A Shade of Difference (104 page)

He was also worried, and deeply, as all the delegation was and as all the friendly states that supported them were, by this new turn of events here on the floor. Felix’s move had admittedly caught them by surprise, even though they had received some inkling of it in the past twenty-four hours. They had not realized that it would be done in the fashion it was, which, by use of points of order, appeals, and things not specifically stated in the rules, had permitted him to get away with it virtually without challenge. Debate had not been possible under these circumstances, and now it must wait until tomorrow, with another twenty-four hours intervening, during which the Panamanian Ambassador and his friends could do more politicking on the basis of the accomplished fact of his new resolution. The United States was precluded from immediate answer, save in a further round of the endless talks among delegations that composed so much of the business of the United Nations; and that of course lacked the force and drama of an immediate answer here.

Well: that was tomorrow’s problem, and what he was about to do now, even though it was in line with what he had always believed best from the very beginning, would not make it any easier. Therefore, he told himself firmly, up and at ’em, boy. Take a leaf from Felix and hit ’em between the eyes before they know what’s coming.

“Mr. President,” he said calmly into the rustling hush that fell upon the enormous chamber, “the United States will vote No on this resolution.”

“No?”
exclaimed the
Daily Express
in aggrieved astonishment. “What the hell’s got into the U.S., anyway?”

“What fools!” the Manchester
Guardian
said excitedly.
“What fools.
Now you’re bound to lose on the other tomorrow. You can’t possibly win!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said the New York
Herald Tribune,
feeling strangely elated for some reason he could not quite analyze. “We’ll just have to see about that!”

Into the rush of exclamatory, disbelieving sound that came from all over the hall in the wake of Lafe’s statement, the President banged his gavel sternly, and after a minute or two the chamber quieted down again. Lafe had waited patiently, and now went on in the same firm voice.

“The United States will vote No, Mr. President, because we agree entirely with the distinguished delegate of the United Kingdom that even more important at this stage of the United Nations’ development than giving freedom is the
orderly
giving of freedom.”

“No!” shouted someone from one of the African delegations.

“Yes. We know that is not the fashion here, right now. It was not the fashion in the Congo, as the delegate of the United Kingdom pointed out, and the UN still suffers from what happened, is still happening, and apparently always will happen, in the Congo. We know orderly transition was not the fashion in some other places, and they, too, are still on the UN’s doorstep. Is it the intention of this Assembly to turn Gorotoland into another Congo? If so, go right ahead. You will do it without the vote of the United States. Or,” he added coldly, “its financial support if you should find it necessary to try another intervention.”

“Brave talk,” said the London
Daily Telegraph
to the
Christian Science Monitor,
“but wait until somebody hollers ‘Communist!’ and watch Uncle Sam scramble to get aboard.” The
Monitor
gave him an uncomfortable smile.

“Mr. President, it is apparent by now that the crying need of this organization is a body of established law and precedent
and respect for it,
no matter who it hits. It will not hurt Gorotoland to wait a year for freedom, if that freedom is transferred with safeguards that will really help it to last. It will hurt Gorotoland, and it will hurt this organization, to rush one more unprepared nation headlong into a liberty it doesn’t know how to handle.”

Again there were murmurs and mutters from the floor, ugly in tone, now, and not amused.

“Mr. President, it would be very easy for the United States to seek to win favor in this Assembly by advocating a course we cannot in good conscience advocate. It would be easy to buy votes for tomorrow in this way. We do not think we are that hard up in the world, yet. But possibly we are losing votes for tomorrow by taking this course. If so, that is as it must be.

“We would like to vote with so many of you who will support the resolution of the Ambassador of Panama, but we do not believe Gorotoland is ready for it. Therefore, as I said, we will vote No. We urge all who believe in the orderly transition of power—and, more importantly, all who believe in developing for the United Nations a tradition and a precedent of respecting the orderly and peaceable way of doing things, to also vote No.”

