(6 of 8)
To cover a situation of stalemate in the power struggle, the old Leninist phrase "collective leadership" was revived. The apparatus Stalin left behind was neither youthful, vigorous, nor rich in ideas. Some oldtimers like Molotov (66) are apparently slated for retirement, or about to be kicked upstairs, say, to the presidency in place of aging (75), ailing Marshal Voroshilov, who has taken to drinking heavily. Khrushchev, at 62, is in no shape to engage in a long-term fight and this makes him basically unsure of his position. On the other hand there is Malenkov (54) and a group of Central Committee secretaries, such as Mikhail Suslov, Peter Pospelov and Dmitry Shepilov (who masterminded the Czech arms deal with Nasser), whose main concern seems to be a desire to see that no one else gets too much power. This leaves the balance of power to be exercised, in uneasy tension, by such forces as the Red marshals (backed by the army cadres in the party), the industrial elite (technocrat commissars), or the bureaucracy. When it became clear to the party leaders a couple of years ago that this situation was unlikely to resolve itself for some time to come, and certainly not without great internal stress, they saw that what was needed for their mutual and collective protection was a long period of peace and security. This brought up the question of foreign policy.
Points at Parties. The "collective leaders" suddenly emerged as partygoers. None was more popular than round, ruddy-faced Nikita with his big smile and happy handclasp. When engaged in engrossing conversation he grabbed his victim by the lapel or arm, or finger-pinched him vigorously in the chest. When bored (which was seldom), his eyes assumed a far away look. When in his cups (which was often), a scar under his nose and the three moles on his cheeks stood out from his flushed face. He offended the French by saying that in Paris (which he has never visited) "you cannot walk down a street without being accosted by a woman." Such bluff, blunt indiscretions were at least human−and something new in Soviet foreign relations. But this was not all.
The Communist leaders were willing to make concessions abroad in order to be free to work out their quarrels in peace at home. First Khrushchev and Mikoyan went to Red China to insure Mao's friendship with promises of new industrial supplies. Then they ate crow at the lean table of the renegade Tito, where Nikita stayed drunk most of the time. After that came the parley at the summit, which they bought into cheaply by freeing Austria. But for all the sweet talk at Geneva, the Russians were unwilling (or felt no need) to make any real end to the cold war in Europe, or agree to any solution of the big problem, which was Germany. B. and K. went galumphing off to India and Burma where in a riot of flowers and oriental emotionalism Khrushchev hit his old demagogic stride. Asian adulation went to Nikita's head. Those who were waiting for Communism to crumble (i.e., the West), he told Pravda readers, would have "to wait until shrimps learn to whistle."