The Royal Jugglers of Southeast Asia

I want to make Laos the Switzerland of Southeast Asia.

--Prince Souvanna Phouma, 1956

I have always dreamed of a Cambodia that is a kind of Switzerland.

--Prince Norodom Sihanouk, 1970

The two Southeast Asian princes have little in common, not even their particular brands of neutrality. Each is convinced, however, that his nation's survival depends on maintaining the greatest possible distance from the war that has convulsed their common neighbor, South Viet Nam. Last week, with Sihanouk deposed as Cambodia's chief of state and Souvanna facing a major Communist offensive in Laos, their Swiss reveries seemed more remote than ever.

Ironically, the ruler who was toppled from power appeared more secure than any other government figure in Southeast Asia. Though he is only 47, His Royal Highness Norodom Sihanouk has served as Cambodia's king or chief of state for nearly 30 years. He remains an enormously popular leader among his people--a fact that could still have dramatic results should Sihanouk decide to make a stand against the government leaders who turned on him. Most of all, however, Sihanouk will be remembered as a politician who tried to keep his country out of trouble by sheer grandstanding. Detractors loved to speak of his tightrope act; in fact, says Far East Affairs Specialist Willard Hanna, it was "more a virtuoso professional performance of juggling Roman candles while spinning by his teeth from a flying trapeze."

Whatever his act, it began inauspiciously. The French pulled Sihanouk out of school and placed him on the throne when he was 18 because they figured that he was more likely than any other member of Cambodia's royal family to cooperate with France's sagging colonial administration. At first it appeared that the French had chosen wisely: young Sihanouk pursued nothing more radical than a long list of hobbies (songwriting, saxophone playing, poetry, athletics, and an even longer list of girl friends). Then, after sensing a tide of resentment against de facto French control in Cambodia, he demanded complete independence for his nation and marched off into voluntary exile to await it. Ten months later, just weeks before the French defeat at Dienbienphu, Paris granted his demand and Sihanouk returned home in triumph.

For refusing to commit Cambodia to either the Communist or anti-Communist camps, Sihanouk has long antagonized cold warriors on both sides. One day he may remark that "Communism is inevitable in Asia. When? Oh, not tomorrow. The Chinese don't think in years, not even in lustrums. They have time with them." The next day he may complain that Chinese children in Cambodia's schools "bring in Mao Tse-tung's books and carry out all types of subversive activities."

Souvanna Phouma, 68, a nephew of Laos' longtime (1904-1959) King Sisavang Vong, lacks Sihanouk's brash style Nonetheless, he performs with skill. A cultivated, retiring figure who looks and acts like a country gentleman, Souvanna has four times taken on the unenviable job of leading a government that is split between the Communist left, Neutralist middle and Royalist right.

Souvanna is mediating a family quarrel as well as a corner of the East-West war. The Pathet Lao have long been under the command of his half brother Prince Souphanouvong, 57. While Souphanouvong was labeled the Red Prince, Souvanna was sometimes called the Pink Prince, presumably because of his willingness to cooperate with the Pathet Lao.

The Pink Prince and the Red Prince reportedly maintain some family feeling in spite of their political differences. Souvanna Phouma has occasionally denied that his half brother is a Communist at all, calling him a "misled patriot." Royal gossips, whose authority is rarely doubted in Laos, believe that Souphanouvong's politics of dissidence and his rather gaudy style are due in large part to the fact that his mother was a commoner. His half brother was born to full royalty.

The job of neighborly neutrality in a war fought by guerrillas and insurgents is a thankless one at best. That neither Cambodia nor Laos has yet stepped over the brink is partially due to the wits of Sihanouk and Souvanna. Perhaps the cagey Sihanouk has best summarized the plight of Southeast Asian neutralists. "I'll keep maneuvering as long as I have cards in my hand, first a little to the left and then a little to the right," he said. "And when I have no more cards to play, I'll stop."

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