A Viennese Compromise

UNITED NATIONS

At a small, private dinner last October, Austria's Ambassador to the United Nations, Kurt Waldheim, played host to Soviet Ambassador Yakov Malik and George Bush of the U.S. Rising for a toast, Malik ponderously wished Waldheim, who was campaigning hard for the secretary-generalship of the U.N., fulfillment of "all his wishes." That was as close to an open endorsement as any candidate could ask. Last week, on his 53rd birthday, Waldheim got his wish. He was elected over eleven other candidates to succeed the retiring U Thant.

Waldheim's election was the result of the nuanced realities of big-power politics. The U.S. plainly preferred Finland's energetic Max Jakobson, a former journalist and amateur historian who could give the U.N. the leadership that it lacked under the mercurial, vacillating U Thant. But Jakobson's strong qualities made him unacceptable to the Soviets who "know from experience what a tough Finn is like, and didn't want him," as a State Department official put it last week. The Soviets first tried unsuccessfully to persuade U Thant, who is suffering from a bleeding ulcer, to stay on. Then they plumped for Waldheim, who is better known for his technical skill and correctness as a diplomat than for his daring.

Early Lead. Since Waldheim was also entirely acceptable to Washington, he took an early lead in the intricate balloting devised for the occasion by the Security Council. In the first round, Jakobson was second, but was stymied by a Soviet veto on the grounds, said the Russians, that their Arab friends would object to the fact that he is Jewish (a contention that the Arabs privately denied). The Soviets also vetoed another contender strongly favored by Washington: Argentina's popular Carlos Ortiz de Rozas, who, like Jakobson, gave every promise of making the most of the job and moreover came from a strongly pro-Western country.

The key vote, as it turned out, was that of the Chinese. Abandoning hope of electing an Asian or African, they voted for Jakobson, whose country had recognized the Peking government as early as 1950. But after two ballots, it became apparent that their vote against Waldheim could frustrate all efforts to come up with a common choice. With fresh instructions from Peking, Ambassador Huang Hua abstained on the next ballot. This was enough to put the Austrian over the top with eleven yes votes and only one undisclosed no--which did not come from a veto-wielding power. Next day the General Assembly confirmed Waldheim by acclamation.

Back home in Vienna, no one was very much surprised that Waldheim had reached the peak of an admirably planned career. Son of a school inspector who changed the family name from Waclawik to the socially more acceptable Waldheim, he decided in high school to become a diplomat and set about acquiring the credentials, starting with studies at the Vienna Consular Academy and at Vienna University. During World War II, he fought with the German army on the Russian front until he was wounded in 1942 and sent home, where he completed his law degree. He joined the Austrian foreign service in 1946 and served in a succession of diplomatic posts, including Ambassador to the U.N. from 1965 onward and Foreign Minister from 1968 to 1970. Last April Waldheim ran a gentlemanly campaign for President as candidate of the conservative People's Party, losing with a respectable 47.2% of the vote.

Treading the Line. Given to dark vested suits and subdued maroon ties, Waldheim is the very model of a Continental diplomat. He is immensely skilled in treading the delicate line of Austrian neutrality, and is known as an unusually hard worker. He is also rather autocratic and hot-tempered, and runs his staff with an iron hand. His chief hobby: collecting early 19th century glass. Waldheim's family is picture-perfect for his new public role. His wife Elisabeth ("Sissy") is justly renowned as a diplomatic hostess. Daughter Liselotte, 26, is a pretty U.N. civil servant in Geneva; Son Gerhard, 23, a law student, managed his father's presidential election campaign; and Daughter Christa, 12, attends a French lycee in New York.

Washington expects a smooth, easy relationship with Waldheim, a welcome change from its sometimes stormy quarrels with U Thant. "I am happy that I am not an intellectual ball of fire," Waldheim said last week. "I don't think you can solve the U.N.'s problems that way. What the U.N. needs is a quiet approach." Taking over at a time when the U.N. is in deep financial trouble (total debt: $210 million), the new Secretary-General last week said that he planned to tackle that problem first. He also hinted that there would be drastic changes in organization of the unwieldy 4,000-member headquarters staff. Speaking of the U.N.'s larger ills, he declared that they "are only a mirror of our present political schisms." As a product of those schisms, Waldheim starts his five-year term well equipped to deal realistically with them, and perhaps to become an activist, as he put it last week, "within the limits the Charter sets."

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