Whatever became of Khruschev's shoe? Is it in a museum?
New Statesman: The case of Khrushchev's shoe.(Nikita Krushchev shoe banging incident at United Nations)Return
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http://www.findarticles.com The case of Khrushchev's shoe.(Nikita Krushchev shoe banging incident at United
Nations)
New Statesman, Oct 2, 2000, by Nina Khrushcheva
All her life, she had been asked about her grandfather's famous display of anger
at the UN. Nina Khrushcheva went in search of the truth
New York: "Khrushchev? The one who banged a shoe?" Not again, I thought, as I
was asked for the thousandth time whether I had seen pictures of the UN shoe
incident.
I hadn't, in fact, and didn't want to. For all these years, I have been slightly
embarrassed by my grandfather's uncivilised behaviour exposed the world over.
Indeed, my whole family was, so we never talked about it.
Indeed, why? After he was dismissed as premier in 1964, Khrushchev's name was
not officially mentioned for 20 years. As far as the authorities were concerned,
the incident had never happened, and neither had Khrushchev.
For the thousandth time, I make an apologetic smile and try to switch to another
topic. The person insists, however. "Why haven't you?"
"I really should look up those pictures," I squeeze Out an uneasy smile.
It has been 40 years now, and the books on international and Soviet politics can
afford inconsistency, giving a variety of reasons for Khrushchev's anger and
even different times for the incident: Harold Macmillan's address on 23
September 1960; arguments about Red China's admission to the United Nations on
29 September; Russia's invasion of Hungary in 1956 on 4 October; the location of
the United Nations...
All this made me suspicious: Why are the versions so different? And there are no
pictures! What if it had never happened? A supposed 40 years anniversary since
the scandalous UN shoe banging could be a great chance to commemorate an event
that never happened. In my zeal to uncover the truth, I felt very much like
Sherlock Holmes.
Magazines from October 1960 covered Khrushchev's visit to the United States
better than books. They reported on everything, but still there was no shoe...
My heart was pounding. For so many years; I had been ashamed in vain. What if
the whole incident was just an anecdote based on the general mode of
Khrushchev's behaviour? He was known for strong language, interrupting speakers,
banging his fists on the table in protest, pounding his feet, even whistling.
None of this, however, was enough to be transformed into a physical symbol of
the cold war.
The shoe, on the other hand, as trivial and ridiculous as it is, fits right in:
its low place (close to the ground) had been boldly moved up to the table
(revolutionaries are tough -- communism and manners don't go together) in order
to "stamp its foot", signifying the oppressive character of socialism. After
Khrushchev's sincere pronouncement made at the Soviet Mission on Park Avenue,
"We will bury you", such convenient behaviour by a communist leader seemed too
perfect to be true for those wishing to generate fears of Soviet
anti-westernism. A shoe, pounding the table, was the distinctive sound of "cold"
war, as much as the report of a gun was the sound of "hot" war.
Not as tragic as a real shooting, shoe banging, in a world divided into two
military pacts, was none the less more than purely comic. I considered the
possibility that the incident had been an attempt by the west to convey the
ideological message: "Our enemy is ridiculous and uncivilised, but since he is
so ridiculous and uncivilised, he is capable of everything. Therefore we have to
be prepared for anything."
Taking newspapers to be the best reflectors of those events, I searched the
contemporary press for the fullest coverage of the famous assembly...
The shoe banging, it seemed likely, was an anecdote created by public demand,
consistent with the political needs of the socialist-capitalist division. In
short, I was almost sure it had never happened. My grandfather was innocent, and
I had no reason to be ashamed.
Studying the papers, I felt as if I was there, in New York City in 1960. It had
been 15 years since the end of the Second World War; wounds were healed, and
humanity had survived - ready to go on in hope of life becoming better, better
and better. The acceptance of 15 more independent African states to the UN;
suggestions for disarmament; the formation of a third block- the neutrals -
countries that decided to set themselves apart from capitalism or socialism;
"peaceful coexistence" between east and west; all that was promising for the
future. The 1960 session was an astounding collection of leaders from both big
and small states: the American president, Dwight D Eisenhower; the British prime
minister, Harold Macmillan; the Soviet Union's premier, Nikita Khrushchev; Fidel
Castro from Cuba; India's Jawaharlal Nehru; Yugoslavia's President Tito; Egypt's
Gamal Nasser, and many more.
And still there was no shoe ...
