Disenchantment

By recognizing Communist China last Jan. 6, Britain hoped to protect her huge commercial stake there. Some British optimists also hoped to gain a political advantage; they thought that Mao Tse-tung might become another Tito. In the House of Commons last week, ailing Ernie Bevin sadly dismissed the second hope: "I think Mao Tse-tung has been receiving advice from Moscow--his is the same kind of attitude as Moscow's."

Although Peking has kept its Communist snoot in the air and has left Britain dangling unrecognized for five months, Bevin still stubbornly defended the first hope: "We had large interests in China . . . The advice I gave to the cabinet was right and, in a few years' time, I think it will turn out to have been right."

The man who may have Bevin's job as Foreign Secretary during those years disagreed. From the dispatch box opposite Bevin, Anthony Eden attacked the "timing and method" which had put Britain out of step with the U.S., France and most of the Commonwealth. Said Eden sharply: "Recognition has in fact brought out no advantage at all ... Our commercial interests in China are of immense importance [but] it will advantage no one--not those firms, nor anyone else--to embark on a policy of appeasement . . ." British recognition, he added, had adversely affected "events outside China, notably in Indo-China and in Malaya, and throughout Southeast Asia."

Businessmen agreed. A doleful expression of Britain's growing disenchantment came last week from William J. Keswick, chairman of London's China Association: "The British stake in Shanghai is withering." Unless Communist China changes its tactics, said Keswick mournfully, "then clearly, whether we like it or not, the only policy open to us is to close down and shut up shop."

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