Beyond Peace (8 page)

As we develop policies toward Russia for the future, it is essential that we understand its past. The Bolshevik triumph in the Revolution of 1917 and in the civil war that followed shaped the course of events in the twentieth century and led to the rebirth of the Russian empire in a new, more deadly totalitarian form. The communist victory also contributed to the polarization of world politics, facilitating the Nazis' rise to power in Germany. Despite the brief alliance with the West during World War II, the Soviet Union became the principal threat to world peace. As a result, the United States had no choice but to make victory in the Cold War its number-one foreign policy priority.

Even before the Bolshevik Revolution, the requirements of building and maintaining the empire had a debilitating impact on Russia's political and economic development. Empire was incompatible with liberalization and democracy. The cost of maintaining a huge standing army was an obstacle to economic growth. The constant provoking of fear and hostility in neighboring countries proved incompatible with Russia's own security. In the process of empire building, Russia was both aggressor and victim. While enslaving others, the pre-communist Russian empire had isolated and enslaved itself.

When the communists came to power in 1917, the pattern of Russian imperialism and internal decline went from bad to worse. By the late 1970s, the Soviet empire was so overextended that even its own rulers began to recognize that the costs of expansionism threatened their ability to govern. By 1985, a significant part of the communist
nomenklatura
was ready to experiment with domestic reform and “new foreign policy thinking.” Mikhail Gorbachev became their standard-bearer.

Gorbachev sought to reform the Soviet empire in order to save it. Contrary to the illusions of many of his admirers in the West, he wanted to save communism, not abandon it. This was an impossible task. His totalitarian empire, built and sustained
by force and coercion, could not be fundamentally reformed. The crucial flaw in Gorbachev's thinking was his failure to comprehend the law of history that dictatorial regimes collapse precisely when they begin to relax controls and create expectations they cannot fulfill.

It was inevitable that, liberated from strict totalitarian controls, the peoples of the Soviet Union would seek to remove from power the communist authorities in Moscow who continued to determine their national destinies. Yeltsin's unique contribution to Russia and the world was his understanding of this historical fact and his courageous determination to give his people a chance to enjoy political and economic freedom by putting an end, simultaneously, to communism and the empire. As Isaiah Berlin has observed, “Never before has there been an empire that caved without war, revolution, or invasion.”

Often the demise of old adversaries leads to the emergence of new, sometimes more dangerous challenges rather than to peace and harmony among nations. After the defeat of the German and Austro-Hungarian empires in World War I, Woodrow Wilson and many other idealistic Americans hoped we would have an era of peace under the League of Nations. Instead, the United States was confronted with communism in Russia, fascism in Germany and Italy, militarism in Japan, and ultimately a new global war.

Our justifiable satisfaction with the end of the Cold War must not obscure the urgent need to address the extremely difficult and contradictory transition in the post-Soviet region. Until this transition culminates in irreversible political and economic freedom and nonaggressive foreign policies, there is the danger that the remnants of the shattered Soviet empire will strike back at the world, with devastating consequences.

Will Boris Yeltsin be able to continue to provide the leadership Russia needs to achieve the goals of the second Russian revolution—political and economic freedom at home and a nonaggressive foreign policy abroad? History is made by the
acts of individuals, and history has placed enormous problems and extraordinary opportunities on President Yeltsin's agenda.

No one questions his courage. We all remember his standing on a tank, facing down a group of card-carrying communist killers who were supporting the coup attempt in August 1991. Most would agree that he is a strong leader. He did not hesitate to use the necessary military force to put down the reactionary mob that rampaged through Moscow in October 1993. In the process he taught a lesson to those who resort to arms rather than votes in a democracy.

Some observers make the fatuous argument that Yeltsin demonstrated a disregard for law by not following the provisions of the Soviet-era Russian constitution and by dissolving the Gorbachev-era Congress of People's Deputies. To his credit, despite the fundamental flaws of the Soviet-era constitution, he did not disregard it lightly. Only after a great deal of hesitation did he come to the conclusion that the Congress of People's Deputies and the Parliament had become intractable roadblocks not only to reform but also to responsible government.

