By adopting the resolution, the Security Council would find the Soviet Union in violation of the U.N. Charter and of previous Security Council resolutions. Such a finding would authorize individual members of the U.N. to take any and all actions necessary to force the Soviets to end their support for North Korea’s invasion — actions up to and including economic and military sanctions. Bannerman secretly doubted that the resolution could achieve that end, even if it were passed.
U.N. resolutions usually weren’t worth the cost of printing them. But it would be an undeniable slap in Moscow’s face, a slap that might awaken some of the less militaristic members of the Politburo to the risks they were running with this Korean adventure.
He finished speaking and sat back to wait for the Soviet ambassador’s response. It wasn’t long in coming.
“The Americans have spoken of proof and played a paltry few minutes of cassette tape as if that were sufficient. But is it? I ask you to ask ourselves this: What have you heard? A few voices speaking Russian. Some static. And a claim that all of this came from planes engaged in combat.” The Russian paused, and Bannerman had to admire his poise. Vlasov’s earlier show of temper had faded as completely as a summer storm, and now his narrow, handsome face showed only good-natured amusement.
“The Americans have a saying, my friends, ‘Is it real or is it Memorex?’ ” Vlasov continued, having deliberately misquoted the well-known ad line. “Well, I suggest that what we have all heard tonight is Memorex — a tape of deliberate falsehoods created by the electronic specialists of the American CIA and NSA.”
Bannerman started to object, but the Russian held him off with a waved hand. “No, no, Mr. Secretary. You’ve had your turn at this. Allow me mine.”
Bannerman shrugged and sat back in his chair. He had a ready response to the Soviet allegations of forgery. Some snippets of the same transmissions had also been picked up by Japanese radio listening posts, and the Japanese government had assured Washington that it was prepared to back American claims that the Soviets were intervening in the war.
“But even if these unfounded allegations were true, it would not matter, and this Security Council would not be justified in adopting the absurd resolutions proposed by the United States.” Bannerman started, suddenly realizing that Vlasov had stopped speaking off the cuff and was now reading from a prepared statement. He frowned. The implications of the switch were clear and unpleasant. Moscow must have been ready for its involvement in the fighting to become public knowledge. And that suggested that the Politburo’s hard-liners were prepared to go a long way to back Pyongyang’s war.
“Even if individual Soviet citizens were engaged in actively defending a fellow Socialist state against South Korea’s aggression, their efforts as volunteers would have nothing whatever to do with the Soviet Union itself. The precedents are clear, and I need hardly remind the United States of some of the more obvious ones — for example, the service of the American Abraham Lincoln Brigade in the gallant struggle against fascism in Spain.”
Vlasov smiled unpleasantly. “In any event, the position of the Soviet government is clear. We are not in any way involved in this struggle, but our citizens are perfectly free to do as they wish.” He looked up from his written statement and spread his hands. “That is, after all, the essence of a free society, is it not?”
Then, abruptly, he finished. “The Soviet Union urges the defeat of this ridiculous and insulting resolution forthwith. We stand ready instead to work for a real and lasting end to this imperialist aggression against the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.”
Bannerman was astounded. The Soviets were not only virtually admitting their involvement, they were practically daring the Security Council to try to do something about it. He’d expected them to make a more prolonged argument in an attempt to confuse the issue.
His chief aide leaned forward from the seat behind and touched his arm. “Looks like they’ve got the Chinese veto in their pockets.”
The Secretary nodded. No U.N. Security Council resolution could pass without the approval of its five permanent members — the United States, the Soviet Union, France, the United Kingdom, and the People’s Republic of China. Both the U.S. and the Soviet Union were parties to this dispute and therefore ineligible to vote, and both France and Britain clearly intended to side with the U.S. That left the PRC as the swing voter on the Council.
No measure it voted against could pass. And clearly the Soviets were confident that, in this case at least, they had China’s support. So confident that they didn’t feel it worthwhile to prolong debate.
Bannerman wasn’t surprised by that. China hadn’t openly sided with Kim Il-Sung’s war, but it hadn’t been very discreet about: its munitions shipments to him either. His Pacific Region specialists back at State had estimated the probability of a Chinese veto at around ninety percent. Only that NSC man, Fowler, hadn’t been so sure. At Fowler’s urging, they’d decided to avoid embarrassing China by dropping all references to the PRC’s support for North Korea in the proposed resolution or in his written statement. Well, thought Bannerman, the President’s new fair-haired boy was finally going to be proved wrong about something.
He turned his attention back to the debate. It didn’t last long. Two of the Soviet Union’s surrogates, Cuba and Poland, made fiery but pro forma denunciations of the resolution — denunciations that Bannerman found it easy to counter. Other countries around the circle made their customary speeches counseling the superpowers to show patience and restraint. And that was that. Neither side saw any advantage in a prolonged, confusing debate or in the intricate negotiations that often produced compromise resolutions without meaning or force. The United States wanted a straight up-or-down vote on its motion, and the Soviet Union saw little to fear in that.
The Secretary General looked bemused, as well he might, thought Bannerman. Chairing the Security Council emergency session must often seem more like running a marathon than supervising a debating society. But not tonight.
“Does any member wish to speak further on this issue?… No? Well, then, the question now arises on the resolution proposed by the United States.” The Secretary General arched a single, white eyebrow, obviously waiting for someone to object to his haste. No one did. The silence lasted until he began the roll call. “Brazil?”
“The Federative Republic of Brazil votes aye.”
“Poland?”
“The Polish People’s Republic opposes this needless and irresponsible resolution.”
Bannerman’s aide kept a quick, scratch-pad tally as the vote went on.
“The United Kingdom?”
“Her Majesty’s government votes aye.”
That put them over the top with nine votes. Now only China’s veto would stop the resolution from carrying. He folded his hands and waited for it. At least he’d gained the President a solid propaganda victory. And Bannerman knew that was about all the U.N. was good for these days. The Harvard-educated internationalist in him regretted that. The realist schooled in Washington, D.C.’s corridors of power knew such regrets were meaningless.
“The People’s Republic of China?”
Bannerman looked across the circle at the Chinese ambassador, a tall, spare man clothed in a fashionable gray suit and red tie. The man’s dark eyes met his as he spoke. “China abstains. We shall neither oppose nor support this resolution.”
The American secretary of state felt his jaw dropping open and closed it hurriedly. The room around him was in an uproar as the observer’s gallery realized what had just happened. The resolution had passed. He felt one of his aides clap him on the shoulder and saw the others grinning. He could also see the consternation on Vlasov’s face as the Russian grabbed one of his assistants and started working his way through the crowd toward the Chinese delegation.
Somehow the Secretary General’s soft brogue cut through all the hubbub in the Council Chamber. “The vote being nine to four, the motion is carried and the resolution is adopted. The Council will reconvene tomorrow evening at the same hour to consider its implementation.”
The Chinese ambassador stood calmly and began making his way out through the crowded aisles, ignoring the pandemonium all around him — a mass of shouting reporters, TV cameras, and stunned fellow diplomats. Bannerman watched him go and saw a broad-shouldered Chinese security guard shove Vlasov’s messenger bodily out of the way as the Russian tried to get closer.
Bannerman sat motionless in his chair, his mind working furiously despite all the commotion surrounding the American delegation. He’d felt the pieces in the international diplomacy game shift under his hands just now. Not because of the resolution. That was only a simple scrap of paper — devoid of real power. But China’s abstention… now that was something real.
