McGEORGE BUNDY, of the Staff of the Council on Foreign Relations
A MERICANS, indulging their taste for self-criticism, are much given to writing and reading discussions of the effect of their foreign policy on other peoples. The journalist or critic who wishes to arouse an American audience can always attract attention by remarking that this or that aspect of our policy is costing us friends abroad. We are used to hearing that in one way or another words and actions are endangering what Wendell Willkie called our "reservoir of good will," and we attach importance to such charges.
If the leaders of Soviet Russia have a similar habit, there is no record of it, and we therefore have from Russian sources no proper study of one of the most remarkable achievements of recent years -- the way in which the leaders of Soviet Russia have contrived to lose friends and alienate people, especially Americans. Yet the topic is not without importance, particularly at the present time, when there is talk of a change in Soviet policy, or at least in Soviet tactics. From the western point of view, of course, the story of events since 1945 is familiar, but for this very reason it may perhaps be profitably reviewed once again now. Sometimes the most prominent part of a familiar landscape is the very aspect which ceases to be remarked upon, or even noticed. And the fact is that the landmark of Russian-American friendship in 1945 -- the terms of the Yalta Agreement -- remains no less prominently a point of reference for American-Soviet hostility in 1949 and for any present estimate of real Soviet intentions.
It is not easy, in these days of charge and countercharge, in which the Communists and many of their opponents have exhausted substantial stockpiles of epithets, to recall the state of mind of the west at the time of Yalta. In the early spring of 1945 no nation had more friends abroad than Soviet Russia; not Communists alone, but ordinary men everywhere were eager to find cause for confidence in the people and leaders of the Soviet Union...
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Comparisons of the seagoing armed forces of the Soviet Union and the United States are much in the news nowadays, and they are much in what happens behind the news. When our Secretary of State visits Moscow, or shuttles between capitals in Africa or the Middle East, he doubtless does not dwell on specific comparisons of military forces in his political talks, but the armed strength of our nation resonates in his words. Foreign policy transcends military capability, yet that capability tends to limit choices. Great wasteful wars have broken out in our century partly because of misperceived comparisons of armed forces. And war is as often a collapse as it is a continuation of foreign policy.
The urge to teach someone a lesson seldom inspires sound policy. The lessons learned are too often one's own. So it is with President Carter's 1980 grain embargo. Soviet food supplies have been little affected. U.S. illusions about its own "food power" have been properly dispelled.
IN the public debate that has marked the progress of what is called the cold war, no term has been used more loosely, and at times unscrupulously, than the word "coexistence." In the article under his name, published in the last issue of Foreign Affairs, Mr. Khrushchev has given us an interesting definition of what he understands by this term. Peaceful coexistence, he says, signifies in essence the repudiation of war as a means of solving controversial issues.

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