FRANCO-AMERICAN RELATIONS

AFTER D-DAY

Differences between two old allies continue to run deep

 Artículo en  “The Economist” del 10/06/2004

Por su interés y relevancia, he seleccionado el artículo que sigue para incluirlo en este sitio web. (L. B.-B.)

The choreography in Normandy was French, but the screenplay was pure Hollywood. France “will never forget its debt to America, its everlasting friend,” said President Jacques Chirac. “France was America's first friend in the world,” replied President George Bush. No one mentioned Iraq. Two villains of last year's fall-out—Dominique de Villepin, former French foreign minister, and Donald Rumsfeld, American defence secretary—were absent. But beyond the D-Day celebrations and this week's agreement to a UN Security Council resolution on Iraq, is there a thaw in Franco-American relations?

Mr Bush's visit certainly warmed things up. The French saw the D-Day ceremonies partly as a counter to an American belief that France had forgotten. There was a spontaneous outpouring of thanks on the streets; anti-Bush protests were limited. Despite tense moments in their press conference, the two leaders' meetings were cordial. And securing France's backing for the UN resolution on Iraq is strategically valuable for Mr Bush. The French can even claim that, this time, the Americans listened to them. This effort to defrost the relationship will import goodwill to the string of summit meetings this month.

Scratch beneath the surface, however, and differences remain. Seen from Paris, the idea that America is vilifying France for not helping in Iraq is baffling. The Americans got themselves into this mess, against French advice: they must dig themselves out. Indeed, that the Americans might feel bitter about the French is a dishonest inversion: any bitterness is owed to the Americans for creating the problem. Distrust of America runs deep. During the war, a quarter of French people (and 30% of those aged under 35) told pollsters they wanted Saddam Hussein to win. Over half identified America as a threat to world peace. A year on, 93% of French people consider that France was right not to back the war; and 84% do not want Mr Bush re-elected. Some 12% of the French and 24% of Americans—more than in 2002—consider the other an adversary, not an ally.

The demonising of Mr Bush has intensified. A front cover of L'Express in December had him as “The man who ruined our year”. After Abu Ghraib, Bush aversion turned to nausea. The scandal, said Le Monde, is “today's heavy price for the imperial arrogance of the Bush team and its refusal to admit that the rest of the world does not function à l'Américaine.” Sentiment among officials is scarcely more polite. One talks of the “autism” of the Bush administration on the Middle East. François Heisbourg, director of the Foundation for Strategic Research, which is close to the defence ministry, says that “Bush has spoiled a 60-year-old strategic relationship.” Seminars now ask not “How deep is the transatlantic rift?”, but “Is the transatlantic alliance still necessary?”

Some bilateral channels work, such as those on counter-terrorism and non-proliferation. But they take place against a backdrop of distrust. The Americans think the French are soft on terrorism. The French think the Americans have lost their bearings in their anti-terrorism crusade, and that policy is dictated by vengeance-seeking and ideological fanaticism. Relations between the two armies are poor.

Even where bilateral co-operation exists, it masks big differences. Mr Chirac is eager to build Europe as a “counter-balance” to American power. Michel Barnier, his new foreign minister, told a recent seminar that “our American friends must understand that we are going to build Europe, not only as a market but as a power.” The French see “multipolarity” as uncontroversial; to the Americans, it smacks of strategic rivalry. This desire to assert European independence reaches back to and beyond de Gaulle, and is felt across the political spectrum. It was Hubert Védrine, a former Socialist foreign minister, who first railed against the American “hyperpower”.

Today, France's quest to preserve its global voice is coupled to a belief that, on issues such as Israel-Palestine, or the role of NATO in Iraq, America and France are miles apart. Hence the view that the best policy towards America is to sit tight and avoid aggravating matters, without offering more help than necessary—and hope meanwhile that John Kerry is elected in November. But this yearning carries its own risks, not least of disappointment.

The tone of transatlantic relations under a Kerry administration might improve. But hopes of a fresh start rest on a nostalgia for the Francophile America of the 1960s, and a delusion that denies the reality of America's post-September 11th mood. Anyway, Mr Kerry supported the war in Iraq. His reading of the Middle East might not differ from Mr Bush's. Just as France's divergence with America did not start with Mr Bush's election, so America's differences with France might well not end with the election of Mr Kerry.