THE NATIONS: Pride & Prejudice

Twisting the lion's tail used to be diplomacy's favorite parlor game. The same rules still apply, but now it is known as plucking the eagle's feathers. Last week France's little businessman, Premier Antoine Pinay, proved himself adept at the game. By defying the U.S., he became a hero to all Frenchmen.

Vision & Venom. Shrewd Premier Pinay, who likes to pose as no politician, just a technician, had lasted in office seven months. But as the National Assembly prepared to convene after a three months' recess, he was in a hot fight for survival. "I have the people behind me and Parliament in front of me," Pinay often says. His opposition in Parliament—Gaullists, Communists, and to some extent, Socialists —were all crying for the head of Pinay's Foreign Minister, Robert Schuman.

A fixture of every French cabinet since July 1948, Schuman is the man of vision who effectively worked for his country's participation in NATO and gave his name to the plan for a great six-nation coal and steel community. Yet these days Robert Schuman's place in history is more secure than his place in current French politics: if the opposition could knock off Schuman, they could probably topple Pinay, who needs the 98 votes of Schuman's party, the MRP, to stay in office.

The day Parliament opened, Pinay met with his cabinet, and beat the opposition to the first move. He issued a truculent statement that France would stand no "interference," by the U.N. or anybody else, in her troubled North African affairs (see below). The motion for an immediate debate on foreign policy was defeated, 394—223. But Pinay's biggest triumph was still to come.

Dollars & Diplomats. Two months ago, trying to balance his '53 military budget, Pinay had written to U.S. Ambassador James C. Dunn asking how many U.S. dollars he could count on. Ever since, Dunn had been trying to get an answer out of the State Department and the Pentagon. Last week he had it. Pinay had hoped to get $650 million, which he needed to balance his budget without increasing taxes, as he had pledged his country. But the U.S. Congress had cut foreign aid appropriations, and what France was going to get was $525 million.

A nice, polite, formal letter saying this was sent to Ambassador Dunn from Washington to transmit to Pinay. Along with it, Dunn got a set of instructions which diplomats call "verbal comments to be used in the course of conversation," i.e., what he might say to pacify Pinay, who, after all, was going to get barely more than half a billion dollars. Usually diplomats memorize such aids to conversation, or if they quote from them, are careful not to hand over the texts to their hosts. Gist of this oral message, prepared in Washington: if France spends her $525 million wisely on NATO defense, and if her own arms budget is big enough, she may reasonably expect more aid.

These messages in hand, Ambassador Dunn drove across the Seine to Pinay's Left Bank residence, the Hotel Matignon. Premier Pinay was "in a meeting," and the Ambassador talked instead to Under Secretary of State Felix Gaillard. Then Dunn gave Gaillard not only the formal letter but—a shocking diplomatic blunder —the private "verbal comments," for Pinay to read for himself.