The Adventurer

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In the wake of Russia's retreat from Cuba, Prime Minister Harold Macmillan rose in the House of Commons to deliver his reasoned judgment on the outcome. It was, he declared, "one of the great turning points of history."

This judgment may have been somewhat inflated, but the event does have momentous significance. Years ago, the West had forced a Russian withdrawal in Iran, stopped Communism in Korea, pushed it back in Europe with the Marshall Plan, frustrated its 1948 siege of Berlin with the airlift. All these occasions were milestones in the persistence of free men to remain free. But these tests came before both sides had large nuclear arsenals, and for the most part did not involve a direct, point-blank confrontation between Washington and Moscow. Now, in an ultimate showdown, Russia had given way.

Nikita Khrushchev is a resourceful, imaginative and tough opponent who obviously has a great many tricks left in the back of his shrewd peasant mind. But, except for those who seem constitutionally unable to believe that the Russians can ever make mistakes, there is an almost worldwide consensus that in Cuba Khrushchev had overextended himself, and that he has been forced back in a test of will with the U.S.

Satellite Procession. Khrushchev was busy all week trying to prove precisely the opposite. To the Russian people, who were kept almost totally in the dark about their government's attempt to plant rockets 6,000 miles from Soviet soil, Khrushchev was playing the role of the stern defender of peace on the side of plucky little Cuba. But it was not so easy to fob off Communism's professionals.

One by one, the Red satellite leaders began trooping into Moscow. First came Czechoslovakia's President Antonin Novotny, who had heavily invested in Cuba. Next came Bulgaria's Todor Zhevkov, and East Germany's Walter Ulbricht, who has been waiting since 1958 for Khrushchev to live up to his promise to throw the U.S., Britain and France out of Berlin. At week's end Poland's Wladyslaw Gomulka joined the procession. Each in his own way, the satellite leaders were bound to ask the same question that preoccupied the rest of the world: Why had Khrushchev got himself involved in the Caribbean adventure?

Moscow often had tried rocket diplomacy of sorts in the past. Khrushchev once told Greece that he would rain nuclear destruction on the Acropolis, and he as good as promised Chancellor Konrad Adenauer that West Germany would become a "funeral pyre." But these were only what diplomats have come to call "missile letters." Never before had the Kremlin risked using missiles themselves to push its policies. It had not permitted Warsaw Pact allies to have offensive missiles, and had never, in fact, dared allow them off the soil of the Soviet Union. Why had Khrushchev done so now in the Caribbean, virtually an American lake thousands of miles from the nearest point of direct Soviet interest?

Explanation for Export. Since many in the West cling fondly to the view of Khrushchev as a moderate, one theory is that he was pushed into taking the Caribbean gamble, either by the military or by the so-called "hard line" or "Stalinist" group, which some experts suspect of strong and continuing influence. This, presumably, is just what Nikita would like the world to think. Some Western observers even go so far as to argue that if Khrushchev was forced into the Cuban move by "extremists," he is now in a better position than before, having proved the extremists wrong and presumably put them in their place.

Most longtime students of Soviet politics doubt this. They believe that there is still something like collective leadership in Russia, hence that Khrushchev may have been egged on by militarists--or for that matter, urged to be careful by the cautious. Certainly the man who has exploded a 50-megaton bomb in a test over the Arctic, might, by ordinary standards, be considered a hard-liner himself. On balance, there is reason to assume that Khrushchev was behind the Cuban project from start to finish.

The version being fed to the satellites and neutrals is that Khrushchev really believed on the basis of Soviet intelligence reports that a U.S. invasion of Cuba was imminent. He felt that the Russian people could not bear to witness the overthrow of what they now considered as a reincarnation of their own great 1917 socialist revolution. So, according to the ingenious but preposterous Moscow tale, a careful Russian plan was drawn up to ship the missiles to Cuba without secrecy, install them without camouflage. When Kennedy got word, he would make a fuss, presumably demand negotiations, in which the Russians would be able to extract a no-invasion guarantee for their pal Fidel.

