My Six Years With Gorbachev

Chapter One

Waiting for Gorbachev

The phone rang on the night of February 1, 1986. I was the deputy chief of the CPSU Central Committee International Department, and I usually left work around 9 P.M.

"Gorbachev speaking. Listen, will you come be my aide for international affairs?"

"Thank you for the honor, but I need some time to think it over."

"Cut it out. The Congress is just around the corner. We have to decide on changes in the Central Committee. And I have to get rid of Aleksandrov. It's not working out with him, he's always lecturing me. Come on, there's no time...."

This was my first experience with the way Gorbachev selected his people. The next day Yakovlev called. He seemed to apologize for "offering me up" to Gorbachev without asking me first. Arbatov called too, trying to convince me not to decline and promising his help. He too already knew about Gorbachev's decision.

But my first meeting with Mikhail Sergeyevich was long before that, in 1972. As a young secretary of the Stavropol Regional Party Committee, he was appointed to lead a delegation to Belgium. That summer was disastrous, fires had broken out everywhere. Moscow was blanketed with peat smoke. I watched Gorbachev with admiration as he explained the situation to the Belgian communists, passionately painting a vivid picture of "the battle for bread" (rallying to take in the harvest, a concept already obscure to many in the West). It seemed that they understood him even without translation. He stood out among the other Party bosses for his singular passion, his desire to change, improve and organize, to "give an impetus," and "get people going." We traveled across Belgium by car, stopping over in Holland. We sat together and he almost never looked out of the window, although, I believe, it was his first time in the West. He kept grabbing my arm and arguing about how important it was to do this or that in Stavropol. He wasn't intrigued by the Amsterdam sex shops or pornographic movies. We dragged him to one of those. He was embarrassed by what he saw, perhaps even revolted. But he didn't say anything.

When we returned, I told Ponomarev that Gorbachev was the type of cadre we needed to bolster our standing with the fraternal parties, and that there were probably very few like him (at least I didn't know any others). After that we didn't see each other often. Twice, I remember, we ran into each other in the Central Committee hallways. I asked how he was. His reply was a string of curses directed at "all those [Central Committee] instructors and ministers" that you could never get to do anything for you, and he said that traveling to Moscow was only a waste of time.

Then in 1978 he became a Central Committee secretary, although at first only in charge of agriculture. But he was soon noticed in the apparat. One indicator of Gorbachev's growing initiative was the grumbling of Ponomarev. After Secretariat or Politburo meetings (just among members of his staff, and in a whisper of course) Ponomarev would speak indignantly about this upstart who was supposed to be working on agriculture, not poking his nose into political affairs that he doesn't understand.

In 1982, after Suslov's death and Kirilenko's resignation, when Gorbachev began to chair Secretariat meetings on occasion, we deputies who took turns attending them would come back delighted. At last, it seemed, we have an intelligent and honest person who cares about the country and is ready to do something about it. We particularly liked his manner of calling ministers onto the carpet and exposing their incompetence, shortsightedness, and even fraud--then a common and acceptable practice. But we also noticed something else; no official measures were taken to follow up on the obvious loafers and parasites. That would probably have been "beyond his competence," the Politburo wouldn't have approved. The principle of "stability in cadres" was still religiously observed. It was the basis of the regime's self-preservation and the leadership's power. There were reprimands, sometimes insulting, which were borne with patience or even humility. But to fire somebody--that was entirely a different matter.

Later, when Andropov was general secretary, Gorbachev's name was first mentioned as a possible successor. In mid-November of 1983, he suddenly invited me to sit in on his meeting with Crystal, the well-known American agricultural expert. Gorbachev captivated his visitor with his energy and competence, his projects and plans, and by his unheard-of display of openness with a foreigner. Crystal listened in amazement and then said that if "people like that" came to power in the Soviet Union, one could really expect the best. When I got back to the office, Ponomarev called me in and demanded, "Why did he invite you?" I told him about the strong impression Gorbachev had made and added that his handling of foreign-policy issues was "brilliant, correct, outstanding." His response was to reprimand me--"Don't get carried away."

A mood of "waiting for Gorbachev's coming" set in long before April of 1985, from the moment it became clear that Andropov wouldn't last. Under Brezhnev the country was already an embarrassment. Under Chernenko it became a shameful farce.

Journal. February 10, 1984. At half-past two it was reported that Andropov died yesterday, at 4:50 P.M. Our poor Russia! But has the "Andropov era" really come to an end? Ponomarev was there at the hospital, but he left several times for the Kremlin and Central Committee. That means they've already decided on someone. But who? Will they act responsibly and have the common sense to appoint Gorbachev? If it's Chernenko, then Andropov's changes will soon be halted.