Other leaders might have handled the difficult relationship with the Congress of People's Deputies in a less confrontational manner. I myself urged that he do so when we met in Moscow in February 1993. But he turned out to be right. Within certain reasonable limits, leaders should do what is natural for them. Each must find his or her own way to deal with challenges. Winston Churchill, Charles de Gaulle, and Ronald Reagan were all effective in serving their nations. Yet they had different styles and used different methods to accomplish their objectives. The product of a unique period in Russian history, Yeltsin cannot be judged as if he were the president of a stable democracy with an established constitutional order. If he acted like one, he would probably fail.

We should learn from history. This is the second experiment with a Russian transition to democracy. In 1917, the Provisional Government under Kerensky tried to adhere to strict
democratic standards. It failed to develop close ties with the military and continued to fulfill its obligations to the allies to pursue the war with Germany, despite Russia's desperate situation. The outcome was the Bolshevik takeover and more than seven decades of communist dictatorship. The United States does not need another Kerensky at Russia's helm at this moment of trial. It is shortsighted of Yeltsin's Western critics to attack him for precisely the kind of conduct that makes him an effective leader under these extraordinary circumstances. And it is hypocritical of them to be less patient with him and his fellow reformers after barely a year of dramatic progress than they were with Gorbachev after six years of timid incrementalism and broken promises.

Now that a new constitution has been adopted and a new Parliament democratically elected, the charges against Yeltsin have become moot. In view of the massive problems he confronts, Russia is fortunate that he has not been more authoritarian in trying to implement his reforms.

To evaluate Yeltsin, it is useful to compare him with Gorbachev. Gorbachev should be remembered as a great leader in Russian history. His political reforms made Yeltsin possible. Yeltsin, on the other hand, holds Gorbachev's place in history in his hands as he tries to implement the economic reforms Gorbachev was unwilling and unable to carry through.

Both Gorbachev and Yeltsin had history working against them. Generally, good revolutionary leaders are not good nation builders. Revolutionary leaders must destroy the old institutions. Nation builders must create new ones. Two leaders as different as George Washington in the United States and Jawaharlal Nehru in India were able to be both good revolutionary leaders and nation builders. Gorbachev failed that test. Now Yeltsin must demonstrate that he can succeed where Gorbachev failed.

Both began their careers as peasants. Gorbachev became a man of the world. Yeltsin remained a man of the people. This
has proved to be his major source of strength in the crises he has confronted as Russia's President. When I saw him in 1992, I told him that as he traveled around the world, it was far better for him to be seen tipping glasses with a peasant than with a President. His early popularity was due to the fact that he attacked the obscene perks of the communist
nomenklatura.
He must be careful not to indulge in some of the same luxuries that he once criticized.

I have often described Gorbachev as being an excellent politician. Yeltsin is a better one. Both exude charisma. But Gorbachev seems more contrived; Yeltsin seems more genuine. Gorbachev is more sophisticated; Yeltsin is more down-to-earth. Gorbachev is better in drawing rooms; Yeltsin is better in family rooms. Gorbachev seems to speak more from the head than the heart; Yeltsin seems to be talking more from the heart than from the head.

When confronted with a crisis, Gorbachev frequently appeared at a loss and resorted to pathetic half-measures; Yeltsin, on the contrary, draws strength from crisis. His authority has come not from established political structures but from a special chemistry with the people.

The difference between Gorbachev and Yeltsin that matters most is that they stand for different values. Czech President Václav Havel told me, “Gorbachev is still a captive of communism. Yeltsin has liberated himself.”

Unlike Gorbachev, Yeltsin both preaches and practices democracy. He is the only elected Russian head of state in a thousand years. Gorbachev refused to risk his power in a free election. Unlike Gorbachev, Yeltsin has repudiated both socialism and communism. Most important, Yeltsin has adopted a nonaggressive foreign policy and has made massive cuts in Russia's nuclear and other weapons.