The stakes, of course, were far too high for so far-fetched a motive. Many Communists apparently do not believe the story themselves. "The Soviets here are depressed and quite sensitive," reports a U.S. newsman from Bonn. "When they tell you that Khrushchev withdrew because the U.S. guaranteed the continued existence of Castro, they look quickly at your eyes to see if you buy that one. They really prefer not to talk about it."

An Unhappy Birthday. Khrushchev's real reasons were undoubtedly rooted in the severe problems Russia faces. With customary fanfare this week, Moscow celebrates the 45th anniversary of the Communist revolution. It is not a happy anniversary. In nearly half a century the country has made tremendous strides, to become one of the world's great industrial powers, but the life of the ordinary Russian is still drab and cramped. He dreams of material progress that is an everyday fact in the West, and it sometimes seems to him that it is easier for his country to orbit a cosmonaut than to turn out a decent pair of shoes. Despite killing, coaxing and collectivization, Russia has been unable to solve her agricultural problems, and still does not produce enough food to meet the needs of a rising population. The bitter ideological split with Red China has cracked open the fac,ade of world Communist unity.

The cold war is not going the Kremlin's way either. Moscow seems no closer to grabbing Berlin; the U.S. is making a firm stand in Southeast Asia; Africa and other neutral areas are resisting Communist blandishments. Moreover, the Soviet effort to match the U.S. in advanced missile and nuclear hardware is painfully expensive, and still has not put Russia out in front. More and more of the American missile-carrying Polaris submarines are taking up underwater stations around the world, an effective seaborne answer to Russia's huge, costly intercontinental ballistic missiles.

How to redress the balance quickly, on the cheap? Although long-range ICBMs are too big and costly to mass produce, Russia's factories are geared to churn out the smaller medium-range and intermediate-range missiles. They must have seemed just right for Cuba, which is within easy range of the U.S., and hence potentially far more accurate than Russian-based missiles.

Dr. No Aspect. The haste with which Khrushchev grasped the opportunity and mounted his Cuban missile program tends to confirm the Washington theory that he hoped to have the weapons ready for some fancy nuclear blackmail with the U.S. this fall. At an estimated cost of $1 billion, the missiles were relatively inexpensive, but once they were in place, Moscow might at last sign the long-threatened peace treaty with East Germany and order the West out of Berlin. Considered now, in the light of its failure, the plan suggests a certain Dr. No aspect of the mad scientist threatening to blow up the U.S., but it also had a sort of classic simplicity.

Khrushchev must have considered the possibility of getting caught while the missiles were being installed, but apparently thought it worth the gamble. He evidently banked on U.S. acquiescence or, at least, confusion and hesitation. This was the major miscalculation. Only seven weeks ago he had boasted to Austria's Vice Chancellor, then visiting Moscow, that Russia would ignore any possible U.S. blockade of Cuba. But once he realized the possible cost of doing so, he acted with breathtaking speed.

Tug of War. Khrushchev was obviously afraid that if he hesitated the U.S. would invade Cuba or destroy the bases; a backdown after such action would be far more humiliating than a retreat before. For years to come, political scientists will be studying and restudying the rapid exchange of messages between the Kremlin and the White House, as Khrushchev tried to forestall U.S. action and salvage what he could.

Of the three main proposals that came from the Kremlin, the first will doubtless make the most fascinating reading for future scholars. In essence, it flatly offered to get Moscow's missiles out of Cuba if the U.S. agreed to drop any plans to invade. To date no one except top Kremlin and Washington officials knows what else it contained, because after its arrival on the night of Oct. 26. President Kennedy classified it top secret. From the accounts of those who have seen it, it was an unusual document, written in short sentences, obviously at top speed, and with great emotion. It was filled with expressions of fear that events were outracing the statesmen, threatening to tumble out of control. Khrushchev literally begged Kennedy to keep things under control, promised he would do the same. He compared his struggle with Kennedy to two men pulling on a rope with a knot in the middle. The harder we pull, wrote Nikita. the tighter the knot gets.*

Upping the Ante. The note was all the more curious in the light of the second message, which was broadcast by Moscow Radio next morning, before Kennedy had even answered the first one. This new proposal abruptly upped the ante by proposing U.S. evacuation of its bases in Turkey for a Soviet dismantling in Cuba.

