Promise of Joy

by Allen Drury

  “Yes!” K.K. exclaimed. “Yes, indeed, I care to proceed! And,” he added with a sudden determined dignity, “I shall do so in my own way, if the Council please.…

  “Mr. President, President Knox and his delegation confine themselves in their resolution to two points only, the International Peace Force and disarmament. But, Mr. President, the initial ‘Ten Demands’ of President Knox, made almost three weeks ago, and the transcripts of his conversations in Moscow and Peking, indicate that the United States of America has much, much more in mind. It has in mind, if you please, the entire rearrangement of the globe, an entire revolution in the way the world does things, an entire change for humanity. And I submit to you, Mr. President, that all this rearrangement, if it were carried out, could only end in the complete and final dominance of the world by the United States of America.

  “No, no, now!” he cried, holding up a warning hand as there came again from the American delegation an indignant stirring. “Do not interrupt me, my good friends from America! I do not say this is your deliberate intention, but let us examine the record and see. Let us look at all the peripheral things that hide beneath the twin shadows of International Peace Force and so-called disarmament. Let us see!

  “The basic drive and end result here, Mr. President—it is implicit, oh, yes, it is implicit!—is to deny to all nations the right to have friendly powers along their borders, to deny to all nations the right to defend themselves against hostile elements from outside, to open all nations to incursion by so-called International Peace Forces and other international bodies. It is to demand of all of us that we disarm, that we renounce all interest, even the most beneficent, in anything that happens beyond our borders—that we simply withdraw from the world, as it were, and leave it to those who know best—who have always known best, about everything—our good friends from America. That is the real thrust here, Mr. President, whether they realize it consciously or not.

  “It is true that they talk of disarmament, equal disarmament, but when you start with two great powers dreadfully weakened and a third great power still very strong, then if they all go down at the same pace, who still emerges at the bottom in the strongest position, Mr. President? And if we all join them, weak and secondary as we are—and you will recall that the transcripts disclose President Knox advising President Shulatov that in fact it is only those three who matter at all in this context, not your country or mine, Mr. President, or any of the rest of us—then if we all join them in this so-called disarmament, who still emerges at the bottom the strongest over all of us? None other than our good friends from Washington, innocent and idealistic as they are!

  “I do not say, of course, Mr. President,” he said, and his voice filled with a heavy irony, “that it would not be best for us all to be so advised and so led by superior intelligence from America. But I wonder, really, if that is what we all want?

  “I suggest, Mr. President, that the Council should adopt the amendment offered by my dear old friends the Ambassador of the United Kingdom and the Ambassador of France, and we will then proceed in an orderly fashion, as world society has always proceeded, to discuss—to consider—to reason—to compromise—to reach a fair agreement—to solve our problems in the old, good, traditional way!”

  He sat back with a satisfied air while across the chamber there swept a sudden spontaneous wave of applause and approval that brought to his face a smile of gratified triumph and to the face of the President of the United States of America an expression of deep and somber concern.

  He made no attempt to conceal it when he raised his hand for recognition, and when Australia gave it to him he made no attempt to keep the concern from his voice.

  “Mr. President,” he said, and for the last time the Council and all its many guests quieted down intently to hear him speak, “how far we have moved from the simple terror with which these past two weeks began. How quickly we have forgotten why we are here. How rapidly has the impulse for salvation died.

  “For make no mistake, my friends of the Council—make no mistake, anyone, anywhere. Salvation is what concerns us here. Salvation is what we will throw away if we do not insist that powers that have it in their hands to destroy the world be brought under control and be relieved of that capacity. And by that I say to my friend from India, I do mean all of us, and I mean all of us equally. I will not dignify his unworthy absurdities by commenting on his charges against the United States of America. My offer of full disarmament for us, and my own actions in the past ten days in attempting to bring peace, speak for themselves. If they cannot be honestly understood, then I pity those who deliberately misinterpret them.”

  (“Old boy’s annoyed, isn’t he?” The London Times observed. “Can you blame him?” inquired The New York Times. “Oh, well” said The London Times.)

  “Mr. President,” he said, ignoring K.K.’s flushed face and offended stare, “I wish to address myself for the last time to the choice between the quick and the dead. We can indeed go on in ‘the old, good, traditional way.’ We can indeed ‘consider’ and ‘discuss’ and ‘reason’ and ‘compromise.’ We can indeed talk, talk, talk while time disappears and God’s patience with us runs finally out. Sure! Let’s do that. Let’s take all the time in the world, with skirmishing already beginning again along the Russo-Chinese border, with pestilence spreading from the dead cities, with twenty million walking wounded wandering the roads of central Asia. Let’s wait until they walk right into this Council chamber, Mr. President! Let’s wait until we join them, in the final walk to nowhere.

