Take My Hand, Precious Lord / Just a Closer Walk
Saturday, May 27, 2017
Germany Is Quietly Building a European Army Under Its Command
EuroBy Elisabeth Braw, Foreign Policy, May 22, 2017
Every few years, the idea of an EU army finds its way back into the news, causing a kerfuffle. The concept is both fantasy and bogeyman: For every federalist in Brussels who thinks a common defense force is what Europe needs to boost its standing in the world, there are those in London and elsewhere who recoil at the notion.
But this year, far from the headlines, Germany and two of its European allies, the Czech Republic and Romania, quietly took a radical step down a path toward something that looks like an EU army while avoiding the messy politics associated with it: They announced the integration of their armed forces.
Romania’s entire military won’t join the Bundeswehr, nor will the Czech armed forces become a mere German subdivision. But in the next several months each country will integrate one brigade into the German armed forces: Romania’s 81st Mechanized Brigade will join the Bundeswehr’s Rapid Response Forces Division, while the Czech 4th Rapid Deployment Brigade, which has served in Afghanistan and Kosovo and is considered the Czech Army’s spearhead force, will become part of the Germans’ 10th Armored Division. In doing so, they’ll follow in the footsteps of two Dutch brigades, one of which has already joined the Bundeswehr’s Rapid Response Forces Division and another that has been integrated into the Bundeswehr’s 1st Armored Division. According to Carlo Masala, a professor of international politics at the University of the Bundeswehr in Munich, “The German government is showing that it’s willing to proceed with European military integration”–even if others on the continent aren’t yet.
European Commission President Jean-Claude Juncker has repeatedly floated the idea of an EU army, only to be met with either ridicule or awkward silence. That remains the case even as the U.K., a perennial foe of the idea, is on its way out of the union. There’s little agreement among remaining member states over what exactly such a force would look like and which capabilities national armed forces would give up as a result. And so progress has been slow going. This March, the European Union created a joint military headquarters–but it’s only in charge of training missions in Somalia, Mali, and the Central African Republic and has a meager staff of 30. Other multinational concepts have been designed, such as the Nordic Battle Group, a small 2,400-troop rapid reaction force formed by the Baltic states and several Nordic countries and the Netherlands, and Britain’s Joint Expeditionary Force, a “mini-NATO” whose members include the Baltic states, Sweden, and Finland. But in the absence of suitable deployment opportunities, such operations-based teams may as well not exist.
But under the bland label of the Framework Nations Concept, Germany has been at work on something far more ambitious–the creation of what is essentially a Bundeswehr-led network of European miniarmies. “The initiative came out of the weakness of the Bundeswehr,” said Justyna Gotkowska, a Northern Europe security analyst at Poland’s Centre for Eastern Studies think tank. “The Germans realized that the Bundeswehr needed to fill gaps in its land forces … in order to gain political and military influence within NATO.” An assist from junior partners may be Germany’s best shot at bulking out its military quickly–and German-led miniarmies may be Europe’s most realistic option if it’s to get serious about joint security. “It’s an attempt to prevent joint European security from completely failing,” Masala said.
“Gaps” in the Bundeswehr is an understatement. In 1989, the West German government spent 2.7 percent of GDP on defense, but by 2000 spending had dropped to 1.4 percent, where it remained for years. Indeed, between 2013 and 2016 defense spending was stuck at 1.2 percent–far from NATO’s 2 percent benchmark. In a 2014 report to the Bundestag, the German parliament, the Bundeswehr’s inspectors-general presented a woeful picture: Most of the Navy’s helicopters were not working, and of the Army’s 64 helicopters, only 18 were usable. And while the Cold War Bundeswehr had consisted of 370,000 troops, by last summer it was only 176,015 men and women strong.
Since then the Bundeswehr has grown to more than 178,000 active-duty troops; last year the government increased funding by 4.2 percent, and this year defense spending will grow by 8 percent. But Germany still lags far behind France and the U.K. as a military power. And boosting defense spending is not uncontroversial in Germany, which is wary of its history as a military power. Foreign Minister Sigmar Gabriel recently said it was “completely unrealistic” to think that Germany would reach NATO’s defense spending benchmark of 2 percent of GDP–even though nearly all of Germany’s allies, from smaller European countries to the United States, are urging it to play a larger military role in the world.
Germany may not yet have the political will to expand its military forces on the scale that many are hoping for–but what it has had since 2013 is the Framework Nations Concept. For Germany, the idea is to share its resources with smaller countries in exchange for the use of their troops. For these smaller countries, the initiative is a way of getting Germany more involved in European security while sidestepping the tricky politics of Germany military expansion. “It’s a move towards more European military independence,” Masala said. “The U.K. and France are not available to take a lead in European security”–the U.K. is on a collision course with its EU allies, while France, a military heavyweight, has often been a reluctant participant in multinational efforts within NATO. “That leaves Germany,” he said. Operationally, the resulting binational units are more deployable because they’re permanent (most multinational units have so far been ad hoc). Crucially for the junior partners, it also amplifies their military muscle. And should Germany decide to deploy an integrated unit, it could only do so with the junior partner’s consent.