This helped explain the series of events that had taken place in Turkey itself earlier in the week, after Kennedy's first television announcement of the Cuba missiles threat. Out of the blue, Soviet Ambassador Nikita Ryzhov sought an audience with Foreign Minister Feridun Erkin, confronted him with a blunt demand for immediate withdrawal of U.S. missiles and NATO installations in Turkey. Premier Ismet Inonu himself drafted the note of rejection. Next Ryzhov arrived with a second, blunter ultimatum: Withdraw the U.S. bases or the Soviet Union will put Turkey's cities first on the list for annihilation if war comes. "If you don't think we are ready to make war over Cuba, you are mistaken," added Ryzhov. Reportedly, Premier Inonu's response to the nuclear threat was: "Don't make me laugh." The Turks stood firm, just as President Kennedy did when the Turkish swap offer arrived at his desk. In Khrushchev's third and final note, he reverted to his first offer, agreed to withdraw the missiles for a no-invasion offer.

Lie After Lie. Inevitably, Moscow's erratic behavior all that week again raised the question of internal strife in Moscow. Some Kremlinologists theorize that Khrushchev had dashed off the first excited note in a panic after convincing himself that the U.S. was on the verge of a Cuba invasion, then was forced by a more militant Kremlin faction to make his Turkey demand. But a majority of Western experts and diplomats see the zigzagging messages as evidence of Nikita Khrushchev's bargaining methods, or simply of confusion. In any case, argue several experts. Khrushchev could not have fired his messages off so swiftly had each one been the subject of a great debate in the Presidium. In Russia, fights take time.

No sooner had he signaled his retreat than the Soviet propaganda machine began to project the image of Nikita Khrushchev as the savior of peace. "All progressive mankind is hailing the peaceful actions of the Soviet Union," proclaimed Pravda. Many a neutralist country bought that line, at least in public. Nevertheless, some facts were inescapable:

> While crying peace. Khrushchev, by his own admission, had built aggressive missile bases on the U.S.'s doorstep. His Foreign Minister and ambassadors in capitals throughout the world had told lie after lie for weeks to conceal the purpose of the Cuban project.

> By accepting Soviet arms aid, Havana's own revolutionary government had made itself a virtual puppet of Moscow, for throughout the crisis Khrushchev was publicly negotiating Cuban policy without even a nod to Fidel Castro.

Soviet Munich? One result of the Cuban affair has been to give new spirit to the Western alliance. NATO members were heartened by Kennedy's strong stand against Russia, though there were some minor complaints about lack of advance consultation. "It used to be said," grumbled Britain's Liberal Party Leader Jo Grimond, "that without the nuclear deterrent we would have to go naked into the conference chamber. With it, we never even got into the chamber at all." The Guardian added huffily that the U.S. might have involved Britain in "annihilation without representation." The lesson of Cuba was clear: as leader of the alliance, the U.S. is prepared to act without its Allies when necessary. Many saw in this a powerful reason for European political unity. Commented France's Le Monde: "Only a united Europe, of which England should be a part, will be in a position effectively to influence events."

In contrast, the Cuban affair was quite a blow to a lot of Nikita's old friends, and to many who were not quite friends, but almost. One of Brazil's leading leftists, Leonel Brizola, President Joao Goulart's Yankee-baiting brother-in-law, called U.S. officials liars when the first missile base charges were made. Later, stunned by Khrushchev's own admission, Brizola said bitterly: "From now on, we must view with the greatest skepticism all Soviet offers to help nations trying to achieve independence." In Africa, Guinea's President Sekou Toure, a onetime pal of the Russians, refused to grant transit landing rights to Russian planes en route to Cuba.

