Painful Surprise

Every so often Americans become aware that much of the rest of the world intensely dislikes them. This surprises and sometimes pains them acutely, especially since they complacently believe that their unique record of staggering charities to the rest of the world should forever replenish that "reservoir of good will" which Wendell Willkie used to talk about.

For months the level of the reservoir has been slowly dropping. Last week's readings on the good-will gauge were disturbing.

Placards, Stickers, Speeches. The most conspicuous demonstrations of ill will came from China. At Shanghai, Peiping and Nanking, thousands of Chinese students marched with anti-U.S. placards, shouted anti-U.S. slogans, listened to get-out-of-China speeches, pasted U.S. automobiles (including TIME Correspondent Frederick Gruin's) with anti-U.S. stickers. At Shanghai Americans were attacked.

Undoubtedly later demonstrations were touched off by Communists, using as provocation the alleged rape (by two U.S. Marines) of a Chinese student in Peiping. This episode touched one important part of the problem.

Never before in history has the U.S. had so many thousands of ambassadors abroad--all of them in official uniform. Never before have Europeans, in particular, taken so close a look at the U.S. nation in arms.

Flowers & Prayers. The French looked first. A few months after they had showered their U.S. liberators with flowers, they were praying for them to go home. Germans had reason to be grateful for the simple, human, unofficial compassion of thousands of G.I.s; but there had been rape, widespread looting and disorderliness. What was worse, most Europeans got the impression from extensive U.S. Army black marketing that most Americans will do anything for money. Nor could the billeting of U.S. officers' families in comfortable houses amidst a ruined people (quite justified) fail to cause ill will. The stare with which the children of the conquerors confronted the children of the conquered (see cut) might be prolonged uncomfortably for generations.

But no one knows better than experienced Europeans that all armies misbehave and profit where they can. There is nothing peculiarly American in that. Most nations dislike other nations. The recipients of charity forever dislike their benefactors.

Dislike of America ran much deeper than any of those things. It struck at that point where Americans were serenely sure of their power but pathetically unsure of their historic mission.

Americans were just beginning to realize that with the power came chastening responsibilities. They had inherited the stabilizing role--but not the territory--of the British Empire. Furthermore, the collapse of Europe's once great power made it no longer feasible to look to that continent as the guardian of a civilization called European, or Western; the U.S. had become the heir of Athens and Rome simply because it was the only nation able to carry out the function of a trustee. In a trustee, good will and generosity are not enough; he must also exercise with requisite vigor the authority of his office.

The world's fear of the future derived not from U.S. intervention but from the world's belief that the U.S. had not fully accepted the responsibilities of leadership. Out of this fear came the world's disdainful dislike of Americans, whom it regarded as too half-hearted and too frivolous for fiduciary duties. The world really did not want the U.S. to "get out." It wanted the U.S. to come in with a sober sense of national destiny.

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