The Faltering Colonel

It was a bad week for earnest Joseph Mobutu, 30, the Congolese army clerk who became a colonel overnight and was now trying io run a nation. In any other revolution the boss might maintain his dignity by shooting a few enemies at dawn. But the Congo's strongman could only sit there and take it as everyone began to harass him. His control of the army was wavering, and everywhere, it seemed, there were plotters trying to push Patrice Lumumba back into power.

"Disorderly Rabble." Out of nowhere came Cleophas Kamitatu, president of Leopoldville province and a Lumumba sympathizer. Exercising the one Western political gambit that every Congo politician has mastered, he called a press conference. To newsmen he denounced the colonel and threatened his expulsion from the region (expulsion is another political phrase that comes easily to the lips of all Congo politicians, but seldom results in any subsequent action). Mobutu's troops, he charged, were running wild in the city, staging raids and attacking the citizenry. Kamitatu warned that his own provincial police would take over if Mobutu did not keep his troops off the streets at night.

Mobutu was prepared to laugh Kamitatu's words away, but to his chagrin the head of the U.N.'s Congo force backed up the provincial president. "Colonel Mobutu's army is a disorderly rabble.'' snapped Rajeshwar Dayal, announcing that U.N. troops would henceforth patrol the Leopoldville streets side by side with Kami-tatu's police. Indignantly, Mobutu collected a hundred soldiers and some Jeeps, rushed over to U.N. headquarters to protest. When he emerged, there were tears in his eyes. "The United Nations wants me to get out." he announced stiffly. Mobutu complained bitterly that Dayal was treating him like a child, and announced that he would fly to New York this week to protest in person at U.N. headquarters. It was not clear where he would find a plane to carry him.

What bothers the U.N.. its officials ex plain, is the danger that Mobutu's regime might become a military dictatorship; they insist that the world organization cannot even indirectly support an undemocratic movement. Time after time, U.N. officials had refused to let Mobutu arrest Lumumba; now they were frustrating his efforts to put a halt to the covert activities of Lumumba's friends as well. When Mobutu's troops arrested 15 Lumumba supporters in a series of predawn raids and tried to deport most of them to faraway Kasai province, the U.N. quickly intervened and had them freed on the ground that arbitrary arrest should be discouraged.

Anger in Katanga. Early in the week Mobutu flew desperately across the Congo to seek support from Secessionist Moise Tshombe, boss of Katanga province. But Tshombe rebuffed him; he had troubles of his own in what he now calls "Republic of Katanga.'' In the northern Katanga bush, hostile Baluba tribesmen were burning villages and killing dozens of Tshombe loyalists. Until the U.N. neutralized much of Tshombe's army by cutting off fuel supplies and refusing it transport, Katanga troops killed scores in punitive raids on Baluba villages. Last week the U.N. moved hundreds of troops into isolated northern and central Katanga to quell the rioters. At first Tshombe agreed, but when he saw that full-scale occupation by the U.N. might wipe out his own control of the area, he too lashed out at the U.N. Object of his ire was Ian Berendsen, U.N. chief in Katanga. "He is totally inefficient," roared Tshombe. "This representative has been working with such bad faith that I consider myself obliged to demand his immediate recall." Tshombe accused U.N. Ethiopian troops of widespread looting in one isolated town, but as it turned out the Ethiopians had only appropriated a few linen sheets.

Blunt Advice. Tshombe demands that the U.N. formally recognize Katanga's independent status; the U.N. is equally determined to pull Katanga back into the Congo Republic--which can never prosper without Katanga's mineral riches. As part of the pressure on Katanga, U.N. Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjold again last week aimed blunt words at the Belgians, demanding that they cease financial and political support for Secessionist Tshombe.

Although the Belgians have pulled out their troops and technical-aid mission, Tshombe still depends on Belgian aid to keep his government going. Belgian engineers and money still operate the big copper mines, and Belgian advisers and experts on Tshombe's payroll virtually run the Katanga government departments and provide leadership for the army. Every government minister has a Belgian chef de cabinet to advise him on every move; more often than not, the Belgian summons the minister when he wants him, sits while he stands.

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