Russia Offers Co-Existence

Picture a big, genial bear that walks like a man and is a man. You have pictured Maxim Maximovitch Litvinov, Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Union of Socialist Soviet Republics. Last week at the League sessions in Geneva he came, after long probation and tremendous effort, finally into his own. M. Litvinov, as the world press has only lately begun to admit, aspired from the first to be a Kellogg or a Briand: a Peace Man.

The Kellogg-Briand Pact "renounces war as an instrument of national policy." It has been accepted by almost all nations, including Russia. Before it was formulated M. Litvinov proposed a pact of "total disarmament" among all nations (TIME, Dec. 12, 1927). He was called a trickster. Russia, it was said, would only pretend to disarm under such a pact. Next year M. Litvinov was back with a plan for "partial disarmament" by all nations (TIME, April 2, 1928). Again he was sat upon, sneered at.

Up to last week the few U. S. newspapers which make a point of printing important speeches in full, had not so printed Litvinov speeches. Last week the New York Times and Associated Press stamped Russia's bearman with the hallmark of respectable importance, printed entire the proposal he unfolded to outlaw economic war.

Capitalism+Communism=Peace? It was not that everyone suddenly realized at Geneva last week that Litvinov is a Briand. The reason why Briand himself and other League statesmen suddenly began to frown upon the bearman was a trifle sordid. In recent months the Soviet Government has been swinging more and more buying orders from the U. S. to Europe. Pleased Europe wants more. French manufacturers were fervently with M. Briand when he lauded last week "the great moderation of M. Litvinov."

From the Moscow viewpoint Comrade Litvinov has always been moderate--a daring moderate in a land of humdrum radicals. Last week he dared at Geneva, or almost dared, to cast doubt on the popular Russian thesis and belief that a Soviet-Capitalist World War is inevitable, coming soon. Prowling on thin ice, risking his popularity at home, Russia's moderate bear growled softly:

"The Soviet and capitalist systems are struggling, and will continue to struggle against each other by the very fact of their existence and development. The question is whether this struggle and development will be allowed to follow a natural process or whether both systems will have recourse to mutually hostile measures which can have no decisive influence in the outcome of the struggle but will turn out to be two-edged weapons. . . .

"I may describe my proposal as a kind of economic non-aggression pact. I do not know what your attitude will be to this, but it will at least serve as evidence of the readiness of the Soviet Union to adhere to the principle of the peaceful co-existence of the two systems [Capitalism and Sovietism] and of having no aggressive intentions, whether of a political or economic nature."

These words are of utmost significance. Whereas in Russia it is commonplace, orthodox, respectable to speak of war as due "next year," or in a few months, Comrade Litvinov dared to suggest that Russia and the rest of the World can peacefully co-exist for a long, long time. His speech appeared in full on front pages throughout Russia--and he got away with it. There was no grumbling in Soviet official quarters. The Russian people were given last week a moderate, conciliatory thought to hold, and they are not given many such.

Litvinov Pact All peace pacts are nebulous, the Kellogg-Briand Pact notably so. Last week the Litvinov Pact, as presented by its author in the form of a draft protocol, was seen to be a shade less nebulous than most. Full text:

"The representatives of the undersigned European countries, recognizing:

"I, That mitigation of the crisis which has overtaken the national economy of most countries requires, in addition to the abstention from war, as a means for the solution of international conflicts the complete cessation of all forms of economic aggression, both avowed and concealed, by any countries or groups of countries against any other countries or groups of countries.

"II. That cessation of economic aggression is an essential condition for the peaceful co-operation of States in the sphere of economics irrespective of their political and economic systems.

"III. That the cessation of economic aggression would help put an end to the present atmosphere of mistrust, uncertainty and alarm weighing so heavily upon the economic position.

"And, hoping that all other countries, inspired by their example, will join in this protocol, have decided to recommend that their governments sign the following protocol:

"1) The contracting parties once more solemnly confirm the principle proclaimed at the International Economic Conference in 1927 of the peaceful co-existence of countries irrespective of their social, political and economic systems.

"2) In accordance with Clause II the parties undertake not to adopt in their relations with each other any discrimination whatsoever and regard the adoption in any of their countries of a special attitude militating against the interest of one or any of the countries subscribing to this protocol as incompatible with its principles."

