Congressman v. Secretary

At bougainvillaea-spangled Petropolis, Brazil's traditional summer capital (see above), Latin American delegates to the inter-American economic conference last week opened their campaign for a massive new program of help from the U.S. (TIME, Nov. 22). The response was a blend of sweet reasonableness and polite standoff from U.S. Secretary of the Treasury George Humphrey. The Latinos wanted price floors for the raw materials they supply the U.S.; Humphrey countered that "We as governments should reduce . . . our own intervention in the fields of commerce and industry." The Latinos wanted outside financing totaling $1 billion a year; Humphrey suggested "intensified and expanded" loans by the Export-Import Bank and the World Bank, and" promised that the U.S. would be not only a Good Neighbor but also a Good Partner.

The delegates had dispersed into committees to thresh out compromises when a U.S. Congressman from Pittsburgh, James G. Fulton, 51, strolled into the bar at conference headquarters, the luxurious Quitandinha Hotel, and gathered a group of reporters around him. "I want to talk about financial aid from my country to Latin America," he announced quietly. What Fulton talked about, then and later, went off like a land mine under the official U.S. policy and its main author, George Humphrey.

Consternation. Fulton charged, in effect, that Fellow Republican Humphrey, named by President Eisenhower "to speak for our nation," did not truly reflect U.S. public opinion. "Humphrey came down here with an empty briefcase," said Fulton. "The American delegation was told to keep its mouth shut and get it over with as fast as possible." Explaining that he had gone to Brazil "on my own, just to contest Humphrey's policy," Fulton proposed a "vigorous program of [Latin American] development comprehending an immediate billion dollars from United States public funds." There were, he went on, 370,000 unemployed in the Pennsylvania industrial district he represented, and the "industrialization of Latin Amer ica would make these countries the cus tomers we need."

Florida's Democratic Senator George A. Smathers, a counselor for the U.S. delegation, added to the consternation by declaring himself in "full accord" with Fulton. Henry Holland, State Department chief for Latin American Affairs, growled that "under our system [Fulton] has a right to say anything he wants." Peppery U.S. Ambassador James Scott Kemper poured oil on the fire by canceling the Congressman's invitation to a Rio embassy reception just as Fulton finished dressing for the party.

Gamesmanship. But Fulton's interview had already exposed a real split in U.S. opinion toward Latin American aid. Humphrey's policy obviously fell short of the recommendations that Milton Eisenhower made a year ago to the President.

Aware of these factors, the Latin Americans capitalized on U.S. embarrassment with masterful gamesmanship. Instead of seizing exuberantly on Fulton's statements, they soberly noted that he might not be fully informed--but they also showed a touch of sly pity for the U.S. team, thus quietly encouraging the notion that it did not represent U.S. opinion. As Humphrey flew back to the U.S.. the U.S. negotiators, humiliated and angry, buckled down to the job--now immeasurably more difficult--of holding their present position without arousing dangerous resentments among the Good Partners.

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