by Allen Drury
“Here, Mr. President!” he cried, suddenly holding up a sheaf of papers. “Here, here is the proof of what a fraud is this Pious Curtain the American Government has put up! Here is the proof of American perfidy just as Soviet intelligence has discovered it. Here—take them, pass them along, read for yourselves!” And he handed a fistful of papers to China on his right, to Egypt on his left. Each took one and passed the rest on around the table.
“Here is the proof, Mr. President,” Cuba concluded, “and because of it, and because of the perfidious deeds of pious, pretending America, I submit that this Council should speedily defeat the amendment of the government of the United States and give overwhelming approval to the resolution of the U.S.S.R.”
And with a satisfied shake of his head and one more furious twist on his mustache, he slumped back in his seat while the galleries and many of his fellow delegates applauded long and vigorously.
“Does anyone else wish to—” Australia asked. Again the chant of “VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!” began. It changed rapidly to booing when it was observed that the Vice President, after a hurried whispered conference with the Attorney General and the British Ambassador, was holding up his hand for recognition.
“The galleries will be silent!” Australia said indignantly, banging furiously with his gavel. Finally he was able to recognize Roger P. Croy, who looked around at the still murmurous crowd with a strangely mingled expression of supplication and anger, and began slowly to speak.
“Mr. President,” he said, “my government is aghast and appalled at the attitude here today.”
“You should be!” someone shouted and there was a burst of raucous amusement. The Vice President flushed angrily for a second but decided to ignore it.
“We feel to some degree that we are in the midst of an insane situation in which, as the distinguished Ambassador of the United Kingdom says, there is an attempt being made to convince the world that black is white, up is down, yea is nay and evil is good. We are, I repeat, aghast and appalled at this; and yet we still do not believe that we should reply in kind, because to do so would be to join in what seems to us a real betrayal of world peace. We think we should respond simply by correcting the facts for the record. We do not think we should inflame the atmosphere here further by replying with hostility to the hostile charges and hostile actions against us. We still believe that the government of the United States can best serve mankind by turning, if you please, the other cheek.”
“That is too bad,” Raoul Barre murmured to Egypt at his side, “because if you do, you will get slapped.”
“Yes,” Egypt agreed with a happy relish. “Yes, indeed.”
“Mr. President,” Roger Croy said, and his voice showed more strain and tiredness than he knew, “we are somewhat at a loss where to begin, so many are the falsehoods that have been hurled our way in the past hour. Yet perhaps the best place to begin is with a frank admission of past errors, which this Administration repudiates as vigorously and completely as many of you do. This Administration was not responsible for those errors in Gorotoland and Panama, nor was it responsible for errors, if errors there have been—” he paused and emphasized the next words, which caused the Soviet Ambassador to stir restlessly—“in waters contiguous to the Soviet Union. They are not, I might add, ‘contiguous waters of the Soviet Union,’ which is a wordage attempting to establish a claim to sovereignty which we do not recognize, since these are international waters.”
“Good,” Claude Maudulayne murmured to George Wattersill. “I wondered if you were ever going to get around to that.”
“But, Mr. President,” Roger Croy went on, “after acknowledging that past administrations in Washington have perhaps been guilty of certain actions which have been opposed by many members of the United Nations, and which we of the new Administration have opposed, I must insist upon the plain and simple truth that this is now a new Administration, which comes to office with a fresh page to write upon. And it does come, I will say to the distinguished delegate of Cuba, with clean hands. And it does come with generosity, candor and decency to offer a new procedure to the world in mankind’s endless search for a viable peace.
“The President of the United States is sincere. The Vice President of the United States is sincere. Our Administration is sincere. We do want peace, and in the President’s inaugural and in the actions he took on that occasion, as well as in his message to Chairman Tashikov yesterday and in our resolution here today, I think we have proved it to any fair-minded man.
“The United States, I submit to you, has been subjected to aggression of the worst kind by the Soviet Union—the most blatant—the most ruthless—the most unprincipled—”
But now the booing which had begun to rise through the galleries reached a crescendo that drowned him out, and for several moments he remained grim-faced and silent while a NAWAC-led chant of “FRAUD! FRAUD! FRAUD!” filled the chamber and pounded from the world’s television screens. Presently it diminished and he went on.
“Yes, Mr. President,” he said managing to sound relatively calm, “the most unprincipled and most inexcusable aggression. We offered peace and we were met with instantaneous armed hostility. Governments not perfect but at least reasonably stable were immediately overthrown in Gorotoland and Panama. Rebel forces backed openly by Soviet arms were immediately installed. Using the pretext of fishing disputes, which are always recurrent in the Bering Straits and always resolvable by peaceful negotiation, the Soviet Union destroyed American fishing vessels, actually landed briefly on American soil, and now has attempted to mine the waters around Alaska. Instant and complete atomic annihilation, under other circumstances and under other administrations, would perhaps have been visited upon the Soviet Union for such actions.
