Friday, Mar. 02, 1962

The Strains of Partnership

It started out as just another conference in the interminable, 17-year East-West round on disarmament. According to a rare joint U.S. Russian decision reached at the U.N. late last year, it would be a mammoth 18-nation affair, scheduled to begin in Geneva in March. For weeks nobody had given it much thought; then suddenly both East and West seized on the conference and tried to turn it into something else.

First, President Kennedy and Britain's Prime Minister Harold Macmillan proposed that the whole thing be elevated to higher status by having the U.S. British and Soviet foreign ministers meet in Geneva at the same time, as a kind of side affair. Why stop at that? replied Nikita Khrushchev in the manner of a grand host. Let's go all the way and make it a real summit party, he suggested.

Kennedy and Macmillan rejected the invitation, but hinted they might show up later if the early stages of the party seemed promising (TIME, Feb. 23). Attacking that reply as rude and destructive, Khrushchev repeated his invitation in sharper terms, only to be turned down by Kennedy again (although Macmillan reportedly urged him to accept). Meanwhile. President de Gaulle replied to K., ignoring the 18-member summit as far too big a shindig but proposing a more exclusive four-power parley (including France) on nuclear arms. West Germany's Konrad Adenauer, who fears having the Berlin question dragged into disarmament negotiations, suggested a different kind of four-power conference, one that would deal only with the Berlin question.

Muttering in Bonn. Behind the dizzying series of different proposals, some observers--especially in West Germany--detected a growing disarray in the West's alliance. In Bonn there was muttering about a tack of U.S. leadership, complaints that the wearily continuing talks between U.S. Ambassador Llewellyn Thompson and Russia's Andrei Gromyko in Moscow were doing a lot of harm; to a political meeting, Adenauer cracked that Thompson should not make a career of negotiating with the Russians. The Belgians were still grumbling about the lack of their allies' support in the Congo. Portugal made ugly noises about the absence of U.S. backing when India grabbed Goa. The Dutch complained that the Americans were no help at all in their struggle with Indonesia over West New Guinea.

A sharp example of Europe's mood came last week when Walt Whitman Rostow, chairman of the State Department's policy planning board, journeyed to Paris to explain Washington's new economic boycott of Fidel Castro's Cuba to the NATO Council--and to urge the U.S.'s allies to impose similar bans on shipments of strategic goods to Havana. Rostow's motives were harshly criticized. Asked the Dutch: Why should we embargo sales of arms to Castro when the U.S. is furnishing Indonesia's Sukarno with guns? Headlined the London Times sarcastically: U.S. REVERSAL OF MONROE DOCTRINE OVER CUBA--OLD WORLD CALLED TO PUT PRESSURE ON DOCTOR CASTRO.

Beyond Algeria. Although there was a growing desire in the West last week for better coordination of Allied moves, this kind of frank airing of differences within the family was not necessarily alarming. The West's democratic alliance has never been a shoulder-to-shoulder lineup. In fact, given agreement on basic principles. Allied differences have often been useful in dealing with the Russians, allowing the U.S. to be flexible in its tactics. Moreover, one source of frustration in the Western camp was about to be eliminated--the bitter, costly Algerian war that has rendered France particularly erratic.

Not that Charles de Gaulle will be any easier to live with once the Algerian peace is a reality. If he stays on as President, he will set about the "renovation" of France, which to him means re-establishing la patrie as the dominant political, military and diplomatic power in Europe. While going along with the Common Market, he is determined to resist "supranationalism" and to maintain French independence of action, including a French nuclear striking force. This politique de grandeur may make De Gaulle a problem for the U.S., but it should also make him a more secure, more reliable partner. Primarily, his policy is an effort to channel French chauvinism in a useful direction. If De Gaulle succeeds in this, he will have achieved the greatest of all contributions to European unity--a stable, self-contained and self-respecting France.

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