powers, especially American president Dwight D. Eisenhower, to accelerate a solution to the Berlin problem since he assumed power in 1956. But calls for talks and treaties had largely been ignored. Khrushchev deeply resented this perceived snub, feeling that Eisenhower had not given him enough credit for his de-Stalinization and peaceful coexistence policies. He wanted to be seen and treated as Eisenhower’s equal. And so, his strategy now was one of brinkmanship: flirting with the idea of war over Berlin, he aimed to provoke a strong reaction from the west and finally get them to listen to what he had to say. Khrushchev would confess to his son Sergei that he never believed the west would start a war over Berlin; instead, he would do what was necessary to accelerate both sides towards a full solution.

In response to Khrushchev’s ultimatum, Eisenhower immediately called for a four-power meeting, which would take place in Geneva in the summer of 1959. It

would seem that Khrushchev’s threats had worked out in his favor and that he had correctly calculated the West’s commitment to Berlin as a foothold in the Eastern bloc and a key bastion against communism. Khrushchev had finally gotten what he wanted and the attention he so craved. The six-month deadline declared in the ultimatum quietly faded into history. Negotiations over Berlin could now begin.

The talks in Geneva proved to be unfruitful, but they had great symbolic value and soon after Khrushchev was invited by Eisenhower to become the first Soviet premier to visit the United States. Khrushchev was “curious to have a look at America” and eager to continue his talks with Eisenhower. However, his visit was marred by suspicion and insecurity--it was, after all, a golden opportunity for Soviet propaganda. Khrushchev and his family flew nonstop from Moscow to New York in an ultramodern jet. Shortly before their departure, it was discovered that the plane had several cracks in its fuselage and had not yet passed any safety tests. But Khrushchev was determined to make an impression and showcase Soviet technological excellence. When he landed in Los Angeles and expressed his desire to visit Disneyland, he was refused due to security concerns though the Soviets suspected ulterior motives.

He clashed with the mayor of Los Angeles, a man notorious for his hardline anti-communist stance. Despite this, whenever Khrushchev drove through town in his motorcade, he was greeted by thousands of Americans, some more cold to his presence than others. By the time he met with Eisenhower at Camp David, Khrushchev felt both slighted by his American hosts and delighted with all the attention he

had received. The talks at Camp David were certainly more successful than the talks in Geneva earlier that year. No treaty was signed and no agreements were made, but Khrushchev departed the United States with the impression that Eisenhower was willing to negotiate and that a Berlin solution would soon be possible; they agreed to continue four-power talks in Paris the following year. “We have come to you with an open heart and with good intentions,” Khrushchev had announced in a short speech, “The Soviet people want to live in peace and friendship with the American people.” Satisfied and hopeful for the future, Khrushchev furthered his policy of peaceful coexistence, cutting Soviet forces by 1.2 million--the largest percentage reduction since the 1920s.

Beaming with success from his American tour and his meetings with Eisenhower, Khrushchev departed Camp David to Beijing to take part in the tenth anniversary celebrations of the founding of the People’s Republic of China and to meet with Mao Zedong, former Communist revolutionary and now leader of China. Instead of continuing his victorious streak in Beijing, he was met with a government so deeply offended that the leader of the Soviet Union had chosen to visit socialist China after, rather than before, his trip to the United States. To be sure, this sentiment did not manifest out of the blue. Sino-Soviet relations had rapidly deteriorated since the death of Stalin. Fifteen years before, Stalin had made sure the Chinese communist movement was filled by men who would never question the fundamental correctness of Stalinist ideology and who wished to follow his example in shunning the west. The Soviet Union had a vested interest

in the success of communist China, and provided financial and technical assistance to encourage Chinese development. For the time he held power, Stalin exerted considerable influence over the actions of Mao and Chinese communist leadership.