A great chorus of boos, met and matched by appreciative applause from many sections of the floor and galleries, swelled up in his face as he left the rostrum and walked back down onto the floor. In the other aisle Krishna Khaleel hurried down, waving an arm above his head and crying, “Mr. President!” as he came.

“The distinguished delegate of India,” the President said, and the hall again fell silent as the dapper little figure of the Indian Ambassador mounted the steps, bowed to the President, and turned to the lectern.

“Mr. President,” he said in his clipped British accent, “the delegation of India will, as is well known, vote Yes on this resolution. But we do not wish to waste the time of this great Assembly by a recital of old arguments, sensible and sound as we believe those arguments to be. Instead, we would rather permit the one man most concerned here today to speak to you. He is the guest of my delegation on this floor at this moment. With your kind permission, Mr. President and distinguished delegates, I would like to present to you His Royal Highness the M’Bulu of Mbuele, for such time as he may need.”

“Is there objection to the request of the delegate of India?” the President inquired, and a roar of “NO!” went up from the floor.

“Oh, Lord,” Hal Fry murmured to Claude Maudulayne. “Here we go again.”

“I just hope he’s wearing his clean clothes,” the British Ambassador remarked.

He was, and he looked magnificent in them as he completed his bow to the President and turned to face them. His inner elation was carefully controlled, his face impassive, his demeanor calm. Inside he was telling himself with a marvelous delight how splendidly and with what powerful magnetism he was commanding the attention of the nations. He was entirely correct, and he knew he would continue to be so, for he knew this was no occasion for dramatics but just for the simple, overwhelming impact of his presence and his arguments.

“Mr. President,” he said in his guttural British accent, “distinguished delegates: I thank you once again for the high honor you do me in permitting me the privilege of this rostrum when I am not yet a member of your organization.”

“You will be soon!” someone cried from the floor, and a gust of laughter and applause gave approval. Terry smiled and bowed.

“Much has happened since I spoke here last, Mr. President. The Congress of the United States has passed a resolution. Many arguments and statements have been made in many places concerning the merits of independence for my country. Many arguments and statements”—and he permitted himself a sudden grin that brought an answering wave of amusement—“have been made about
me.
But—nonetheless—here we all are once again, in the great hall of the Assembly, faced with the decision of the only body that matters in this affair, the United Nations itself.”

There was applause for this from many delegations.

“Mr. President, the distinguished delegates of the U.K. and the U.S.—both, I am proud to say, have become personal friends of mine in these recent weeks that I have been here for my cause—say that my country is not yet ready for independence. They say independence has been promised in a year. They say the orderly transition of independence is more important than independence itself.

“Mr. President”—and he sounded genuinely puzzled—“how can they say these things?

“My country has had a functioning government—it is true, under the guidance of the Crown in recent decades, but nonetheless with great internal control—for centuries.

“If freedom is coming to us in any case, what is the magic of waiting a year?

“And, finally, Mr. President, to say that orderly transition of freedom is more important than independence itself is, it seems to me, to put one’s finger exactly on the essential difference that divides so many new states from the old.

“Mr. President,” he said, and now he permitted himself a stronger passion, “it is my belief that nothing is more important than freedom! Nothing is more sacred than freedom! Nothing is greater than freedom! Nothing—nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing”—and he pounded on the lectern so furiously it almost broke—“can be permitted to stand in the way of freedom!

“Freedom, Mr. President,” he shouted as the answering roar of approval began to gather and rise from the floor in response to his exhortation, “is all that makes men great! It is all men have to live for! Without freedom, what good is life! Give us our freedom, my dear friends of the Assembly! Do not listen to the words of the fearful and the self-interested! Do not listen to the colonialist oppressors!

“Give us our freedom!”

And into the bellow of sound that came up, many delegates standing and applauding and shouting hysterically, he turned to the President, bowed gravely once more, turned back and bowed once again to the Assembly, and with a slow and stately tread came back up the aisle, shaking many eagerly thrust out hands that greeted him along the way.

