Foreign Relations: Beyond Skybolt

The sessions began in a dismal political climate. At issue between President Kennedy and Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. meeting in Nassau last week, were questions that went to the nature not only of Anglo-American amity but also of the entire Western alliance. But as the talks broke up at week's end, the sun was peeking through the clouds.

In specific dispute between Kennedy and Macmillan was the all-but-final U.S. decision to scrap the Skybolt missile project (TIME, Dec. 21). The U.S. had promised to supply Britain with at least 100 Skybolts, and the British, with no long-range missile capability of their own, had built many of their defense plans around the bomber-launched weapon.

Even before the U.S. decision hit them, the British were feeling fretful. The U.S. had taken action in the recent Cuba crisis without even going through the motions of consulting Macmillan in advance; this brought home to Britons the painful fact that the U.S. no longer treats Britain in keeping with that "special relationship" brought to such heights by Winston Churchill. The sparks of anger over Skybolt therefore fell upon tinder of shredded pride and splintered pretensions. In the House of Commons, a Tory member thundered that "the British people are tired of being pushed around." U.S.-British relations, rumbled the Paris financial daily, Information, "are today in a state of complete crisis." Cried the Daily Herald, summing up U.S. treatment of Britain: "Suez to Skybolt, it has been a pretty rotten road."

Foredoomed Hope. For Macmillan, already beset by grave political and economic difficulties at home (see THE WORLD), the Sky-bolt decision threatened disaster. He had built his foreign policy around the idea that his nation's "special relationship" with the U.S. gave Britain influence in world affairs out of all proportion to its military and economic power. Before boarding a plane for the Bahamas, Macmillan managed a jaunty smile and cheerful words. "I have no doubt," he said, "that we shall find our way through our difficulties in the spirit of agreement we have always had with the American people." But in the background was a grim awareness that his political survival might depend on bringing some sort of trophy back from Nassau.

Macmillan got to Nassau first, was waiting at the airport to greet Kennedy when the President arrived. During the airport ceremonies, the Nassau police band struck up an old English song. Early One Morning, the words of which run:

Oh, don't deceive me, Oh, never leave me, How could you use A poor maiden so?

If Macmillan cherished any idea that Kennedy would relent on Skybolt. that hope was foredoomed. Kennedy had been convinced by U.S. Defense Secretary Robert McNamara that Skybolt was not worth the money or effort. The U.S. team at Nassau therefore tried to downplay Skybolt's significance to the conference.

The talks, said U.S. spokesmen, would cover a wide range of topics—NATO, the Common Market, Russia, the Chinese invasion of India, and especially the Congo. This ploy grated on the British. Cried an indignant British newsman: "They couldn't care less about Skybolt! All they want to talk about is the Congo!" But what they did, in fact, was talk about Skybolt.