Threatening to Say Goodbye

Some U.S. officials send a most unhostly message to the U.N.

It was a case of the right hand not knowing what the left was doing. Or maybe the problem was that neither hand knew what it was doing at all. First came U.S. Delegate Charles Lichenstein's inflammatory suggestion last week, during the flap over Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko's canceled visit, that delegates unhappy with a U.S.-based United Nations should consider moving the organization's headquarters elsewhere. Startled White House aides tried to douse that fire by saying that Lichenstein's views were purely "personal." Then U.N. Ambassador Jeane Kirkpatrick sprinkled some kerosene on the blaze. Let the U.N. deliberate for six months of each year in the U.S., she proposed, but give delegates a taste of Soviet life by moving them to Moscow for the other six. That controversial notion she quickly disowned as "academic" speculation.

The problem, complained a high Reagan Administration aide, was that "no one bothered to ask the President what he thinks." One reporter finally did. Well, replied Reagan, it just so happened that he agreed with both officials. "Most people in America," he hazarded, shared the sentiment that "we aren't asking anyone to leave, but if they choose to leave, goodbye." As for a six-month stint in Moscow for the diplomats, "It would give them an opportunity to see two ways of life."

Reagan clearly relished delivering such a blunt reminder of the dim view he takes of the U.N.'s frequent impotence in international crises and its often hypocritical denunciations of U.S. policies. It was equally clear, however, that he had no immediate intention of moving beyond rhetoric to any concrete steps that would press the organization to relocate. But his remarks, only days before he was scheduled to address the U.N. General Assembly this week, touched off tremors about the U.N.'s future. After 31 years overlooking Manhattan's East River, the 158 delegations to the U.N. were pondering how much longer they would—or should—enjoy the view.

Controversy over the location of the U.N. is as old as the institution. In the aftermath of World War II, the Allies haggled for months before choosing the U.S., partly to assure American support. Ever since the soaring, book-shaped glass and steel headquarters opened for business in New York in 1952, diplomats have been complaining: about the city's dirt, crime, traffic and high housing costs. In June, the Soviet Union formally objected that the U.S. had failed to halt thousands of obscene phone calls to its mission.

If the U.N. membership were to choose—or be asked—to find a new home, one place it asssuredly would not go is the Soviet Union. Despite the Soviets' complaints about the way the U.S. fulfills its responsibilities as host country, they are not about to accept an influx of affluent and inquisitive foreigners who could "contaminate" the natives. Besides, says one top British official, "administratively, it would be a nightmare, and security-wise, worse still."