But much had changed since then. The Soviets, with a more prosperous economy and in possession of nuclear weapons, was much less threatened by the west than the Chinese were by the time of the former’s 1959 visit. Stalin was dead. His successor had denounced Stalinism and appeared to be open to warmer relations with the west. This was alarming to the Chinese. Unlike the Soviet Union, China was at an earlier stage of its planned economy and still very backwards and not yet competitive on the world stage. Instead of an economy based on urban manufacturing, China continued to rely on an agricultural economy, worked by the rural peasantry. In an attempt to reverse their economic status and catch up with the Soviets and the West, Mao launched his Great Leap Forward in 1958. However, this was a catastrophic failure on an unprecedented scale; with the peasant farmers taken from their fields and put in factories, China underwent a massive famine and economic regression. Now in an even worse position than before, China had great reason to be antagonistic towards Khrushchev’s policies.

Khrushchev wanted to open up the Eastern bloc to some degree of economic relations with the West; the Chinese rightly felt threatened by any “imperialist” incursion into their country’s economy. In contrast with Khrushchev, Mao had fully adopted Stalin’s cult of personality and implemented many of Stalin’s collectivization policies during his Great Leap Forward. The steps taken by Khrushchev

left Mao’s regime economically and ideologically vulnerable. At the anniversary celebrations, the Chinese challenged Khrushchev’s policies and his proposed changes. Mao accused Khrushchev of softening his commitment to the socialist cause and of being too friendly with the Western imperialists. Khrushchev returned to Moscow absolutely livid; he would sever all technical and financial assistance to China in August 1960. With relations between China and the Soviet Union permanently soured, Mao now rivalled Khrushchev for the status of figurehead of the communist world and the socialist movement.

China would not be the only communist nation to distance itself from the Soviet sphere of control. Albanian leadership under Enver Hoxha perceived Khrushchev's warmer relations with the west and denunciation of Joseph Stalin as conflicting with true Marxist-Leninist communism. Hoxha believed that Khrushchev meant to take advantage of his “revisionist” policies to benefit the Soviet Union at the expense of smaller communist countries like Albania. Meanwhile, relations between Soviet Union and Yugoslavia, which had been in a deep rift since 1948, were warming again, leaving Hoxha concerned that Yugoslavia would attempt to take control of Albania. Hoxha, in turn, was increasingly sympathetic to China, and by 1958, Albania stood with China in opposing Khrushchev and the Soviet Union. There was now a clear divide of spheres of influence in the communist world, a fact which greatly alarmed Moscow. Chinese ambition to further their hardline anti-Western stance would compel Khrushchev to do the same, especially when the Soviet Union felt its power and dominance in the communist world slipping away and his Chinese critics accused him of being too “soft on imperialism.” This would inevitably impair Khrushchev’s judgement when dealing

with Berlin and the United States, in the lead up to the planned four power conference in Paris.

One more development before the Paris summit would severely hurt American-Soviet relations. In May 1960, weeks before the planned summit, CIA pilot Gary Powers was flying a photographic reconnaissance mission over a Soviet nuclear facility in the Urals when his U-2 plane was shot down by air defense forces. The United States had been flying such spy planes since 1956 and in this time had learned a great deal about Soviet military facilities and capabilities. The Soviets had been aware of these flights; however, until now, they did not possess a missile capable of striking a target at such high altitude. However, by the time of Powers’s 1960 mission, the Soviets had developed a longer-range surface-to-air missile, and, with Khrushchev eager to flex Soviet military muscle, this new Zenith missile struck Powers’s U-2 plane on May 1. Powers bailed out and parachuted to safety, where he was arrested, convicted of espionage, and given a 10-year prison sentence.

A few days after Powers was shot down, the Soviets vaguely announced that they had brought down an American spy plane. The United States, convinced that any evidence of the plane’s spying capabilities would have been destroyed when it had been shot down, issued a statement saying that a weather plane had disappeared north of Turkey. In response, the Kremlin released conclusive photographic proof that the plane in question was unquestionably a reconnaissance plane. Confronted by evidence of his lie days before the Paris meeting, Eisenhower was forced to admit that the CIA had been flying spy missions over the USSR for

several years, and that the previous explanation of a plane going down due to weather was false. Khrushchev was now on the offensive. The Paris summit, which was supposed to resolve the Berlin question and put the two blocs on the road to reconciliation, had derailed before it even began.

