The Pact Begins to Work

Down from a Trans-Siberian Railway carriage at the frontier station of Manchouli stepped Japan's Foreign Minister Yosuke Matsuoka one day last week. His hair was full of cinders and his head was full of plans. It was good to set foot once again on the soil of Manchukuo, since the previous Sunday more securely Japanese than ever. "I had not expected a neutrality pact with Russia at all," grinned Yosuke Matsuoka. "It was negotiated in ten minutes."

On to Tokyo sped the pleased little diplomat, through border country from which Japanese troops were already being moved south to new spheres of action. In his brief case was the precious pact, signed by himself and Russia's Premier Viacheslav Mikhailovich Molotov just a week before. Tokyo newspapers were already hailing it as a "new sword" in Japan's hand, with which Japan would try to settle its differences with Great Britain, the U.S., The Netherlands Indies and China--diplomatically, if possible. If diplomacy did not succeed, Japan no longer feared attack from the rear.

On the other side of the border, in Siberia, troops were also on the move, going westward and to the southwest. Russia, as well as Japan, had need of the seasoned soldiers who had stood guard in the northeast of Asia. If Adolf Hitler's legions ousted Great Britain from the Near East, an outlet to the Persian Gulf might be Russia's if she could take it.

Pravda Speaks. These troop movements explained why the pact was made, as well as how it would work. To wishful thinkers who thought it was not worth the paper it was written on, the Communist Party's Pravda had some rude words to say. "All arguments of the British and American press lead one to conclude that . . . the pact . . . disturbed the plans of London and Washington politicians." Citing Washington reports that the U.S. had hoped to lure Moscow into keeping Japan from attacking Singapore and the East Indies Pravda added: "The 'ungrateful' Soviet Union failed to appreciate such an attitude toward itself and concluded the pact . . . directed against embroiling the Soviet Union in war. Isn't that annoying?''

Pravda also took the trouble to deny that Germany had put pressure on Russia to sign, stated flatly that the Kremlin had refused an invitation to join the Axis last November. In other words, Russia was playing a lone hand, with the object of keeping out of trouble. If by keeping out of trouble Russia got others into trouble, that would be so much the better.

Security First has been Russia's policy since strong, expansionist states grew up on either side of her. When collective security failed, the Kremlin turned to an opportunistic, but no less consistent, policy of diverting aggression elsewhere. The Non-Aggression Pact with Germany turned Germany toward other enemies, has made Russia secure from German attack through a year and a half of war. Last fortnight's pact may mean security against Japan for longer. And by last fortnight Joseph Stalin must have feared a day would come when Hitler started screaming again for the Ukraine. Meanwhile there may be juicy pickings in the Middle East. Already there were reports that Russia had demanded the northern provinces of Iran, "to protect the Baku oil fields."

China for Poland? In Chungking last week there was cold fear. Not only had Russia and Japan agreed to respect the "territorial integrity and inviolability" of Manchukuo and the Russian-dominated People's Republic of Mongolia (Outer Mongolia), both of which China claims, but by freeing Japanese troops from Manchukuo Russia had enabled Japan to intensify her attack against South China. As a taste of what was to come, 10,000 Japanese troops opened an offensive against Chinese strongholds in the Tahung Mountains, in Hupeh Province, and Japan landed troops in Ningpo and three other ports south of Shanghai, with the object of cutting Chinese supply routes. In Shanghai Colonel Kunio Akiyama, spokesman for the Japanese military forces, said the neutrality pact would mean the end of Russian aid to Chungking.

Moscow promptly denied that there would be any change in Russia's policy toward China, but took its time about answering Chungking's queries as to exactly what this meant. In Chungking the Russian Ambassador developed a "stomachache" when reporters called on him. Chinese Communist spokesmen, still wondering what the Party line was, said they would go on fighting for Chiang Kaishek. But friction between Chiang and the Communists has been severe enough lately to leave little hope that they will remain loyal if Moscow abandons Chungking.

China's fate seemed to hang on the continuation of Russian aid. Shipment of war supplies from Russia reached a peak last January with $60,000,000 worth of heavy arms and airplanes, but has been a trickle for the past month. Since Russian aid has gone to China in waves, with as much as three months between substantial shipments, Chungking last week held both its judgment and its breath. If the shipments stopped, if the Communists turned, if Japan launched an intensified drive, China might easily become a Poland, with Russia coming in for the kill.

Peace with a Sword. There was little doubt that Japan, armed with its new sword, would try a peace drive, in the hope that either China or the London-Washington Axis, or both, would listen to its reasonableness (see p. 27). Indications were that the first try would be to beguile Chiang with the argument that he is fighting for the U.S. and Great Britain, to bribe him with a puppetship in South China. If Chiang succumbs, by persuasion, by force or by the perfidy of Moscow, the U.S. will soon have to fight for the Pacific or abandon it to Japan.

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