Descent from the Summit

Now that there had been time to digest the events of Geneva, what was the aftertaste? Beyond the spreading conviction that in Europe peace would be the atmosphere for some time to come, beyond the universal admiration for Eisenhower's imaginative directness, some important second thoughts began to be felt.

In Great Britain, Prime Minister Sir Anthony Eden sent the House of Commons into cheers by announcing that Russia's chubby gold-dust twins, Khrushchev and Bulganin, would pay an official (not a ceremonial) visit to Britain next spring. Eden predicted "valuable discussions" in the course of this "immensely important event." In the diplomatic gallery, Russian Ambassador Jacob Malik smiled down appreciatively. The British plan to call a conference of the Commonwealth Prime Ministers beforehand, so as to be able to talk to the Russians in the name of all the Queen's subjects.

But in Britain's newspapers there was much tush-tushing of the public's new optimism (see JUDGMENTS & PROPHECIES) and reminders that at Geneva Russia gave up nothing and settled nothing. BBC Commentator Peter Calvocaressi reached a different conclusion: at Geneva, President Eisenhower, by dint of his great prestige, had more freedom to maneuver than any Russian leader and now was using it audaciously. After ten years of speaking at the Russians, the U.S. was now speaking to them.

In France, Premier Faure told the people that at Geneva there were not "four big ones, but two colossi," and some French politicians became newly apprehensive that the two colossi might settle Europe's fate through "le dialogue russo-ameericain" without reference to France. There was also the possibility that the fate of Germany might be decided bilaterally between Adenauer and the Russians. Result: a curious revival of French enthusiasm for "la relance europeenne," or the relaunching of the idea of Europe. In Faure's Cabinet last week, Robert Schuman, father of Europe's only successful experiment in supranationalism (the Schuman Coal-Steel Pool), argued for a big push towards European unity before Adenauer flies to Moscow. Faure, for the first time, sided with the "Europeans" in his Cabinet. To Brussels, where the West Europeans are discussing a supranational atomic energy program, the Premier sent a message: Go ahead in earnest.

In East Germany, the homeward-bound Russians exuded more of their roly-poly amiability. Khrushchev, smiling hugely, pronounced Geneva a success because "both sides won the conviction that neither side wants war."

At East Berlin's landing field, Puppet Premier Otto Grotewohl wrung Khrushchev's hand and anxiously inquired where the East German regime stood. Grotewohl had been alarmed by the Soviet invitation to Adenauer; he feared to be sacrificed in a Kremlin deal with Bonn. Khrushchev propped the puppets up, at least temporarily. "The score is one to nothing in favor of the [East German] Republic," he told Grotewohl.

The German Communists showed their gratitude by the size of the reception they laid on for the Rover boys. A brass band played Prussia's Glory, and the Russians set off on a visit to factories and farms, where Khrushchev asked his usual questions about hybrid corn. Grey hat clamped firmly down on his ears, the party boss served notice that Russia will not permit the reunification of Germany on any other terms than its own. "The German question," he said, "cannot be solved at the cost of [East Germany]." In other words, to the Russians the "spirit of Geneva" did not imply Soviet yielding on any subject that really mattered.

In West Germany, the aftertaste of Geneva was more bitter than sweet. Geneva made Germans realize that Russia was in no hurry to unite Germany and that the West was in no position (and perhaps in no mood) to press the matter. There were some who had recognized all along that Russia would not concede to the Western Three what it could give the Germans unilaterally; they had looked hopefully not to Geneva but to Adenauer's Moscow trip. Now they could see that the Russians invited Adenauer only to acknowledge him as representing one of two Germanys which would continue to exist.

In Japan, Premier Hatoyama, who is always looking for excuses to take it easy on rearmament, saw in the post-Geneva atmosphere the possibility that there would be "a need to reconsider our program of rearmament." Similar siren voices would probably be heard elsewhere soon.

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