Doves and Stoolpigeons

Peace. It’s a word of high emotional content, buzzing with associations, cluttered with symbols, rent with paradox: it is perhaps the most important word in the armory of Communist propaganda.

After the war, the Fourth District of Vienna was in the Russian zone of occupation. Except for an old house here and there, the main thoroughfare through it, the Favoritenstrasse, is hideous, and roar of traffic unceasing. But if you turn off on to the small square called Möllwaldplatz, the relief at getting away from the traffic stream is such that the cliche “peace, perfect peace” drifts through your mind. There are private houses here containing residential apartments as well as offices. The most interesting of these houses is Number 5. When the last Russian occupying forces left Austria in 1955, it gradually became known that a small but embarrassing legacy had been left behind at 5 Möllwaldplatz called the World Council for Peace. The man in charge was a French Communist, Ferdinand de Vigne. The Austrian Ministry of the Interior was in no doubt as to the functions of the Council: as the successor of the old agitprop, it was and is the organization responsible for Communist penetration throughout the non-Communist world. It is the center to which leaders of all Communist-led movements and activist groups within non-Communist organizations go to report and receive instructions. In February 1957 Interior Minister Helmer ordered the World Council for Peace to wind up its affairs and asked its officials to leave the country. So far, so good. But three months later, a number of individuals turned up at #5, suitcases in hand, opened up the house and settled down to work, not forgetting to put a new notice on the door to replace the old one. It said: “International Institute for Peace.” Under Austrian law, there was nothing the authorities could do: the fact that the secretary of the new Institute was Ferdinand de Vigne was not, technically, proof that any infringements of the law were planned. The way the Institute grew, the gradual takeover of practically every house on the square, was in fact a highly complicated affair that would take too long to describe. But business concerns established in Vaduz (the capital of the independent principality of Lichtenstein) with Communist funds, were gradually dissolved and transferred to Vienna, and re-established under the name of “Estate Co. Ltd.” It is the Estate Co., with the help of a travel agency of its own called “Josefstadt,” that makes all preparations for Communist-influenced conferences throughout the world.

LT

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Laszlo Taubinger

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Peace. It’s a word of high emotional content, buzzing with associations, cluttered with symbols, rent with paradox: it is perhaps the most important word in the armory of Communist propaganda.

After the war, the Fourth District of Vienna was in the Russian zone of occupation. Except for an old house here and there, the main thoroughfare through it, the Favoritenstrasse, is hideous, and roar of traffic unceasing. But if you turn off on to the small square called Möllwaldplatz, the relief at getting away from the traffic stream is such that the cliche “peace, perfect peace” drifts through your mind. There are private houses here containing residential apartments as well as offices. The most interesting of these houses is Number 5. When the last Russian occupying forces left Austria in 1955, it gradually became known that a small but embarrassing legacy had been left behind at 5 Möllwaldplatz called the World Council for Peace. The man in charge was a French Communist, Ferdinand de Vigne. The Austrian Ministry of the Interior was in no doubt as to the functions of the Council: as the successor of the old agitprop, it was and is the organization responsible for Communist penetration throughout the non-Communist world. It is the center to which leaders of all Communist-led movements and activist groups within non-Communist organizations go to report and receive instructions. In February 1957 Interior Minister Helmer ordered the World Council for Peace to wind up its affairs and asked its officials to leave the country. So far, so good. But three months later, a number of individuals turned up at #5, suitcases in hand, opened up the house and settled down to work, not forgetting to put a new notice on the door to replace the old one. It said: “International Institute for Peace.” Under Austrian law, there was nothing the authorities could do: the fact that the secretary of the new Institute was Ferdinand de Vigne was not, technically, proof that any infringements of the law were planned. The way the Institute grew, the gradual takeover of practically every house on the square, was in fact a highly complicated affair that would take too long to describe. But business concerns established in Vaduz (the capital of the independent principality of Lichtenstein) with Communist funds, were gradually dissolved and transferred to Vienna, and re-established under the name of “Estate Co. Ltd.” It is the Estate Co., with the help of a travel agency of its own called “Josefstadt,” that makes all preparations for Communist-influenced conferences throughout the world.