Friday, Apr. 26, 1968

Consolation Prizes

The red carpet, band and phalanx of diplomats assembled at Rawalpindi's sun-splashed airport were in honor of a foreign visitor, but most of the crowd had come to see the host. Pakistani President Ayub Khan, 60, was making his first appearance in public since he suffered a complicated case of pneumonia three months ago. Thinner, but waving vigorously, he got on with his mission: to welcome Aleksei Kosygin, the first Russian Premier ever to visit Pakistan.

Even Kosygin accorded center stage to his recuperating host. After reading a bland opening statement, he turned and asked: "Did I do all right?" Replied Ayub: "Well done, sir!"

Ayub hoped that Kosygin would do considerably better in private. His aim was to persuade Kosygin to stop selling SU-7 bombers, submarines and ground-to-air missiles to India, or else start selling them to him. Cut off from most new weaponry since the five-week border war with India in 1965, except for a few Communist Chinese planes and tanks, Ayub feels that the balance of subcontinental power is tilting in favor of India--and remains unconvinced by Russia's claim that India's arsenal is only for use against Red Chinese invaders. Furthermore, Pakistan wants the Soviets to lift their U.N. Security Council veto on discussion of Kashmir, the disputed Indian-held state of largely Moslem complexion. Ayub wants to settle its status by plebiscite, demands at least that the subject of Kashmir head any new Indo-Pakistani negotiations.

Not Eye to Eye. After two days of talks, Kosygin made it clear in a televised press conference that he and Ayub did not see eye to eye. "We might not be able," he said, "to meet each other all the way on all points, and perhaps cannot say that we have completely identical views on all the events going on." Unfortunately for Ayub, Kosygin is not willing to risk alienating India, an ally against the Chinese that Russia wants to pamper with every attention. At week's end he planned a detour to New Delhi on his flight home, probably to discuss the Viet Nam war.

Ayub did, however, win some handsome consolation prizes. Kosygin agreed to bankroll Pakistan's first steel mill, a $100 million project in Kalabagh with a capacity of up to a million tons a year. He also offered to provide help on a nuclear power plant at Ruppur in East Pakistan, a radio hookup between Pakistan and Russia, and a fishery development. Most of them planned for completion after 1970, these projects should provide a big boost for Pakistan's next five-year plan, which begins that year. The present one, even though slowed down by the war with India and a two-year drought, is producing very close to the target of a 6.5%-per-year growth in the overall economy. Agriculture is even overperforming: Ayub's dream of having Pakistan become a self-sufficient grain producer should be realized next year, a year ahead of schedule.

Additional Points. Despite Russian sidestepping on the two issues that matter most to him, Ayub seems increasingly receptive to Soviet overtures, hoping to neutralize India's influence in Moscow as well as to demonstrate that he is willing to deal with anyone who can help Pakistan solve its problems. By comparison with Russia's economic aid to date of $175 million, the U.S. has spent a generous $4 billion on Pakistan's economy, most of it while Ayub ranked as an Asian military ally. Since then, U.S. aid has been severely cut back--and the Pakistanis feel that they have dropped low on the aid list. The only reciprocal vestige of the old days, a U.S. intelligence base at Peshawar, comes up for lease renewal next July 1. Though its uses are now limited to electronic snooping on China and Russia, Ayub could gain some additional points with Russia by refusing to let it stay in Pakistan.

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