Khrushchev demanded an apology from Eisenhower, who, refusing to apologize to Khrushchev, instead offered to stop the reconnaissance missions once and for all, but even Eisenhower’s concessions could not save the summit. Convinced that any attempt to cooperate with the Eisenhower administration on the issue of Berlin or otherwise was futile, Khrushchev walked out of the summit a few hours after it began. This made it clear that any cooperation or agreement that could have existed between Khrushchev and Eisenhower was gone. With the American elections looming in November that year and Eisenhower soon to leave office, Khrushchev abandoned any support that remained for the president and his vice president Richard Nixon, the 1960 Republican Party nominee for president. Instead, looking for a new era of relations with the United States, Moscow threw its support and its hopes behind the Democratic Party, and its young nominee: a senator from the state of Massachusetts, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

KENNEDY

During the 1960 presidential campaign, three-time presidential candidate Adlai Stevenson advised Democratic nominee John F. Kennedy not to draw too much attention to the issue of Berlin. “It is difficult,” Stevenson said, “to say anything constructive about the city without compromising future negotiations.” As a result, Kennedy’s position on the status of the city remained rather vague until his third debate with Richard Nixon when he was asked if he would

pursue military action to defend Berlin.

“We have a contractual right to be in Berlin coming out of the conversations at Potsdam,” Kennedy replied, “We will meet our commitments to maintain the freedom and independence of West Berlin.” Despite Kennedy’s conviction and steadfast refusal to abandon Berlin, his rhetoric was solidly different from the usual warmongering cries to free the communist nations. This reassured Nikita Khrushchev, who would send a congratulatory message to Kennedy after his election, stating the USSR’s hope for more civil relations between the two superpowers. Soon after his inauguration, and against the wishes of his advisers, Kennedy officially invited Khrushchev to “meet personally” at a summit in the near future. The American ambassador to Moscow, Llewellyn Thompson, cautioned Kennedy against misjudging Khrushchev’s personality and intentions, but the President was insistent 'that if he could just sit down with Khrushchev' the two leaders would be able to come to a satisfactory agreement. The respective administrations began to make plans for the face to face meeting as regional conflicts heightened tensions.

Meanwhile, Konrad Adenauer, the West German chancellor who had presided over West Germany’s “economic miracle,” deeply distrusted Kennedy. He doubted the extent of Kennedy’s commitment to West Berlin and to a unified Germany. Adenauer, who at eighty-five was nearly twice Kennedy’s age, considered the new American president to be weak and naive. In turn, Kennedy thought that the chancellor was an old relic who had in the past impeded and would in the future impede any productive negotiations between the Americans and the Soviets. But for Adenauer, neutrality was not an option. He had everything to lose if West Berlin was lost or absorbed

into the GDR. Adenauer’s concern that the Americans could concede to the Soviets on any matter involving Berlin or German unification was greatly increased upon Kennedy taking office. Adenauer knew that Khrushchev would outmaneuver Kennedy in 1961 regarding West Berlin, and he doubted that the young president and his new administration would react in a way favorable to Bonn.

It is fair to say that even the administration itself did not know how it would react. Kennedy had acceded to the presidency at the height of the Cold War, inheriting a complicated legacy left behind by his Republican predecessors. Eisenhower’s staunchly anti-communist foreign policy of the 1950s was built by Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, who first strategized the “brinkmanship” policy in which the United States would push a dangerous and provocative foreign policy to the brink of active conflict before pulling back. Dulles favored massive retaliation in response to perceived Soviet aggression, but Kennedy was hesitant to employ the same hawkish diplomacy, which he feared would end in nuclear war and mutually assured destruction. John Foster had died in 1959, but his brother, Allen, was the head of the CIA and was now pushing for a similar provocative policy.

Founded in 1947, the CIA was a response to the increasing threat of the Cold War, and as the perceived threat of “international communism” grew larger, so did the power of the CIA. Dulles was responsible for several covert anti-communist operations around the world, and in the last year of Eisenhower’s presidency, Dulles began to formulate a plan to invade Cuba and overthrow its communist government, lead by Fidel Castro. Castro and his government had been

perceived as increasingly hostile to the United States since they came to power in 1959. Dulles, who had previously directed successful CIA-led coups in Iran and Guatemala, was concerned that an island nation so close to the United States had such strong ties to the Soviet Union and believed that the “Cuban threat” had to be dealt with aggressively. In the last months of his presidency, Eisenhower had allocated thirteen million dollars to train Cuban counter-revolutionary forces and organize the operation. Now, the dilemma of whether to continue with his predecessor’s plans fell on Kennedy.

