Arthur J. Goldberg

In his three days at Harvard, Arthur J. Goldberg demonstrated that he is one of the few men in the government's foreign-policy establishment who refuses to prattle on about "raising the costs of aggression." Nor does he waste time trying to persuade the world of America's resolve to see the Vietnam war through to an "honorable" conclusion. Goldberg, along with roving ambassador W. Averill Harriman, seems to be manning the peace front -- and deserves more sympathy than his containment-minded compatriots.

That Sunday in Sanders Theater a few weeks ago, he continually stressed, as Rusk has not, the need for a political solution through negotiations "that will not sacrifice the vital interests of anybody involved." More important, he called for "international supervision to make sure no segment of South Vietnamese civilians is denied a proper place in a peaceful settlement." Apparently, this means that the Viet Cong, as terroristic and Communistic as they may be in Washington's view, will be ensured a major role in a peaceful South Vietnam.

Some of this is quite credible--not new or refreshing or really encouraging--but still credible. It has all been said before, but any other official who said it quickly added that policies like the bombing, the suspension of which are imperative if talks are to begin, would continue. Goldberg didn't talk much about the bombing.

Of course, Goldberg is not the kind of public servant who arouses deep feelings about him either way. He repeats his oft-garbled message to the point of tedium in a deep, almost rueful. Midwestern monotone. In an interview during his stay at Harvard, he spent most of a half-hour looking at the floor, occasionally gesturing weakly with his hands. Questions about American policy simply don't excite the U.N. Ambassador -- he just returns the line one expects in those tired, dull, even-paced tones. Never a smile; the same pitch all the time.

It is almost unfair to say that he appeared weary of defending the American position in Vietnam, but that is the impression that sticks. It seems that Goldberg, however much he may want the government to stop the bombing, is willing to endure the present phase of the war, with all its grating features, and wait for the time when his talents as a negotiator can be used to bring the conflict to a satisfactory conclusion. Defending the war on a historical or strategic basis is just not his forte. When asked to discuss some of the more subtle problems inherent in America's policy, he responds in cliches. For example, he was asked why America's European allies have been unable to understand and appreciate the logic of our position in Southeast Asia? His answer: "In the present world, allies on all sides don't always agree." Nothing else.

There was so much else for him to discuss. The Vietnam war raises complicated questions about the very foundations of the United States' post-war foreign policy. For if "we cannot be for the policeman for the entire world," as Goldberg emphasized, is it possible to pledge this nation, as Goldberg did in answer to another question, "to the peace and security of the world?"

Goldberg is not so erudite or engaging as Dean Acheson or McGeorge Bundy. But he is probably the most astute negotiator who has ever served as Secretary of Labor. President Kennedy once dispatched Goldberg to New York City to avert an imminent strike by the musicians in the Metropolitan Opera. According to press reports, Goldberg almost single-handedly molded a settlement in time to let the show go on.

Goldberg won fame as general counsel for the CIO and later the United Steelworkers. He suffered setbacks in that role, principally during the 1952 and 1959 steel strikes. But as a labor lawyer, he reaped political hay that gave a definite boost to his ambitions for public service. He played a major role in fighting Communist influences in CIO labor unions, in kicking the Teamsters out of the AFL-CIO, and in swinging a large part of organized labor behind the Presidential drive of Senator John F. Kennedy.

After a few years as the head of the Labor Department, Kennedy appointed Goldberg to the Supreme Court. It was widely reported that he found the ivory tower atmosphere stifling, not exciting enough for an avowed activist. Yet in late 1964, reports began to circulate that Goldberg had gotten used to his new job, and was beginning to enjoy his role in determining long-term Constitutional principles. Yet he left abruptly in July, 1965, to succeed the late Adlai Setvenson as U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations.

He probably returned to service in the executive branch confident that his abilities and patience at a bargaining table could help to solve the conflict in Vietnam. After all, conflict-solving through long, often dull talk, had been the premise for Goldberg's entire career. But this time he wasn't a mediator or adversary in a domestic labor dispute; he had involved himself in the more subtle--and far more perplexing--world of international politics. Unlike American labor-management disputes, international opponents find it difficult to agree on ground rules, much less what terms of settlement actually mean.

The question that arises is whether Goldberg duped himself. Contrary to the mawkish speech President Johnson delivered when he announced Goldberg's appointment, indications are that the Ambassador has not joined the White House inner council on Vietnam. Goldberg, for all his praise of Secretary--General U Thant--and he probably means it--has been unable to make Johnson's policy comprehensible to Thant, or Thant's view-point comprehensible to Johnson.

It appears that Goldberg's more important task is to convince the representatives of other nations in New York that American aims in Vietnam transcend the old principle that Communism must be repelled wherever it threatens. Goldberg also must try to persuade non-aligned nations as well as America's allies that the President actually is concerned about their carping on the war. This is a pretty difficult chore, but why else would a Supreme Court Justice step down to the U.N. post unless it was a matter of the highest national urgency--and legerdemain?

Maybe, then, Johnson did appoint Goldberg to protect his flank in the international political game. And maybe Goldberg has been able to persuade the President to let him make the American position more palatable to its critics at home and abroad. The job has had its rewards. The responsibility for delivering the encouraging speech at Howard University, asking Hanoi to clarify the ambiguities in its statements on negotiations, fell to Goldberg. If McNamara or Rusk had delivered that statement, diplomats might not have been able to believe their own ears; but it should be disconcerting for Goldberg to realize that only McNamara's or Rusk's making such a declaration could possibly convince anyone that America is really serious about a negotiated peace.

Unfortunately, everyone has come to expect statements of this sort from Goldberg--followed a few days later by a Rusk statement declaring that nothing much had really changed, and that the bombing must therefore continue.

In other words, the impact of much of what Goldberg does or tries to do seems to have been undercut by his superiors in Washington. Perhaps this should be interpreted as an encouraging sign, since it indicates that those who urge that a negotiated settlement be America's top priority in Vietnam are occasionally allowed a public platform. But the irreconcilables always seem to get the last word.

This is not to imply that Goldberg serves no good purpose. There is little doubt that whatever advice he gives the President is of a different sort than that offered by Secretary Rusk. There is no reason to believe that Goldberg has been able, like Rusk, to extrapolate from the theory of containment a paralytic, fervently anti-Communist demonology.

And there is, after all, a slim chance that Hanoi will respond affrmatively to one of Goldberg's conciliatory statements before Rusk can once again dash cold water on peace prospects. --JOHN A. HERFORT