February 12. I'm sick. At work everything's in turmoil. Dignitaries from all over the world will attend the funeral. Only Reagan won't be there. But look at Thatcher! She'll come, bringing the leaders of all the opposition parties too. And of course Kohl, Trudeau, and so on. In short, a "mass" demonstration of goodwill toward us. I don't think it's entirely insincere; for the most part they're religious people and at least out of respect for tradition they take seriously things like death, funerals, memory of the dead, etc. Can we respond adequately to this peaceful gesture? Or will we yield again to "class" prejudices, contempt for "their ways and rules of the game," and most of all to the interests of the military-bureaucratic complex (that is, the interests of Gromyko and Ustinov)?

I already knew the answer then. But this excerpt is proof that, deep down, many in the apparat had already stopped believing in the "imperialist threat." I continue quoting my notes of the same day:

We had great expectations for Andropov. And for good reason. If he'd lasted another couple of years, he might have accomplished something. And now I'm sitting here thinking: "Who'll replace him, and what's going to happen?" Although, at least on the surface, there will be continuity. But in this country a lot depends on the leader's personality, way of thinking, moods, likes and dislikes. In this transition, those factors will be even more decisive than they were after the "replacement" of Lenin, Stalin, and Khrushchev.... But I'm still not losing hope that Gorbachev will be appointed.

Journal. February 14, Tuesday. The miracle didn't happen. Chernenko was elected. I went to the plenum even though I was very sick. Sverdlovsk Hall was nearly full, and it took me some time to find a seat. All the provincial elite were there. And everything was as usual: loud kissing, noisy greetings across the rows, sharing "the news" about the snow, the prospects for the harvest--in a word, "Party talk" among insiders who saw themselves as the lords of life. And in all this buzz of conversation, I never once heard Andropov's name or his death mentioned.

By half-past ten the room was completely full. The latecomers were walking around, looking for places to sit. At about twenty to eleven the room grew quiet. Tension was mounting by the minute, the atmosphere was electric. Candidate Politburo members and Central Committee secretaries filed in as usual, through a side door, five minutes before the beginning. And, as always, Ponomarev walked in front--always first among the second echelon. But this time they didn't greet the first rows cheerfully, reaching out to shake hands in the usual display of "democratic unity with the masses" (that is, the "mass" of Central Committee members).

The tension culminated as all eyes turned to the door on the left behind the stage, next to the Presidium entrance: "Who'll be the first through?" At exactly eleven Chernenko's head showed in the doorway, followed by Tikhonov, Gromyko, Ustinov, Gorbachev, and others. The hall was silent. They didn't rise as I remember their doing when Andropov walked in the same way after Brezhnev's death.

The members of the Presidium took their seats, with Gorbachev next to Chernenko. Nothing is clear yet. Chernenko lifted himself up and, stooping low over the paper on the table, started to speak quietly and hurriedly in an asthmatic voice--something about the deceased. Then he said that an "absolute majority" of Central Committee members was present and that we could begin. There was only one item on the agenda: selection of the general secretary. Seeing no objections or comments, he gave the floor to Tikhonov.

Tikhonov walked to the podium and began to drone on about "the one who is no longer with us" and about the duty of the Party to continue his initiatives. The tension didn't let up. And finally he said: "The Politburo discussed ... has entrusted me ... to advance for consideration by the plenum the candidacy of Comrade Chernenko." After a few long seconds came a release--a weak, formal, very brief round of applause. (I remember the ovation, in November 1982, when Chernenko spoke the same words in nominating Andropov.) Disappointment filled the room.

Tikhonov went on to "characterize" the candidate, and Chernenko immediately became an "indefatigable crusader" and "outstanding statesman" and so forth, everything that Andropov had been just two days ago, and Brezhnev before him. There was no applause when the speaker finished. I looked at the members of the Presidium and thought I saw embarrassment in their faces, as if they were ashamed of dashing our hopes. Really, no matter who you talked to in those days, Gorbachev's name always came up. We didn't want to believe that it could be someone else.

Central Committee plenum. April 14. Ovations and glorification of Chernenko--just as in Brezhnev's time. But now it's even more hypocritical and revolting. If a leader needs that, if he and his entourage consider it proper and indispensable for governance, then a return to "Brezhnevism" is virtually assured. Of course this comes from lack of culture and imagination. But culture is also manifested in style, and just now (at the beginning) style is most important.

Central Committee Secretariat. April 29. Nothing unusual. But I was admiring Gorbachev again. He's quick, instantly picks up on everything, and you can tell that he's well-informed and confident. He gets to the core of the issue, cuts out idle chatter, finds solutions, gives advice but also controls and disciplines. He's fun, but he also has character. In a word, there's our "heir."