Of course, since 1945 Germany has been extraordinarily reluctant to deploy its military abroad, until 1990 even barring the Bundeswehr from foreign deployments. Indeed, junior partners–and potential junior partners–hope that the Framework Nations arrangement will make Germany take on more responsibility for European security. So far, Germany and its multinational miniarmies remain only that: small-scale initiatives, far removed from a full-fledged European army. But the initiative is likely to grow. Germany’s partners have been touting the practical benefits of integration: For Romania and the Czech Republic, it means bringing their troops to the same level of training as the German military; for the Netherlands, it has meant regaining tank capabilities. (The Dutch had sold the last of their tanks in 2011, but the 43rd Mechanized Brigade’s troops, who are partially based with the 1st Armored Division in the western German city of Oldenburg, now drive the Germans’ tanks and could use them if deployed with the rest of the Dutch army.) Col. Anthony Leuvering, the 43rd Mechanized’s Oldenburg-based commander, told me that the integration has had remarkably few hiccups. “The Bundeswehr has some 180,000 personnel, but they don’t treat us like an underdog,” he said. He expects more countries to jump on the bandwagon: “Many, many countries want to cooperate with the Bundeswehr.” The Bundeswehr, in turn, has a list of junior partners in mind, said Robin Allers, a German associate professor at the Norwegian Institute for Defence Studies who has seen the German military’s list. According to Masala, the Scandinavian countries–which already use a large amount of German-made equipment–would be the best candidates for the Bundeswehr’s next round of integration.
So far, the low-profile and ad hoc approach of the Framework Nations Concept has worked to its advantage; few people in Europe have objected to the integration of Dutch or Romanian units into German divisions, partly because they may not have noticed. Whether there will be political repercussions should more nations sign up to the initiative is less clear.
Outside of politics, the real test of the Framework Nations’ value will be the integrated units’ success in combat. But the trickiest part of integration, on the battlefield and off, may turn out to be finding a lingua franca. Should troops learn each other’s languages? Or should the junior partner speak German? The German-speaking Dutch Col. Leuvering reports that the binational Oldenburg division is moving toward using English.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Remembering Mr. Rogers, a true-life ‘helper’ when the world still needs one
I was putting my 4-year-old son to bed on Monday night, and scrolling through the news in the dark, finding only more darkness beyond.
The horror and heartbreak of the bombing in Manchester, England were unfolding. Amid the fear and uncertainty, I saw countless instances of selflessness and unity–people welcoming strangers into their homes, taxi drivers helping families get away from the scene, family reaching out to find loved ones who haven’t answered their phones (often finding them scared but safe).
Threaded throughout these messages, I saw one meme being shared and reshared. It was something Fred Rogers once said, advice for parents trying to find a way to talk about violence and tragedy with young children.
The photo of him is accompanied by these words. “My mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers–so many caring people in this world.”
Some wonder if he really said this. Often quotes online that seem too perfect to be true are exactly that. But no, Mr. Rogers really said it. He said it often.
Then I scrolled a little further and found this tweet.
On this day in 1967, a show featuring a kindly man in a cardigan & blue sneakers debuted on public television-#MisterRogersNeighborhood.
The date’s a little off. (He recorded the first episode of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood on Sept. 27, 1967, and it aired nationally in February 1968.)
But that notion of 50 years hit me hard. And it stirred up a memory of him from long ago.
Fred Rogers was from Pittsburgh, my hometown, and I’m a member of just one generation that grew up loving this man, who taught us to be kind above all and see ourselves as special and good, no matter what the world tried to tell us to the contrary.
When I got older, I learned firsthand that Fred Rogers was the real thing. That gentle soul? It was no act.
Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood ran until 2001, but I lost touch with it as I got older. That’s how it goes. But in college, one day, I rediscovered it, just when I needed it.
I was having a hard time then. The future seemed hopeless. I was struggling, lonely, dealing with a lot of broken pieces within myself, and not adjusting well. I was a student at the University of Pittsburgh but felt rudderless.
I wanted to be a writer but received nothing but discouragement from home. Nevertheless, I devoted everything I had to the school paper, The Pitt News, hoping that would propel me into some kind of worthwhile career and future. It seemed just as likely that I’d fall on my face and end up nowhere.
On top of that, I was grappling with a loss that I couldn’t talk about, partly because I had no one I could talk to. One span of time in winter of 1997 was especially bad. I was angry, alone, unhappy. But walking out of the dorm one morning, I heard familiar music in the hallway: “Won’t you be my neighbor…”
The TV was playing in an empty common room, tuned to WQED (which was Mr. Rogers’ home station.) And there he was–the sweatered one, feeding his fish, checking in with that little trolley that rolled through the wall into the Neighborhood of Make Believe, and asking me what I do with the mad that I feel. (I had lots to spare. Still do.)
