In a somewhat left-handed compliment, U.N. Secretary-General U Thant described Russia's new bosses as "competent and unpretentious." So far, at least, they have plenty to be unpretentious about. The start of their rule was not auspicious. Nikita Khrushchev was deposed and out of sight, but his invisible presence still badly cramped the style of the new Moscow team. When Premier Aleksei Kosygin and his teammate Leonid Brezhnev, new head of the Communist Party, made their first joint public appearance in Red Square to hail Russia's three most recent cosmonauts, applause from the onlookers was markedly listless. Visibly ruffled, Brezhnev stared down on them and muttered: "K chortu." That meant "Go to the devil," and because someone had forgotten to turn off the mike, the words went out loud and clear.
There was plenty of feedback, particularly from Communist leaders outside Russia. They should be accustomed to the Communist way of changing rulers, but they reacted with puzzlement, anger, even outrage. The fact was ironic, for in large measure Khrushchev had been felled because his policies had lately splintered the Communist movement, and his removal was obviously designed to help reunite the comrades. But for the present, at least, international Communism seemed even more badly split than before, and just as cockily independent of Moscow. The relative national autonomy won by the various parties during the Khrushchev era could probably never again be wholly destroyed.
Taken Aback. To date, Moscow has given no account of exactly what happened to Khrushchev and why-forcing not only the West but also other Communist parties to work out the puzzle as best they could (see following story). The Soviet press kept stating the new regime's case against Khrushchev in the usual half-veiled style; its gist was that he had been highhanded and had refused to take advice. But the criticism sounded a little more restrained, with the new regime presumably taken aback by the protests.
Reaction was strongest among West European Communists. First to speak out were the French, who only a week before Khrushchev's fall had declared their formal independence from Moscow control; they were obviously determined to keep that independence. The French demanded "fuller information and necessary explanations," and Party Boss Waldeck Rochet announced that he would send a delegation to Moscow to get the answers.
Italy's Reds, who comprise the largest Communist Party in Western Europe, were openly worried by the dumping of the man they had both criticized and supported. Party Leader Luigi Longo said: "The manner in which these changes at the top of the Soviet Party occurred leaves us concerned and critical." Fearful that the new Russian leaders might get overly tough with the West, and thus spoil his party's chances in Italy's nationwide local elections next month, Longo harped on Khrushchev's "peaceful coexistence" line and desperately reminded Italians that his predecessor, Palmiro Togliatti, had demanded "greater freedom of expression" for Communists. To take the edge off the French initiative, Longo decided to send two fact-finding missions to Moscow.