FOREIGN RELATIONS: Reading the Tea Leaves

With the delicate, fragrantly bland character of a pot of jasmine tea (which isn't everybody's dish), India's exotic Nehru poured himself—rosebud and all —into the nation's teacup, there for all to sniff and sip. After leaving Ike, he drove to the National Press Club to face Washington's tough newsmen, was introduced irreverently as "the mystical man in the middle." His 45-minute performance was admirable: deft, quiet, elusive, charming, and at times, productive: Items:

Q: What message did he deliver to Ike from Red China's Chou Enlai? A: "Complaints" against the U.S.

Q: What would happen to Nationalist China should Red China be admitted to the U.N.? A: "The Formosa government is not China . . . whatever else it is. It is Formosa, and to call it China is slightly stretching language."

Q: Is it wrong for the free nations of the world to recognize Chiang Kai-shek's government? A: "Surely, you don't expect me to be rude to anybody."*

Q: Do Russia and China form a single Communist bloc? A: "No sir, not at all."

Q: What of U.S. foreign policy? A: "It is a flexible policy adapting itself to circumstances ... It is not as rigid as I thought."

Q: What of Russia's future? A: Russia is "passionately desirous of peace ... is slowly moving towards democratization and liberalization . . . [Stalinism and Marxism are outdated, and anyone who thinks otherwise] is not living in the present."

Soft & Slumbrous. Whisking into Manhattan, Nehru was the honor guest at an honest-to-gaudy, cushy stag luncheon for 500 bigwigs and local politicos given by Mayor Robert Wagner (who valiantly intoned that "You do us signal honor . . . on your brief sojourn," solemnly proposed a toast to "the President of India"). He got his ear bent by loquacious Governor Averell Harriman, who introduced the Prime Minister to pin-neat Tammany Hall Boss Carmine De Sapio ("Carmine—I was just telling the Prime Minister here about you . . ."). His balding head glistening, the flower in his buttonhole lazily depetaling, Nehru wadded his white handkerchief in his hand, rose to deliver softly a slumbrous sermon (viz., leadership must compromise, else it becomes defeated) that was as uninformative as it was long (and brought evident drowsiness to a few of his neighbors, including chief foreign-policy lieutenant, Krishna Menon).

But it was soon clear that Nehru had only been waiting for his tea to steep. On his first night in Manhattan he went before the United Nations General Assembly and poured it on—5,500 words. Eloquently, he dwelt (as he often does) on his recollections of Mohandas Gandhi: "Now, the major lesson that Mr. Gandhi impressed upon us was how to do things, apart from what we did ... how to proceed in attaining an objective ... so as not to create a fresh problem in the attempt to solve one problem: never to deal with the enemy in such a way as not to leave a door open for friendship, for reconciliation."

Pacts & Peace. Then Nehru left the India he knows so well and wandered piously into the wide, wide world, coming to a rude stop right on the cornerstone of the U.S. foreign-policy attempt to build defenses against a predatory Communist world.