Each came with his own contribution to international unity. Nevertheless,
despite intentions, this particular assembly turned out to be the most
scandalous in the UN's history. East and west were busy proving each other
wrong; the neutrals disagreed among themselves on almost everything. African
states, supported by the Soviet Union, didn't back the Soviet leader on certain
issues. Castro was making a big stir. "Hurricane Nikita" used every opportunity
to reinforce the most critical situations. President Eisenhower made no effort
to ease the tension. The rest were disappointed with both the US and the Soviet
Union.
September ended, October began. Khrushchev's flamboyance and excitement were
wearing thin. He quietened down. Everyone was tired, and many of the state
leaders had already left. Reasons cited in the history books for Khrushchev's
anger had also been exhausted.
By the time I reached the papers of 10 October 1960, I was convinced that the
shoe had never left Khrushchev's foot. Like every New Yorker 40 years earlier,
I, too, wanted him to go home. As in a perfect detective novel, I was now afraid
that my hero would get caught by some stupid mistake, just before the case
closed in his favour.
That day, Khrushchev announced he would be leaving the United States on Thursday
13 October. The UN and New York took a deep breath. I also sighed with relief.
On Tuesday 11 October, the Soviet leader addressed the UN one last time. The
argument was heated as usual, but no shoe was indicated. I prayed: "You've done
what you could. Please, go home. We are all tired." On Wednesday 12 October
1960, there it was, on the front pages of all national papers: Nikita
Sergeyevich and his famous shoe. My heart fell. I was in a state of shock,
probably no less than those in the UN hall 40 years earlier. Swallowing tears of
disappointment, I stared at the page for minutes, then the words started to turn
into sentences.
The head of the Philippine delegation, Senator Lorenzo Sumulong, expressed his
surprise at the Soviet Union's concerns over western imperialism, while it, in
turn, swallowed the whole of eastern Europe. Khrushchev's rage was beyond
anything he had ever shown before. He called the poor Filipino "a jerk, a stooge
and a lackey of imperialism", then he put his shoe on the desk and banged it.
The Soviet premier left America on the Thursday as promised. As far as he was
concerned, he was done. I was done, too, with my search for the event that "had
never happened". But my research was not in vain. It freed me from the feeling
of shame. I may have been unsuccessful in trying to rehabilitate my grandfather
in the world's eyes, but I rehabilitated him in my own by understanding his
behaviour.
According to Khrushchev, there was abundant evidence that western powers had
mistreated and mistrusted the Soviet Union: a U-2 spy airplane over Russian
territory, which President Eisenhower plainly denied; the Monroe doctrine and
the US embargo on Cuba, Khrushchev's favoured protege; and the rejection of the
Soviet Union disarmament plan, which offered the first official attempt at
peaceful coexistence. Dismissing him as a worthy opponent, capitalists thought
of Khrushchev as a vaudeville character. Very well then, he would become one. He
needed the UN stage to make an important statement: it is better to take the
socialist world seriously. He wanted to be heard. But next to the noble
Macmillan, smart Eisenhower, refined De Gaulle and wise Nehru, the short Nikita
Khrushchev couldn't help looking a wag.
Instead of trying to act and speak according to traditional diplomacy, he broke
the ritual and created his own manner. The manner, which suited his goal, was to
be different from the hypocrites of the west, with their appropriate words but
calculated deeds. He would do it the other way -- say more than he meant. A
tragi-comic act of shoe banging was intended to separate two superpowers not
only in terms of their politics, but also in their diplomatic methods.
As a good performer, Khrushchev needed a strong, convincing exit, true to the
role he chose, and that is what happened: in the excitement of fist banging, his
watch fell off. Meanwhile, his shoes, made of durable Soviet leather in a
special shoe atelier for the Soviet nomenclature, were too new and too tight,
and he removed them. He bent down to pick up the watch and saw his empty shoes.
How lucky!
I learnt these facts from my family, as the spell of embarrassment was broken
and we were finally ready to talk about the incident. I still think that, if the
banging had not happened, it would have been invented. The best anecdote is
always the one that reflects the morality and character of certain times. The
shoe incident became a potent symbol of the cold war, probably the only war in
which fear and humour peacefully coexisted.
Now it is all old hat -- or shoe -- and who cares, really? The world has new
leaders and new wars and fears.
But, personally, I find it comforting to know that history sometimes gives us
the chance to replace horrifying reality with a funny anecdote. When bombing or
peacekeeping do not work, we might want to try humour again. It's good for us --
makes life longer.
