Capable of Honor (24 page)

“Therefore, Mr. President, we need not fear the outcome. It does not mean war, nor will it mean war, if this Council and the United Nations as a whole will refrain from exacerbating still further, with this resolution, a situation already explosive and unhappy enough.

“Mr. President, Her Majesty’s Government hope this resolution will be defeated.

“I join my distinguished colleague the delegate of France, in the hope that once it has been, and once the American mission has been completed, this organization may turn to the establishment of a genuine and lasting solution for the problems that beset Gorotoland.”

“I certainly don’t think that gained any ground,” the
Post
remarked scornfully to Walter in the press section. He nodded.

“The British,” he said heavily, “will let us carry them down, yet.”

“I suppose we’ll speak next,” the
Post
said. “What do you suppose we’ll do?”

“A counter-resolution in the form of an amendment condemning Prince Obi.”

“Oh, really?” the
Post
asked, as respectfully surprised as though he hadn’t heard the same thing himself, hours ago. “Do you think it will pass?”

“Are you kidding?” Walter asked. A scornful smile touched his mouth. “I don’t see why we even bother to speak.”

But the chief American delegate must have considered it worthwhile, for he leaned forward in his turn and placed two huge hands quietly around the stem of his microphone,

“Mr. President,” Cullee Hamilton said slowly, “I think the true nature of the United Nations in this present era of its decay—(‘Oh,
no!
some visiting lady from Boston or Kansas City gasped in the audience. The President of the Council rapped his gavel)—of its decay,” Cullee repeated calmly, “has never been better illustrated than in the comments of the Soviet delegate and the fact that they have quite obviously been accepted as fact by most of those sitting around this table—and most of those in this audience—and most, I am quite prepared to believe, in this world.

“What have we had here this morning, Mr. President? We have had lying (Again there was a gasp, some murmurs, a little booing from the audience. He swung around and surveyed it with a contemptuous look and then turned back) lying, deliberate, cold-blooded, calculated, crude. And instead of everyone here rising up and crying
No!
like my friend in the audience a moment ago crying out at the truth, everyone accepts it blandly and calmly and puts the stamp of approval on it.

“Everyone, that is, except the United States and the United Kingdom and perhaps a very few others.

“The Soviet delegate says that the murder of American citizens and the attack on American property—or, rather, Mr. President, he doesn’t say that at all. He doesn’t admit it. He doesn’t even name it. He doesn’t even say it happened.

“This is the first lie.

“And we all know it’s a lie.

“The Soviet delegate, however, has to acknowledge that something happened, so without saying what it was he talks vaguely of some undefined ‘action’ by ‘troops momentarily exceeding their orders.’

“It was not an undefined ‘action,’ Mr. President, it was a specific action. It was not done by troops exceeding their orders, it was a cold-blooded, deliberate massacre of innocent people and a cold-blooded, deliberate destruction of property on the cold-blooded, deliberate orders of a cold-blooded, deliberate gang of Communist riff-raff masquerading as a quote legitimate unquote government.

“The pretense that it was done by troops ‘momentarily exceeding their orders’ is the second lie, Mr. President.

“The pretense that those orders were given by a quote legitimate unquote government which consists of Obifumatta and his Communist mercenary-volunteers is the third lie, Mr. President.

“And we all know they’re lies.”

“That’s not very diplomatic language,” the
Post
remarked with an ironic smile.

“Shocking!” Walter said gravely. “Absolutely shocking.”

“The Soviet delegate,” Cullee went on, “says that the United States has gone into Gorotoland on ‘a flimsy pretext.’ The deliberate murder of half a hundred Americans and the deliberate destruction of American property is not ‘a flimsy pretext.’

“This is the fourth lie.

“And we all know it’s a lie.

“The Soviet delegate says that the government of His Royal Highness Prince Terry, 137th M’Bulu of Mbuele in direct descent, is not the legitimate government of Gorotoland. It is legitimate by his birth, by its control of two-thirds of the country (skeptical laughter), and by the recognition of these United Nations scarcely six months ago, Mr. President.