  “Yes!” he said, and now the room was absolutely hushed in the face of his obvious terrible anger. “Let’s wait—let’s wait. Let’s don’t do anything tough. Let’s don’t do anything strong. Let’s don’t step on anybody’s toes. Let’s take counsel of our fears and give free reign once more to our cupidity. Let’s revive all our self-interest, our suspicions of one another, our hostilities, our selfishness, our fear of genuine sacrifice for peace, our eternal cowardice in the face of moral principle. Let’s go through the same old story that brought us up to the flash point of two weeks ago, and very shortly we will get flash point again. And then, my timorous friends, God help us. God help us, every one.

  “Mr. President,” he concluded with a harsh abruptness, “we can only decide this by a vote. I request one.”

  But of course it did not come then, because on an issue so grave every member of the Council had to make a record, for however long the record might be read. One by one the others said their say, Australia, Chile and Cuba, Egypt and Ghana, Lesotho, Norway, Rumania and Zambia. Almost two hours passed before Australia could put the question.

  “The vote comes,” he said finally, “on the resolution of the United Kingdom and France to amend the resolution of the United States of America. The voting will begin with Lesotho. The Secretary-General will call the roll.”

  “Lesotho,” said the Secretary-General; and after a long moment, during which tension rose sharply in the room and in the world, the giant black chieftain of the Sotho who represented Lesotho said slowly:

  “No.”

  There was a babble of noise, a scattering of applause, some boos.

  “Norway.”

  “No,” said Norway firmly.

  The boos increased.

  “Rumania.”

  “Yes.”

  Applause rose defiantly, boos were almost submerged.

  “The United Kingdom.”

  “Yes,” said Lord Maudulayne crisply, and this time the applause far outweighed the boos.

  “The United States.”

  “No,” said Orrin Knox, and this time the boos far outweighed the applause.

  “The United Chinese Republic.”

  “Yes,” Lin said softly, and applause was vigorous, friendly, encouraging, boos few and far between.

  “The United States of Russia.”

  “Yes!” said Shulatov defiantly, and he too received the same warmly generous response.

 
“Zambia.”

  “But, yes!” said Zambia, and there was approving laughter, though still, here and there, a few boos.

  “Australia.”

  “No,” Australia said quietly, and there were plenty of boos.

  “Chile.”

  “Sí!” Chile said with a cheerful grin, and laughter approved him.

  “Cuba.”

  “Sí, sí!” said Cuba, and the laughter grew.

  “Egypt.”

  “No,” Egypt said stoutly, and the boos resumed. France.

  “Yes,” said Raoul Barre, and applause rewarded him.

  “Ghana.”

  “Yes,” said Ghana, and the applause, hardly pausing now, rolled on for him.

  “India.”

  “Yes!” Krishna Khaleel said triumphantly, and applause welled up in final triumph as he beamed and smiled.

  “On this vote,” Australia announced, dispirited and openly unhappy, “five members have voted No, ten have voted Yes. One permanent member has voted No, but since the veto no longer exists, the amendment of the United Kingdom and France is approved by a vote of 10 to 5.”

  For a moment the room was silent, as though for a last split second men took thought of what they had done. Then applause and cheers welled up and carried on their tide all who believed and most of those who doubted. Only a few here and there sat silent and depressed.

  “The vote now comes on the resolution of the United States as amended,” Australia said finally. “The voting will start with Norway. The Secretary-General will call the roll.”

  And five minutes later, no minds persuaded, no positions changed, the euphoria of the moment continuing to drive them on, he found himself announcing:

  “On this vote the result again is ten Yes, five No, and the resolution of the United States as amended by the United Kingdom and France is approved.”

  “Mr. President,” Orrin said, his voice bringing instant quiet again to the room, “the mood of a majority of the United Nations, as expressed by these two votes and by the very great applause given the results by the many members of the Assembly who are in the chamber, is very obvious.

  “Accordingly”—he paused and his voice sounded suddenly very tired—“my delegation will not offer its resolution in the General Assembly.”

  There was a wild excited surge of applause and cheering. Across it his voice cut cold, flat, devoid of emotion.

  “I think, however, that the world should have a chance to find out what kind of progress we have made here this afternoon.”

  He turned directly to Lin, small, closed off and remote, and to Shulatov, grimly and openly triumphant.

  “Will you,” he said, “meet in Geneva one week from today with each other and with all interested members of the United Nations to begin good-faith—specific—detailed—negotiations looking toward genuine universal disarmament? And will you give a pledge—implicit in the Council’s demand for peace and solemn request for such negotiations—that you will not resume war with one another?”

  “Now you attempt to broaden it—” Shulatov began angrily. But the President of the United States of America was having none of it.

  “Answer me!” he demanded harshly. “Will you do it?”

  For a very long moment the President of the United States of Russia gave him stare for stare. Then his glance moved to the President of the United Chinese Republic and his eyes widened.

  “We must give substantial thought,” he said, biting off each word, “to whether or not we will sit down with the assassins of Asia.”

  There was a gasp of dismay that would have been laughable under some other circumstance, so naïve was it that anyone should actually be surprised. But it was not laughable now.

  “As we must give careful study,” Lin said in his sibilant near whisper that yet carried clearly to the ends of the electronically bound earth, “to whether we will soil ourselves by talking to the evil scum who launched atomic war upon our country.”

