A Shade of Difference (59 page)

“That’s been my experience, too,” Senator Fry said with as much show of cheerfulness as he could manage.

“Well,” the M’Bulu said abruptly, but with a charming smile, “I must go and confer with some of my African colleagues concerning the debate.” He held out his hand again with an elaborate ceremony that was not lost upon all the many delegates and members of the press who were watching. “May the best country win.”

“I hope so. I have great faith in the innate good sense of mankind.”

“Oh, I too,” Terry said earnestly as he turned away and started toward waiting Ghana and Mali. “I too.”

At the seats to his left where the British delegation sat, Hal Fry could see the Ambassador coming in, trailed by the pink-cheeked, scrubbed-faced female secretaries and the stringy, bland-eyed, hair-askew male members of his staff. Lord Maudulayne himself looked chipper and alert, and it was with a cordial smile that he worked his way behind the row of chairs and came along to a seat beside the Senator at the dividing point between the two delegations.

“Good morning, good morning,” he said cheerfully. “You look ready for anything, old boy. I hope you’re feeling well.”

“Fine, thank you,” Hal Fry said, though it was a lie. “And you?”

“I could be better if I thought a few more votes were solid,” Claude confessed. “But, even so, I don’t feel too badly.”

“Have you decided what to do on the Labaiya amendment?”

The British Ambassador nodded.

“I think so.”

“Don’t move too fast. There may be late developments.”

“Oh?” Claude said with real interest, “Will Orrin descend in his chariot on a beam of light to show us all the way? Or even Harley, perhaps? It will have to be something pretty good to turn this mob. Or, rather, I should hasten to add, this distinguished gathering of distinguished delegates at this distinguished world organization.”

“It may be effective,” Senator Fry said. “We can only hope. Anyway, I expect there will be quite a little debate. I don’t believe the outcome is at all certain yet.”

“Nor do I. I must say getting your Congressman Hamilton to introduce his resolution was a clever move. It’s had quite a bit of impact here, though I doubt it’s enough. Possibly if there were time for him to get it through Congress—except, to be honest, does anybody think he can? Nobody thinks so here.”

“I don’t know. It won’t be easy. On the other hand, the stakes are high and, I would hope, as fully understood there as they are here. Of course you know we were about to adjourn for the year when all this blew up, and having to stay on won’t improve tempers. But, we’ll see.”

“It would be a satisfactory solution for many of us, I think,” Lord Maudulayne said. “There are a lot of people who don’t really want a head-on collision with the United States but feel they have no choice on this issue.”

“All we can do is try,” Hal Fry said.

But as the President of the Assembly rapped his gavel and declared the plenary session opened, he knew it was an uphill battle at best that confronted his country. The normal tension of a major UN vote was increased today by an extra excitement, a certain vindictive assurance on the part of many delegates hostile to the United States that was palpable in the air. There was a certain look about many of the Africans that could not be mistaken—a smug certainty, a superior knowledge of what was going to happen. Hal told himself sternly that he must remember tolerance, difficult though it was in the face of intolerance.

“The first speaker on the agenda for today,” the little Netherlander said, “is the distinguished delegate of Panama, author of the amendment which is now before the Assembly for action under terms of the agreement reached on Monday last. The distinguished Ambassador of Panama.”

“Mr. President,” Felix Labaiya said. “It is not my purpose to delay this august body in its desire to reach a speedy vote on this amendment. All delegations are familiar with the amendment. It has received the support of many powerful states and peoples. It is offered, Mr. President not in hostile criticism but as a friendly encouragement to one of the leaders of our world to truly show us an example of democracy and justice in action. Not in anger, Mr. President, but in sorrow and pity, and also in hope, do we ask the United States to live up to her highest ideals. We hope this expression of world opinion may help her to do so.”

“It’s nice to have so kind and devoted a friend,” Lafe whispered to Hal Fry as Felix turned, bowed low to the President, and walked, with a smooth sense of what was fitting and effective in present circumstances, back up the aisle to Panama’s seat beside Pakistan, shaking eager dark hands held out to him as he went.

Hal Fry wanted to say something humorous in return, but a sudden onslaught of dizziness prevented it and he only said, “Yes,” lamely. Lafe at once looked concerned.

