Myth of the Monolith

Nothingness makes no headlines. By last week, the Geneva Conference was pretty generally a story played down and tucked away on inside pages. June 1954 might still prove to be a catastrophic month for the free world, but because it involved neither spectacular deed nor memorable word, it could not compete with television on Capitol Hill or the lure of the next motel.

The news of Geneva was that the great Western alliance was fumbling, aimless and adrift. The allies agreed on their fears, but not on what to do about them. They didn't like the bobbing of events, but felt helpless to control them.

The United States, presumably the leader of the coalition, gave the impression at Geneva of having nothing to propose, of looking on but not of leading.

The British, having pulled the rug out from under John Foster Dulles (TIME, May 31), sent Anthony Eden into the void, and praised as "skilled diplomacy" his lunching and dining with the Communists in search of kind words and gentle concessions. Aging Winston Churchill still pined for some grand settlement; his admirers worried that this passion might cause his great career to be darkened in its last days, as Franklin Roosevelt's was by Yalta.

The French, having jealously kept the Indo-China war to themselves for seven years, had starved it, botched it. come close to losing it, and were heartily sick of it. They wanted out. The French Assembly, with exquisite subtlety had given its government a bare two vote majority, enough to make a peace but not to fight a war.

The paralysis of Geneva was not a pretty thing to see. The delegations almost seemed to take consolation from each other's irresolution.

Strains & Indecisions. By contrast, the impassive Communists appeared united, tough and confident. The appearance was significant because international conferences frequently turn, not so much on the skill of the particpants, as on the common assessment of the prevailing realities. Does the West's gloom at Geneva accurately take into account the realities of the two great blocs?

The danger was that the monolithic Communist fac,ade would be taken for the Communist reality. Everybody knows the strains and weaknesses of France, the indecisions and diversions in Washington: everybody hears of injustice in a county seat. But who was falsely accused last week in Omsk (pop. 281,000)? What scandals could the newspapers print, if they dared, in Shenyang (nee Mukden)? Over one-fourth the earth's surface was dark silence, broken only by the persistent loudspeaker proclaiming the solidarity and monolithic will of the leadership. But if the solidarity was there, it need not be proclaimed so often; it would not need secret police and work camps to enforce it. When the history of these times comes to be written, the marvel may be that the free nations--who had the strength to exhibit their weaknesses--should have been so fully taken in by the myth of the monolith.

On the Scales. Wishing neither to underestimate the enemy nor to misunderstand him, newspapers printed only the truth they could be sure of about him. and were driven to guessing the dimensions of the bear by the length of his claw, and his health by the color of his coat. Yet putting together what is known indicates that the new Russian regime may keep its peoples from rising, but cannot satisfy their needs (see below); and the new China is having such internal upheaval that its leaders are hard put to combat it.

This too is part of the reality that belongs on the scales at Geneva.

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