GENEVA: Back on the Hook

For a moment last week, the long, unhappy split in the U.S.-British relations seemed about to end. At Geneva, Britain’s Anthony Eden shook off the lethargy induced by Communist voices, and declared he saw no further use in continuing discussion on Indo-China. Next day Sir Winston Churchill announced that he was going to Washington to visit President Eisenhower. Churchill had told Eisenhower he would not accept his invitation so long as there was British hope of a settlement at Geneva that acceptance might “prejudice”; the meeting was intended to mark a major turning point in British policy, and to bring Britain into partnership with the U.S. in a defense of Southeast Asia.

But in the space of a few hours, and with little more than a seductive hint, a lifted eyebrow and a meaningful change in the tone of his voice, Red China’s Chou En-lai sapped Britain’s new-found resolution. In the process, he all but destroyed the purpose of Churchill’s trip.

“Hope Revives.” British susceptibility made it seem easy. Alarmed at Eden’s threat to break off the talks, and worried when Churchill announced his trip, Chou met urgently with Eden. While committing himself to nothing, Chou hinted that the Communists might be willing to consider Laos and Cambodia separately from Viet Nam, and he rephrased some of his proposals to suggest that the Communists might withdraw some Viet Minh forces from those states. Eden promptly changed his plans for breaking off the conference.

“HOPE REVIVES,” cried the well-briefed British press.

Next day, the French Assembly installed a Premier pledged to get peace at Geneva within 30 days. Mendès-France’s reported terms—abandonment of Northern Viet Nam and the Red River Delta, in return for a neutralized Laos and Cambodia—exactly accorded with the bargain Britain had long privately advocated. Eden put off his departure to confer through Saturday afternoon with Molotov, Chou and France’s Jean Chauvel, hammering out an agreement that representatives of “the two sides” would meet immediately in Geneva or “on the spot” to discuss “the withdrawal of all foreign armed forces and of foreign military personnel” from both Laos and Cambodia, and report back to the conference in 21 days. The U.S.’s Bedell Smith was not even consulted, sat for four hours in his hotel waiting to hear what happened.

Grave Doubts. At the formal conference, Smith said plaintively that he had seen the proposal only ten minutes before it was presented. He warned grimly that withdrawal of “foreign military personnel” (suggested by Molotov) would deprive Laos and Cambodia of French military advisers, or of any right to outside technical or military assistance. He also expressed “grave doubts” that the military conversations would actually result in the withdrawal of Viet Minh invaders from Laos and Cambodia, since the Communists still insist that the Viet Minh were only ”volunteers.” The British and the French shrugged. The Communists had the West firmly back on the hook again.

At week’s end there was a general exodus from Geneva. Molotov departed for Moscow. Bedell Smith flew off to Paris to see Mendès-France, en route to Washington. Two-thirds of the U.S. delegation went with him. Said one U.S. delegate disgustedly as he packed his bag: “There’s a Southeast Asian Munich in the making here. I think the whole deal stinks to high heaven, and I want to get as far away from it as possible.” Eden, too, stopped over in Paris to lunch with the new French Premier, then flew on to London, where he pronounced the week’s work “the best result we could have hoped to achieve in the circumstances.” Straight Talk. In Washington, Churchill and Eden will still have much to put forward. Both have concluded that EDC is doomed, and want immediately to explore alternative methods for rearming the West Germans. The Bevanite wing of the Labor Party has lately been making much of the Britons’ instinctive reluctance to give “guns to Huns” in any form; Churchill is anxious to get the issue settled well ahead of a possible general election, where as a campaign issue it could be mischievous.

They would also hear some straight talk. Here is how one top U.S. official feels: “It was very galling for Americans to sit and listen to Chou En-lai’s tirades against the American imperialists when in fact it was only our desire not to weaken Britain and France that made us take positions in the Near and Far East entirely opposed to self-determination and our better judgment. We have, in fact, withheld aid which we would otherwise have given Egypt, only to avoid embarrassing Britain. The time has come to have some kind of clarification of relationships, particularly on how we will proceed in the so-called colonial areas.” There is now no sign that Churchill and Eden are ready to heal the basic rift. They will argue that Asian opinion has been deeply impressed by the West’s show of patience at Geneva, and that it would be absurd to ruin this impression by sudden “provocative” action just when a settlement may be in sight.

Ironically, the week’s very events proved the fallacy of such reasoning. The louder the West begged for peace, the more the Communists demanded. The minute the West showed signs of impatience and resolution, as it did briefly last week, the Communists instantly reacted with concessions. The lesson was obvious for anyone to read who would: to bring the Communists to reason, the West must build its strength—not plead its weakness.