  “Mr. President,” Orrin said evenly, “I suggest the Council adjourn.”

  “Yes,” agreed Australia in a bleak and desolate voice. “There doesn’t seem to be much else to do.”

  And so presently, disturbed, unhappy, uneasy, apprehensive, those who had been excessively hopeful, or afraid to face facts, or both, in the United Nations that day, trailed out and away to their respective abodes and destinations; and fear, the child of wavering resolution, which had been so briefly banished, returned a thousandfold to haunt the globe.

  Russ, Chinese defy UN call for disarmament conference after security council turns down Knox demand for strong measures to make them comply. Fate of arms parley in Geneva uncertain as warring governments leave New York.

  Report further skirmishes along border, “sizable” air battle over Sinkiang province.

  President to address joint session of congress at noon tomorrow.

  “My colleagues of the Congress,” he said somberly in the hushed and overflowing chamber of the House, “my fellow Americans everywhere:

  “I wish that I could report to you the full success of my mission to China and Russia and to the United Nations in New York. But through the good offices of the media you have accompanied me every step of the way. You know as well as I do the exact status of things.

  “I shall not try to gloss realities with fine words or phony optimism. I have tried to make it a basic principle throughout my public career never to fool the American people. That principle has never been more important than now.

  “The world has been, and it remains, in extremely desperate condition. The new governments of Russia and China are in the grip of a mutual suspicion and hatred as deep as any that afflicted the old governments of Russia and China. This is understandable, since the men running the new governments came to maturity and lived all their lives under the old governments and were scientifically and deliberately trained, as few men in history have ever been scientifically and deliberately trained, to hate one another.

  “The war grew directly out of that state of mind. It may be resumed at any moment—directly out of that state of mind. I have tried, and failed, to break the psychological barrier. Those who built it built too well. There was, as you know, one brief flicker of compromise from President Lin of China. It was summarily destroyed by President Shulatov of Russia. Somehow we must deal with the consequences.

  “When I say ‘we’ must deal with the consequences, I no longer mean ‘we’ in the sense of the world community, for as you also know, that too offers little hope. Yesterday in New York the nations of the world were called to judgment and found wanting. They too suffer from old fears, suspicions, greeds, timidities. They had rather trust to a vague and amorphous ‘good will’ which does not exist in the face of the practical realities of national self-interest.

  “The practical realities of national self-interest, in fact, encourage them to continue on the same selfish and foredoomed course that has always ruined the world. The practical realities of self-interest—and the fear of being vigilant in the defense of good, and firm in the opposition to evil.

  “So there is little hope there. In New York yesterday I abandoned the niceties of diplomatic language. I put it on as tough and naked a basis of strength versus strength as it actually is, and as it actually has always been. I was met with polite words about ‘good will’—and ‘good faith’—and ‘sincere negotiations’—and ‘the United Nations urges.’

  “The United Nations ‘urging,’ wistful people of any kind ‘urging,’ are completely immaterial to the world’s crisis.

  “It is urging from strength that matters.

  “And there is no strength.”

  He paused to take a sip of water, and in the Press Gallery above, AP murmured to UPI, “Wow! Tough words from our Orrin.” “Tough times,” UPI remarked. “Look at the Congress. He’s scaring ’em to death.”

  And indeed they did look as strained and somber as he. But whether it was fear or resolution could not be determined at the mo
ment. He offered a silent prayer that it was resolution, and moved somberly on to the conclusion of his brief remarks.

  “Therefore, we must turn for strength to where strength is, and that is right here in America.

  “We do not know, at this moment, whether the war will resume in Asia. Sporadic skirmishing, a resumption of aerial warfare, have already occurred. At any second it may all flare up again into all-out atomic war. I would say the chances of this, based upon the attitudes of the new governments, is probably 70 to 30.”

  There was a gasp from the Congress, the standing-room-only audience, the media.

  “Face it,” he said grimly. “Face it. The games are all over. It is all real now.… What do we do, in this land, in such a situation? I shall of course send a delegation, headed by the ex-President of the United States, the Secretary of State and leading members of Congress from both parties, to Geneva a week from today. I expect them to find there many other delegations. But I do not expect them to find the only two delegations whose presence really matters—the Chinese and the Russians.

  “We will go, and go, as our friends in the United Nations put it, in good faith. But I am extremely dubious that we will find anything there to justify hope about the future of the world.

  “It comes back, then, to where it has, perhaps, always been ultimately heading in these recent hectic decades: back to the United States of America—going it alone.

  “There is still enough hopeful humanitarian spirit left in the country so that some critics will accuse me of launching with that statement ‘a new isolationism.’

  “I wish as devoutly as any that the world would permit us to still be hopeful and humanitarian. But I would not call it a new isolationism, because ‘isolationism’ in its critical sense implies that there is something good and valid and viable to be isolated from.

  “On the basis of the past two weeks, I do not realistically see that in the world today.

  “I would prefer to call it America relying on America because there just simply isn’t anyone else to rely upon.