Russia's embarrassment among the non-aligned nations was compounded by Red China's invasion of India, the oldest neutralist country of them all. Despite the Moscow-Peking rift, Russia obviously had to side with China rather than with India. Nevertheless, Red China's militant leaders were clearly appalled by Moscow's missile backdown in Cuba. Western reporters in Peking sent out astonishingly frank stories, quoting high Red Chinese officials as calling Cuba "a Soviet Munich." Day after day, Peking urged Castro to stand fast.

Planted Cronies. If the Chinese in Peking think that Khrushchev blundered, are there any "Chinese" in Moscow who think so too? Publication in Pravda of a year-old anti-Stalin poem by Evgeny Evtushenko (TIME, Nov. 2) was noted with fascination by some students of Soviet policy; to them it suggested that Khrushchev's crowd was issuing a warning to its Stalinist enemies. In addition, Izvestia stated emphatically that the Soviet decision to withdraw the Cuba missiles was "the only correct one in the prevailing circumstances," which sounded as if a defense of the move had become necessary. Finally, Moscow dragged from disgrace Marshal Kliment Voroshilov, 81, only last year berated by Khrushchev as an "antiParty" type. Now Pravda carried a long article over his signature praising the achievements of the Soviet Union as well as the "Leninist" leadership of Comrade Khrushchev, and pointedly recalling Stalin's errors. By thus using the broken old soldier, Khrushchev caused speculation that he might want a military man's prestige to bolster his own position against army critics, possibly rallied around tough Defense Minister Marshal Rodion Malinovsky.

While such evidence is paper-thin, the fact remains that if the Kremlin resembles other human institutions, Khrushchev must have rivals who would like to get his hide. The Cuban affair might provide a ready opportunity, possibly at the Communist Party Central Committee meeting scheduled for this month. But any move against Khrushchev would be exceedingly difficult. Since 1957 he has made sure that no potential rival can rise too high. On all the major platforms of power--the Central Committee's Presidium, the Party Secretariat, the Bureau of the Federal Russian Republic, the Presidium of the Soviet Council of Ministers--only one name appears more than once: Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev. He has planted his cronies in key positions everywhere. Even before the full-scale battle with the "antiparty group" in 1957, more than 70 of the members of the Central Committee owed their careers to Khrushchev or were his close friends. In fact, one Kremlinologist suggests that "Khrushchev's institutional strength probably exceeds anything that Stalin ever achieved."

As far as can be seen, Khrushchev at 68 is in good health, although there are always those rumors of a kidney ailment. His legendary political skill and common touch are unflagging; at the height of the Cuban crisis he managed to get off messages of congratulation to a dozen farmers (for their prize corn crops) and to a successful swineherd. To quiet any doubts about solidarity at the top, Khrushchev and the Party Presidium attended the theater one evening, a traditional display by Soviet party officials in time of crisis./-

What Next? Since Moscow usually produces new pressures to camouflage defeat, many Westerners braced themselves for a crisis at some other trouble spot. Moscow might start making diversionary noises about Turkey and its U.S. bases, or beat the drums again along the Azerbaijan border of Iran. But it seems doubtful that the Soviet Union will get really tough anywhere for quite a while. Berlin, for once, was dropped almost entirely by the Soviet press and radio during the Cuba crisis, and last week East German papers abruptly stopped referring to the peace treaty that Khrushchev has promised them so long.

For one thing, Nikita would scarcely want to mar so quickly the image that he is building as "peacemaker" in Cuba. Moreover, Cuba must have convinced him, if he still needed convincing, that the U.S. will stand firm in Berlin. Since Khrushchev presumably is no more eager to start a nuclear war over Berlin than over Cuba, provoking a Berlin crisis now might be risking another and even more disastrous Russian backdown. The guess is that Khrushchev will simply not revive the East German question for several months.

Instead, it seems likely that Moscow will accelerate its "peace" offensive; this could mean a protracted period of pleading for negotiations, perhaps coupled with sweeping proposals for European disengagement, in the hope that time and soft words might erode the capitalist enemy's determination to the point where Moscow feels it is safe to resume tougher tactics. This would certainly fit in with the views of those in the West who continue to argue that if Russia was reasonable enough to give up its Cuban bases, the U.S. ought to give up some of its own bases. A first sign of the line came at a Bonn reception last week when Soviet Ambassador Andrei Smirnov planted his tall, bearlike figure solidly before one of West Germany's top diplomats, Franz Krapf, head of the Foreign Office's Eastern section.

