Trouble, Trouble, Trouble

A harried State Department official looked with dismay at a piece of paper on his desk. It was a list of 25 people he was supposed to call to talk about trouble brewing in another part of the world. "My God," he muttered. "What a week!" Agreed a colleague who overheard him: "A nightmare!"

It was, indeed, that kind of week. There was trouble about Canada, trouble about Cuba, and, by far the most serious in its potential consequences, trouble about Europe and the Atlantic alliance.

Canada. The downfall of Prime Minister John Diefenbaker's government was certainly no cause for White House tears; in its eyes, he had proved himself an evasive, uncooperative, often antagonistic ally. For years he had avoided meeting Canada's nuclear commitment under NATO. And, despite all kinds of agreements, said the U.S. State Department two weeks ago: "The Canadian government has not as yet proposed any arrangement sufficiently practical to contribute effectively to North American defense."

That statement was deliberately calculated to jolt Diefenbaker--but not nearly to the extent that it did. At least 20 officials, including Under Secretary George Ball, took part in its preparation, and at the White House it was approved by McGeorge Bundy, the President's special assistant for national security affairs. Once Secretary of State Dean Rusk (who had not seen it originally) had apologized for the tone--although not the substance--of the U.S. statement, the White House passed word that the subject of Canada was not to be mentioned again until after April 8, election day.

Luckily there seemed to be powerful forces in Canada determined not to let Diefenbaker base his election campaign on anti-Americanism. But nobody could be happy with the manner of the U.S. intrusion, and President Kennedy was reportedly least happy of all.

Cuba. Castro is another topic that will not go away. The Kennedy Administration was stung by charges that it was reacting ineffectively to the Russian military presence in Cuba. New York's Republican Senator Kenneth Keating claimed that the Soviet's "mediumrange missile sites" remain. South Carolina's Democratic Senator Strom Thurmond declared that upwards of 100 ballistic missiles "with a 1,100-to 2,200-mile range" were stored in "underground facilities" in Cuba. Indiana's Republican Representative Donald C. Bruce said that he had information about some 40 "offensive missiles" still in Cuba. At last, Kennedy ordered Defense Secretary Robert McNamara to deliver a national television report to refute the charges (see cover story). McNamara effectively rebutted most of his critics' most exaggerated charges, but his presentation also furnished dramatic proof that a sizable Soviet force remains in Cuba.

Europe. It is sometimes simpler to deal with an enemy than a friend. What was the U.S. to do with De Gaulle, who had ruthlessly but adroitly rejected U.S. proposals for a multilateral NATO nuclear force, vetoed Britain's entry into the Common Market, and persisted with his own force de frappe?

At first, the Administration's instinct was to treat De Gaulle on a tit-for-tat basis, trading insult for insult, injury for injury. That instinct was quickly and wisely restrained.

Next in the U.S. reaction was what was called the "empty-chair" approach. That would mean proceeding with plans for Atlantic partnership and European union as if De Gaulle's France were merely absent from the room. But there is one fatal flaw: France is not absent, and it is difficult to imagine any sort of economic, military or political plan for Western Europe that does not need, and must not seek to accommodate, France's presence.

So the next U.S. response was to light a match in the dark to inspect all its broken circuits with Europe. This involves seeking new points of contact and areas of agreement that will satisfy De Gaulle, while preserving the U.S. ideal of a strong and united Europe as part of the cold war alliance. To achieve this aim, the U.S. would certainly have to climb down off some major points of past policy, though there was little readiness to rush to beg De Gaulle's pardon or give him everything he demanded.

At the very least, the U.S. would have to cease in its insistence that De Gaulle give up his "crude" little independent nuclear force. One top French official accuses the U.S. of trying to "divide the world between nuclear barons and infantry serfs." The counter idea of a multi-nation NATO nuclear force with at least three powers holding keys--U.S., Britain and France--seemed not to interest France much. De Gaulle knows full well that in the end the U.S. has no choice but to defend France against Soviet attack. That axiomatic umbrella of protection gives De Gaulle vast flexibility for action--and for troublemaking. The U.S. would also have to cease treating De Gaulle as a junior partner in the alliance. "It is intolerable for a great state," De Gaulle said not long ago. "that her fate be left to the decisions and actions of another great state." There is an arguable French case, and in Paris these days it is argued well.

So far, there is little evidence that the U.S. has reconciled itself to an agonizing reappraisal. As so often before, the New Frontier has reacted on an ad hoc basis, and seems less sure of the future ramifications of U.S. actions than De Gaulle is of his. The Atlantic alliance still lives, but needs imaginative repair.

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