May 9, Victory Day . As is our tradition, Nikolai (a friend since we served together at the front) and I take a walk in the streets. After strolling around and observing other poor souls for a while, we head back home. And we start drinking and gossiping. He knows a lot about the new general secretary, having worked some fifteen years under his direction in the Central Committee's General Department. They got drunk together more than once. Of Chernenko, he says that "the thing he cares most about is his family. And being buried behind the Mausoleum. He has asthma, a complication of the pneumonia he had in 1975. He's never been ill with anything else. He's vain, drives around the city with a pomp that outdoes even Brezhnev's. The number of `boys' guarding the Central Committee increased tenfold. He's more cunning than intelligent. He's being very cautious now, but soon he'll bring Gromyko to heel. He's quickly getting into meetings with foreign dignitaries."

That was true. At that time he was supposed to meet with the king of Spain. Zagladin proudly told me that he and Aleksandrov had come up with a new idea for the outline of the conversation--on small cards, with no long sentences, so that he would appear to be talking and not reading. And they shouldn't be seated opposite each other with the notes on the table in front of his eyes, but side by side on a couch. That was in the beginning. Later, Chernenko couldn't even read the notes anymore, but just stumbled through them with no idea of what he was saying.

June 4, 1984. The Central Committee staff had a military briefing. The deputy chief of the General Staff, Marshal Akhromeyev, gave a lecture rifled "The Characteristics of Modern Warfare." He presented the international situation, our military doctrine, and American preparations "with maximum clarity." In conclusion, he complained that some officials in the republics and regions, as well as various civil defense units, weren't trying hard enough to turn the country into a military camp. At least that seemed to be his and his colleagues' ultimate goal.

Then we were shown American documentaries. It was amazing: missiles homing in on their targets from hundreds and thousands of kilometers away; aircraft carriers, submarines that could do anything; winged missiles that, like in a cartoon, could be guided through a canyon and hit a target 10 meters in diameter from 2,500 kilometers away. An incredible breakthrough of modern technology. And, of course, unthinkably expensive.

I was watching and thinking that we're spending as much or even more, and for what? We're preparing mankind's suicide. It's insane! At one point I even wanted to get up and ask the marshal: "What if we just destroy all those weapons (ours can't be any worse than theirs, our scientists are no less talented) and say to the whole world `Enough already! We've woken up, come to our senses!' What would happen then? Would the Americans attack us the next instant?" If I said that they'd surely consider me, the deputy chief of the International Department, a nutcase.

June 12, 1984. Berlinguer died. The International Department composed an obituary and a trivial letter of condolences--and this at a time when all of Italy is stunned, everybody from the fascists to the leftists. Everyone is expressing their admiration for this man, and our ambassador in Italy sent word that future relations with the PCI will depend on our "reaction." After some backstage moves, with help from Zagladin and Aleksandrov (kept secret from Ponomarev), we managed to convey to the leadership that we had to act unconventionally.

So they appointed Gorbachev to attend the funeral. I met him at the airport on his return from Italy. We started talking. He'd clearly been much impressed by the Italians' openness--he was received by the whole PCI leadership, and there was a crowd of two million at the funeral. "We can't disregard a party like that," said Gorbachev. "We have to treat it with respect." Then he added, "You can know a lot about something. But it's still a different matter when you see it with your own eyes."

Zagladin, who'd accompanied him, told us later that when the CPSU delegation was walking through the crowds to the coffin in the Central Committee building, thousands of Italians chanted: "Gorbachev! Gorbachev! Gorbachev! CPSU--PCI, PCI--CPSU!" When Gorbachev and his host inadvertently wandered out onto the balcony of the Central Committee building (they were supposed to have a TV interview there) the crowd below went crazy: "Viva, Gorbachev!" And they didn't stop for the entire ten or fifteen minutes that he was out on the balcony.

Journal. June 18, 1984. Arbatov stopped by. He said that Gorbachev is our most popular figure in the West. Their press calls him the "crown prince" and a "most interesting person with a big future." I replied that then there's still hope for Russia.

Later we learned the details of the Politburo discussion of Gorbachev's visit to Italy. Zagladin said that Chernenko listened carefully to Gorbachev's argument about treating "that great party" correctly. And in spite of Ponomarev's objections, he insisted on congratulating the PCI on their victory in the Europarliamentary elections. This convinced some of us International Department consultants that we had support at the top now, that some in the leadership held views close to those of Gorbachev and Andropov, and that they were steering away from Comintern-style policies.

