"Stop, & Stop Now!"

The Organization of American States had rarely heard Secretary of State Dean Rusk speak in such urgent tones. "Today," he told the assembled foreign ministers in Washington, "it is Venezuela which is under attack. Is there any one of us who can say with assurance, 'It cannot be my country tomorrow'? So let us say to the Castro regime: 'Your interference in the affairs of other countries in this hemisphere must stop, and stop now!' "

Last week, the OAS issued precisely that warning. By a vote of 15 to 4 (Mexico, Chile, Uruguay and Bolivia voting against), the foreign ministers approved mandatory diplomatic and economic sanctions against Communist Cuba and passed a crucial resolution defining any future Castro subversion as outright "aggression." Henceforth, under the Inter-American Treaty of Reciprocal Assistance, no OAS member nation may maintain diplomatic relations with Cuba. All trade between Cuba and OAS members is banned, with the exception of basic foodstuffs and medicine. And any hemisphere nation that is threatened by Castro subversion is free to take up arms in self-defense against Cuba while summoning the other OAS states to come to its assistance.

Behind the Scenes. It was tough talk, and it wrote an end to a long, often exasperating campaign that has stretched over five years and five separate conferences. Latin Americans have been well aware of Castroite subversion and gun running. Yet if given a choice, they looked the other way, talked interminably about nonintervention, and administered only the mildest of wrist-slaps. This time, Cuba's Communists had been caught redhanded: a three-ton terrorist arms cache uncovered on a Venezuelan beach and traced directly to Cuban arsenals. The angry Venezuelans demanded strong action. The U.S. worked quietly behind the scenes to see that they got it.

Even so, it took weeks of patient negotiations to line up the required two-thirds majority to impose sanctions. Central American and Caribbean nations, those directly in Cuba's line of fire, were firmly for spiking Castro's guns once and for all. As expected, the unswitchable holdouts were the four countries still maintaining at least minimal economic and diplomatic relations with Cuba--Bolivia, Chile, Mexico and Uruguay.

Of them all, Mexico was the most adamant in its stand against sanctions and the most determined to vote against --even when 5,000 Cuban exiles staged a march down Washington's Constitution Avenue, shouting, chanting and waving placards ("OAS! Alert! Alert!"

"Stop Playing with Cuban Blood").

Though the Mexicans have no love for Castro, Mexico is fiercely independent of anything that hints of U.S. pressure.

Not only did Mexico refuse to give in, it even wangled an important concession; the Havana-Mexico City air route will remain open. "It exists mainly for humanitarian purposes," said Delegate Vincente Sanchez Gavito. "It is a way out of Cuba." Uruguay opposed a break for the same reason--to maintain its Havana embassy where some two dozen anti-Castro Cubans are currently in asylum. Chile's problem was its nip-and-tuck September 4 presidential election; a vote for sanctions might hand the presidency to a far leftist. As for Bolivia, President Victor Paz Estenssoro has been winning his fight against his country's far leftists, but still did not feel strong enough to go along with the majority.

"Even on the Moon." When to sever relations, and how to police the trade embargo, were left up to each individual nation. It may be months before the four get around to giving Castro's diplomats their walking papers. Chile certainly will do nothing before the September elections; the Mexicans may refuse altogether. Nevertheless, the decisive vote was the first strong, clear action the OAS has ever taken on Cuba, and it is bound to do Castro incalculable harm around the hemisphere.

The bearded revolutionary obviously recognizes that fact, and all through the OAS meetings he did his best to soften the blow. For weeks a felicitous Fidel has been humming a sweet reconciliation tune to the U.S. Last week his violent little brother Raul, boss of Cuba's armed forces, joined the chorus. Speaking to several U.S. newsmen invited over to view the July 26 celebrations, Raul crooned that Cuba was ready to sit down and talk with the U.S. "anywhere, any time--even on the moon."

In the eastern city of Santiago, where Castro started his revolution, the visiting newsmen were treated to the kind of is-everybody-happy circus that Communists specialize in. Though the Cuban economy goes from bad to worse (this year's sugar crop may not equal last year's 3,800,000 tons, only half the pre-Castro harvest), Santiago restaurants were filled with food; bands played, and carnival crowds were on parade. In high good humor, Castro drove through the streets, chatted with local officials, even sidearmed a few baseballs to two of the reporters in a local stadium.

This week some 300,000 Cubans will obediently pledge allegiance to Cuba's Communist dictator. But that will be small gain now that he stands condemned as an aggressor and on strict notice to keep his revolution at home.

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