Winksmanship

At Bandung President Sukarno was in his element: standing on a platform with thousands of upturned faces before him. He spoke with the confidence of a shrewd gambler who has doubled his bets, week after week, and won them all. The rebels, he cried, were nearly finished. The "foreign adventurers from Formosa and the U.S." had been foiled. He suggested that the U.S. "conduct a reappraisal of its policy" with regard to Indonesia. There was nothing to fear, Sukarno boasted, because "all I have to do is wink" and "volunteers" would come pouring in from Red China and the Soviet Union. But, no, he would not wink, since "with God's mercy, with our own power, we can crush this whole rebellion."

That was Sukarno's first venture in winksmanship, four weeks ago. His second came when U.S. Ambassador Howard P. Jones was summoned to the Foreign Ministry in Djakarta and told that army intelligence reported that a Nationalist Chinese battalion had landed in North Celebes to help the beleaguered rebels. Ambassador Jones knew that the report was absurd, but he also got the diplomatic point. Sukarno was demanding that the U.S. stop being "neutral" about the Indonesian civil war and take a stand.

Off to Lunch. Sukarno won all down the line. While Moscow and Peking clamored their willingness to send hordes of "volunteers." Washington did a nearly complete about-face. Secretary of State John Foster Dulles told a press conference that the rebellion was, of course, an "Indonesian matter" to be dealt with by Indonesians alone; the State Department promptly issued licenses for the immediate sale of small arms and munitions to Djakarta; the U.S. eagerly agreed to send Indonesia $5,500,000 worth of badly needed rice. All of these measures had been proposed even before the rebellion began by the then U.S. Ambassador to Indonesia, veteran Career Diplomat John Allison, whose reward had been replacement by Ambassador Jones. Washington then had more hopes and fears--fears that the Communists were about to take over Indonesia lock, stock and barrel; hopes that the rebels would be able to arrest the Communist drift.

Now, as the government's victory became assured, Indonesian officials spoke enthusiastically about the "new understanding" between Djakarta and Washington. President Sukarno and his beautiful fourth wife, Hartini, made an unprecedented visit to Ambassador Jones's Dutch colonial residence for lunch. Sukarno jovially shook hands with the four U.S. marines of the embassy guard; he toasted President Eisenhower and the American people in orange squash. Purred another guest, Foreign Minister Subandrio: "We insiders, who know the process of thinking of Dulles and the setup of the State Department, realize that Indonesian-U.S. relations are improving."

On to Victory. To crown the heady week, rebel Colonel Sumual broadcast from North Celebes that he was willing to "negotiate a settlement of the revolt." But Sukarno ordered the war to go on. Morotai, scene of a U.S. amphibious assault in World War II's South Pacific island-hopping campaign, was captured from the rebels; Gorontalo in the Celebes was seized; government planes made five bombing raids on the rebel capital of Menado without suffering any loss. The army, whose surprising efficiency had done most to crush the rebellion, went quietly to work on the domestic front: a series of strict internal security measures had native Communists howling that they were being persecuted.

In Djakarta, local wits were hailing Sukarno's masterly handling of both East and West: winksmanship, they declared, was better than brinksmanship.

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