Monday, Jul. 09, 1973

The Congress of Helsinki

Clemenceau would have been appalled by the ambiguity of the gathering. On the other hand, Metternich might have delighted in its very lack of definition. Both European statesmen, however, would undoubtedly have recognized the potential historic significance of a meeting that gets under way this week in the starkly beautiful Finlandia House in Helsinki. In the white granite building's lofty concert hall, 35 foreign ministers from Europe, the U.S. and Canada will convene for the formal opening of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe.

The conference has the opportunity to create a grand new design for the future of Europe. More specifically, it can be a prime indicator of whether the present trend toward detente in Europe will develop into an era of genuine peace. But there is also a danger that the conference could bog down and become little more than a roundelay of ritual and rhetoric. Much depends on the Soviet Union, which has been pressing for a security conference of some sort for nearly two decades.

Moscow's goals for the conference have changed over the years. The Soviet Union originally sought a treaty of collective security in Europe partly as a means of keeping West Germany out of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Long after Bonn joined NATO, Moscow continued to press for a security conference, largely because it wanted formal recognition of existing postwar boundaries in Central Europe. Bilateral agreements have since sanctified most of the boundaries. More recently, Moscow seemed intent on using a security conference as an avenue to gaining Western economic cooperation and technical knowledge. That aim, too, has largely been achieved through bilateral contacts. So why is the Soviet Union so obviously delighted that the conference is at last taking place?

Many Western diplomats wish they knew. Some think that Moscow may still be playing a cold war game, only with more patience and subtlety. By creating a false sense of security through the conference, this theory goes, the Soviet Union could lay the groundwork for its future domination of Western Europe. NATO Secretary-General Joseph Luns says bluntly: "The Russians are trying to diminish the American presence in Europe, and eventually completely end it, by this conference."

Soviet Motives. There is the possibility that Moscow is sincerely interested in furthering detente in Europe, if only so that it can focus its worries on China. Those worries were not helped last week when China exploded a hydrogen bomb in Sinkiang province. It was China's 15th test explosion since it joined the nuclear club in 1964. Estimated to be in the two-to three-megaton range, it was probably the biggest Chinese nuclear blast to date.

Whatever the Soviet motives, Moscow has unquestionably made some key concessions to the West in order to get the conference launched. Among other things, Moscow has finally agreed that the tentative agenda should include two major objectives of the West: a freer flow of people and ideas among all European nations, and the exchange of military observers between Eastern and Western Europe, as well as advance warnings about military movements.

During his summit meetings in the U.S.

with President Nixon, Soviet Leader Leonid Brezhnev also agreed to another precondition for the convocation in Helsinki: the setting of a firm date (Oct.

30) for the start of formal talks in Vienna on the mutual reduction of forces in Europe.

The ultimate success of the security conference may be determined by how seriously the Soviets follow through on these concessions. Western delegates also will be watching for signs of independence by the U.S.S.R.'s East bloc allies. In the 199 days of preliminary negotiations that concluded last month, they generally remained totally subservient to Moscow--a disappointing augury for a true East-West flow of ideas. One notable exception was Rumania, which sees the conference as a chance for smaller nations to have an important say in matters previously dominated by the superpowers.

Rumania's President Nicolae Ceausescu underlined this rare sense of independence on an official visit last week to West Germany. Like Brezhnev, who preceded him to Bonn by five and a half weeks, Ceausescu was looking for more West German help to turn his country into a modern, industrialized nation.

But the doughty Rumanian in effect topped the Russian leader's pitch.

Whereas Brezhnev sought barter deals and longterm, low-cost loans, Ceausescu encouraged West German firms to develop joint ventures with Rumania, in return for 49% of the equity.

The East bloc nations are not the only unknown quantities heading for Helsinki. Among the Western nations, France especially remains somewhat leary of the conference, not to mention the force-reduction talks. On his way home from Washington, Brezhnev called on French President Georges Pompidou to help allay French fears that the Soviet boss's talks with Nixon might have weakened Western European defense strategy. Despite ten hours of togetherness--mostly in what used to be Marie Antoinette's boudoir in the Chateau de Rambouillet, 28 miles southwest of Paris--Brezhnev failed to mention one of his pet projects: a summit meeting of all 35 leaders to approve whatever comes out of the Helsinki conference. Pompidou has made it clear that he wants to wait and see what happens at the foreign minister level before entertaining such an idea.

Current plans call for the security conference to complete two stages before a jumbo summit would be possible. The first stage, the convocation of the foreign ministers, may last only a few days. Essentially, it will give each minister a chance to make a speech on general principles and to discuss the proposed agenda for Stage 2. As a result of some adroit maneuvering by the Russians, Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko will lead off the ministerial round of speeches. U.S. Secretary of State William Rogers will be one of the last speakers.

The agenda calls for three commissions to draw up recommendations on economic cooperation, security and "humanitarian contacts" (for instance, by freer movement across borders). A fourth commission would coordinate the work of the other three, which could begin in Geneva in September and last from three months to a year. Perhaps Pompidou is right. The Security Conference still has a long way to go before it establishes its place in history.

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