CFM International

After the G2 and the G3, following the Fibonacci sequence, this newsletter should have focused on the G5 or the BRICS. However, with recent news of 'deals' being struck worldwide around tariffs, I want to shift the focus to the innovation that can emerge from international chaos. The BRICS can wait. I would like to remind the reader that Diplomacy and Technology are two complex fields. Rarely are they approached together, so hang on, this newsletter is dense!

Much like you, I’ve been deeply interested in what many have called the end of globalization. I highly recommend Goodbye Globalization by Elisabeth Braw, as it offers valuable insights into this accelerating shift, especially under the new American leadership, but also with Europe that realizes suddenly it is somehow under-developed.

The roots of this transformation are old and deep. It began in the 1990s, when industrial jobs in the Rust Belt were offshored due to NAFTA, leaving many workers displaced (newsletter on the G3). The following decade brought the China shock (newsletter on the G2), when China joined the WTO, and the West became increasingly dependent on cheap Chinese goods. Over time, it became clear that China was not playing by the rules—just as Russia was expanding its territorial ambitions. As China grew more authoritarian and Russia pursued aggression in a synchronized fashion, many realized that economic well-being was not the primary driver of these nations, and that global economic stability was not their end goal. The limits of trade power became evident. Western corporations, that saw China as the ideal low-cost manufacturing hub and as huge market, quickly faced disappointment. Intellectual Property was systematically captured, and local assets were threatened (see newsletter on the G2). Many companies recognized it was time to pull out, but some, like Apple, deemed it impossible or too late. These practices worsened the trade deficit, influenced budget deficits, and increased national debt in developed and developing nations. By the time COVID-19 hit, globalization was already in dire straits. The pandemic exposed the West’s deep reliance on Chinese supply chains, cementing the realization that China had benefited the most from globalization while also playing a major role in its unraveling.

To put it simply: while China undermined the international trading system (#WTO), Russia challenged the international peace system (#United Nations). Together, they demonstrated that economic success and wealth that drive the West rank second to their national ideologies.

Throughout history, there have been moments when the world had to adapt rapidly, and the early 1970s was no exception. It was a turbulent era marked by economic, political, and technological shifts that sent shock waves across the globe.

• The Nixon Shock (1971) put an end to the Bretton Woods System that had prevailed since 1945 and cancelled the dollar ‘s convertibility to gold to cope with high inflation, trade imbalances and a weakening dollar. The shock disrupted the international monetary system, which lead the Treasury Secretary John Connally to declare, "The dollar is our currency, but it is your problem”.

• The cancellation of the Apollo program (1972) ended the U.S.’s manned lunar missions. Astronaut Gene Cernan, The last man on the Moon, returned to Earth in December that year after the Apollo 17 mission.

• The Vietnam War drew to a close (1973) with the signing of the Paris Peace Accords, marking the beginning of the U.S. withdrawal.

• The OPEC crisis (1973)—also known as the oil crisis—saw the price of crude quadruple from $3 to $12 per barrel, exacerbating global economic instability.

• The Watergate scandal unfolded, leading to President Richard Nixon’s resignation and a profound loss of trust in American leadership.

Amid all these upheavals, the United States found itself in chaos, with ripple effects spreading worldwide. Diplomacy remained remarkably active, however. The Apollo-Soyuz mission (1975) stands as a powerful symbol of détente between the U.S. and the USSR, vividly illustrated by the moment when an American astronaut and a Russian cosmonaut smiling at each other stretched out their right arms for a friendly handshake in space. As a young boy growing up in the Cold War, I remember that moment well—it felt as though the fear of nuclear apocalypse had vanished, replaced by hope. It was priceless—a moment of soft power at its best, driven by NASA, one of America's greatest assets in global leadership. This is the event that drove my passion for space. Today, that kind of visionary diplomacy is often overlooked.

Despite the tense geopolitical climate, Presidents Nixon and Pompidou of France collaborated to forge a legacy in industry and technology, largely unknown and forgotten today. Yet, this legacy remains alive and strong: the CFM International joint venture between General Electric and SNECMA (now SAFRAN) to co-manufacture and co-sell the mighty CFM56 aerospace engine.