It feels silly to say–it felt silly then–but I stood mesmerized. His show felt like a cool hand on a hot head. I never sat down, but I watched the whole thing. Afterward, I left feeling … better.
Several days later, I got in the elevator at the paper to ride down to the lobby of the William Pitt Union. The doors opened, and who is standing there but Mr. Rogers. For real.
I thought I was hallucinating for a moment. But there he stood, a slim, old man in a big coat and scarf, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, a small case clasped between his hands in front of him.
I stepped aboard the elevator, staring, and he nodded at me. I nodded back. I think.
Chances are, he could sense a geek-out coming. But I kept it together.
Almost.
We rode down in silence, and when the doors opened, he let me go out first. I stepped out but quickly turned back around. “Mr. Rogers… I don’t mean to bother you. But I just wanted to say thanks.”
He smiled patiently. I imagine this sort of thing happened to him about every 10 feet. Then he said: “Did you grow up as one of my television neighbors?” I felt like crying. Yeah. I did. I was his neighbor.
He opened his arms, lifting his satchel in the air, and beckoning me in. “It’s good to see you again neighbor.”
I got to hug Mr. Rogers, y’all!
I pulled it together. Then we were walking out and making small talk. I mentioned being a big fan of Johnny Costa, who was the piano player on the show. When you get older, you learn to appreciate things like the unparalleled jazz that this old children’s TV show featured.
Costa had died just about a year before, so we talked about him as we walked, and how Mr. Rogers marveled at the speed of his improvisations–and worked hard to get him to slow it down for little ears to appreciate.
Then he opened the student union door and said goodbye. That’s when I blurted in a kind of rambling gush that I’d stumbled on the show again recently, at a time when I truly needed it. He listened there in the doorway, the bitter Pittsburgh winter wind flowing around him into the warm lobby bustling with students.
When I ran out of words, I just said, “So … thanks for that. Again.”
Mr. Rogers nodded. He looked down, and let the door close again. He undid his scarf and motioned to the window, where he sat down on the ledge.
This is what set Mr. Rogers apart. No one else would’ve done this. No one.
He said, “Do you want to tell me what was upsetting you so?”
So I sat. And I told him the truth. I told him my grandfather had just died. He was one of the few good things I had. I felt adrift. Brokenhearted. On top of everything else. This was just too much. I guess Pap had been my version of a “helper” in hard times, and I was still looking for him, even though I knew he was gone.
I like to think I didn’t go on and on, but pretty soon Mr. Rogers was telling me about his grandfather–and a small boat the old man bought for him when he was a young man.
Mr. Rogers asked how long ago my Pap had died. It had been several months, but the wound was still raw. His grandfather was obviously gone decades. Now that 21 years have passed, I know that pain of losing someone so special shifts to the background, but never really goes away.
Mr. Rogers also still missed his grandfather, still wished he was here when he needed him. He also wished he still had the boat. “You’ll never stop missing the people you love,” Mr. Rogers told me.
His grandfather had given Mr. Rogers the rowboat as a reward for something. I forget what. Grades, or graduation. Something important. Something he’d worked hard to accomplish.
He didn’t have either now, his grandfather or the boat, but he had that work ethic, that knowledge and perseverance the old man encouraged with his gift. “Those things never go away,” Mr. Rogers said. I’m sure my eyes looked like stewed tomatoes.
At the end, I just said thank you again–for about the 13th time. And I apologized if I made him late for wherever he was headed. Mr. Rogers just smiled, and said in his slow, gentle voice: “Sometimes you’re right where you need to be.”
Mr. Rogers was there for me then. But really, he’s here for you now, for anyone who needs him.
I never saw him again. But that “helper” quote? That’s authentic. That’s who he was. Mr. Rogers was for real. Over the years, I’ve learned a lot about the man he was. Some of it was surprising.
I never realized when I was little that when Mr. Rogers sat with his feet in the cool water of a pool and invited the singing cop, Officer Clemmons, to join him that that was a daring statement about equality. It seemed like no big deal to me. I suppose now that was the point.
A white man and a black man, chilling out on a hot day with their feet in the water–so simple, such a little thing, but brave in its sweetness.
Mr. Rogers saw people. He saw through and around the things that confuse or distract others. He saw these people. He saw me, a struggling young man who needed some kind words.
And somehow, in a way that defies belief, he made you believe he saw you, too–even if you never met. His television neighbor.
About six years after I crossed paths with him in Pittsburgh, I was living in Los Angeles, working as a reporter at the Associated Press. I was married, I had found that dream job. Things were better.
One morning, in February 2003, I logged in to read the news and saw that Fred Rogers had died. He was only 74.
I sat at my computer with tears in my eyes. But I wasn’t crying over the death of a celebrity.
I was mourning the loss of my neighbor.
Our neighbor.
