THREE-HEADED ELEPHANT POLITICALLY-DIVIDED LAOS HAS SYMBOLIC EMBLEM

Press, Volume CIX, Issue 32018, 19 June 1969, Page 16

THREE-HEADED ELEPHANT POLITICALLY-DIVIDED LAOS HAS SYMBOLIC EMBLEM

(By

lAN WRIGHT,

reporting to the “Guardian”, Manchester, from Vientiane)

(Reprinted from the “Guardian” by arrangement)

Any country in the twentieth century that chooses for its national emblem a white elephant with three heads has to be rich in humour and fantasy, as well as uncertain of its political future. Laos is all of these.

For more than 15 years fantastic and euphonious names like Luanga Prabang, Prince Souvanna Phouma, Prince Souphariouvong, Pathet Lao, and the Plain of Jars have become embedded in Western minds which vaguely know that Laos—at any rate until Vietnam came along—was a hot-bed of the cold war in Asia.

The trouble in Laos—and here the choice of the threeheaded elephant was wonderfully prophetic—was that the leaders fairly early split among themselves and faced in different directions. Prince Boun Oom led the feudal Rightists, Prince Souphanouvong, the Communists, and his half-brother, Prince Souvanna Phouma, tried to remain neutral and rally the centre. Such divisions might not have mattered had it not been for what Laotians still call in reverential tones “the great Powers.”

Theoretical Barrier

The Kingdom of Laos which is about as big as Britain, had the double misfortune of coming to independence when the cold war was at its height and being wedged between West-ern-dominated Thailand and the expanding Communist State of North Vietnam. In theory (as it was agreed at Geneva in 1962) Laos could be a neutral barrier, but in fact there has never been sufficient trust between East and West, and inside Laos the factions have too long been used to playing to the international gallery. Apart from that, ever since the Americans arrived in Vietnam in force in 1965, Laos has been a sort of second front. The North Vietnamese have used the country as a supply line to the South (the Ho Chi Minh trails) and the Americans operating from Thailand and off carriers in the South China Sea have bombed the supply line unceasingly. “Laos has become so essential to both sides,” one diplomat said the other day, “that there’s not a hope of settling things before Vietnam is cleared up.” All the same there is a surprising amount of hope here that things will be settled—which is perhaps just an extension of the touching Laotian faith in the Great Powers. The Prime Minister, Prince Souvanna Phouma, takes a strong line and says that if everyone returns to the 1962 Geneva agreement, the civil war could end and the country could be unified. In principle both the Russians and the Americans here appear to agree. But a lot of water has flowed down the Mekong since

1962. The old and convenient neutralist position no longer exists. There has been an inevitable polarisation: both sides claim to be the heirs of the neutralists but one is now almost inextricably bound to the North Vietnamese and the other to the Americans. Without doubt the extent of this reliance is much more than either side would wish. “It’s very sad,” said an old Laos hand, “these people are natural neutralists and compromise is secondnature to them—so unlike the Vietnamese.”

This is true. The gentle, unpompous Laotians are among the most cordial and unwarlike people in SouthEast Asia. Here is Vientiane, which is literally at the end of the line, for the railway only got as far as the Thai border on the other side of the Mekong, it is hard to imagine how sleepy, pastoral Laos could ever spill over and splash headlines across the world.

It is possible that it could db so again—unless a Vietnam cease-fire comes soon. Few people seem to have noticed that slowly the Americans are losing the war in Laos. Officially you are told “there’s no basic change in the war map,” but closer observers admit that in the last 18 months the Government forces have taken a serious beating and there is no sign yet of recovery.

Territory Divided

The Koyal Government now holds rather less than a third of the country and the rest of Laos is in the hands of the Pathet Lao Communist or the North Vietnamese (Ho Chi Minh trails and north-eastern border provinces of Phong Saly and Sam Neua). The Government still holds the towns along the Mekong like Luanga Prabang, Vientiane, Paksane, Thakhek, Savannakhet, and Pakse, but the road which joins them going south has been cut in a number of places. Saravane and Attopeu on the Bolovens plateau in the south are surrounded and the latter was described as “a glorified prisoner of war camp." More serious than this is the latest drive by the Pathet Lao which has cleared practically all the Government airstrips and bases in north-east-ern Laos. It was from here that General Vang Pao (“a resilient little fellow,” as the Americans like to call him) launched his commando attacks against the Communist rear with so much success in previous years. Nearer to Vientiane, the enemy is still threatening to

take Muong Sui, which is at present garrisoned by irreplaceable battalions of the best Government troops. American sources say the situation is “still confused" and confess that they do not know what is going to happen. No-one Worried

The remarkable thing is that no-one is very worried. Even the Americans, who economically at least are propping the country up, show a pleasing lack of strain which suggests that over the years they have become acclimatised to Laos and its easygoing ways. “Oh, there will be a settlement. The Rightists have shot their bolt and there’s no longer any hope of a military victory over the Left We’ve just got to wait for Vietnam.” Americans here seem to have no sense of failure.

Even the Communist military push is read as a sign of coming peace. Few people fear that the Pathet Lao will expose themselves to bombing by taking over any of the towns they are now threatening. Only recently at Xieng Khouang, on the Plain of Jars, air power was used so devastatingly that it even seems to have appalled people on the Government side in Vientiane. The bomb-ing-pretty well all of which is done through the agency of the Americans—is perhaps the most useful card the Government has to play at the beginning of peace negotiations.

Recently the National Assembly authorised Prince Souvanna Phouma to make contact with the Pathet Lao. There is a general feeling that, in spite of the Prime Minister’s hard position of returning to the Geneva i agreement in 19«2, it is possible to make concessions that will attract the Communists. “If we can once get rid of the North Vietnamese,” an influential conservative in the Assembly said, “the rest of them are Laotian and we can reach agreement” Without much doubt, even the Rightists— apart from a few lunatics—are prepared to settle for, neutralism, and they realise that Souvanna Phouma is the best hope they have. If the Pathet Lao are as keen to return to the flesh pots of Vientiane as everybody here seems to think, they are probably going to expect much more say than they had when they abandoned their share in the Government in 1964. Certainly they will want more seats in the Cabinet. In practice it is hard to see how Laos can become neutral at once. At the moment both the Americans and the North Vietnamese are so deeply involved in the organisation of the two parts of the country, that both would collapse if they did. But will the North Vietnamese feel secure enough to withdraw their military presence with the Americans still in Laos—even in an entirely civil capacity? Or vice versa? Arguments like this suggests that zones of interest will have to be created. One senior Laos Government official said it would take three to five years to do without American help. What Guarantees? The question that no-one has an answer to here is: “What shall we do for international guarantees if we arrive at a compromise and end the civil war?” It worries a lot of Laotians, particularly those who speak of the “Great Powers,” with bated breath. Things have changed since 1962. They are afraid that everyone is longing to wash their hands of Indo-China and that for the first time they will be on their own.

Laos may be better off truly on its own. Small hindrances, such as that Vientiane does not possess a fire brigade and has to rely on American and French engines, need not be too depressing. The important thing is that Laos, in spite of its minute population (24 million), its political divisions, geographical contradictions, and the short 24 years it has been trying to call itself an independent nation, has a personality utterly different from either Thailand or Vietnam. The three-head-ed elephant is a rare enough beast to be worth preserving.