Word: molotovs
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Once or twice, when he was in a tight corner at committee meetings, he looked to Anthony Eden for guidance. By comparison with Eden, whetted by 19 years of disciplined British diplomacy, or with Molotov, the hardened product of ruthless revolution, Ed Stettinius seemed almost callow. But when the chips were down, he earned their respect and that of the conference...
Some of the wisest diplomats in San Francisco felt that his seeming victory in getting the shabby Argentine Government admitted to the conference (TIME, May 7) had in fact been a triumph for Molotov, Stettinius' forthright support of Argentina, said they, unnecessarily pointed up the disproportionate voting strength of the U.S.'s noisy Latin American bloc, gave Molotov a brilliantly used opportunity to pose as the conference's moral spokesman in opposing the Argentine jingoes, and generally cost the U.S. more than it gained...
...recent Mexico City conference, had committed the U.S. to a straight power game, as amoral as Russia's game in eastern Europe. In the case of Argentina the two gamesters clashed, and the U.S. won the dubious showdown. Thoroughly at home in that kind of contest, Molotov next day blandly joshed Stettinius and Eden: "You know, gentlemen, that little voting game we had yesterday may become a dangerous game. Imagine a country having at her disposal the 19 Latin American votes, plus that of the Philippines, plus that of Liberia, plus its own one. Well, that country would have...
Anthony Eden must have smiled to himself. It was all very well for Molotov to deplore the strength of blocs-when Russia's growing bloc was not in question. The combined might of Russia and its European satellites had gravely worried the British, always sensitive to any shift in continental power. San Francisco, drawing the U.S. deeper & deeper into the world game of power, seemed also to be drawing the U.S. and Britain closer together. For the British, that was a comforting thought...
Viacheslav Molotov's dinner for Ed Stettinius and Anthony Eden had gone off splendidly. The Foreign Commissar had stuffed his guests with food and drink. A trifle reluctantly, they had let him have what he wanted-news pictures, for Soviet consumption, of all three drinking toasts together in San Francisco. The hour was late, all was chummy good will when Molotov remarked that at last he could tell the others what had happened to those Poles...