Future Power

Even to optimists, the U.S. proposals for an international atomic agency often seemed like little more than a buzz of oratory. Last week the U.S. produced the goods. Before the U.N., Ambassador Henry Cabot Lodge Jr. made a bare announcement: the U.S. has allocated 100 kilo grams (220 Ibs.) of fissionable material to be distributed to atomic "have not" nations as fuel for experimental reactors.

The offer thumped down in the U.N.'s political committee like a bag of gold on a bargaining table littered with I.O.U.s. By the gift of material weighing no more than a hefty Notre Dame fullback, the U.S. presented the world with a package more fabulous than Aladdin's wildest dreams.

Russian Reservations. The U.S.'s princely package means 220 Ibs. of atomically active U-235-The actual bulk delivered might be much more, since U-235 is mixed with other uranium in various concentrations depending on its intended use. None would be "weapon-grade," i.e., concentrated enough for bombs, and the quantity, when divvied up, was less than a large power reactor would require. But it was enough to run an estimated 30 to 40 research reactors in as many countries. Said Lodge pointedly: "I hope this will once and for all remove from the minds of all any confusion as to how specific the U.S. atoms-for-peace proposition is." Perceptibly, enthusiasms quickened. Russia's Andrei Vishinsky stopped mocking and began acting like a man scared to death that the bandwagon would leave without him. Next day Britain added a contribution of 20 kilograms (44 Ibs.).

Five times in six days Vishinsky closeted himself with Lodge to discuss amendments to the atoms-for-peace plan. He wanted to make the atomic agency "responsible" to the U.N. Security Council; the Western sponsoring powers said no: that would give Russia a veto. Vishinsky wanted stipulations that negotiations for the atomic agency "should continue" with Russia. The West agreed. He wanted some phrases associating the international atomic authority with disarmament. The West worked out some suitably vague language, but refused a direct tie. "We think this atoms-for-peace proposal will lead the world away from war because it is a new prism through which we can look at the problems of the world," said Lodge. "It is a new place at which to begin. But we must not bog down one proposal by tying it to another."

Lastly, Vishinsky wanted the invitations to the scientific conference set for next year to include not only U.N. members but "other states"--meaning Red China, Outer Mongolia, East Germany and North Korea. The West said no. Vishinsky cited Dulles' speech to the U.N. in which Dulles declared: "I want to make it perfectly clear that our planning excludes no nation from participation in this great venture." Said Vishinsky cheerfully: "I don't often support Mr. Dulles, but when he's right, I raise both hands, the only hands I have, to support him. If I had more hands, I'd raise them too."

Coming Around. By this time, he was talking expansively of "the now common goal," rousing India's Krishna Menon to indignation. "We are not prepared to accept the proposition that because the Soviet Union and the U.S. are agreed, all problems are solved," snapped Menon.

But at week's end, Vishinsky suddenly reverted to his natural character. Hurrying over to see Lodge at the U.S. delegation offices on Park Avenue, he declared that Russia would insist on submitting an amendment tying the agency to the Security Council. Brusquely, the U.S. refused. But whether Vishinsky came along or not, the West was determined to go ahead without him.

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