The political atmosphere was now changing. At the "theoretical dacha" in Serebriany Bor I talked with Aleksandrov, Zagladin, Bovin, Blatov, Brutents, and Yakovlev. We had some drinks and began to talk freely. Aleksandrov called Gromyko a "dangerous, senile old man." The term "duocracy"--that of Gromyko and Ustinov--was constantly repeated. Everyone was boldly criticizing our hard line toward the United States, saying that we were only helping in Reagan's reelection. No one in the group showed Chernenko any respect. All the toasts were to the memory of Andropov.

Aleksandrov told the following story. Brezhnev loved to watch the espionage series Seventeen Moments of Spring . He saw it about twenty times. Once, at the end of the film when the character Shtirlitz is told that he's been named a Hero of the Soviet Union, Brezhnev turned to the others and said: "Has he received it yet? I'd like to hand it to him myself." Everybody praised Tikhonov, the actor who played Shtirlitz, and Brezhnev asked: "Then what are we waiting for?" And so a few days later he personally awarded Tikhonov the Hero Star and the Order of Lenin, under the full impression that he was in fact Shtirlitz. Another aide who attended the ceremony added, "Everything that Leonid Ilyich [Brezhnev] said indicated that he was absolutely convinced that Tikhonov had actually performed all of Shtirlitz's deeds."

Another example of the regime's decay was contained in a report that Ligachev gave, "The Situation in the Uzbek Republican Party Organization." The evidence of corruption was horrifying. The amount of cottonseed harvested was supposedly increasing, but that of fiber produced was dropping from one year to the next. The state had been robbed of hundreds of millions of rubles. Up to 340,000 tons of cottonseed was "withheld" every year through false reporting. A minimum bribe was 10,000 rubles, while an average annual salary was about 2,000 rubles. In Tashkent, the Uzbek capital, Party bosses had villas, estates, and even palaces built for themselves. A panel in one metro station cost two million rubles. In the meantime, half a million people were living in clay huts with no water, gas, sewage, and very often no electricity. The same in Samarkand, Uzbekistan's second-largest city. All kinds of "administrators" had two to five houses, some of them country estates. They owned up to five personal cars. Over the past three years the CPSU Central Committee had received 30,000 letters from Uzbek citizens about this. Not a single one was looked into.

In the Kashkadarinskaya region alone, Ligachev reported, the entire Internal Affairs staff had to be arrested. Up to seven million rubles' worth of valuables were confiscated from those "police." Another fraud was exposed in the republic-wide Ministry of Internal Affairs: 700 "dead souls," nonexistent communists made up to bolster the local party's apparent significance. Nepotism was also rampant, with relatives holding all major posts. Several thousand administrators had already been fired, and about 1,500 taken to court. All this painted a fantastic picture of corruption, a situation gone completely out of control, in the farthest reaches of the Soviet empire. Clearly, "something was rotten in Denmark."

Gorbachev also sensed the rot in our relations with the so-called international communist movement, which fell in my area of expertise. He had, by the early 1980s, expanded his activities well beyond his initial responsibility for agriculture. And at one Politburo meeting, having just met with the Belgian communist leader, his comments prompted a two-hour discussion about the communist movement in general. As Arkady Volsky told me later, "Your guy (Ponomarev) took a real beating." Gorbachev wasn't happy with our domineering, paternalistic attitude toward other parties; he knew that we would lose our "fraternal union" if we continued in this way. Zagladin told me what Gorbachev said in a conversation of October 1984, which, even if exaggerated, is still noteworthy:

The communist movement isn't what it once was. And we can't bring it back. The parties are truly independent now, and we have to treat them accordingly. We also have to figure out why the strong, influential parties are "deviating," steering away from us, while it's the small and insignificant ones that remain loyal. And what are the criteria of "good" relations in the communist movement? We behave as if their attitude toward us is the most important indicator of a party's quality. But what if they turned these criteria around and said that the CPSU is good if it likes the Chinese, or the opposite, the Italians? It's an absurdity ... if we're talking about equality.

In the fall of 1984 and early 1985 we worked a lot on the new CPSU program in connection with the upcoming Twenty-seventh Party Congress. We on the International Department staff were naturally concerned with the issue of the communist movement. Gorbachev could never get Ponomarev to give him an accurate assessment of the movement, nor an answer to his question: "What should we do about it?" One sensed his readiness to adopt a new approach.

Journal. February 22, 1985. Since Andropov's time we've supposedly been advocating greater realism. But we don't want to admit that the communist movement, in the classical sense, no longer exists and never will again. That is what determines our behavior--our calm, restrained tone in talks with communist parties, our attempts to cooperate in the hope of mollifying them, avoiding a split, establishing a silent modus vivendi with everybody from the PCI to the Chinese. A kind of communist ecumenism, as an interviewer from La Stampa put it, using a characteristically Catholic expression.