“Are you all right?”

“Okay,” Hal managed to say, and turned back with a show of impatience toward the podium as the President announced, “The distinguished delegate of the Soviet Union,” and Vasily Tashikov strode purposefully to the platform, his gray head bobbing as he walked along with his plowing, determined gait.

“You’re sure?” Lafe demanded.

“I’m sure,” he said angrily, though he felt as though some giant were twisting his insides about in capricious jocularity.

“All right,” Lafe said doubtfully as they put on their earphones and turned the dials to the Russian channel. “But no games, now.”

“Mr. President,” the Soviet Ambassador said, “the Soviet Union does not desire to prolong this debate, either. The Soviet Union thinks the issue here is very clear. Freedom-loving peoples everywhere understand it. It was not enough to have Little Rock, Mr. President.” (He said it with a heavy sarcasm faithfully parroted by the translator.) “It was not enough to have Birmingham and Montgomery, Alabama. It was not enough to deny to African diplomats the courtesies of their station in Washington and force them to live in pigpens and hovels, Mr. President.” (“You ought to see some of those $100,000 pigpens,” Lafe Smith whispered to Lord Maudulayne, who nodded.) “It was not enough to have all the shameful incidents which have demonstrated to the world for so long exactly what is this great American democracy we hear so much about all the time, Mr. President, from those who would rather talk than perform. Now we must have an attack upon a great leader of Africa, combined with a noble attempt to keep a little girl from going to school.

“Mr. President,” he said, and his tone became even heavier with sarcasm, for on this issue the Communist states had found the lever to wipe out much of the psychological gains of the President’s action in Geneva, “is this the nation that presumes to tell the world that it ought to lead us to salvation? Is this the great democracy that thinks it is so much better than everyone else? Can it be, Mr. President, that this country that believes so fervently in freedom and justice actually needs to be admonished by this great world body? Oh, Mr. President, what a spectacle! What a sad commentary, Mr. President!

“Can it be,” he asked with a fleering slowness, “that this great country is not so perfect, after all? Can it be that its pretensions have finally been exposed for what they are? Can it be that the great United States of America stands condemned before all of humanity?

“It is so, Mr. President. And for the first time, thanks to the fine amendment of the distinguished Ambassador of Panama, the world can at last render judgment on these pretenders. The world now has the opportunity to condemn these murderers of freedom, these mockers of justice and decency,
these worthless people who hate you simply because you are black!

“Do they deserve mercy, Mr. President? No, they do not. Do they deserve justice, Mr. President? Ah, yes, that they do deserve. That they cannot escape. They must not escape it, Mr. President. The world’s freedom-loving peoples demand the punishment of these guilty ones, Mr. President. All whose skins are white and who love justice demand it, Mr. President. All whose skins are not white demand it. It is time to end this hypocrisy once and for all and say to the United States, You are guilty and you are condemned!”

There was a wild burst of applause from many delegations and from the public galleries as he concluded, bowed abruptly to the President and walked quickly to his seat, ignoring the congratulatory hands held out to him along the aisle.

“The United States—” the President began. “Did the United States wish—?” he said uncertainly.

There was an immediate buzz of interest across the chamber as delegates and spectators craned to see the United States delegation. It could be seen that Senator Fry and Senator Smith seemed to be in an intent and serious discussion, concluded when Senator Fry was seen to nod, a momentary expression of what appeared to be sadness on his face—yet what could he be sad about? Senator Smith was seen to lean back in his chair with an air of satisfaction that seemed to say, “That’s better!” as a crew-cut young State Department aide to the delegation walked hurriedly down the aisle to the podium and whispered in the President’s ear.

“The United States of America,” the President said, “originally requested permission to speak at this time, but now has requested a delay temporarily. The Chair accordingly recognizes the next speaker on the list, the distinguished Ambassador of France.”

“Now what was that all about?” the
Daily Mail
demanded. “International Row Splits U. S. Delegation; Lafe Smith Favors Blacks?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, so they tell me,” the
Daily Express
said with a raucous chuckle.