Dulles and other hardliners in the Kennedy administration had been pushing the president to make a strong impression and move swiftly against communism in Cuba. Meanwhile, moderate voices such as Secretary of State Dean Rusk expressed strong misgivings about the invasion plan. Such a move, no matter the outcome, would inevitably change the dynamic of the planned summit in Vienna and Khrushchev’s impression of the new president, but Kennedy, listening to certain advisers, decided to allow the operation on the condition that the United States’ role in the invasion was concealed. The CIA decided upon the sparsely populated and well hidden Bay of Pigs as the point of invasion, and on April 17, 1961, 1400 Cuban exiles made a landing only to immediately come under fire from Castro’s forces. Within days, the surviving members of the brigade had surrendered. The invasion was decisively crushed; a complete disaster and a humiliating turn of events for Washington.

The Bay of Pigs debacle was a profound embarrassment to Kennedy himself, irreversibly coloring Khrushchev’s assessment of the President. Whereas before the latter’s youth and inexperience signified

the start of a fresh and brighter era of Soviet-American relations, Khrushchev now saw those traits as serious weaknesses; he no longer had any trust for Kennedy. Deeply angered by the failure of the operation, Kennedy reportedly told an administration official that his frustration made him want to “splinter the CIA into a thousand pieces.” He could no longer trust the advice of Washington hardliners in the same way. Kennedy knew that Khrushchev would see him as a weak military leader, and wanted the Soviets to believe that he was serious in his intentions as President.

Now more than ever, he felt it was important for him to meet with Khrushchev as soon as possible, believing that open, face to face communication would mitigate some of the tensions between the two administrations. Some of Kennedy’s advisors argued against the merits of rushing into such a meeting; Rusk among the more skeptical, asking “Is it wise to gamble so heavily? Are not these two men who should be kept apart until others have found a sure meeting ground of accommodation between them?” But irregardless of Rusk’s or other’s cautions, the meeting went ahead and was finalized to take place in the neutral city of Vienna in six weeks’ time.

Going into the summit, all parties were aware that Berlin question would dominate the discussions. There was deep mutual distrust and stakes were high on both sides. For Kennedy, the summit was an opportunity to size up the Soviet leader and to build up a reputation as a statesman and negotiator who could negotiate an effective solution, while Khrushchev “staked much of his prestige in the Communist world on

obtaining profitable results,” as one New York Times article described. It was also an important opportunity for the Premier to bruise an opponent he already saw as weak, though both leaders aimed to one up the other and dominate the discussion. No one could predict the outcome of the talks or how the meeting between the two rival world leaders would unfold.

The meeting was a tale of two contrasts amid great fanfare. Khrushchev was born into a Ukrainian peasant family, and had risen through the years and through the ranks to become one of the world’s most powerful leaders. Now, as Premier, Khrushchev governed with an iron will, but also his own volatile personality; he possessed a deep insecurity of himself and his country that gave him the need to one-up the United States at every presented opportunity. On the other hand, Kennedy had born into a life of wealth and grew up deeply entrenched into a sort of American aristocracy, but was now a young president who wanted to prove himself as a resilient leader and formidable negotiator in his own right. But he would soon find himself upstaged by Nikita Khrushchev.

At first, the Americans considered the summit a diplomatic triumph. Kennedy remained resolute and refused to compromise on a separate peace treaty with East Germany that would give Ulbricht control over all communication lines to West Berlin, reiterating the United States’ “contractual right” to remain in that city. If the United States were to withdraw its military presence from West Berlin, Kennedy explained, 'no one would have any confidence in U.S. commitments and pledges.” But as talks continued and both leaders grew frustrated

with the lack of progress being made, it was Khrushchev who emerged as the clear winner of the conference. Wanting to dominate the talks over Khrushchev, the President ignored cabinet officials’ advice to avoid ideological debates on communism with the Soviet leader, instead spending hours of the Vienna summit on discussion of Marxism and imperialism.