“The UN did recognize this government and bring it into being six months ago, you know, Mr. President.

“We really did.

“To say that it is not the legitimate government of Gorotoland is the fifth lie.

“And we all know it’s a lie.

“Lastly, Mr. President, we come to the great eternal everlasting he of them all, and that is that the United States is a colonialist, imperialist power. The United States gave up its last colonial possession in the year 1946, Mr. President, when it granted independence to the Republic of the Philippines. Since that time the United States has not acquired a single piece of new territory, nor has it imposed its type of government on a single nation, nor has it engaged in any attempts to subvert and overthrow other governments. Neither has the United Kingdom, which is associated with us in the attempt to restore stability to Gorotoland.

“The world knows that the United States is not a colonialist, imperialist power, Mr. President.

“It
knows
this.

“But the Soviet delegate says this isn’t true, and that we are an imperialist power.

“This is the sixth and final lie, Mr. President.

“And we all know it’s a lie.

“But, Mr. President, observe this great United Nations. Here nobody shouts
NO!
at a lie, like my friend in the audience shouting
NO!
at the truth a while back. Here the lie is king, Mr. President. Here the lie is stated every day, in a thousand ways, on a thousand subjects; and from here it goes out, solemnly sanctified by whatever remains of the dignity of this body, across the world.

“There are no rules by which we can challenge lies before they are sanctified in our proceedings, Mr. President. We give them an implicit stamp of approval just by sitting here calmly and listening to them. A great many of us go further and give them approval with our votes.

“The United Nations is tailor-made for liars, Mr. President. The United Nations is the greatest mechanism for liars in the history of mankind. All liars have to do is open their mouths here and their lies become hallowed. Lie and ye shall be listened to—that is our rule, and the Soviet delegate has proved it once again.

“Because all of us at this table—and perhaps I should not speak for all of us in this room, Mr. President, or for others in the world beyond, because some are ignorant, some are naïve, and some are willfully self-blinded—but certainly all of us at this table, know what the facts are.

“There are no innocents in this house, Mr. President.

“We know.

“And yet most of us at this table are going to vote against the facts. And to justify ourselves we are going to pretend that lies are truth and that truth is a lie. And so King Lie will rule again.

“Mr. President,” he said, in a quieter, more thoughtful tone, “the United States had contemplated introducing an amendment to this resolution seeking the condemnation and ouster of Obifumatta’s Communist mercenaries. My Government has decided not to do so, but to let events develop—(he paused and all around the room there were puzzled glances, startled looks, questionings, and uncertainties, for this was not like the United States, which could always be counted upon to Play The Game)—and see what may occur,” he finished softly, and sat back.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the
Post
said. “That was a strange performance. And a strange conclusion.”

“I think the whole Administration has gone mad,” Walter said somberly. “I really do. I think that was an insane speech, utterly unfounded, utterly destructive of the United Nations, completely inexcusable in every way. There couldn’t have been a more graceless or more inept way of preparing for the beating we’re going to have to take. I just don’t see why we did it. I just do not see!”

“Well, buddy,” Lafe said, leaning comfortably against Cullee’s shoulder and speaking in his ear as he stared around the buzzing audience, “I guess you told ’em. And more power to you. I thought it was a great speech.”

“Quite pertinent,” Claude Maudulayne agreed. “Not, perhaps, quite diplomatic, but”—he smiled—“quite pertinent.”

“I thought it was necessary to lay a little groundwork,” Cullee said calmly.

“For an abstention?” Lord Maudulayne inquired quizzically. “Perhaps so.”

Cullee gave him a steady sidelong glance. “Perhaps not.”

“Oh?” the British Ambassador said with a startled look. “Shh,” Lafe interrupted quickly. “Listen to Vasily. He’s going to climb the wall.”

And so, for a moment, it seemed that the Soviet Ambassador would do. During Cullee’s speech he had shuffled his papers, bounced about in his seat, stared, squinted, puffed out his cheeks, sucked them in, popped off his pince-nez, put them back on, leaned forward, leaned back, spun about to stare at the audience, spun back, grimaced at Raoul, glared at Cullee, and generally given a superb performance of a man about to explode, prevented from doing so only by sheer strength of character. Now his, “Mr. President!” cracked across the table like a whip.

