Kennedy and Khrushchev would both have said that they wanted to preserve the status quo. But they had incompatible conceptions of what the status quo meant.
For Kennedy the status quo was the existing balance of international force. This did not at all mean that he wanted to freeze the world in its social mold. On the contrary, he believed internal political and institutional change to be both inevitable and desirable. But his hope was that it would take place without transferring power from one bloc to the other and therefore without making either side feel threatened and constrained to resist change by force.
For Khrushchev, on the other hand, the status quo was something very different: it was in essence the communist revolution in progress (as he hoped) across the world. From this perspective Kennedy’s conception of a global standstill was an attempt not to support but to alter the status quo; it was an attack on the revolutionary process itself. This idea of a dynamic or potential status quo was, of course, deeply imbedded in Leninist analysis. Reminiscing about Vienna three years later, Khrushchev complained to William Benton that Kennedy had “bypassed” the real problem. “We in the USSR,” he said, “feel that the revolutionary process should have the right to exist.” The question of “the right to rebel, and the Soviet right to help combat reactionary governments . . . is the question of questions. . . . This question is at the heart of our relations with you. . . . Kennedy could not understand this.”*
Kennedy understood it well enough after Khrushchev’s January speech, and he understood it very well indeed after the first day in Vienna. Khrushchev’s response left no doubt about the joker in the Soviet doctrine of coexistence: the idea of a dynamic status quo meant simply that the democracies had no right to intervene in the communist world, while the communists had every right to intervene in the democratic world. But Kennedy nevertheless felt that the offer of a standstill was worth the effort. Where he perhaps erred was in beginning by engaging Khrushchev in abstract discussion. Ideological debate was bound to be fruitless; Khrushchev was not likely to forswear the faith of a lifetime. Moreover, Khrushchev was a veteran dialectician. Though Kennedy held his own, he was fighting on his opponent’s familiar terrain. He might have done better to seek the realm of concrete fact, the pragmatic rather than the ideological debating ground, and concentrate, as he had tried increasingly to do through the day, on particular situations in particular countries. But even this would probably not have made much difference. Khrushchev came to Vienna ready to collaborate on Laos and on nothing else; for the rest, he hoped to unnerve Kennedy and force him into concessions.
That night the Austrians gave their guests a state dinner at the Schönbrunn Palace. Khrushchev, in a clowning mood, turned a heavy, waggish charm on Mrs. Kennedy; it was one gag after another, like sitting next to Abbott and Costello. She had been reading Lesley Branch’s Sabres of Paradise and, mentioning her enthusiasm about the horses and the dances, asked him about nineteenth-century Ukraine. When he replied that the Soviet Ukraine had so many more teachers per capita than the Ukraine of the Tsars, she said, “Oh, Mr. Chairman, don’t bore me with statistics”—and he suddenly laughed and became for a moment almost cozy. They talked about the Soviet space effort, and Jacqueline, remarking that one of the dogs which had careened in the upper atmosphere had had puppies, said, in banter, “Why don’t you send me one?” Khrushchev laughed; but two months later two nervous Russians came with Ambassador Menshikov into the Oval Room at the White House bearing a terrified small dog. The President said, “How did this dog get here?” His wife said, “I’m afraid I asked Khrushchev for it in Vienna. I was just running out of things to say.” The jolliness danced on the surface. When I asked the President later what Khrushchev was like, he described him as a combination of external jocosity and “internal rage.”
They resumed their talks the next morning. The President began by saying that, if they couldn’t agree on everything, at least they might be able to agree on Laos. Here after all was a land without strategic importance to either side but in which the United States had treaty commitments. America wanted to reduce its involvement in Laos, Kennedy said, and he hoped the Soviet Union would wish to do the same. Laos was not important enough to entangle two great nations.
Khrushchev responded that the Soviet Union had no desire to assume responsibilities in remote geographical areas. It was in Laos only at the request of Souvanna Phouma and the legitimate government. When Kennedy spoke of American commitments, he made a bad impression. What business did the United States have claiming special rights in Laos? If the President would pardon his bluntness, Khrushchev said, this policy stemmed from delusions of grandeur, from megalomania. America was so rich and powerful that it asserted rights for itself and denied rights to others. The Soviet Union did not agree and would not desist from helping other peoples to win their independence. If America really wanted to normalize the situation and avoid confrontations, it must renounce its claim to special rights.
Kennedy responded that the commitments had been made before he became President; why they were undertaken was not an issue here. Whatever had happened in the past, the issue now was to decrease commitments on both sides and get a neutral and independent Laos. Khrushchev doubted whether these commitments were altogether a legacy; after all, Kennedy had put the American military advisers into uniform and had ordered a landing of Marines. When Kennedy said that, though there had been speculation about sending Marines, no such order had been issued, Khrushchev replied that he was referring to press reports. The west, he added, was better than the Communists in making this kind of refined threat; and, if the United States sent in Marines, another Korea or worse would result. As for the Soviet Union, it would guarantee to exert every effort to influence the Laotian forces to establish a truly neutral government. We should lock our foreign ministers into a room and tell them to find a solution. Kennedy said that he had been reluctant to send in the Marines. All this could be avoided if there were a genuine cease-fire. Khrushchev agreed to make the cease-fire a priority matter. The two men thus completed the one piece of business transacted at Vienna.