Khrushchev triumphed with ease in these debates and trampling over Kennedy, who was unprepared to engage in such debates with such a figure. Khrushchev remarked, “This man is very inexperienced, even immature. Compared to him, Eisenhower is a man of intelligence and vision.” More simply, as Kennedy would tell a New York Times reporter, “He beat the hell out of me.” Coming back to the issue of the Berlin question, the discussions became increasingly heated as the leaders grew more frustrated. “It is up to the U.S. to decide whether there will be war or peace,” Khrushchev said. “Then, Mr. Chairman,” Kennedy responded, “if there will be war, it will be a cold winter.”

By the time the conference ended two days later, no concrete decision or agreement had been made. But for the United States, for the Kennedy administration, and for John F. Kennedy himself, the meeting had been a failure. “It was the worst thing in my life,” Kennedy, a war veteran, would remark. Khrushchev, however, left Vienna elated, optimistic about his own future in the world but with a low opinion of the American president.

During his discussions with Khrushchev, Kennedy seemed to have essentially conveyed to the Soviets the American acceptance of the permanent division of Berlin, stating on multiple occasions that the United States was not willing to

sacrifice lives over Berlin. This would make future assertions about American commitment to Berlin less credible to the Soviets. Within his own sphere, Kennedy found himself in an undercut position, too. He wanted to rebuild his allies’ confidence in his leadership after the Bay of Pigs fiasco and the failed summit in Vienna. Delivering a speech on live television on July 25, Kennedy doubled down on the United States’ commitment to free access to West Berlin, while repeating that he was not looking for a fight. He did, however, announce his intention to ask Congress for an additional $3.25 billion for military spending, triple the draft, and call up the reserves. His speech reportedly angered Khrushchev, who warned that the military buildup threatened war.

But by that point, his actions could not have made a significant difference. Settling the Berlin question was already well out of the reach of the United States, and entirely in the hands of the East.

ULBRICHT

By summer 1961, rumors had begun to circulate that East Germany was planning on closing its borders. 'Nobody has any intention of building a wall,” Walter Ulbricht insisted to a West German reporter that had been questioning him over the increasingly restrictive measures being placed on cross-border commuters. That was June 15, and less than two months later the people of Berlin would awaken to find their city physically partitioned by barbed wire fences which would then soon be replaced by tall, impenetrable walls of concrete that would stand for twenty eight years.

Ulbricht, a lifelong communist and cabinetmaker by trade, served in the German army during World War I but fled to Moscow after Hitler’s accession to

power, where he worked closely with the Soviet government to propagandize German prisoners of war. After the end of World War II, Ulbricht was charged with forming a German communist administration in Soviet-occupied East Germany. He played the leading role in the 1946 formation of the Socialist Unity Party (SED), which would be East Germany’s ruling force until 1989,  and was elected its General Secretary in 1950 after the official establishment of the GDR.

Faithful to Moscow and an active supporter of Joseph Stalin, Ulbricht’s position in the GDR was secure while the Soviet Premier was alive. However, Stalin’s 1953 death meant that the Ulbricht’s status was no longer protected. Stalin’s death gave hope for reforms and Moscow itself was considering loosening its grip on Germany. A 1953 workers’ rebellion, however, convinced the Soviets of the necessity for a hardliner in power in East Germany, and Ulbricht, a classic Stalinist, received Moscow’s endorsement. Ulbricht fully implemented Stalinism in his leadership of the GDR, purging his enemies and rivals and putting down uprisings with an iron fist. The GDR adopted a fully centralized economy and followed the Stalinist model of industrialization in which concentration was on the development of heavy industry.

After Khrushchev acceded to power and denounced Stalin, the relationship between Ulbricht and Moscow became more complicated. Ulbricht depended on his hardline reputation and ability to crush any and all opposition for a secure position of power and resisted Khrushchev’s attempts to de-Stalinize the communist world. When philosopher Wolfgang Harich, himself a loyal communist, began to espouse a less austere policy of “human socialism,” he was given a prison sentence and lived for years in solitary confinement.

The differences in ideology between the General Secretary and the Premier would serve to heighten tensions in the last years of the 1950s. Ulbricht, however, had great reason to not want to relax his grip on power--the mass exodus of East Germans was threatening to dismantle the GDR altogether.