Diplomats Browbeaten. Urging prompt acceptance of his pact "in principle" M. Litvinov said bluntly: "If you want Soviet orders you cannot object to Soviet exports. The Soviet Union is not the only country exporting raw materials. . . . The exports of Tsarist Russia were far greater than those of Soviet Russia, yet they were not condemned. . . . We are only starting out to regain our place in the world markets. ... I am here to offer a pledge that the Soviet Union will adhere to the principle of peaceful co-existence at this given stage of history!''

After hemming, hawing and being very, very nice to Comrade Litvinov for three days, the League statesmen weasled by adopting a resolution in the Commission on European Union ("the United States of Europe") which earmarked the Litvinov Pact for "further study." Up jumped the bearman, growling that Russia was ready to sign a pact of economic non-aggression now, and that now was the time to sign it. He moved for action. Up jumped Turkish Foreign Minister Twefik Rushdi Bey and seconded the motion. The bearman, turning upon Foreign Minister Julius Curtius of Germany, wanted to know why he was not for prompt action. Dr. Curtius, especially afraid of M. Litvinov because Germany needs Russian orders so badly, stammered that he was not personally opposed but must consult his Government on so vital a matter.

With tension growing, M. Briand soothingly cut in: ''I do not think there is a single representative of a European country here who is not in sympathy with M. Litvinov's proposal." Everyone nodded hopefully and Comrade Litvinov, having won this moral victory, permitted M. Briand backed by British Foreign Secretary Arthur Henderson to insist that "further study" by all Governments about to be concerned was needed.

For a recently despised Red, Comrade Litvinov had done himself proud. He might reflect that 18 months of delay preceded confirmation of the toothless Kellogg-Briand Pact (TIME, Sept. 3, 1928).

Bear-Man. In pre-War England there was a traveling salesman known as "Mr. Harrison." If he was not Maxim Maximovitch Litvinov in disguise a great many people who claim to have known Max then are liars. Like other revolutionists, he kept his secrets to himself. But he was a friend of Lenin, also an exile from Tsarist Russia, and after the revolution Dictator Lenin appointed him first Soviet representative in London.

Max had meanwhile married Ivy Low, close kin to Historian Sir Sydney Low and the late Sir Maurice Low, onetime Washington correspondent of the archConservative London Morning Post. Thus Ivy Litvinov comes from the most aristocratic side of Fleet Street, has dabbled in journalism, written a mystery novel. When the Lloyd George Government (1916-22) had had some few contacts with Soviet Representative Litvinov he was arrested, exchanged for an Englishman who had been imprisoned in Russia. Anglo-Soviet relations were broken off.

Back in Moscow, able Max became assistant to the great George Tchitcherin, a former noble and Tsarist diplomat!' who was Soviet Foreign Commissar from 1920 onward for ten years, gradually growing sicker, turning over more & more of his cares to Max, who became Foreign Commissar last year.

Twenty hours a day was the usual stint of Tchitcherin. Often he worked without sleep clear around the clock. In those days the Soviet Foreign Office was full of peasants and proletarians, learning to be diplomats. Tchitcherin had to do almost everything himself, and correct what others did. Under the terrible pressure of conducting single-handed the foreign affairs of Europe's largest nation. Tchitcherin burned himself out with detail, reached the point where he sharpened his own pencils.

That way (for an executive) madness lies. Tchitcherin did not go mad but is a weak, sick man today. The bearman learned from Tchitcherin, does not sharpen his own pencils. Tchitcherin would not use an automobile or permit his suits to be pressed, aristocrat that he was. Max, no aristocrat, can and does dress neatly without fear of Soviet gossip. He and Mme Litvinov give Moscow's best, biggest official parties. It is their duty. He must put on long black tails, she a filmy evening dress, and they must dine off gold plate at the Foreign Office as a "concession" (so runs Soviet theory) to the Moscow Corps Diplomatique.

At Geneva keen, smiling Ivy Litvinov is a member in her own right of whatever Russian Delegation may be headed by Max. Her first appearance was in the days when Great Britain was represented by that congenital Tory tea-drinker Baron Cushendun. Stumbling with his tea into Mme Litvinov in the League lobby he once boomed:

"Hullo there, Ivy. Where have you been all these years? I've scarcely seen you since I used to bounce you on my knee."

Demurely Mme Litvinov replied: "Why, Lord Cushendun, haven't you heard? I am a Russian now. My husband is assistant commissar of foreign affairs." As though stung by a hornet, Lord Cushendun recoiled, never thereafter greeted Mme Litvinov more enthusiastically than by a curt nod. From the London standpoint she is a Tory journalist gone wrong, and "Mr. Harrison" should have remained a traveling salesman.

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