And what for? To preserve the myth of a movement led by the CPSU. As an ideologically based world power we need this. But while preserving the myth, we're also keeping alive many helpless, pathetic, moribund "fraternal parties," which, under the protection of our international authority (or intimidation?), will live on in their misery. If we disbanded the international communist movement now, they would have to wake up. Of course, many would immediately fold. But others that still have a spark of energy left might, under favorable conditions, make a comeback on a completely different basis.

But we need them "for ourselves," not some idea of internationalism. It's all just to promote ourselves as a great empire. Nothing more. What if the International Department dared to present this view, would the Central Committee reject it? I'm not sure. It's true that Andropov and later Gorbachev demanded an honest analysis from us, instead of the usual hallelujahs (as Gorbachev put it) and so twice rejected Ponomarev's memo about the international communist movement. But he hasn't figured out his own position on the issue, he's got too much else to do. Still, he rejects Ponomarev's Comintern-style approach of treating foreign communist parties in the manner of a regional Party boss handling affairs in his own district.

Back in August the Politburo had discussed the situation concerning the harvest in Russia. Gorbachev, who had initiated the talk, invited several obkom secretaries--some who were doing really well and some who were in trouble, although everyone suffered from drought. In comparing them he put on a real exhibition. He really gave them a hard time. He knows the problem inside out, better than they do. The smallest mistake, the slightest indication of incompetence or an attempt to mislead, provoked his fury. And then he made the speaker look really stupid. It was especially difficult for them because Gorbachev can't stand people reading from their notes something they should know like their ABCs. When someone started reading a text prepared by the apparat, Gorbachev waited a few minutes and then began asking questions, trying to get to the point, locate the cause of the problem, ways to repair the situation, long-term solutions. If the speaker still stuck to his notes despite the questions, Gorbachev would unceremoniously make him sit down.

In short, it's a pleasure to watch Gorbachev, especially when he chairs a Secretariat or Politburo meeting or a conference. Here's a normal, intelligent person with common sense, not corrupted by the idiotic rules of conduct in the top leadership or by hierarchical prejudices, one who cares about his job without trying to curry favor. But then suddenly you're brought up short; Chernenko is decorated with a second star as Hero of the Soviet Union. For nothing at all, he just turned seventy-three. It's not even a round number. And all this is accompanied by speeches about the leader's modesty. By the way, everybody noticed that the award was given by Ustinov, not by Gorbachev, who is supposedly the second man in the Party. All of Brezhnev's awards were handed to him by Suslov, then the Party's number two! In other words, it was a put-down of Gorbachev in the eyes of the public who know what these things mean.

Gorbachev had a distaste for the style long accepted in the leadership. Morally and spiritually unsullied, he couldn't tolerate adoration of superiors. He thought that if you restored professional, friendly, and honest relations based on merit, then you could change everything for the better. But in the beginning he wasn't understood by the top echelon of the Party. They thought his difference was just a matter of a new "style."

September 13, 1984. I was visited by Arbatov again. He complains that I'm ignoring him. But I just have no time or desire to socialize now. I know that he always tries to cozy up whenever he feels insecure about his future. And with the Party congress coming up, he wasn't sure he would be reelected to the Central Committee. Yura has a nose for "rising stars"--from Brezhnev to Andropov, from Andropov to Chernenko, and now Gorbachev. Back to the point, he told me that he talked to Gorbachev a couple of days before. He claimed that he told Gorbachev the whole truth about the food situation (he knows this from his wife's shopping experiences) and about how we've sunk to seeing enemies all around--even the GDR, Bulgaria, and Hungary, not to mention Poland. It turns out that Ceausescu and Kim Il Sung are now our best friends, everything with them is just fine and we've forgotten our grievances. He also talked about how we need to take a positive step toward Western Europe, but without doing Reagan any favors.

I think Arbatov was telling the truth about his discussions with Gorbachev. Later, when Gorbachev was already general secretary, Arbatov visited him frequently. Gorbachev also gave instructions that phone calls from Arbatov were to be put through immediately. Sometimes he told me about his meetings and arguments with Arbatov, and also forwarded me the memos that Arbatov frequently wrote for him at that time. I'm sure that Gorbachev got a lot of useful information from Arbatov, many sensible, practical ideas. Gorbachev treated him somewhat ironically, but with respect. Ironically--for his obstinacy and conceit. And with respect and interest--for his outstanding, practical mind, his clear and nondogmatic views, his adherence to principle on political issues, and his sincere desire to help the country (without forgetting himself, naturally). One was also intrigued by his ability to employ some of the foulest language in order to persuade. But I don't remember Arbatov ever stooping to crude flattery. He openly and rudely ridiculed those who kissed up to their superiors, something that his own self-esteem would never permit.

