Cold War: The Spirit of Moscow

At times it was almost more than Western veterans of many anti-Communist battles could bear. “Love,” said Nikita Khrushchev in Moscow, “love and respect for other people is what we need.” The love feast lasted all week. The beaming smile splashing across Khrushchev’s moonface, the blunt, back-slapping peasant humor, the friendly-bear quality of the Soviet boss when he decides to be amiable—all these familiar traits were on full display in Moscow as U.S., British and Russian diplomats sat down to try to negotiate a nuclear test ban agreement.

With painful memories of the short-lived “Spirit of Geneva” in 1955 and the evanescent “Spirit of Camp David” in 1959, U.S. officials refuse to regard Khrushchev’s joviality as a true barometer of East-West relations. Yet from the atmosphere around the conference table, there was evidence that a new and possibly somewhat more durable Spirit of Moscow was in the making.

Detectable Chair. The easy mood prevailed from the moment the negotiators arrived. Chief U.S. Negotiator Averell Harriman brought with him three tons of telephone equipment, for the “hot line” that is to link the White House and the Kremlin in emergencies. At the first meeting, Harriman, 71, was greeted by Khrushchev with a cheery “You’re absolutely blooming. What are you doing, counting your years backward?” When Britain’s top envoy, Viscount Hailsham, said that Moscow’s weather was better than London’s, Khrushchev replied: “We could perhaps find some place for you here. You could be an internee.”

Finally the principals sat down at the conference table, accompanied by their top aides—Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko, Deputy Foreign Minister Valerian Zorin, and Chief Disarmament Negotiator Semyon Tsarapkin on the Russian side, U.S. Ambassador Foy Kohler and British Ambassador Sir Humphrey Trevelyan for the West. Said Khrushchev: “We begin immediately with the signing.” Added Gromyko: “Then all that will remain will be to fill the treaty in.”

During the early sessions, it almost seemed that easy. Khrushchev said that, since it had been impossible to reach agreement on a full ban in the past, the time had come to achieve more by attempting less. He gave Soviet approval to a limited ban which would cover all tests except those underground, repeating his familiar opposition to onsite inspections of possible underground blasts. As usual, Gromyko argued that such inspections were unnecessary anyway, in view of long-range seismic detection devices. When the sudden crash of an accidentally overturned chair startled the delegates, Gromyko said quickly: “This is confirmation that everyone detects it.” Growled Hailsham: “It still needs inspection.”

Selling Mood. Arguing that underground blasts can indeed be detected from far off but not differentiated from earthquakes, the U.S. is nevertheless willing to defer the question. As for Khrushchev, he was in a selling mood. Drawing out of the hat a five-year-old Soviet proposal, he called for the establishment of inspection posts at airfields, highways, railroad stations and ports on both sides of the Iron Curtain to reduce the possibility of surprise attack. He also proposed 1) freezing or reduction of military budgets, 2) a reduction of the armed forces on both sides in East and West Germany, and 3) a nonaggression pact between the NATO and Warsaw Pact powers. He even seemed willing to accept the U.S. idea of parallel but separate declarations instead of a formal pact, which would avoid implicit U.S. recognition of the East German Communist regime.

The sudden arrival in Moscow of a high-level East German delegation that included Walter Ulbricht’s Berlin specialist, immediately raised speculation that Berlin was on the agenda. But any possible deal involving Berlin or the balance of forces in Europe would require U.S. consultation with its allies. West Germany wasted little time in warning the U.S. that any agreement other than a test ban would not only usher in a period of “false security” in Europe, but would also make it increasingly difficult for the U.S.’s European allies to heed Washington’s pleas for higher NATO military expenditures or to respect the embargo of “strategic materials” to the East.

No Obstacles. Why, after years of stalling, is Khrushchev pushing a test ban treaty and a detente with the West? Western diplomats point to the Sino-Soviet split as the main reason (see following story). Engaged in an all-out power struggle with the Chinese, Khrushchev presumably wants a test ban treaty to demonstrate to Communists all over the world the feasibility of “peaceful coexistence.” Nor would Khrushchev mind cutting down a little on the prohibitive cost of nuclear testing and production, which impedes his oft-stated desire to raise living standards in the Soviet Union.

Lastly, while a test ban would not be binding on either France or Red China, it would place the onus of defying the agreement on them. President Kennedy suggested at his press conference last week that in the event of an accord, the three negotiators go to Geneva and get the signatures of the 17-nation Geneva Disarmament Conference. Such an arrangement would box in the French with something more than an “Anglo-Saxon”-Soviet agreement. From the viewpoint of Russia’s quarrel with the Chinese, it would also put such Geneva “neutrals” as Egypt, Burma and India on the record as supporting a Soviet-sponsored agreement.

At week’s end a test ban agreement seemed near. Bantering with Harriman at a reception, Khrushchev said: “The talks are going on well. There have been no obstacles. If they go on as they have, an agreement is in sight.”