Authorities were aware not only of the fact that Republikflucht had to be addressed, but that the root causes of Republikflucht also had to be addressed. In 1958, they tried to ameliorate the worsening economic situation by lifting the system of rations that had existed since the end of the war. The result was a rushed scramble for basic goods that citizens feared would soon disappear; the lines of shoppers outside stores were longer than ever for basic commodities like bread and beat. Widespread shortages meant that shops would sometimes close at midday. When Yuri Gagarin, much to the pride of the Soviet Union, became in 1961 the first man in space, shoppers joked that Gagarin would find more milk in the Milky Way than in the GDR. It seemed as though, no matter what the government did, things were getting worse rather than better. And as the economic situation worsened, emigration increased.

Between 1945 and 1961, 3.5 million East Germans would defect to the west, coinciding with increasingly restrictive controls on those leaving the country in an effort to decrease the number of defections. The defectors were the GDR’s best and brightest. They were young professionals: intellectuals, engineers, doctors, or skilled workers whose absence was deeply felt in the well-being of the GDR. In 1957, the government issued harsh penalties for those planning to leave illegally and

for the families of those who left. The inner German border was heavily guarded and difficult to approach without suspicion, so would-be defectors sought an easier way of leaving the GDR: through the Berlin border. Berlin still, in many ways, functioned as a single cohesive city. There was one connected subway network, and many Berliners would frequently pass from East to West or vice versa, to commute to work, to visit family, or to go to social establishments--around 50,000 East Berliners worked in the West and traversed the border on a daily basis. Such visits would also experience increased restriction as time went on, but West Berlin soon became the only viable option for defection; the focal point of a human capital crisis that sent shockwaves through the GDR all the way to Moscow.

The “brain drain” had become so damaging to the GDR’s political credibility and economic reputation. By 1960, only 61% of East Germans were of working age, compared to 70% before the war. Despite the increasingly heavy restrictions placed at the Inner German and Berlin borders, emigration only increased as time went on. In the first seven months of 1961, nearly 207,000 East Germans defected through Berlin. If people continued to leave, the East German political and economic system would collapse. Ulbricht could not control the emigration crisis from below; the West Berlin problem needed to be dealt with on a macro level, with the push of the Soviet Union. “A comprehensive sealing-off of West Berlin is not possible and therefore the combatting of Republikflucht cannot be left to the security organs of the GDR alone,” the Stasi concluded.

By the end of the

1950s, the GDR was able to exert significant influence on Moscow. To be sure, East Germany was established as a satellite state of the Soviet Union and throughout its existence it depended on the Soviet Union economically and militarily. But the truth was the tail wagged the dog more than most thought. The reputation of the Soviet Union greatly depended on the prosperous existence of East Germany as a post-Nazi socialist state. If communism failed there, it would shatter the reputation of the merits of the Soviet system. Ulbricht would act increasingly independent of the Soviet Union; he did not necessarily inform the Kremlin of his decisions or seek their approval. He was no pawn of the Kremlin.

When Khrushchev issued his 1958 ultimatum, Ulbricht publicly supported its terms, even lauding Khrushchev’s “performance” at the Vienna summit. But in private, he came into frequent conflict with the Soviet premier. The only solution, he argued, was for East Germany to either take over West Berlin or to permanently close off the border. East Germany was bleeding to death, and decisive action had to be taken. The GDR simply could not continue to compete with the West if open borders remained.

However, Khrushchev wanted to wait and see if a diplomatic agreement could be reached and did not want to act in a way that would alienate Western powers or heighten Cold War tensions and render such a solution ultimately impossible. He believed that turning Berlin into a “free city” would solve the refugee problem: if Berlin was neutral, East Germans would have a lowered incentive to migrate there. Ulbricht, however, thought this idea to be greatly flawed, and

continued to pressure Moscow to close the border and “close the door” to the West. He increasingly blamed the Soviets for the refugee crisis; in a January 1961 letter to Khrushchev, Ulbricht argued it was largely due to the heavy postwar reparations placed on East Germany that his country was now struggling economically and experiencing an outflow of its most important demographics.