“Mr. President,” Raoul Barre said in his firm and graceful voice as many dials at many seats were switched rapidly to the French translation, “it is true, as the distinguished delegate of the Soviet Union has just reminded us, that this is the first time this body has had a chance to decide whether or not to condemn the United States. The United States is thus a newcomer to an area where the Soviet Union has been before. It is not surprising, therefore, that this should be a novelty and a matter for comment to the Soviet Union.” (There was a little desk-banging at this, but he went calmly on.)

“Mr. President, it is not the purpose of my delegation to point the finger of scorn at anyone. We cannot defend certain practices in the United States. No more can we defend certain practices in the Soviet Union. We think there must be some consideration given to the matter of intent, to steps being taken to correct certain situations, to action within the United States on these matters. In short, we think attention of this distinguished assembly should be drawn to a resolution now pending before the House of Representatives of the Congress of the United States.”

There was more desk-banging, a little mocking laughter from Ghana, Mali, Kenya, and the U.A.R. Raoul Barre ignored it.

“My delegation believes, and at an appropriate time later in the debate will offer a motion to the effect, that this debate should be adjourned until action has been completed by the Congress on the resolution now before it.”

“Well, there’s a neat out for you chaps,” the
Guardian
murmured to the
New York
Herald Tribune
as the French Ambassador stepped down and returned to his seat amid a stir of buzz and argument all across the chamber.

“Who do you suppose put him up to it?” the
Evening Standard
inquired.

“Nobody ‘put him up to it,’” the
New York
Times
said a little testily. “Hal Fry talked to him yesterday; I do know that. Maybe it came out of that.”

“Well,” the
Daily Express
said skeptically. “Maybe. It sounds like just what the French would do in a situation like this.”

“What’s that?” the Chicago
Tribune
asked dryly. “Try to find a civilized way out? I should hope so.”

“Wait a minute,” the
Christian Science Monitor
said hurriedly. “What’s Kenya up to?”

“What are they always up to?” the
Chicago
Trib
said with a shrug.

“Mr. President,” the youthful delegate of Kenya said in the clipped British accents with which two-thirds of the world’s colored dignitaries poured forth their scorn upon the white man, “the distinguished delegate of France says we should wait until there is action in the United States Congress upon a certain resolution. Well, Mr. President, let us consider this resolution for a moment. Who is its author, Mr. President? One who presumes to call himself a spokesman of the Negro race, Mr. President. Did we nominate him, Mr. President? Did we appoint him spokesman of the Negro race?”

He paused dramatically, and shouts of “No!” came dutifully up from many delegations.

“He is self-nominated, Mr. President. He is self-appointed. Or, rather, I should say, he was nominated and appointed by his white masters to run their errands for them. That is the truth of it, Mr. President!”

“Oh, God,” Lafe murmured with a groan. “Do you think he’ll have the nerve after that?”

“If he doesn’t,” Hal Fry said sharply, though he now felt so terribly weak and dizzy that it was all he could do to remain seated upright, “I shall have to.”

“No, you won’t,” Lafe said angrily. “Now, damn it, no nonsense, Hal. I mean it.”

“We’ll see,” Hal Fry said weakly. “We’ll see.”

“Mr. President,” the youthful delegate of Kenya said smoothly, “it is with pity and shame that we should look upon this poor fellow as he tries to do the job of his white masters. They want him to turn aside our justifiable wrath in this Assembly, Mr. President. They want him to offer us a little stick to distract us, as though we were dogs who would be made to chase after distractions. They want him to offer us a little stick, but”—his voice suddenly rose sharply—“to our dearly beloved friend from Gorotoland they offered big sticks, and stones, and rotten eggs, and dirt and shame, just as they offer it to their own colored people in their own land, Mr. President!”

There were shouts of “Down with the United States! Shame, shame!” The delegate of Kenya held up his hand for silence.

“Mr. President, does this little fellow who has given up his birthright to do the job of his white masters really believe that we can be diverted from the just rendering of judgment upon the United States for her shameful racial practices? Do he and his white masters really think so little of our intelligence and understanding? Shame, indeed, Mr. President! Shame indeed upon this little black lackey and his white masters! They know their resolution cannot pass the Congress of the United States, dominated and controlled as it is by Senators and Congressmen from the Southern states. They know it is an empty gesture. Do they take us for fools, Mr. President? Does this renegade from the Negro race really think we are so stupid? Has he become that much of a white man?