Giants Shake

Like some pigmy umpire nervously staging a handshake between quarrelsome giants, small Norway last week brought Imperial Britain and Communist Russia into their first diplomatic contact in more than two years.

Salt herrings and blue blood account for Norway's choice as umpire. The good value she gives in selling fish to the Soviet monopoly has made her sturdy friends at Moscow; and her tall, vigorous King Haakon VII is the only living brother-in-law of Britain's frail, gallant George V. Naturally the new British Labor Government thought first of Neighbor Norway when it decided to make conciliatory overtures to Russia through some honest friendly little state.

Last week the efficient Norwegian Foreign Office wangled as go-between with conspicuous success. Moscow held out at first for unconditional recognition, but finally, responding through Oslo to London's overtures, agreed to participate in a prerecognition parley with the British. Result: suave Comrade Valerian Dovgalevsky, the Soviet Ambassador at Paris, received a long code cable from his superiors, ordered his trunks packed, his briefcase stuffed, and hurriedly crossed the Channel. An indifferent sailor, M. Dovgalevsky was grateful for the prevailing calm weather.

The last previous representative of Red Russia in London was Soviet Charge d'Affaires A. P. Rosengolz. He was given his walking papers by the since-fallen Conservative Government two Junes ago (TIME, June 12, 1927). As M. Rosengolz hurried into Victoria Station to catch his boat train, he was cheered by a delegation of British Laborites led by jovial Arthur Henderson, then Minister of State for Home Affairs. "Hullo, old fellow!" boomed Mr. Henderson, and warmly wrung the parting Comrade's hand.

Today Mr. Henderson is the Foreign Secretary of His Britannic Majesty. Last week it was a wary and reserved, not a handshaking Henderson who received Comrade Valerian Dovgalevsky from Paris. Foreign Secretary Henderson was careful not to boom, "Hullo, old fellow!" Times have not only changed but utterly altered. The leaders of the British Labor Party now claim that they have not, and never had, the slightest tinge of Red. Electioneering on that basis, they emerged with 289 seats from the recent General Election (TIME, June 10).

But they must keep the support of 45 Liberals to retain a majority in the House of Commons. Should the Conservatives be able to daub Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald again with the red brush, his Liberal support would melt away, and his present (second) Cabinet would fall as disastrously as did his first (TIME, Nov. TO, 1924). when Conservatives cried "Red!" and waved the notorious Zinoviev letter.

"Practical politics" demands that before the British Labor Government recognizes Soviet Russia, Moscow must give an air-tight pledge that any diplomats she may send into Britain will eschew Red propaganda. The British Liberals also insist on some sort of engagement that Soviet Russia will repay British holders of Imperial Russian bonds at least in part. Last week as Mr. Henderson sat down to chat with Comrade Dovgalevsky even professed optimists doubted whether Moscow would yield now on two points which she has so long refused to concede. Still it was a great, significant event that, with small Norway's help, the two largest countries on the globe last week got back on speaking terms.