“With great forbearance and with a genuine devotion to peace which must be apparent to all but the most willfully self-blinded, the government of the United States did not retaliate in this fashion, though we could have. Instead, we have adopted a conciliatory posture and have placed our faith in the basic good will and honor which we believe still exist in the Soviet Union, and in the great majority of the nations and peoples throughout the world.
“Because we do feel good will and honor to exist in others as we believe they exist in us, we feel it is not necessary to waste very much time on an attempt to answer the charges made by the Cuban delegate concerning any alleged bad faith on the President’s part in withdrawing American forces around the world. We note that the Cuban delegate claims he has been shown some purported intelligence document by the delegate of the Soviet Union. If there is such a document, it is a forgery. We do not believe it represents the true intention or attitude of those forces of good will and decency which we believe exist in the Soviet Government.”
The Vice President paused to take a sip of water and Raoul Barre raised his hand.
“Does the distinguished delegate of the United States,” he asked, “believe that the delegate of the Soviet Union is here under false pretenses? Does he think he was not appointed by his government? Does he think the delegate would present a document, even a forged document, without the specific knowledge and approval of his government? Is that the distinguished delegate’s concept of how the government of the Soviet Union functions?”
For just a moment Roger P. Croy gave him a disturbed and startled look. Then a stubborn expression closed it out.
“It is the belief of my government, of the President and of myself,” he said firmly, “that the action of the Soviet delegate, and the intent of those who sent him here, differs substantially from the elements desiring genuine peace with America that we believe are presently engaged in a struggle for ascendancy in the Soviet Union.”
“Is that correct, I will ask the delegate of the Soviet Union?” Raoul Barre insisted blandly.
“Rubbish!” Nikolai Zworkyan snapped. “Childish rubbish!”
“That was my impression,” the French Ambassador agreed. “Perhaps the delegate of the United States shoul
d concentrate on the forgery rather than on the presumed good will, or lack of it, of those who directed that it be placed before this body.”
“We have said that this document is a forgery,” the Vice President said stiffly. “We reiterate that statement. We must leave it to the world to judge.”
“I think I might warn my friend from the United States,” Raoul Barre said with a certain philosophic sadness, “that the world is judging, and quite severely, at this very moment.”
“I do not know what the delegate is talking about,” Roger Croy said with a sudden show of anger, “but I do know that the government of the United States comes here with clean hands, in good faith, with good will, in honor, decency and integrity, to seek a peaceful solution for the difficult situation created by the Soviet Union. I know we do not want war, we want peace. I know we have submitted a resolution to this Council which, without indulging in invidious name-calling or false and unfounded charges, seeks to establish the machinery for solving the situation and furthering the cause of peace. We cannot believe that members of the United Nations are so blind to the facts, so prejudiced in their feelings toward us, so completely willing to ignore all the evidence, so frivolous with the peace of the world which lies in their keeping, that they will support these unwarranted attacks on us and block our efforts to save the peace. We cannot believe that, I will say to the delegate of France.”
“The distinguished delegate,” Raoul Barre said with something of the same philosophic melancholy, “I am afraid does not know this body as well as some of us who have served a little longer in its unique and ineffable atmosphere. Mr. President, if the delegate has concluded—?” and he paused and looked politely at Roger P. Croy, who started to say something angry and then thought better of it and subsided “—and if no one else has anything to say, I would suggest we vote.”
“VOTE! VOTE! VOTE!” cried the galleries obediently, and around the circle there were nods and gestures of agreement.
“If that is agreeable—?” Australia inquired. “Good. The question comes on the amendment of the government of the United States to the resolution of the government of the Soviet Union. The Secretary-General will call the roll.”
“Australia,” the S.-G. said gravely.
“Yes,” said Australia.
“Boooo!” said the galleries.
“Chile.”
“No,” said Chile.
“Hoooray!” said the galleries.
“China.”
“China,” said China with a bland and affable little smile, “abstains.”
“Cuba.”
“Cuba votes No!”
“Egypt.”
“Egypt votes No!” said Egypt loudly.
“France.”
“France votes Yes,” Raoul Barre said, as blandly as China.
“Ghana.”
“No!”
“India.”
“India,” said Krishna Khaleel, looking about brightly, “abstains.”
“Lesotho.”
“Lesotho,” said its representative, an enormous chieftain of the Sotho tribe, “votes Yes.”
There was a moment of booing, quickly stilled and then renewed as Norway was called and also voted Yes.
“Romania.”
“Romania votes No.”
“The United Kingdom.”
“Yes,” said Lord Maudulayne, to more expressions of distaste from the galleries.
“The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.”
“Nyet!” Nikolai Zworkyan spat out, and a burst of applause, cheers and yells approved him.
“The United States.”
“Yes,” said Roger P. Croy and received the expected boos.
“Zambia.”
“Zambia votes NO!” shouted Zambia as a final happy cheer went up.