“The distinguished delegate of the United States,” he said with a furious calm, “has done his best this morning to destroy the United Nations. That is the purpose of his remarks. They were ostensibly an attack upon me, Mr. President, but the purpose is crystal clear. The United States, speaking through this”—he hesitated and spat out the word—“individual—is now engaged upon a deliberate and blatant attempt to destroy this organization.

“Why, Mr. President, I ask you, why? Again, the purpose is clear: because the United States wishes to embark unhindered upon a course of imperialist conquest throughout the world. Today it strikes in Africa. Tomorrow it may strike in Asia. Next day, who knows, it may be in Europe. Or it may be Latin America, where democratic freedom-loving peoples have long had cause to fear American designs.

“Yes, Mr. President, that is what we are seeing here today: the start of the formal United States campaign to destroy the United Nations so that the United States may launch its long-prepared plan for world conquest!

“I warn delegates, Mr. President,” he said with an ominous note in his voice, “and I warn the world: beware America! Condemn her and stop her
now
—or suffer! Do not let her do this thing in Gorotoland! Do not let her destroy the United Nations! Help humanity, I beg of you! Help poor defenseless humanity, terrorized by this giant about to break out of control! Stop her, Mr. President! Stop her now!”

“Next week,” Lafe murmured, “East Lynne.” But in the press section Walter Dobius said to himself. That’s right. He’s right! That’s it. That’s what we are doing. Oh, you damned, damned fools, how could you!

And through his mind like spears of flame there stabbed the words and phrases for Thursday’s column, and a plan for the evening, born of a desperate conviction and an urgent fear, began to take shape.

Cullee again leaned forward to the microphone.

“Mr. President,” he said quietly, “the Soviet delegate is hysterical. He speaks like a child or a fool. No power on earth has given more money, more time, more patience, or more support to the United Nations. No power on earth has been more dedicated to helping it succeed. But we can only do so much, Mr. President. We have hoped that there would be an equal dedication elsewhere, and there has not. But to say that to be honest about its weaknesses is to destroy it, Mr. President, is an appalling statement.

“If to be honest about it is to destroy it, then it is destroyed already.

“Surely that is clear enough.

“No, Mr. President. The magnificent vituperation of the Soviet delegate, which we have all had so many opportunities to hear, does not change the facts. The facts are that United States citizens have been cruelly and deliberately massacred, and that American property has been cold-bloodedly and deliberately destroyed, and that under this calculated provocation the United States has responded in the only way that national safety and honor would permit.

“These are the facts that concern this Council this afternoon, not fantasies of the Soviet delegate. My Government suggests we get on with the business of the day and stop indulging in nonsense.”

“But it has hurt you, you know,” Lord Maudulayne murmured as Cullee sat back. “It has hurt very much.”

“I didn’t think it would be an unhurtful day,” Cullee said shortly, but he nodded.

“Mr. President,” Raoul Barre said blandly into the seething silence, “I move that the Council vote.”

“If there are no objections,” the President of the Council said, and there were none. In the press section Walter leaned forward intently. Never, he thought, had his country been more ineptly managed or more fatally misguided than it was now by Harley M. Hudson and Orrin Knox.

“The draft resolution, as the Council knows,” the president said into the suddenly tense and silent room, “states the sense of the Council that the United States invasion of Gorotoland, launched at an early hour this morning, is a threat to peace and counter to the best interests of the United Nations and the welfare of mankind. It calls upon the United States to withdraw its forces immediately from Gorotoland and submit the dispute to the United Nations for negotiation. If there are no amendments”—he said in a puzzled voice, but it was obvious that there would be none—“the Secretary-General will call the roll. The voting will begin with Ceylon.”

“Ceylon,” the Secretary-General said.

“Yes,” said Ceylon, to a rush of applause.

“Chad.”

“
Oui
.”

“Chile.”

“
Abstención
”—and there were hisses and boos.