The Thunderer Departs

It took 25 days, and nearly as many tantrums, for Nikita Khrushchev finally to win a vote in the United Nations. In getting his way, Khrushchev banged his fists, took off a shoe and thumped it on his desk, shook a finger under the nose of a Spanish delegate, and harangued the world in a purple-faced passion.

He called names like an angry child. The ten-nation disarmament committee, he said, was a stable with a stench that "an honest man could not breathe"; the Security Council was "a spittoon, even worse than a spittoon--a cuspidor"; Nationalist China was "a corpse we have to cast right out of here, straight to hell." From places and things he descended to personalities: Syngman Rhee was "a throttler and choker of the Korean people," Philippine Delegate Lorenzo Sumulong "a jerk and a lackey," Dag Hammarskjold "a fool" and President Dwight Eisenhower "a liar." As for the United Nations itself, "the U.N. is the U.S., it's all one; after all, it's a branch of the State Department."

The Knife. Disappointment and near disaster trailed Nikita Khrushchev around the city. He engaged in a TV shouting match with an interviewer nearly as brash as himself--frenetic Producer David Susskind (see SHOW BUSINESS). Even Khrushchev's grisly jokes went sour. Asked by newsmen if he had changed his mind on disarmament, Khrushchev produced a penknife, said "I have this," and wondered aloud if the knife "could puncture such a sack" as the U.S.'s stout ambassador to the U.N., James J. Wadsworth.

In midweek Khrushchev anxiously nursed forward the one Soviet issue that had any hope of winning a favorable U.N. vote: a resolution demanding immediate freedom for all colonies everywhere. One after another, Afro-Asian delegates marched to the podium to promise their votes. Then Philippine Delegate Lorenzo Sumulong urged that the resolution be widened to include discussion of "the inalienable right to independence of the peoples of Eastern Europe."

Near panic set in among the Communist delegates. Rumania's Deputy Foreign Minister Eduard Mezincescu popped up on a point of order, and Khrushchev took off his shoe, waved it and pounded it. Then, apparently dissatisfied with Mezincescu's protest, Nikita Khrushchev strode briskly down the aisle to pour vituperation on Sumulong.

The Gavel. When U.S. Delegate Francis O. Wilcox brought up the same unpleasant item of Communist subject nations, Rumania's Mezincescu, clearly feeling he had not been noisy or rude enough before, interrupted with a frenzied, podium-pounding display. He shouted that Assembly President Frederick Boland was partial toward "supporters of the colonialists," and Khrushchev again took off his shoe and thumped his desk with it. To restore order, President Boland pounded his gavel until it broke. "Because of the scene you have just witnessed," Boland coldly told the delegates, "I think the Assembly had better adjourn." It was the most disorderly session in U.N. history, and the first ever to end in mid-speech.

Next morning Khrushchev delightedly awaited his first victory--the vote on the Soviet resolution to debate the colonial question in plenary session. But there were unexpected surprises ahead. Sekou Toure, young (38) President of Guinea, who has brought his country a long way toward the Communist camp, had not been in the Assembly the day before, but he had watched Khrushchev's antics on TV in his hotel room. What he saw shocked him. Canceling his plan to leave the U.S., Sekou Toure telephoned the U.N., asked permission to speak.

The Mission. Toure's speech in French was eloquent. He spoke directly to "the Rumanian delegate and the group to which he belongs," appealed for Communists to recognize that the U.N. ideal is "freedom, the right of every people to self-determination," and he demanded that the Communists should quit smothering the debate "with propaganda." The end of colonialism, said Toure, "is imperative and irreversible. Therefore, why not do it in an atmosphere of understanding and collaboration," instead of "trying to feed the fires of discontent and disturbance in this place and that, with the results we all know these troubles produce: mounting casualty lists, the engendering of hatred, deepening lack of understanding, and the digging of a grave for history." He prayed that U.N. action would demonstrate that "the General Assembly is located near a statue, the Statue of Liberty," which represents "not American liberty alone, but liberty for all peoples and all men."

The entire Assembly roared its applause. Toure was followed by Nepal's Rishikesh Shaha, who declared his concern over "all this sound and fury, all these ugly gestures." He warned that Asia and Africa would "not be bullied by gestures of superiority," which were "insulting to our intelligence."

Last Words. Khrushchev sobered. His final words were an apology. "Goodbye," he said. "I crave your indulgence for occasionally speaking out of turn. I offended the delegate from the Philippines. He offended me. He is an old parliamentarian and I am a young one. Nepal, too, gave us good lessons in parliamentarianism. By the way, is there a Parliament in Nepal? I will have to look it up in my geography book when I get home. But this is not relevant. Goodbye. Thank you."

The stunned and disbelieving Assembly watched him go. An Irish diplomat said, "He is a very difficult man to understand. I imagine it must be a trying experience for him to appear in this kind of a parliamentary body. He is used to making speeches to unanimous audiences which give him nothing but applause." Another neutral delegate added, "I suppose he really thought he could take the U.N. by storm, especially the uncommitted nations. But he ended up with a left-wing African publicly criticizing him, and the Assembly applauding the criticism."

The Sausages. Nikita Khrushchev's most effective and dismaying speech was delivered earlier in the week to a partially filled Assembly and a nearly empty press box. Ostensibly, his speech was a plea for "complete and immediate" disarmament, but it came out as a threat. His words dropped heavily into the hushed chamber beside the East River: "We will not be bullied, we will not be scared. Our economy is flowering, our technology is on a steep upturn, our working class is united in full solidarity. You want to compete with us in the arms race? We will beat you in that. Production of rockets is now a matter of mass delivery--like sausages that come out of an automatic machine."

Now he was waving his stubby arms. "Of course, you are going to complain all over the place, 'Khrushchev is threatening!' Well, he is not threatening. He is really predicting the future . . . The arms race will go on, and this will bring about war, and in that war you will lose, and many of those sitting here will not be found any longer--and not many, but perhaps all. You are accustomed to listen to words that lull you. But, as for Khrushchev, I do not wish to pat your heads when the world is on the verge of catastrophe. You want to listen to pleasant words. Well, if these words are unpleasant, that means I have achieved my purpose. That is exactly what I intended."

As a result of that display, there will be great pressure this year, especially from the small, uncommitted neutrals, for quick agreement on disarmament--with or without foolproof controls. Said a senior delegate: "The picture that Mr. Khrushchev drew of rockets coming out of Russian factories like sausages is a terrible picture of the arms race. It has deeply impressed most delegates. I think it has increased the feeling of alarm and urgency about the cold war."

As Nikita Khrushchev's huge, white Tupolev turboprop last week made the nonstop flight from New York to Moscow, millions in the West were relieved that the long, intemperate harangue was over. U.S. Delegate James Wadsworth pointed out that Khrushchev "once again has laid down the gauntlet and said to 98 other countries here, 'You should do it my way or not at all.' "

In Moscow the crowds were out, and the Communist daily Pravda sang its hosannas for the returning hero, even if no one in the U.N. had. Western leaders, crowed Pravda, wanted to make the U.N. "the world's quietest waters," but they "wriggled as the head of the Soviet delegation, brushing aside all the subtleties of protocol, put his foot on their tail."

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