The next question was the test ban. There were two issues here, Khrushchev began: the number of suspicious events to be inspected, and the organization of the machinery of inspection. As for the first, the Soviet Union considered three inspections a year sufficient; any more would constitute espionage. As for the control mechanism, the Soviet Union had originally been ready to accept a commission chaired by a representative of the United Nations. Now, after the unneutral behavior of the UN in the Congo, this was no longer possible. The only fair way was to establish a body made up of representatives of the three world groups—the Communists, the neutrals and the western states—empowered to adopt only decisions agreed upon by all. The work of other international organizations, Khrushchev added, should be organized along similar lines. In any case, Khrushchev continued, the test ban had little importance by itself; it must be linked with the general and complete disarmament. If the west would accept the Soviet disarmament plan, then the Soviet Union would drop the troika and the requirement for unanimity and agree to any controls. Let the disarmament negotiations include the test ban. If we pushed ahead, we could have general and complete disarmament in two years.
Kennedy asked whether Khrushchev really thought it impossible to find any person neutral between the United States and the Soviet Union. Khrushchev replied that he did. But the troika, Kennedy said, meant a veto over the inspection process; how could either he or Khrushchev assure his people that no secret testing was going on in the other nation? Khrushchev said irrelevantly, “But what about Allen Dulles? Isn’t that secret?” Kennedy answered that he wished it were.
To Khrushchev’s deprecation of the test ban Kennedy responded that, while by itself it would not lessen the number or the production of nuclear weapons, it would make their spread to new countries less likely. Without a test ban, there would be ten or fifteen nuclear powers in a few years. Surely the Soviet Union must balance the
risks of espionage against the risks of proliferation. Khrushchev conceded the logic of this but pointed out that, while the test ban discussions were going on in Geneva, France was carrying its nuclear program forward. Unless the test ban were part of general disarmament, other countries would follow the example of France.
Kennedy replied that general disarmament was exceedingly complex and difficult: why not start with the easy question? They discussed the Soviet disarmament plan for a moment, and Khrushchev made it clear that he did not want to begin with the test ban even as part of the larger effort. Kennedy said again that the test ban, if not the most important measure, was at least a very significant start. He quoted a Chinese proverb, “A thousand-mile journey begins with a single step,” and added, “Let us take that step.” Khrushchev remarked that Kennedy apparently knew the Chinese well, but he knew them well too. Kennedy suggested that he might get to know them better. Khrushchev said tersely that he already knew them very well. As for the test ban, the Soviet Union would agree only subject to the troika.
The conversation, Kennedy said, was now back to where they had started. But, before concluding, he wanted to express the American concern over the protraction of an uninspected moratorium on testing for three years while negotiations had been going on. If the test ban were to be tossed into the general disarmament discussions, the uninspected moratorium would continue for several more years. Therefore we should try again in Geneva for a test ban. Khrushchev answered that the Soviet Union would not accept controls which it considered equivalent to espionage. Kennedy suggested that, if the controls turned out really to threaten Soviet security, the Soviet Union retained the right to abrogate the treaty. As for tying the test ban and general disarmament together, the United States could not accept this without assurance that agreement could be reached speedily on disarmament.
After this unsatisfactory discussion, they turned to Berlin. Here Khrushchev, while still stopping short of bluster, displayed his greatest animation and intensity. The German situation, he said, was intolerable. It was sixteen years after the end of the war, and there was still no peace settlement. In the meantime, a rearmed West Germany had become predominant in NATO. This meant the threat of a third world war. Only the West German militarists would gain from further delay. He wanted to reach agreement with the west on a treaty, Khrushchev said; but, if the United States refused, the Soviet Union would sign the treaty alone. This act would end the state of war and cancel all existing commitments, including occupation rights, administrative institutions and rights of access. The treaty would establish a free city of West Berlin. There would be no interference with its internal affairs or its communications, though agreement on access would have to be reached with the Democratic Republic. Western troops would be acceptable in West Berlin under certain conditions—and, of course, with Soviet troops too.
Kennedy, thanking him for putting the case so frankly, came back with equal frankness. This discussion, he said, raised not only legal questions but practical facts which affect American security. They were not talking about Laos any longer; Berlin was of primary and vital concern to the United States. We were not in Berlin on anyone’s sufferance. We fought our way there, and our continuing presence rested on contractual rights. If we allowed ourselves to be expelled, American pledges and commitments would ever after be regarded as scraps of paper. Moreover, if we abandoned West Berlin, it would mean the abandonment of Western Europe, which America had deemed essential to its security in two wars. If Khrushchev agreed that the equilibrium of world power was more or less in balance, he must understand the consequences of his demand. America, Kennedy said, would not accept an ultimatum. He had not become President of the United States to acquiesce in the isolation of his country—any more than Khrushchev would acquiesce in the isolation of the Soviet Union.