American commentators from both ends of the political spectrum deplored Yeltsin's recent actions. While liberals were outraged that he dissolved the Congress and used force, conservatives
fear the new Russian foreign policy assertiveness, which they view as a sign of neoimperialism. While both groups of critics are right in part, both miss the point.

Yeltsin is a tough and sometimes ruthless Russian patriot. Otherwise he would never have been able to come to power and withstand the numerous challenges to his rule. Gorbachev started reforms without understanding their likely consequences and then backed down when the dangers became apparent, exposing himself—as one former senior Soviet official described him to me—as a “brutal wimp.” It should be remembered that Gorbachev had appointed the reactionaries who led the attempted coup against him in 1991. In contrast, Yeltsin acts preemptively and decisively. This is the key to the continuing support he has among the Russian people, despite all the pain associated with his country's transition to democratic capitalism.

Pushkin wrote in the nineteenth century that rebellions in Russia tend to be “bloody and senseless.” It is a political miracle that the unprecedented transition from dictatorship to democracy and from a command economy to a free-market economy is being accomplished relatively peacefully. The remarkable aspect of the October 1993 rebellion by hard-line reactionaries is that so few lives were lost, owing in great part to the fact that after some hesitation the armed forces stood by the democratic government.

Many observers have expressed concern about Yeltsin's personal weaknesses. Some say he has a drinking problem. Heavy drinking has been a characteristic of most Russian leaders throughout history, and of some American leaders as well. After Grant's victory at Vicksburg in 1863, as Lincoln was considering appointing him commander of all Union forces, one of his advisers urged him not to do so because Grant drank. Lincoln reportedly responded, “Get me the name of his brand of whiskey so that I can give some to my other generals.” Yeltsin's personal habits matter only if they affect his conduct in office.

Yeltsin sometimes becomes depressed after winning a battle against those who oppose him. This is not an uncommon characteristic of leaders. What matters most is that Yeltsin so far has met the test when the stakes were highest. He himself has admitted in a television interview that he is at his best when the going gets rough but does not always follow through once the crisis is over.

Yeltsin is the most pro-American Russian leader in history. He is at times too pro-American for his own good at home. Any of his potential successors would have a hard time following an equally moderate foreign policy. It is vitally important that we do not put Yeltsin's administration or that of any democratic successor in the position of appearing to go in lockstep with the United States on foreign policy. This would do irreparable damage to the chance that political and economic freedom will survive in Russia.

It is also important that we never put our chips on just one man, even one as powerful and able as Yeltsin. Our concern should be not the man but rather what he stands for. We stuck too long with Gorbachev. As long as Yeltsin has a foreign policy that serves the interests of peace and a domestic policy that serves the interests of the Russian people, he deserves our support.

In spite of the growing drumbeats of his opponents, he remains the most popular politician in Russia and remains the best guarantor of Russian democracy and stability until his term expires in 1996. No one currently on the scene has the stature to fill his shoes. The United States should treat him with respect and continue to work with him closely. It is a pity that his frequent absences from Moscow, his illnesses, and his increasingly erratic behavior have deprived him of much of the mystique he acquired from his historic role in the destruction of Soviet communism.

But his critics are far too quick to write him off. He has on several occasions demonstrated great recuperative powers. It is
in our interests and those of the Russian people that he bring his term to a successful conclusion. Eagerly bandied rumors of impending coups and mysterious, debilitating presidential illnesses may make fascinating theater and newspaper copy, but they are enormously damaging to Russia's prestige and its ability to establish a stable society. Many Russian leaders I met during my tenth visit to Moscow in the spring of 1994 complained that foreign investment had dropped dramatically over the past year because of investors' understandable fears of political instability. With the elections of December 1993, when voters created a new Parliament and sanctioned a new constitution, Russia opened a new chapter in its political development. The best thing that can happen for the next generation of Russians is for that chapter to come to a close in 1996 with a peaceful, productive ending to Boris Yeltsin's term as President and a vigorous campaign to choose his successor—peacefully, openly, and democratically.