“I would say that does it,” the
Chicago
Tribune
remarked. The Manchester
Guardian
nodded.

“All over but the shouting. And there’s more than a whisper left of that.”

So there was, as the night dragged on and a total of twenty-five delegations made the speeches they felt they must make before The Problem of Gorotoland could come to a final vote. The casual customs of UN debate, which even more than that of the U. S. Senate encourages the unchecked expression of ego and the uncontrollable flow of verbal diarrhea, was allowed full rein. It was not until 1:14 a.m. that the last speech, delivered by the gracious, half-apologetic delegate of Italy, speaking in what he obviously believed to be a lost cause, came finally to its conclusion.

The President said at last, into the tired hush that fell at last upon the Assembly:

“The question occurs on the resolution of the delegate of Panama, to state the desire of the United Nations that the Territory of Gorotoland, now administered by Her Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom, be granted immediate and full independence. On this resolution, which under Rule 85 of the Assembly is an ‘important matter,’ two-thirds of those voting must approve in order to secure passage.”

The Secretary-General handed him the box of names; he reached in and slowly drew one.

“Wish us luck,” Lord Maudulayne whispered, and Senator Fry, by now appearing very tired and with a curiously drained look that disturbed his English friend, said with a reasonable approximation of an ironic smile, “We’ll need it.”

“The voting will begin,” the President said, “with Turkey.”

“No,” said Turkey.

“Uganda.”

“Yes.”

“Ukrainian S.S.R.”

“Da.”

“U.S.S.R.”

“Da.”

“United Arab Republic.”

“Yes.”

“United Kingdom.”

“No.”

“United States.”

“No.”

“Upper Volta.”

“Non,”
and there was a startled hiss of breath.

“Uruguay.”

“Si,”
and there was another.

“Venezuela.”

“Abstención.”

“West Indies.”

“Yes.”

“Western Samoa.”

“Yes.”

“Yemen.”

“Yes.”

“Yugoslavia.”

“Yes.”

“Afghanistan.”

“Yes.”

“Albania.”

“Yes.”

“Algeria.”

“Qui.”

“Argentina.”

“No.”

“Australia.”

“No.”

“Belgium.”

“Non!”
And there was mocking laughter.

“Bolivia.”

“Abstención.”

“Brazil.”

“Sí.”

Excitement grew in the hall as the vote moved gradually to its conclusion, and when the President finally spoke it burst and overflowed into wild exclamations of protest or approval.

“The vote stands at 74 Yes, 37 No, 5 abstentions, remainder absent, and, accordingly, two-thirds of those present having voted in favor of the resolution, it is hereby
—”

“Mr. President! Mr. President! Mr.
President!”
someone shouted insistently. Immediately there was a rush of boos and protest, for some instinct, even before they knew what he would say, indicated to many that this might be an attempt to upset the vote.

“The distinguished delegate of Gabon—” the President began, and a roar of “No!” greeted his words. He flushed at once and pounded angrily with the gavel.

“Any delegate has the right to address the Chair and speak to the Assembly providing he is in order!” he shouted. “The delegate from Gabon
is
in order. The Assembly is
out
of order!
The Assembly will be quiet!”

“By George,” the
Daily Express
said with a grin to the
New York
Herald Tribune,
“I think he means it.”

Apparently the Assembly, though with reluctant murmurs and mumbles, thought so too, for after a moment it fell gradually into silence as Gabon came swiftly down the aisle, bowed to the President, and turned to the room.

“Mr. President, the delegation of Gabon abstained on this vote. The delegation has changed its decision and wishes to vote. On this resolution”—and his voice rose in challenge—“Gabon votes—No!”

“Hot dog!” Lafe Smith said exultantly. “I knew that little guy wouldn’t let me down! Now it’s 74 to 38, and that isn’t two-thirds!”

“Thanks to Raoul,” Hal Fry pointed out, leaning forward tensely, his pain temporarily forgotten in the excitement of the moment.