Smirnov: Now, Herr Krapf, as objective diplomats we must admit that American rocket bases in Britain, Italy and Turkey are legally and morally the same as the ones we are dismantling in Cuba, mustn't we?

Krapf: I admit no such thing. It seems to me they are entirely different.

Smirnov: Well, you must admit that Chairman Khrushchev acted in a very statesmanlike manner.

Krapf: One hopes he will continue to do so. One hopes further that after Cuba he will not make the mistake committed by two German governments and hold the illusion that Americans won't fight.

Note to Moscow. In order to get some kind of deal on bases, the Russians might well dangle concessions on disarmament. Western negotiators are already intrigued by Khrushchev's offer to allow inspectors to verify the dismantling and removal of the Soviet missiles, even though in the end, the U.S. may not be able to rely on outside inspection in Cuba. The West's insistence on inspection has always been a stumbling block in the tedious talks on a nuclear test ban as well as on general disarmament. There is no real reason to believe that this adamant position has changed; it is one thing to agree to let inspectors--and from the Red Cross, at that--on Cuban soil, another to let them into Russia. Still, Britain's Prime Minister Harold Macmillan rushed off a note to Moscow suggesting that the way might soon be opened for the first stage of disarmament.

Even as the U.S. and Russia were exploding small rocket-borne nuclear weapons at high altitudes, the Russians dropped hints that they might accept a system of unmanned seismographic inspection posts inside Russia. In them, a world body would install tamper-proof boxes containing recording apparatus that would be regularly studied for signs of underground nuclear blasts.*

History's Guide. By offering their sealed boxes, the Russians were of course conceding nothing of value. Indeed, they gave scant support to the hopeful new thesis now abroad, that Khrushchev after Cuba might take a genuinely new, flexible approach to negotiation of the major East-West issues. Some Westerners excitedly spoke of grasping new opportunities while Moscow was off balance: an access deal for Berlin, perhaps even some kind of German reunification.

If history is any guide, the dreamers are in for sharp disappointment. Nikita Khrushchev is as flexible a maneuverer as any Communist who has studied Lenin's line: "If you are not able to adapt yourself, if you are not ready to crawl in the mud on your belly, you are not a revolutionist but a chatterbox." Occasional appearances to the contrary, Khrushchev is no chatterbox. Over Cuba he had to do some crawling, but it will not be easy to keep him down.

*In the absence of the letter's actual text, the U.S. public can find a fictional substitute in the current bestseller, Fail-Safe, in which Khrushchev and Kennedy talk on the phone during a nuclear crisis.

Khrushchev: Some of our experts urged that we retaliate instantly with all our ICBMs and our bombers.

Kennedy: Why didn't you do that?

Khrushchev: I knew that retaliation would be the end for both of our countries. My generals are not happy, but there is a time for common sense.

/- A famed previous occasion was the night in 1953 when the entire Presidium except one trooped into the Bolshoi. The absence of Secret Police Chief Lavrenty Beria led experts to suspect that he had been purged by his pals. This proved to be correct; they had shot him two days before.

*Another version of this scheme was publicized last week in the New York Times's letters column. The proposal, jointly forwarded by Harvard University's chief seismologist and by a Harvard government student, had some weird aspects. It would require the U.S. and Russia to deposit $5 billion apiece with the World Bank, as a sort of good faith deposit against discovery of an illegal underground blast within their boundaries. The evidence would come from many unmanned seismic recorders in sealed boxes scattered throughout the two countries. On every Wednesday (why this must be the day is not explained), each nation would fly the recorders to a neutral team on its frontier. Eventually, the records would be inspected by a panel of 15 scientists from neutral countries. If nine of the 15 decide that there has been an explosion, the guilty nation would be declared a violator, and steps would be taken to hand over its $5 billion to the other country. Thus testing would become expensive, if not impossible.

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