An Assist from Moscow

In the four years since Nikita Khrushchev, that gregarious, loquacious and energetic fellow, took command in Russia, the world has never ceased to marvel at the difference in temperament between him and the grim, patient, secretive Joseph Stalin. To some nervous Western leaders, Nikita's engaging expansiveness even seemed to make him the more dangerous foe. Yet last week impulsive Nikita Khrushchev made precisely the same kind of crucial error in judgment that dogged the career of Stalin.

In a raring, tearing two-hour speech ostensibly addressed to the electorate of Moscow's Kalinin Constituency, Khrushchev forcefully reminded the world that he could claw as well as slap backs in raucous good fellowship. Angered by the discovery that Britain's Harold Macmillan had come to Moscow with no intention of repeating Neville Chamberlain's performance at Munich, Khrushchev flatly laid down his uncompromising terms on Germany, in such a way as to demonstrate that he was not interested in reasonable accommodations. In doing so, he also inflicted a historic humiliation on Macmillan and paraded his contempt and indifference toward Britain.

No Understanding. The first angry. disappointed reaction in Britain was to acknowledge the failure of Macmillan's mission, but to cheer him for doing his best against a ruffian. British officials suddenly became less ready to lecture others on inflexibility or to regard another Berlin airlift as unduly provocative.

On the Continent repercussions were even more violent. Macmillan's misadventure, said Rome's Il Messaggero, proved that "it is impossible to come to an understanding with Soviet leaders of Khrushchev's type." The Adenauer and De Gaulle governments, leary about the trip in the first place, were distressed by the harshness of Khrushchev's action.

The Personal Touch. By his rough-handedness, Khrushchev had done the West a favor. "The only people he hurt." said a French official, "are those who were disposed to compromise with him." No longer could "open-minded" Americans and Western Europeans seriously argue that the West could purchase a settlement by a complicated web of mutual concessions. Just as Stalin by his insensate aggressiveness sparked NATO and the Marshall Plan, so Khrushchev had forced the West to recognize that the Berlin crisis would continue until a stout and resolute Western stand made it plain that he could not have his way in Germany. At the same time Khrushchev had made it easier for Western leaders to take the tough stand. Until last week, the crisis seemed to be a problem that agitated the professionals more than it bothered ordinary citizens, who accepted the thesis that, after all, Khrushchev really did not want war. Now, through the drama of his personal insolence to Macmillan, Khrushchev had communicated a sense of danger and urgency to the situation by suggesting that his cockiness may be prevailing over his shrewdness.

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