In late September of 1984 a British Communist Party delegation came to Moscow, led by Gordon McClennan. That was my "area of expertise." But they also had a meeting with Gorbachev. He handled it intelligently, openly, with good humor--quite out of the ordinary, nothing like the old Ponomarev or Suslov style. Eschewing ideological purism, he acknowledged the right to differing "policies and paths." A couple of days after we saw the English off, Gorbachev phoned me: "How was it?" I praised him along the above-mentioned lines. He started to question me about his possible trip to England as the head of a parliamentary delegation. I said, "Everybody's waiting for you, including Madam (Thatcher) herself." I was insistent, almost rude, in trying to convince him that he couldn't let the opportunity pass, that such a visit would be an expression of our "European policy" even if it contradicted our confrontational stance toward the United States. He seemed to agree. But at the end of the conversation he said something indefinite: "That's all true, but you see ..." I understood that the top leadership still didn't approve of his international exposure. They sensed danger! He ended the conversation with something like this: "We made some progress, but we can't rush things or we'll spoil it all. Same thing in foreign affairs. I'll go to England, Kunaev to Japan. This way we'll gradually erode the monopoly." (He was referring to Gromyko's dominance of foreign policy, though he didn't mention him by name.) This means he has big plans, I wrote in my journal. God help him.

Not long before Gorbachev became general secretary there was another attempt to reanimate Stalin. On the eve of Soviet Army day, the journal Kommunist published an article written by Marshal Akhromeyev which dealt mostly with Stalin's personal contribution to victory in the war and touched only vaguely upon the reasons for our defeat in 1941. At the same time a documentary tiffed Victory was prepared for release. It had been made "in compliance with the Central Committee's decision." At a meeting held by Ponomarev (he had been appointed head of the propaganda committee preparing for the Fortieth Victory Anniversary in 1985) there was some disagreement. After we watched the film for censorship purposes, Zamyatin squeamishly remarked that, while good on the whole, the narrator's concluding comments about Stalin being capricious and impatient "spoiled the ending of a nice movie."

Ponomarev blew up: "Capricious, eh? It bothers comrade Zamyatin, and I see some others too. But it doesn't bother you that he wiped out all our best officers right before the war, leaving company commanders to take charge of entire armies! How much it cost the nation! And how many people died just because of that!" One has to give Ponomarev his due, he hated Stalin with a vengeance. Zamyatin wasn't "convinced," though, and said he would appeal to the Central Committee Secretariat.

The preceding reflects my notes on the general situation in the country, and the Kremlin, on the eve of Gorbachev's accession. Below are some recollections regarding other major issues of the time.

On relations with the United States. In late February 1985, Shultz gave a very negative speech about us. The Central Committee apparat was in a panic: "A new crusade!" "A threat to all revolutions and all nations!" "We have to take action immediately!" Our traditional reply was to publish an aggressive article in Pravda . And such an article was quickly drafted and put up for consideration by the Central Committee. It was a rude attack containing personal insults. And that was on the eve of critical discussions in Geneva with Shultz himself (they were scheduled to start on March 12, but were later postponed due to yet another leadership transition in Moscow). My staff of consultants revolted. And so we started to "modify" the text. Just then, Aleksandrov called and began to complain about the editor of Pravda , "who didn't understand basic things, producing an article that would be more appropriate if we were going to war with America tomorrow, not beginning talks ..." He asked me to convince Ponomarev to reject the article. Ponomarev was irritated, but after reprimanding me for "connivance with the insolent imperialists," he didn't resist. In the end some major corrections were made, and the article came out more "reasonably."

About the new CPSU program. It was being worked on by two groups at "theoretical dachas." Drafts of different sections were already being presented for approval to the Central Committee apparat. Yakovlev came by. We'd grown close when I happened to pass through Canada about a year and a half earlier. We spent a whole night walking around Montreal and realized that we were "soul-mates." By the way, he made friends with Gorbachev in the same way. In the first year after his return to Moscow he advanced rapidly: director of IMEMO, deputy to the Supreme Soviet, corresponding member of the Academy of Sciences, member of the CPSU Program Committee, etc. But his mood was still foul and sarcastic. He said the program wasn't ready. "We have to rewrite it completely. But even if we add some sensible ideas, the essence will remain unchanged. It'll still just be propagandistic babble for students' exams."

