What went on inside the Bayerischer Hof hotel
Iwas able to identify the American and German military uniforms I saw in the Bayerischer Hof while reporting on the security conference last month—after all, we’ve all seen enough World War II flicks to know the difference between a Rangers’ colonel, a four-star general and a German captain. I must admit I did have a problem spotting the White Russian captain and the Estonian lieutenant. But recognizing uniforms turned out to be relatively unimportant, as military officers were in the minority at the conference. It is, instead, politicians who dominate the proceedings every year. They hold the big speeches—this year’s lineup included Senator John McCain, the Republican senator from Arizona, Joseph Lieberman, the Democratic party senator from Connecticut, and such powerful German politicians as CDU leader Angela Merkel and right-wing chancellor candidate Edmund Stoiber. The most important politicians at the conference were, of course, the defense secretaries, many of whom hail from such eastern European countries as the Ukraine, Romania and Macedonia. German defense minister Rudolf Scharping, the U.S. defense stand-in (for the absent Donald Rumsfeld) Paul Wolfowitz and Russia’s Sergei Ivanov were also in attendance. With all those defense bigwigs, it was easy to overlook the presence of NATO head George Robertson. From the start, it was clear what the convened were there to discuss: the fight against terrorist activities following the September 11 attacks. After the Soviet Union ceased to exist, NATO suffered what might be termed an identity crisis. Did the world still need such a powerful military council when it now had no opponent? Even some military leaders posed this question. Today, there are plenty of opponents. The hope was that the new foes would lead to the unification of the Western world and Russia. This wish did not come true. The United States accused European nations of not allocating suitable funds to build up their armies and, therefore, of not being in a position to offer effective support to the U.S. in its fight against terrorism. The Europeans, in turn, charged the Americans with hoarding their military technologies and withholding them from the European NATO nations. And, they continued, the Americans really want to fight alone anyway, so they would never accept help from Europeans. To that, the former U.S. Defense Secretary Leonhard Cohen merely replied: “the greater the military gap, the less it is likely the United States will feel compelled to call upon our European friends for assistance.” When, later in the conference, Senator McCain commented on Iraq—“The next front is apparent, and we should not shirk from acknowledging it. A terrorist resides in Baghdad.”—beads of sweat formed on the brows of European leaders. It is, after all, most unlikely that European troops would be sent to aid the U.S. in an attack on Iraq. Russia, which has enjoyed a more relaxed relationship with NATO since the September 11 attacks, strongly disagrees with a number of points that were brought up here. When a congressman from the U.S. delegation reproached the Russian defense minister for selling arms to Iran, the defense minister shot back, in the best English he could muster, “I see that some Westerners have problems with our commercial ties with states, which you call rough states. Well, we don’t like some of your allies as well, for example Saudi Arabia, which finances terrorist organizations.” It seemed that goodwill and unity swept through the crowd that evening only when the opulent buffet was opening. Sipping French wine and Löwenbräu beer and dining on salmon pâté and pork roast with all the Bavarian trimmings, military brass and politicians from all around the world seemed to become closer. I even spied a U.S. Ranger chatting amicably with a Russian officer. Yes, they were all on their little island, oblivious to the demonstrations in full swing outside. Perhaps several of the conference participants would have benefitted from a peek at Marienplatz. There, a peaceful crowd of about 2,000 demonstrators wished to be heard, some of whom wore faces of suppressed anger when they were told by policemen to leave the square. A look at the faces of the nonplussed conference participants from my seat on the hotel sofa, where I, too, was lavishly served, brought home to me just how great the divide was between inside and outside that day. I had seen it all, having interviewed demonstrators only a half hour earlier, when it was announced that the crowd should clear away. Munich will continue to host annual security conferences. Certainly, Russian officers and U.S. Rangers do not have many opportunities to talk to one another. Though this conference ended in many stalemates, there is no alternative to the process. How can there be unity without discussion? One hopes, however, that next time conference attendees take the time to listen to demonstrators. Otherwise, generals and politicians may have to give up their meetings over pâté and Pinot Noir: because those on the outside might just find their way to the inside.