Nixon Reappears on the Scene

AFTER the long weeks of self-imposed silence and isolation that ended with his second Inaugural, President Nixon re-emerged on the Washington scene last week with all the fervor of a missionary among the unbelieving. He delivered to Congress a $268 billion budget with more than 100 cuts in federal spending, and then an economic report promising that 1973 would be a "great year." He announced that he was sending his versatile adviser, Henry Kissinger, first to Hanoi for three days in February, and then to Peking for further talks on improving relations between the U.S. and China. He held his first press conference in four months and denounced his old tormentors as "the so-called better people." He joined in public prayer with Billy Graham at the Washington Hilton, greeted British Prime Minister Edward Heath on the White House lawn and presided over a mass swearing in of his Cabinet.

In the week, the President unburdened himself of a wide range of opinions, culminating in his State of the Union message. The Nixon philosophy was enunciated in detail and embroidered with rhetoric. Nixon sounded aggressive, self-assured, uncompromising.

Gags. In his meeting with congressional leaders, he promised frequent consultations, but when he met the press, he was critical of the legislature. Congress, he said, had not been "responsible on money." What really aroused his ire, though, was a question on whether recent calls for a healing of the nation's wounds might lead to an amnesty for draft resisters. Nixon glowered, gripped both sides of the lectern and hunched low over the microphone. "Well," he said, "it takes two to heal wounds, and I must say that when I see the most vigorous criticism or, shall we say, the least pleasure out of the peace agreement comes from those who were the most outspoken advocates of peace at any price, it makes one wonder whether some want the wounds healed." So there would be no amnesty. Those who fled the war might have made a mistake, but "it is a rule of life, we all have to pay for our mistakes." He added: "Those who served paid their price. Those who deserted must pay their price, and the price is not a junket in the Peace Corps or something like that."

Thus he dismissed the notion that draft evaders might pay their debt to society by performing some useful service. In fact, he implied that working in the Peace Corps is not especially useful at all. The Administration, he went on, had done the best it could "against very great obstacles. We finally achieved a peace with honor. I know it gags some of you to write that phrase, but it is true--and most Americans realize it is true."

Nixon complained about the "socalled better people in the media and the intellectual circles" and the U.S. Senate who gave little support to the troops in Viet Nam. In contrast with them, he said, the majority of Americans had supported the Administration "despite the fact that they were hammered night after night, day after day, with the fact that this was an immoral war, that Americans should not be there, that they should not serve their country, that morally what they should do was desert their country."

Sin. It was a strange Nixonian equation--suggesting that to criticize the war was practically the same as preaching desertion. In effect, Nixon seemed to be saying that the national healing process must be begun not by him but by his critics. As the nation's leader, the President might be expected to take the initiative. On the other hand, why shouldn't his antagonists give it a try and see how he responds? Nixon is justified in his feeling that his critics have given him all too little credit for doing, finally, what they wanted: achieving a settlement of the war.

Sometimes the President's aggressiveness seemed to soften. At the National Prayer Breakfast, flanked by Congressmen and Cabinet members, ministers and ambassadors, he listened to Senator Mark Hatfield denounce the war as a "sin," but he made no reply. He acknowledged that American society was indeed divided, but he saw no immediate possibility of ending the divisions. "We pass laws, laws providing and guaranteeing rights to equal opportunity, but there is no law that can legislate compassion; there is no law that can legislate understanding; there is no law that can legislate an end to prejudice. That only comes by changing the man and changing the woman."

Lonely. The President finally broke his silence on why he had decided to renew the bombing of North Viet Nam in December. Appearing on an hour-long television interview,* Henry Kissinger explained Nixon's reasoning. "It was perhaps the most painful, the most difficult, and certainly the most lonely decision that the President has had to make since he has been in office," said Kissinger. Negotiations were going nowhere, and the North Vietnamese were continually raising objections that prolonged the talks. "The more difficult Hanoi was, the more rigid Saigon grew, and we could see a prospect where we would be caught between the two contending parties."

Once the decision to bomb was made, why did the President offer no public explanation? If he had tried to give the reasons for the breakdown of the talks, said Kissinger, he would have violated the "confidentiality" that had been agreed on. If he had revealed his conditions for ending the bombing, he would have put Communist prestige at stake. "Therefore the President decided that if this action succeeded, then the results would speak for themselves in terms of a settlement."

Nixon's State of the Union message climaxed a week of public reflections. Hand-delivered to Congress, it was brief and to the point: an overview, as he called it, of the present condition of the American people. More detailed reports would follow in the weeks ahead. A single speech was not sufficient, he said, with "our very philosophy about the relationship between the individual and the state at a historic crossroad."

Fuzzy. The President made evident the route he intended to follow. "If we were to continue to expand the Federal Government at the rate of the past several decades, it would soon consume us entirely." Heavy taxation and big government are no cure. Ill-conceived federal programs have "deceived our people because many of the intended beneficiaries received far less than was promised, thus undermining public faith in the effectiveness of government as a whole." The answer to domestic problems is "less waste, more results and greater freedom for the individual American to earn a rightful place in his own community." On that, he said, "the time has come for us to draw the line." His own policies, he continued, would "represent a pragmatic rededication to social compassion and national excellence, in place of the combination of good intentions and fuzzy follow-through which too often in the past was thought sufficient."

The sentiments were impeccable, and some of the phrasing challenged the imagination--such as linking compassion with pragmatism. Whether Nixon can turn that combination into reality is the key question about his budget.

Nixon ended on a note of reconciliation. Attaining his vision of the good society requires "a shared commitment on the part of all branches of the Government, [and] as President, I recognize that I cannot do this job alone. The Congress must help, and I pledge to do my part to achieve a constructive working relationship with the Congress." A generous statement, but few believe it will characterize the era of fierce domestic controversy that appears about to begin

*The newsman picked to ask the questions was Marvin Kalb. who regularly covers Kissinger for CBS-TV and had been seeking the interview for three years. Kalb and his brother Bernard are writing a book on Kissinger, due to be published next fall.

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