“The vote,” said Australia, “is six Yes, seven No, two abstentions. The resolution of the United States loses because a permanent member, the Soviet Union, has voted No. It also loses by simple majority. The question now comes on the original resolution of the government of the U.S.S.R. The Secretary-General will call the roll.”
“Australia.”
“Australia votes No!”
Boos.
“Chile.”
“Chile votes Yes!”
Cheers.
“China.”
“China,” said China, bland little smile unchanged, “abstains.”
“Cuba.”
“SI!”
Cheers.
“Egypt.”
“Yes.”
More cheers.
“France!”
“France votes No,” Raoul Barre said calmly, and again the boos broke out, angry, contemptuous, disgusted.
“Ghana.”
“Yes!”
“India!”
“India votes Yes,” said Krishna Khaleel crisply and there was a happy roar.
“Lesotho.”
“Lesotho votes NO!”
Boos.
“Norway.”
“No!”
“Romania.”
“Yes!”
“The United Kingdom.”
“No,” Lord Maudulayne said quietly, and the disgusted sound was renewed.
“The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.”
“DA!” shouted Nikolai Zworkyan defiantly. The roar of approval was repeated.
“The United States.”
“The United States,” said George Henry Wattersill with an earnest, almost prim air of forbearance that produced astonished looks from his colleagues of Britain and France—amazed and then pleased grins from many others around the table—a delighted yelp from the galleries—“abstains.”
“Zambia.”
“Zambia votes YES and death to all imperialist warmongers!” Zambia cried with an exaggerated flair that brought a laughing, hand-clapping, floor-stamping roar of approval.
“The vote,” said Australia quietly, “is eight Yes, five No, and two abstentions. Since two permanent members of the Security Council, France and the United Kingdom, have exercised their right of veto, the resolution of the Soviet Union is defeated. Twice defeated, in fact,” he added with a small attempt at humor that fell thinly to the ground in the suddenly tense and quiet chamber. “Does the delegate of the United States seek recognition?”
“Yes,” said George Wattersill earnestly, “I do, to explain the action of my government in the vote just taken. On direct orders from President Jason, in which the Vice President and I wholeheartedly concur, it has been determined that the United States under this Administration will never exercise its right of veto in the United Nations. We feel that the exercise of the veto by the United States during the past two administrations represented a fundamental weakening of the United Nations, which we regret, and we have determined that this Administration will not be party to any such further weakening.”
(“Christ!” said the New York Daily News in the Press Gallery. “How noble can you get?” “A question,” agreed the New York Times, gesturing at a number of baffled but ironic faces around the green baize table, “which has obviously occurred to quite a few others.”)
“I thank the delegate for his explanation,” Australia said politely. “If there is no further business—ah! The delegate of the Soviet Union.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Nikolai Zworkyan said dourly, “the delegate of the Soviet Union. The delegate of the Soviet Union wishes to announce that he is departing this chamber at once to go to the General Assembly, which I am informed is presently meeting, to introduce an identical resolution. We shall see what happens then, away from this peace-defying temple of the veto!”
“Which the delegate’s country has only exercised some two hundred times,” Lord Maudulayne observed acidly. The Soviet Ambassador shot him a black glance but made no reply; shrugged, picked up his papers and, trailed by his delegation and staff members, marched stolidly out of the room on a wave of frantically approving applause.
“Please,” said Au
stralia patiently for the last time, “the galleries are advised they must be in order. If there is no further business—the delegate of the United States.”
“The United States,” said Roger P. Croy, unable to appear anything but anticlimactic, “wishes to announce that it, too, will introduce its resolution of amendment immediately in the General Assembly.”
And to a chorus of scornful hoots, he and George Wattersill and their worried delegation and staff members also arose and walked quickly, and somehow almost apologetically, from the room.
“I take it there is no further business at this time,” Australia said in a relieved tone, “so the Security Council stands adjourned subject to call of the Chair.”
“And what do you make of that?” Claude Maudulayne murmured as he and the French Ambassador walked slowly along in the midst of a hurrying, jostling, excitedly talking crowd of delegates and newsmen to the General Assembly.
Raoul Barre gave a tired shrug.
“I told them the world was judging, and I am afraid it has. And I am afraid it will now begin, for the sake of sheer survival, if survival there be, to make other arrangements.”
“Yes,” Lord Maudulayne agreed glumly, “I am afraid you may be right. Or perhaps I should say: I am afraid, period.”
“Now,” he said—comfortably, he hoped, not too heartily, not too anxiously—“How about that?”
But beside him, as always, the handsome boy smiled his kindly, impersonal, all-embracing smile and made no response. Not even so much as the flick of an eyelid, Lafe thought bitterly, to indicate that he was alive, was being moved, had left familiar surroundings, was going somewhere else. The sensation of being in an automobile should itself be a major new thing for him, but there was nothing … nothing. Poor Hal! Lafe thought. To have been given such a son, outwardly so perfect, inwardly so absent—somewhere, where no one yet had ever been able to follow.