The late 1950s and early 1960s were Germany’s golden age. The new experiment with democracy had caught on (at least for now), and coincided with a time of unprecedented growth and prosperity. In the south and east a delicate balance was being maintained, allowing Germany to profit tremendously while keeping its clients more or less satisfied. And the cold war with the Soviets had abated, the new post-Stalinist leadership now looking inwards after its last remaining allies in europe drifted towards Germany. This detente was not unique to Europe: the entire planet was experiencing a particularly peaceful period as tensions eased and conflicts disappeared.
But no golden age lasts forever. Germany’s second democratic experiment (Thande’s expression sounded too good not to be stolen) was more fruitful then the first, but in the 1970s an authoritarian regime would again consolidate. This coincided with economic mismanagement. But worse was to come. In the 1960s several significant errors, most notably a shortsighted attempt to gain public support by increasing the pressure on the rest of Mitteleuropa, upset the delicate balance between Germany and its satellites. Without outside involvement these unfavorable changes might still have been reversed, but this was not to be. For the reformed and reinvigorated USSR, less and less deserving of the ‘Socialist’ part its name (although it would take another thirty years for the communist symbolism to be abandoned altogether), would reinitiate the Cold War. The 1970s also brought an intensive, multipolar space race, in which Germany had no intention of falling behind. The two decades of relative peace had come to an end.
Mitteleuropa was never a grouping of true equals (although some of the larger or more distant countries like Turkey and Poland were much less involved in it then the others) – such claims are (at best) merely proof of the power of German propaganda. But in its early years it probably brought greater benefits to all its members then anything else could have, even if one particular member profited disproportionately more then the others. Even after Germany’s hold on its ‘partners’ strengthened as Mitteleuropa was reorganized, the smaller states still gained much from it even as they became encased in the gilded cage. But no golden age lasts forever: presently the cage’s bars had to be sold to put more stuff in space then the Russians and Americans, and were replaced with rusted steel (the better steel having been sent to factories in Germany). At last the corroded structure became too weak to hold Mitteleuropa together. Turkey and Poland, less closely integrated then the other states, drew away from Germany, but the rest of Mitteleuropa would be kept intact (by increasingly forceful means) until the end. In the early 1990s economic hardship and widespread discontent throughout Mitteleuropa fueled by Soviet interference brought a crisis which could not be contained. A Yugoslav attempt to exploit a political earthquake in Berlin to distance itself from Germany (with covert Soviet support) escalated. Several other nations tried to imitate the Yugoslavs, mostly with success. (Some were too successful, and presently found themselves heavily influenced by Russia). The Serbs who started the whole mess succeeded in breaking free, at the cost of Yugoslav unity. (German meddling largely influenced Croatia’s decision to leave Yugoslavia. Slovenia didn’t have to be manipulated – Italy had still not forgotten Trieste). In 1994 Mitteleuropa was no more, and only a handful of small satellites remained arrayed around Germany, now on far wider and more unstable orbits.
Poland had one of the last states to associate itself with Mitteleuropa. The rapid growth of its diversified economy and access to distant markets allowed it to do well outside it, and as a result Poland never truly became well-integrated within its structure. This put Poland in a good position to distance itself from Germany when things began to deteriorate. While it would never quite escape Germany’s influence until 1993, in the 1980s its membership in Mitteleuropa became largely nominal. Instead Poland would pursue the French strategy of maintaining neutrality backed with a considerable arsenal of WMDs. The atomic bomb which made this possible would in time gain a unique place in Polish culture. Ties with France itself would increase, and although there would be significant co-operation (the joint space program being the most example), the old military alliance of the 1920s would not be renewed. Having finally achieved more or less what it had been trying to do for the last 60 years, it seemed that Poland could now subsist contentedly and learn to stop worrying (or at least worry about some things a little less then before). And it would indeed do so for a time…
Soon after the Great War it had attempted to create a confederation between Germany and Russia, capable of resisting pressure from both these powers. More recently it had tried – and failed – to organize a somewhat cohesive bloc among the Mitteleuropean states, thus hoping to limit German influence and amplify its own strength. After distancing itself from Mitteleuropa and adopting the French Doctrine, it seemed that even the more modest variant of this plan had been abandoned forever. But the Poles never quite forgot their old dream. And when the wind of change once again swept across central Europe, they were ready to act…
Of course, the best-laid plans have a tendency to fail in far more favorable circumstances. Unsurprisingly, the ‘new Intermarum’ was very different from what the utopian pre-1993 dreams envisioned. Only Hungary would actually join in the grand endeavour. While it would obviously be the weaker partner, its size and traditional close friendship with Poland would permanently prevent any attempts at vassalization on the latter’s part. Instead a close alliance, nicknamed the ‘Warsaw-Budapest Axis’, would emerge. And while its co-operation would be admirable, it would abandon the ideals which were originally supposed to drive the Cracow Group. Slovakia and Czechia, the only other states which entered any sort of association, would be kept at arm’s length. Unlike Hungary, they remained in Germany’s orbit for some time past 1993, and subsequently experienced crises and instability. The Czechs’ traditional pro-Russian attitude and important pro-German factions in Slovakia farther complicated matters. At various times during the 1990s they would alternately drift towards and away from the CG, but even though they would profit from this partnership those links would remain uncertain and tenuous.
Thus at the turn of the century a strong Polish-Hungarian alliance had emerged. While the duo would continue to attempt to influence Czechia and Slovakia, by 2000 any plans to draw others into the group had become finally abandoned. The old ‘Intermarum dream’ of a great confederation working towards the common good of them all had died once again.