About the anti-alcohol campaign. I found mention of it in my journal from 1984--back then there was already talk about a Central Committee decree containing anti-alcohol measures. The leadership was inundated with "letters from the workers" and "unsolicited reports" (in fact, they were specially assigned) about the calamities that alcoholism was causing. So, by May 1985, now under Gorbachev, when this catastrophic decision was made, the mechanism was already in motion (I should mention Gorbachev's ironic attitude to this historic blunder but also, unfortunately, his lack of active resistance).

About Chernenko. Journal. Early 1985 . Moscow is filled with anecdotes and laughter--and the Western press with horrible caricatures--about his illness. Everyone is debating about who'll be next: Gorbachev, Grishin, Gromyko, Romanov? One version (the kind that you can expect from Russians) has it that Chernenko is in fact already dead. And that's why the Karpov-Kasparov chess match in the Hall of Columns has been postponed--the site is reserved for the "parting with the deceased" ceremony. The eulogies about the general secretary's outstanding accomplishments, contributions, and virtues will be forgotten faster than the candles by his coffin burn out. This seems to be the reason that Chernenko was just shown on TV twice; the first time supposedly voting at a polling station, and then again, receiving his card as a deputy to the Supreme Soviet of the Russian republic. On the latter occasion he even tried to say something. It was a humiliating, mortifying sight.

On the division of power. Here's an interesting detail. We were summoned by Ligachev for distribution of responsibilities in drafting the new CPSU program. I inquired whether we could ask Gromyko to have the Foreign Ministry prepare an "outline" about our foreign policy since the Twenty-sixth Congress in 1981. My question was received with irritation: "Ask for it yourselves!" This meant that Ligachev "didn't have the authority" to approach Gromyko with such a request. I couldn't help recalling how Suslov used to pick up the phone and say, "Comrade Gromyko, have such-and-such material ready by so-and-so date." And without waiting for an answer, quietly put the phone down. Nobody in the Central Committee can do something like that anymore. Chernenko is disabled. And Gorbachev doesn't have sufficient "strength" yet, doesn't dare do something that could provoke the displeasure of the old guard.

Another incident at that time had me worried. We were in Gorbachev's office, discussing a change to the Rules of the CPSU. And none other than Ponomarev made a reasonable suggestion, to strike the words "and workers" from the phrase "every communist has to fight for strengthening the unity of the international communist and workers movement." The word "communist," he said, is more or less acceptable. But "worker"? In the first place, this unity no longer exists. Therefore it doesn't need strengthening. And besides, unity with whom? The anti-Soviet AFL-CIO and workers' groups like that?

Gorbachev replied: "Well, that's how it's been up till now and nobody questioned it. Right? So let's keep it that way." Here's what I wrote in my journal: "I keep watching Gorbachev. First I was convinced that he was just being careful, trying not to stick his head out but--whenever possible--adding something new, something `of his own,' while camouflaging it as the same old thing. But now I'm starting to suspect that he's been sucked in by the methods of bureaucratic rule and is slipping into those decades-old patterns."

Journal. March 11, 1985. At 7 A.M. mournful music preempts the usual programming. Chopin is the first sign for the Soviet people, and for those abroad, that the USSR is coming to an about-face. Everybody had long expected Chernenko's death, mocked it, and told anecdotes about it ("The Congress is asked to stand, the general secretary will now be carried in"). And at the same time, our propaganda and members of the leadership provided "evidence" of the general secretary's "energetic actions"--on TV, at the elections, in his daily addresses, interviews, statements--making the whole country look stupid. He died on the evening of March 10.

Zagladin, Aleksandrov, Lukyanov, and Medvedev had been woken up in the middle of the night and summoned to the Kremlin where Gorbachev instructed them to have a speech ready by morning, "for the one who will be elected general secretary." At 5 P.M. the Central Committee held a plenum. We stood up to honor the deceased. Gorbachev said the appropriate words without excessive praise. There wasn't any sign of grief or regret in anyone present--he'd finally come to rest, this poor guy who'd found himself by chance in the wrong shoes and tried to put the brakes on the impulse given the country by Andropov. There was a thinly veiled happiness in the eyes of the assembled--the uncertainty is over, now it's time for Russia to have a real leader.

Gorbachev presented the agenda and said that the Politburo had entrusted comrade Gromyko (!) to announce the nomination. Not Tikhonov, who cringed and blushed when he heard this, not Romanov, and not Grishin, whom many in the West had seen as a possible successor (Gorbachev told me later that those candidates weren't even considered).

Gromyko stepped up to the podium and began speaking without any notes. When he pronounced Gorbachev's name the hall exploded with applause, louder than at Andropov's election. The ovation went on in waves and didn't stop for a long time. Gromyko spoke in a fashion that was quite unusual for plenums or other meetings of this kind. In a free and creative way, he characterized the qualities of the "Politburo-comrade" which were considered "necessary and sufficient" to "unanimously" elect Gorbachev and none other.