Khrushchev said that he understood this to mean the United States did not want a treaty. Misinterpreting Kennedy again, he declared that the invocation of national security could mean that Americans would wish to go on to Moscow too, since that would improve their strategic position. Kennedy responded sharply that the Americans did not wish to go anywhere, just to stay where they were. No doubt the current situation in Berlin was not satisfactory; but conditions were unsatisfactory all over, and this was not the time to upset the world balance of power. Khrushchev certainly would not accept a comparable shift in favor of the west. This was the basic question.
Khrushchev regretted that Kennedy did not get his point. All he wanted to do was to tranquilize the situation in the most dangerous spot in the world. The Soviet Union wanted to perform an operation—to excise this thorn, this ulcer—without prejudicing interests on either side. The treaty would not change boundaries; it would formalize them. It would only impede those, like Hitler’s generals now in NATO, who still wanted Lebensraum to the Urals. No force in the world could stop the Soviet Union from signing the treaty; no further delay was necessary or possible. And thereafter any infringement of the sovereignty of East Germany would be regarded as open aggression with all its consequences.
Kennedy said that the United States opposed any military buildup in West Germany which might threaten the Soviet Union. But Khrushchev’s proposal would bring about a basic change in the world situation overnight. This was a most serious challenge. He had not come to Vienna for this; he had come in the hope of improving relations. The United States could not accept the abrogation by one nation of the four-nation agreement.
Khrushchev waved this aside as without juridical foundation and recalled Roosevelt’s remark at Yalta that American troops would leave Europe after two years. Why did the United States want Berlin? To unleash a war? Berlin had no military significance. After a treaty, West Berlin would be accessible to all countries with which it wished ties; the United States and the Soviet Union could develop guarantees jointly or call in the UN. But, if the United States tried to maintain its present position after a treaty, this would violate the sovereignty of East Germany and of the communist camp as a whole. Once the Berlin question was out of the way, the road would be clear for an improvement of relations. In any case, the Soviet Union intended to sign the treaty by the end of 1961. If America wanted war over Berlin, there was nothing the Soviet Union could do about it. Maybe he should sign the treaty right away and get it over; that is what the Pentagon had wanted. But madmen who sought war ought to be put in strait jackets.
It was not quite a tirade; it was too controlled and hard and therefore the more menacing. Kennedy replied that the United States did not wish to precipitate a crisis. The Soviet Union was doing so by threatening unilateral changes in the existing situation. Was this the way to achieve peace? If the United States surrendered to the Soviet demand, it would not be regarded as a serious country any longer.
Khrushchev became even harsher. The Soviet Union, he said, would never under any conditions accept American rights in West Berlin after the treaty. After all, the United States itself had signed a unilateral peace treaty with Japan. The Soviet Union was determined to go ahead, and responsibility for subsequent violations of East German sovereignty would be heavy.
Kennedy replied that the United States did not wish to deprive the Soviet Union of its ties in Eastern Europe and would not submit to the loss of its own ties in Western Europe. He had not assumed office to accept arrangements totally inimical to American interests.
It was time for luncheon.
Both men, even after the grimness of the morning, retained their capacity for chaff. Kennedy, responding to Khrushchev’s toast, recalled that the Chairman had told him the night before that, when he was Kennedy’s age, he had been a member of the Moscow Planning Commission and was looking forward to becoming chairman. The President continued that, when he was sixty-seven, he hoped to be head of the Boston Planning Commission and possibly national chairman of the Democratic party. Khrushchev interjected that perhaps he would like to be head of a planning commission for the whole world. Kennedy replied no, only Boston.
Then, in solemn language, the President reaffirmed the responsibility both leaders had to avoid confrontations which might threaten the destruction of civilization.
In between, they had snatches of private talk. Khrushchev said that he had read Kennedy’s defense message and thought that in consequence the Soviet Union should perhaps increase its land forces and artillery. America, Khrushchev added, was run by monopolists and could not afford to disarm. Kennedy rejoined by mentioning Walter Reuther and adding that he thought the Chairman had met him in San Francisco in 1959. Khrushchev said unsmilingly, “Yes, I met him. We hung the likes of Reuther in Russia in 1917.” As for the moon project, Khrushchev on further reflection advised the United States to go by itself; a joint trip would be impossible without disarmament because the same rockets were used for military and scientific purposes. The Chairman added that he had heard Kennedy was under pressure to resume testing; he was too. However, the Soviet Union would wait for the United States to begin. If America tested, Russia would follow.
After luncheon, Kennedy, making a final effort, asked to talk with Khrushchev alone. Accompanied only by interpreters, they sat together for a last conversation. The President began by expressing hope that in the interest of relations between their two countries the Chairman would not present him with a crisis so deeply involving the American national interest as Berlin. Of course any decision Khrushchev wanted to make about the Democratic Republic was his own. But change was taking place everywhere in the world, and no one could predict its end. At such a time, all decisions had to be carefully considered.
Khrushchev returned unrelentingly to the attack. The United States, he said, wanted to humiliate the Soviet Union. If the President insisted on occupation rights after a treaty and if East German borders were violated, whether by land, sea or air, force would be met by force. The United States should prepare itself for this, and the Soviet Union would do the same.
A Thousand Days Page 45