Monday, Apr. 03, 1944

No Plans

The President's eyes looked weary and his voice was muffled by a head cold. But his spirits seemed as buoyant as the spring sun on the White House lawn. He read the first paragraph of his statement firmly: "The United Nations are fighting to make a world in which tyranny and aggression cannot exist; a world based upon freedom, equality and justice; a world in which all persons, regardless of race, color or creed, may live in peace, honor and dignity."

The President paused, cocked an eyebrow at the reporters crowded around his desk. Some of you people, he interpolated, are wandering around asking bellhops if we have a foreign policy. Well, we have. Some of you don't seem to know it, but we actually have and it's right here.

The President resumed reading. The statement mentioned the suffering of Axis-tortured victims in conquered countries, declared that "all who share the guilt shall share the punishment." Again he interpolated: That's more foreign policy; we've got a lot of it today. His statement ended with a ringing "call upon the free peoples of Europe and Asia temporarily to open their frontiers to all victims of oppression."

Will the U.S., asked a reporter, open its doors to these refugees? The President replied that the U.S. is helping as many of them to escape as it can. The reporter persisted: Will they be brought here? Said the President: there is no plan; not enough have escaped yet.

Seventeen Points. This episode neatly epitomized the apparent state of U.S. foreign policy last week--long on ideals, short on plans.

Cordell Hull, tanned by a Florida rest, took note of the chorus of complaints about the lack of U.S. foreign policy. He issued a 17-point rehash of his past statements and speeches. As thus defined, U.S. foreign policy is to defeat the nation's enemies, and assure the U.S. national security, economic and social wellbeing. This is to be done by Good Neighborly cooperation between nations, by an international agency to keep the peace, a world court, arms reduction, reduction of excessive trade barriers, international monetary stabilization. In the 17 points was nothing either new or concrete.

Twenty-One Congressmen. Radio Commentator Quincy Howe cracked that Mr. Hull's Seventeen Points put the Secretary of State seven points up on God, three up on Woodrow Wilson. But most Americans accepted these lofty abstractions as the noble aspirations of a sincere, high-principled man. If the President's and the State Department's deeds matched Cordell Hull's words, no one could complain that the U.S. has no foreign policy.

But reporters who pressed Mr. Hull for a single example of the application of his principles to Poland, Italy, Spain or Argentina were testily rebuffed with a statement that the Secretary did not want to take the bloom off a radio speech he intends to make shortly.

In midweek Secretary Hull trudged firmly up the Capitol steps to try to answer some questions for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Gesturing constantly with a sidearm wave of his right hand and forearm, the old man talked for two hours without glancing at a note. But the generalities of his review added little to the Senators' information. His main theme: in wartime the State Department's primary task is to help win the earliest possible victory with the fewest possible losses. Nearly all questions should be held for the peace table.

Two days later into Mr. Hull's office trooped 21 of 24 freshman Republican Representatives. All were internationalists and consistent supporters of Mr. Hull. They had written him a respectful letter requesting "some explanation of your puzzling silence" about concrete U.S. foreign policy. After 150 minutes the 21 Republicans emerged wrapped in gloom. Said Maine's Robert Hale, onetime Rhodes scholar: "Mr. Hull was cordial and courteous, but I left with the same impression that I had when I went in--that the Administration has no foreign policy." New York's Bernard W. Kearney was briefer: "No hits, no runs, no errors." Others recalled an occasion when John Hay was Secretary of State, and conferred with a Chinese minister named Wu. "I talked & talked until the Minister was hazy," reported Hay, "and the Minister talked & talked until I was woozy."

Two Motivations. The meeting was confidential, but, as usual, it leaked. During it, Secretary Hull, worn, harassed, irascible, complained at great length about his "damned detractors" of the press and radio. He let drop one tidbit of news: he had taken a plan for the future of Germany to Moscow, but it had been ruled off the conference agenda even though Eden and Litvinoff personally thought it was fine. But mostly old Mr. Hull harped on what are now clearly the two prime motivations of U.S. foreign policy:

1) nothing must be said or done to interfere with the prosecution of the war;

2) everything possible must be done to placate Russia.

Two Questions. These "realistic" preoccupations opened up two equally realistic questions:

P: Is the war best advanced by waiting until each problem arises and then attempting to solve it by whatever means seems militarily most expedient at the moment?

P: Can the U.S. best win Russia's respect and cooperation by giving in to her at every turn?

Last week Herbert Hoover put the question concretely. "The U.S., Russia and Britain have agreed to collaborate in building self-government and freedom in the world. It would seem that we could use our good offices to secure some way out of the impasse for Finland. The way this problem is handled will be a profound indication of the future of collaboration."

Still Cordell Hull got no rest. Instead, he received a letter from 14 other Republican Congressmen, asking all over again: "What are we fighting for?"

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