I would like to share with you, the Central Committee, he said, the atmosphere surrounding our discussion of Mikhail Sergeyevich's candidacy. No one had any doubts, there was total unanimity. Why? Because he has a lot of experience working in the Party--at the obkom level and here in the center. Both there and here he was brilliant. He has a deep and sharp mind, an ability to distinguish the primary from the secondary. An analytical mind. He dissects every issue to see its structure. But he doesn't leave it at that--he generalizes and draws broader conclusions. He's a man of principle and conviction. He'll uphold his views in the face of opposition. And he won't hesitate to speak his mind for the benefit of the Party's policies. He's straightforward with people. If you're a true communist, you'll leave satisfied even though he might have said things that are not to your liking. But he can get along with different people when necessary.

Gromyko continued, turning to his own area of foreign affairs.

As soon as Mikhail Sergeyevich joined the Politburo, he stood out as a person who can grasp the essence of an issue even if it seems far removed from the area of his direct responsibility. His opinions demonstrated that he's not one of those who sees things only in shades of black or white. He can find an intermediate shade in the interests of reaching a goal. Further, for Gorbachev maintaining a vigilant defense is a sacred duty. In our present situation, this is the holy of holies. Another point: his erudition, level of education, and work experience will be very important in his work as general secretary.

In a word, concluded Gromyko, here we have a person who deserves to take over this post at such a crucial moment for our country. There was another ovation. Then Romanov gave the floor to Gorbachev (whose speech has since been published). After that Gorbachev closed the plenum and invited everybody, "including those who aren't in the Central Committee yet(!)" to the Hall of Columns to take leave of Chernenko.

Why Gromyko? It was a puzzle for me, and, I believe, for many others as well. He seemed to be subtly making suggestions to the new general secretary about his future policies. But that's a minor issue. The most important thing is that he appeared almost as the initiator of Gorbachev's promotion (although, as Gorbachev told me later, at the Politburo meeting around midnight on the day of Chernenko's death, the first to propose Gorbachev's name was--who could ever imagine it--Grishin). What did the leadership mean to show by that? What did Gromyko himself seek to get out of it--to keep the monopoly on foreign affairs that he had attained during Chernenko's tenure? Or try to get in a bid for promotion to premier or chairman of the Supreme Soviet Presidium? Maybe it was a combination of all those motives. But one of them must have been the key factor. One thing was out of the question, though, and that was any idea of controlling Gorbachev.

One popular explanation for Gromyko's support of Gorbachev went as follows: After Andropov died, Ustinov and Gromyko had agreed to support Gorbachev. But as soon as the Politburo meeting began, Tikhonov (who as prime minister spoke first, according to protocol) blurted out, "I propose Konstantin Ustinovich [Chernenko]." The rest then purportedly agreed in order to avoid a conflict. That was the unspoken rule. That was the way history was made in this country. But this time every effort was made to "beat Tikhonov to it."

Journal. March 11, 1985, continued. Many signs suggest that "the people are happy." I heard them in the metro, buses, and cafeterias unabashedly praising Gorbachev even before his predecessor "had grown cold." The people are tired of stagnation and demonstrations of official stupidity. They expect a lot of Gorbachev, just as they did of Andropov. Will he have the courage to meet these expectations? He has a lot of potential. The fresh blood in the apparat and the real intelligentsia will support him. The CPSU Congress is approaching, and Gorbachev could make it a watershed event in the country's history.... His first tests will be: 1. Personnel changes among those surrounding him in the apparat. 2. Will he tolerate flattery? Gromyko has already spoken the ritual words "outstanding Party leader." 3. Will he hesitate to implement reforms with large-scale social implications, as Andropov did, or will he come through as a serious reformer at the upcoming Central Committee plenum?

This is, word for word, what I wrote in my journal several hours after Gorbachev's election. But what would I say now, retrospectively, taking into account everything that happened later, about Gorbachev and that crucial point in his life? He's an intelligent and honest person, conscientious and passionate, at the same time well-versed in the art of apparat games at all levels. He wanted to improve everything, put an end to absurdity and disgrace. The words that he spoke to Raisa Maksimovna the night before his election have become widely known: "We cannot go on living this way" [ Tak zhit' nel'zya ]. He had some ideas about how to "live better," but they didn't go beyond the limits of the existing order. Hence the term "renovation" [ obnovleniye ], which he clung to for a long time. It took years of torturous struggle for him to realize that it was impossible to renovate our society. It was doomed and had to be completely changed.