Aleksei on the Spot

When U.S. jets began hitting North Viet Nam last week, the most surprised Communist of all was probably Soviet Premier Aleksei Kosygin. There he sat in Hanoi, exchanging pleasantries with North Viet Nam's Ho Chi Minh and chatting desultorily about possible Soviet military aid. Then--bang!--bombs were falling only 250 miles away. Aleksei was on the spot, and his position brought into sharp focus the whole question of Communist-bloc relations.

Could Moscow possibly back away from the Khrushchevian line of "peaceful coexistence" and espouse the militant "permanent war" cause of Peking? Could any Russian really be tempted to join an Asian fight--particularly when his Asian rival was encroaching on his own borders? Kosygin was in an embarrassing situation, and he had to salvage what he could. Skidding along a slippery slope but determined to keep the Soviet Union from plunging over the precipice, the Soviet leader slid stolidly forth.

Hastily concluding an "appropriate agreement" to send arms to Hanoi's Ho, Kosygin flew off in his official plane to Peking, where he was greeted at the airport by seven flower girls, eight antiaircraft guns, and Red Chinese Premier Chou Enlai. To top that, Party Boss Mao Tse-tung, who hadn't spoken to a Soviet leader since 1959, was waiting in the sprawling Congress Palace. During a 2 1/2-hour secret session, Kosygin and Mao no doubt talked defense. The New China News Agency even published a photo of them that showed seriousness and mutual dislike in proportions not witnessed since Dempsey faced Tunney.

Kim's Red Carpet. Though Kosygin had planned to fly home directly from Peking, he suddenly changed his plans and headed for North Korea--a place no Soviet Premier had ever visited before. Despite the short notice, North Korea's Boss Kim II Sung rolled out the Red carpet for his unexpected guest: frenzied crowds waving Soviet flags roared "Mansei! [May you live 10,000 years]" as Kosygin arrived at Pyongyang airport. Kim, a Peking-lining Stalinist who only a month ago rudely rejected an invitation to Moscow, embraced Aleksei warmly. "We consider amity and unity between our two nations most valuable," he said. Of course: since Russia brusquely decided to cut back Kim II Sung's supply of jet fuel and spare parts, North Korea's 800 MIG fighters and the nation's handful of jet bombers have been flying under rugged conditions indeed.

Kosygin did not openly promise aid, but he hit the unity theme while agreeing with Kim that "imperialist provocations" had brought all Communists closer together, added pointedly that Asian Communists are "unanimous in their desire to support the heroic peoples of Viet Nam." As if to tell the West that Kosygin meant business, Moscow put out rumors that Russia was "angry and worried" over the U.S. moves in Viet Nam and even raised the possibility that Moscow might send Soviet pilots to fly the jets it was giving to Hanoi.

The Rents Remain. At week's end it appeared that Kosygin's peregrinations--impromptu as they were--had paid off with a tenuous, temporary and superficial unity within the Communist world. But they did little to serve Moscow's cause in the basic ideological feud with Peking. Neither North Viet Nam's Ho nor North Korea's Kim showed any sign of wanting to attend the March "unity" conference in Moscow, and Mao, for all his seeming cooperation, almost certainly remained opposed to the new Soviet leaders' ideology.

However, Moscow and Peking appeared to see eye to eye on the need for increased military aid to North Viet Nam and probably North Korea as well. In any case, it seemed certain that the deep rents in the Communist monolith were not being welded shut in the passionate heat of the moment. As one analyst put it: "When the smoke and the smiles have faded, I think we will find the Chinese and the Soviets right where they were before--at each other's political throats."

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