I had the privilege of working for SNECMA, then SAFRAN, and was fortunate to meet the pioneers who developed CFM International. This joint venture is arguably the single most important factor behind GE and SAFRAN’s incredible success—an innovative and bold collaboration that required both vision and wisdom. It’s exactly what SAFRAN CEO, Mr. Andries, emphasized with great humility during a recent audition at the French Parliament, as shared on LinkedIn.

At the time, GE and SNECMA were focused on military aircrafts, while commercial aerospace engines were dominated by Rolls-Royce and Pratt & Whitney. Teaming up was a strategic way to reduce development costs and enhance global market reach. There was some innovation on the technological side, but the true innovation was in the business arrangement and in the 50/50 joint venture itself—it forced an exact win-win outcome:

• 50/50 for jobs

• 50/50 for marketing

• 50/50 for profits

Each company produced half of the engine—one handling the hot section, the other the cold section—and each established its own assembly line, supplying its respective markets under U.S. or French influence.

The result of the deal? A game-changing impact: 30,000 CFM56 engines produced, powering both Boeing 737s and Airbus A320s—a testament to the success of visionary collaboration.

The two presidents, both deeply committed to industry, first discussed the idea in Washington in May 1971. However, the key meeting took place in December of that year, in the Indian Ocean on the Réunion Island. As is often the case, history tends to highlight another date and place—the June 1973 meeting in Reykjavík, Iceland, which likely provided the final push for the project. The Joint Venture was officially created in 1974.

Naturally, the two companies involved played a major role in this success, but the origins of the project lay elsewhere—it all started in space. In 1961, Charles de Gaulle established France’s space agency, CNES, and one of its founding fathers, Professor Jacques Blamont, played a crucial role in shaping its direction. I was fortunate to work with Blamont in his later years on the Mars Sample Return mission in Dan Goldin’s era, and on his last book, Introduction to the Century of Threats.

Blamont had been collaborating with the U.S., launching payloads for atmospheric research from Wallops Island, Virginia. Early on, he advised CNES leadership to meet with the Kennedy Administration to discuss space cooperation. In the early 1960s, CNES officials met Jerome Weisner, Director of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy, to explore collaboration. The U.S. agreed to fully cooperate on satellite development, but held back on rocket technology, as France was advancing its strategic deterrence program, “la force de frappe.” Several years later, the U.S. discreetly assisted in the field of cryogenic propulsion, allowing U.S engineers to attend critical technical reviews. Meanwhile, CNES established its satellite operations in Toulouse, where it remains today—a direct offspring of NASA.

Throughout the process, Weisner and Blamont developed a strong personal relationship and met regularly. Both were brilliant scientists who believed that scientific cooperation—bringing the brightest minds from diverse backgrounds together (one must admit that the scientific community was more diverse then!)—was the fastest path to human progress. They also saw scientific dialogue with the Soviets as critical to détente and, ultimately, to peace. In 1972, Blamont was invited to the USSR, and later reported that it was then that they realized the Soviet Union was done. His analysis mirrored that of André Gide, who had been invited by Stalin in 1936 and later published his famous book, Retour de l’URSS. Both were correct, though it would take decades for the Soviet system to collapse - a testament to the resilience of the Russian people that we cannot ignore today.

Weisner was a Democrat, a strong supporter of the Apollo program and international scientific collaboration. Though he disagreed with Nixon’s policies, he remained highly influential in Washington, often consulted by Henry Kissinger, then Secretary of State and Director of the National Security Council.

Both recognized the need to reinforce cooperation between the U.S. and France at this moment. Blamont tasked the CNES representative and Space Attaché at the French Embassy in Washington to work on it. Somewhere in these discussions, the idea of a transatlantic aerospace engine began to coalesce—likely among other ideas now lost to history.

In 1974, the year CFM International was born, President Nixon resigned, and President Pompidou passed away. Strangely enough, this was the last year France had a balanced budget.

Despite the chaos, under a Republican administration, an industrial vision championed by two leaders with scientific backgrounds triumphed over the hawks and isolationists. It serves as a reminder that, just as gold is not forged by nuclear fusion in common stars but in extremely powerful cosmic events such as supernovae or neutron star collisions, enduring legacies can emerge from crisis. CFM International is a golden nugget and testament to the foresight of Nixon and Pompidou.

Today, I hear discussions in Washington questioning this legacy, with some suggesting that these engines should be 100% produced in the U.S.. Whether this shift will materialize remains to be seen—Gold is extremely rare and stable and this is supposed to be a golden era. Let’s make gold!