Toward Talks?

When war came in earnest to Cambodia last spring, the capital city of Phnom-Penh was transformed almost overnight into an armed camp. The neighboring kingdom of Laos has been ravaged by war for a quarter-century without letup; yet a visitor would never know it by looking at its capital. Vientiane is an easygoing city of 150,000 with no barbed wire, no bunkers and no nighttime mortar attacks. Chickens and geese cackle and honk in the main street during the day. It is still safe to walk the streets after dark. The primary sources of amusement are a few opium dens and sporting houses. Recently a wedding reception was held in an open-air cafe next door to one of the brothels, and the unoccupied girls came out to watch the proceedings with wistful smiles.

Out in the countryside, the picture is entirely different. Communist Pathet Lao and North Vietnamese troops hold roughly two-thirds of the country, including the Plain of Jars just 40 miles north of the capital and the Ho Chi Minh Trail in the south. Some 270,000 people --out of Laos' total population of 2,500,-000--are jammed into chaotic refugee camps. Pro-government forces have been killed at the appalling rate of 4,000 per year. U.S. B-52s regularly bomb the Laotian section of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. On the ground, the Pathet Lao are in constant conflict with tough, CIA-trained troops from the Meo mountain tribes, who last month seized two key positions on the edge of the Plain of Jars. Last week the Pathet Lao vowed that they would retake the two areas "very soon."

Despite that promise, the diplomatic community in Vientiane is increasingly confident that peace talks will begin as early as next month, between representatives of Premier Prince Souvanna Phouma and his halfbrother, Prince Souphanouvong, head of the Pathet Lao.

The last time the country's contending factions formally got together was in 1962, when the Geneva accords placed Laos in the hands of a clumsy, three-headed regime composed of rightists, neutralists and leftists. That arrangement soon broke down, and since then the three factions have struggled with almost ritualistic regularity, advancing and retreating like choreographed troops in a lethal ballet.

A significant break came in June when Souphanouvong suggested that the time had come for "an urgent peace settlement." One of the strings dangling from that offer, however, was a demand for immediate cessation of U.S. bombing, particularly along the Laotian portion of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Souvanna Phouma rejected his half-brother's bid. In August, Souphanouvong again called for talks, this time without mentioning a U.S. bombing halt as a precondition.

On his return to Laos last week from a round-the-world swing, Souvanna Phouma again promised to get talks going. In view of President Nixon's five-point peace program involving all of Southeast Asia, the Prince insisted that the Laotian situation be considered separately from Viet Nam and Cambodia.

Although Souvanna Phouma is recognized as the legitimate head of the government in Laos, the Pathet Lao refuse to negotiate with him as such. They insist on meeting him only as the leader of a warring faction. Last week there was promise of a breakthrough. With Souvanna's approval, a letter went out to the Communists referring to a possible meeting between "representatives of the two princes," precisely the wording used by the Pathet Lao.

Double Benefits. Few observers hold any hope that even if talks take place and a settlement is reached, a neutral state would long endure. Caught in the crosscurrents of international politics, the country has long been plagued by feuding factions. Perhaps the greatest hope for some kind of settlement is that it would benefit both sides. An agreement would free Communist forces, particularly the North Vietnamese, for use in Cambodia and Viet Nam. Additionally, Laotian supply routes have become even more important for the Communists since the closing of the Cambodian port of Sihanoukville. The Communists hope that peace would bring a bombing halt along the Laotian portions of the Ho Chi Minh Trail. It is extremely unlikely, however, that the U.S. will go along with any such call for a bombing halt.

For Souvanna, a reorganized Laotian government could begin at last to focus attention on the needs of its people. "The Laos are tired; they have been bled white," says a diplomat in Vientiane. Cause for optimism can also be found in the nature of the Laotian people, for whom the war has long been a crippling burden. In the airport at Vientiane hangs a poorly printed sign in English, Lao,

Sanskrit and Hindi that touchingly sums up the Laotian view of how the world ought to behave--but rarely does. It says: HATRED NEVER CEASES BY HATRED. INDEED, HATRED CEASES BY LOVE. THIS IS THE ETERNAL LAW.

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