The Southern Flank: "Pseudo NATO." Yet another very different NATO
existed on the Southern Flank, particularly in regard to Greece and
Turkey. Here, each of the three features of high NATO was present but
in a greatly reduced form: (1) U.S. air forces were permanently
stationed on Greek and Turkish territory, but U.S. ground forces were
not; (2) U.S. nuclear weapons were occasionally positioned in these
countries, but they were rather peripheral to U.S. nuclear strategy
(and even expendable, as was the case with the Jupiter missiles in
Turkey on the occasion of the Cuban missile crisis); (3) the military
forces of Greece and Turkey were large but not modern, and have
always been more of a threat to each other than to the Russians; they
could not be integrated with U.S. forces in any substantive way. For
all practical purposes, the NATO of the Southern Flank was neither an
integrated organization nor an alliance of equivalent powers; it was
essentially a loose and sometimes fragile military coalition grouped
around a leading power, the United States.

Even though no one today thinks in terms of the old Central, Northern
and Southern fronts, these three versions of NATO during the Cold War
can nevertheless help us in thinking about NATO enlargement in the
contemporary era.

If there were a successor to the old Central Front in today's NATO,
it would seem to be central Europe, especially the three new
members--Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary. But these countries
have been integrated into NATO not like the "high NATO" of the old
Central Front but instead like the "low NATO" of the Northern Flank:
(1) no U.S. troops are stationed upon the territory of these three
countries (or even on the territory of the old East Germany--the six
eastern Länder of united Germany); (2) no U.S. nuclear weapons are
positioned in these countries; and (3) despite (or because of) their
Warsaw Pact past, the military forces of these three countries are
not serious modern forces and have not been integrated with U.S.
forces in any substantive way.

Of course, the United States could conceivably decide to transform
one or more of these three features of "low NATO" into a feature of
"high NATO." To do so, however, would entail breaking yet another
agreement between the United States and the old Soviet Union: in this
case, the agreement that led to the reunification of Germany. The
United States would most likely undertake this transformation only if
there were a prior and comparable transformation in the Russian
threat to these countries. It was such a transformation of the Soviet
threat (evidenced by the outbreak of the Korean War) that led to the
transformation of the original NATO of 1949 (merely a military
alliance) into the NATO of 1951 (with all the features of "high NATO"
on the Central Front). On the other hand, despite the ups and downs
of the Soviet threat over the forty years from 1949 to 1989, the
United States never seriously attempted to transform the Northern
Flank from "low NATO" to "high NATO."

If NATO is expanded to include the Baltic states, this could be
interpreted as an expansion of NATO's new Central Front; i.e., an
extension of central Europe. The historical connections between
Poland and Lithuania lend themselves to such an interpretation.
However, the inclusion of the Baltic states could instead be
interpreted as an expansion of NATO's old Northern Flank, i.e., an
extension of northern Europe. The historical connections between
Estonia and Latvia, on the one hand, and Finland and Sweden, on the
other, lend themselves to such an interpretation. In either event,
the expansion to the Baltic states could be merely the expansion of
"low NATO." It might be that a version of "low NATO" could be made
more acceptable to the Russians than the notion of NATO in general.
They have already accepted a version of it on their border for many
years.

The Strategic Anomaly of Kaliningrad

Before 1945, what is now the Kaliningrad oblast, or province, of
Russia was the northern half of East Prussia, a province of Germany.
East Prussia was rich in its history (it had been a center first of
the Teutonic knights and then of the Junker class), but poor in its
economy (the Junkers' grain-producing estates could not compete in an
unprotected market). The city of Kaliningrad itself was then
Königsberg, known as the home of Immanuel Kant and also for its
beautiful buildings and promenades. But between the two world wars,
East Prussia was best known for being a strategic anomaly, separated
from the rest of Germany by the famous Polish Corridor. As such, it
was a perpetual irritant in Polish-German relations; along with the
city of Danzig, the Polish Corridor provided the occasion for the
beginning of the Second World War.

The Soviet Union conquered East Prussia in 1945, annexing the
northern half while giving the southern half to Poland. Virtually
every German living in the Soviet portion was either expelled or
killed, and virtually every building in Königsberg was either
destroyed or demolished. The Soviets renamed the city after Mikhail
Kalinin, who served as the titular president of the Soviet Union for
Stalin, and they rebuilt it as an especially ugly and dreary example
of the typical Soviet style. They also made of the Kaliningrad region
a vast military complex, which included the headquarters for the
Soviet, and now the Russian, Baltic Fleet. Today, the province (whose
population is about 900,000 and whose area is less than that of
Connecticut) represents a miniature version of the worst aspects of
contemporary Russia; its rates of narcotic abuse, infectious diseases
(particularly aids), environmental pollution and criminal activity
are among the highest in the Russian Federation. Kaliningrad's
condition, and its contrast with the three Baltic states and with the
old East Prussia, is a vivid reminder of what a mess Russians can
make of a part of Europe when they are utterly free to be themselves.

Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Kaliningrad province has
been separated from the rest of Russia by the territory of
independent Lithuania, by a sort of Lithuanian Corridor. Across this
corridor there runs a military railroad line, which supplies Russian
military forces in the territory. This strategic anomaly and dismal
slum is a black hole that will be located right at the center of
NATO's new military commitment to the Baltic states.

During the Cold War era, West Berlin was a Western island and
strategic anomaly, which was surrounded by a Soviet sea. For many
years, it was a crisis in waiting, and indeed it became an actual
crisis in 1948-49 and again in 1958-61. If the Baltic states are
admitted into NATO, Kaliningrad will become a Russian island and
strategic anomaly surrounded by a NATO sea (along with the Baltic Sea
itself). In its earlier incarnation during the interwar era as East
Prussia, it was similarly a German island and strategic anomaly; it
was also a crisis in waiting, and it became an actual crisis in 1939.
Given these historical and geographical antecedents, it should not be
surprising if, in what is supposed to be the new era of
globalization, this obscure and backward place should also become a
crisis in waiting, a real blast from the past.

Of course, the very vulnerability of Kaliningrad might make it into a
hostage for Russian good behavior in international affairs,
particularly their behavior in the Baltic region (rather like the
vulnerability of West Berlin was a factor in restraining American
behavior on occasion). On the other hand, the Russians already have
in place a nuclear tripwire in Kaliningrad (dozens of nuclear
weapons), which makes the territory more like a landmine than a
hostage.

Since the time of Peter the Great, no European power has ever made a
commitment to defend the Baltic countries from Russia. As different
as they were from each other, Sweden, Prussia, France, Germany and
Britain all concluded that the risks and costs of guaranteeing the
independence of the Baltics from their massive Russian neighbor were
beyond their interests and their capabilities. When the United States
does make such a commitment to the Baltics, it will therefore be
doing something that is not only unprecedented in American history
(the closest prototype being the U.S. commitment to defend Norway and
Denmark), but that is unprecedented in European history as well. It
is also noteworthy that, as every serious military analyst believes,
the United States can only credibly defend the Baltic states by
featuring nuclear weapons as a means. It is thus odd that an
administration sincerely determined to reduce the numbers and status
of nuclear weapons worldwide would consider raising their
significance in such a sensitive locale as the Baltics.

This historical leap by the United States to defend the Baltic
republics rests upon the current American conviction that, for
decades to come, America will remain as strong and as committed as it
is today and that Russia will remain as weak and as feckless.
However, the current balance (or imbalance) between American and
Russian power would have been inconceivable only two decades ago.
Will it still be conceivable only two decades from now?