Throughout the first months of 1961, there was an increasing sense of urgency on the part of East Germany to close the border, and calculatingly so as to avoid suspicion, the government began to slowly stockpile materials for the building of a wall. At a Warsaw Pact meeting in March 1961, Ulbricht once again asked Khrushchev to give permission for the erection of a wall; the Soviet told him to wait until after his planned Vienna summit with Kennedy. Then, dissatisfied with the outcome of the conference, Khrushchev finally agreed to close the border in June 1961.

The West knew in advance about the intent to build a wall. On August 6, a source in Ulbricht’s own SED party provided contacts in West Berlin with the correct date of the start of the wall’s construction: August 13, 1961. Meanwhile, intercepted signals from Washington told the Soviets that the United States had no intention of interfering with the building of a wall. The Kennedy administration had its sights set in West Berlin: so long as that city was kept intact and untouched, they would not act against Ulbricht’s intentions.

On the evening of Saturday, August 12, Walter Ulbricht hosted a garden party for top level SED officials, where he signed the official order to close the border

and erect a wall around West Berlin. Construction began soon after midnight and the citizens of Berlin awoke to see armed East German workers slowly putting up a barbed wire fence. East Berliners who showed up at the border for their regular commute to West Berlin were turned back, being told only that the border had been closed. To make sure that the process went along smoothly, Soviet soldiers were present in considerable numbers, and several miles outside the city, Soviet tanks took their position and waited.

The wall continued to be built as barbed wire was replaced with concrete walls and watchtowers. It would not be long until the first of many East Germans was shot trying to escape. As soon as it was apparent that Ulbricht was making no incursion into West Berlin, a decision was made in Washington not to react, much to the fury of West Berlin’s mayor, Willy Brandt. He appealed  to Kennedy, writing that the lack of Western response had “succeeded in casting doubt upon the capability and determination of the Three Powers to react.” To reassure Willy Brandt and West Berlin, Kennedy sent the bellicose General Lucius Clay, who had thirteen years previously orchestrated the Berlin Airlift, to Berlin.

West Berliners were still allowed entry into East Berlin, although through only a few select and highly controlled crossing points. Only one of these crossing points, Checkpoint Charlie, allowed other Westerners to cross into the East. On October 22, 1961, more than two months after the wall went up, an American diplomat and his wife attempted to cross the border at Checkpoint Charlie so they could attend a theater production in

East Berlin. As official personnel, they were allowed free movement within the city under the original 1945 agreements, but were denied access by the East German guards since they refused to show their passports.

In response, Clay, who had been waiting to make a statement to the Soviets and demonstrate American resolve, sent armed US soldiers to forcibly escort the couple through the border. For the next few days, any American going to East Berlin for any excursion would be accompanied by an armed squad, and ten American M-48 tanks pulled up to Checkpoint Charlie. On October 27, Soviet tanks rolled into East Berlin. Ten pulled up to Checkpoint Charlie, facing their American counterparts on the Western side of the border. It was the first time that American and Soviet forces faced each other directly. A small dispute over a civilian border crossing had escalated into what could become all-out war. This was no longer a proxy conflict.

Both Kennedy and Khrushchev soon realized that the situation had escalated too far. In a back channel, Kennedy communicated to Moscow, telling the Soviets that if they withdrew their tanks, the Americans would follow suit. And after a sixteen hour tank standoff, the first Soviet tank cautiously rolled back. Soon an American tank did the same. Soon, one by one, they all withdrew. The border was safe once again, and a three-year-long crisis was over.

CONCLUSION

At some point since World War II, the two powers had decided that the city of Berlin would serve as the Cold War’s focal point: an matter of principle that symbolized the fundamental values and motivations of each side’s ideology. The conflict over the status

of Berlin escalated into a full out diplomatic crisis and ultimately—at Checkpoint Charlie—threatened the world with World War III.

Ulbricht got what he wanted: an end to the emigration crisis that had threatened to destroy his country. The Berlin Wall saved the East German regime. Khrushchev also saw benefit from the construction of the wall: it eased the pressure on Moscow regarding the West Berlin tumor and, hopefully, had shown the Chinese that the Soviets could stand up to the West. Still, Khrushchev was concerned about Ulbricht continuing to grow more powerful and distant from Moscow, and the wall had only served to.