Communists: Wait Till Next Year

Scarcely had the Sino-Soviet talks gotten underway than the meeting headed for collapse. It did not much matter when Red China’s seven-man delegation would pack their bags and actually leave Moscow; back home Peking’s People’s Daily seemed ready to call it quits. “We want unity, not a split,” said the voice of Red China. “But we have to point out with heavy hearts that events have gone contrary to our hopes. The situation is very grave.”

Absolute Secrecy. All week there had been a strange sensation in Moscow that maybe there was no Sino-Soviet meeting at all. The Kremlin acted as though the showdown never took place. Dom Priemov, the reception house where the sessions were supposed to be held, was carefully avoided by Soviet reporters and photographers. Asked why, a Moscow news executive said sarcastically: “It’s payday. They’ve all gone for their money.” After meeting twice to discuss formalities, the Russians and Red Chinese met only three times during the next seven days. Just before one session began, a Western reporter asked a Soviet plainclothesman what time the Peking delegation was expected. The cop shrugged and said: “You never know with them. They are a very disorganized people. We waited for them yesterday, and they never did show up.”

The Red Chinese delegation apparently spent most of its time driving through the Lenin Hills section of the city in black limousines, shuttling mysteriously from Peking’s embassy to Dom Priemov to the villa where they lived. Western newsmen once glimpsed Teng Hsiao-ping, the leader of Peking’s group, serenely strolling through the villa’s gardens. The only sign of life behind the massive, cream-colored walls of Dom Priemov were the boots of a Soviet soldier, which protruded beneath the spiked iron gates when he opened a peephole to scrutinize an arriving automobile. For the first time, Russians were willing to talk and even to joke about the Sino-Soviet conflict. One crack making the rounds in Moscow suggested that the way to solve the whole thing was for Mao Tse-tung and Charles de Gaulle to conclude an alliance, thus letting the two troublemakers take care of each other.

Absolute Equality. Throughout the on-and-off meetings, the ideological fire continued above the heads of the delegates. The Kremlin splashed a policy statement on the front page of Pravda that ominously warned Peking of the “dangerous consequences” of its policy. As for Nikita Khrushchev, he called out the brass bands, honor guard and television cameras to welcome Hungary’s Janos Kadar, who repaid the flattery by once again backing Moscow’s line of peaceful coexistence.

Red China, whose delegation’s arrival in Moscow was downplayed by the Soviet government and deliberately ignored by the Soviet press, fired its own volley of insults. For the first time, Peking claimed absolute equality with the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and warned the Kremlin in an elaborate simile: “No genuine unity can be achieved by an attitude that allows the magistrate to burn down houses, while forbidding the common people even to light their lamps.”

All these Sino-Soviet exchanges were carefully framed to put the blame for the split on the other fellow. Obviously the Chinese never expected the Moscow meeting to succeed, insisted on it merely to embarrass the Soviets. The Kremlin, in turn, could not afford to appear intractable. At week’s end the Peking press suggested that perhaps a few of the Sino-Soviet differences could be settled soon, while others could be deferred till later. This simply meant that the Chinese were ready to prolong the quarrel indefinitely. “If the differences cannot be resolved this year,” said Peking blandly, “they can wait until next year.” The Russians were less patient. They shot back an answering communiqué warning Peking that “the immediate future” will decide whether the split will widen. Then Moscow gave the Red Chinese—and the West—a pointed reminder. After all, said the Soviets, “we have a common enemy.”