The Downing Street Years (138 page)

The emergence of Boris Yeltsin as a radical proponent of reform — both political and economic — ought perhaps to have strengthened Mr Gorbachev’s position. If the two of them had been able to sink their differences and if Mr Gorbachev had been prepared to cut his links with the Communist Party perhaps the impetus of reform might have been renewed. But these were two ‘ifs’ too many. Their relations remained bad and Mr Gorbachev remained a communist to the end.

There was a strong tendency in western circles to write off Mr Yeltsin as nothing more than a buffoon. I could not believe that this judgement — if such it can be called — was correct. But I wanted to see for myself. Consequently, although I was careful to notify Mr Gorbachev in advance and to make it clear that I was receiving Mr Yeltsin in the way that I would a Leader of the Opposition, I enthusiastically agreed to meet him when he came to London on the morning of Friday 27 April 1990. The briefing I had received about Mr Yeltsin sums up the attitude which was then prevalent. In this he was described as ‘a controversial figure’ because he had been the only member of the Party Central Committee to vote against the Draft Platform, arguing that it was the Communist Party’s long monopoly of power which had brought the USSR to its present crisis and driven tens of millions into poverty. He had said that democratic centralism should be rejected and replaced by genuine democracy and had called for a law on parties ending the Communist Party’s special status. Three cheers, I thought. My briefing went on to say — with less than complete perspicacity — that ‘some pundits even suggest that if [Mr Yeltsin] is elected as President of the Russian Federation he may end up with a more important job than Gorbachev’s presidency of a crumbling Union. This is an exaggeration.’

I only spoke with Mr Yeltsin for three-quarters of an hour. At first I was not quite sure what to make of him. He was far more my idea of the typical Russian than was Mr Gorbachev — tall, burly, square Slavic face and shock of white hair. He was self-confident without being self-assertive, courteous, with a smile full of good humour and a touch of self-mockery. But what impressed me most was that he had obviously thought through some of the fundamental problems much more clearly than had Mr Gorbachev. I began by saying that I supported Mr Gorbachev and wanted that to be clear from the outset. Mr Yeltsin replied that he knew I supported the Soviet leader and
perestroika
and on some of these matters our opinions differed, but basically he too supported Mr Gorbachev and the cause of reform.
Mr Gorbachev should, though, have paid more attention to some of the things being said by the supporters of reform three or four years earlier.
Perestroika
had originally been intended to make communism more efficient. But that was impossible. The only serious option was for far-reaching political and economic reform, including the introduction of a market economy. But it was all getting very late.

I totally agreed with this. What struck me was that Mr Yeltsin, unlike President Gorbachev, had escaped from the communist mindset and language. He it was who also first alerted me to the relationship between economic reform and the question of what powers should be devolved to the individual republics. He explained just how little autonomy the governments of the republics really had. They were essentially agents — though frequently incompetent and corrupt agents — of central decisions. He said that they must now be given proper budgets and the power to decide how to spend them. Each republic should have its own laws and constitution. He argued that it was the failure to grapple with the issue of decentralization which had led to the present troubles. With so vast a country it was simply not possible to run everything from the centre. As a result of this discussion I looked not just at Boris Yeltsin but at the fundamental problems of the Soviet Union in a new light. When I reported later in Bermuda to President Bush on my favourable impressions of Mr Yeltsin he made it clear that the Americans did not share them. This was a serious mistake.

On my visit to the Soviet Union in June 1990 I was to encounter all the different elements which constituted Soviet politics at this time — not just President Gorbachev, but also more radical reformers, nationalists and those who posed the greatest potential threat to reform, that is the military. I flew into Moscow on the night of Thursday 7 June to be met by Prime Minister Ryzhkov. The following morning I met the reforming Mayor of Moscow, Mr Gavriil Popov. I had never met a Russian like Mr Popov. He was the complete opposite of the staid Soviet bureaucrat — informal, slightly scruffy and (as I was subsequently told) probably wearing a tie for the very first time, in honour of my visit.

I found him a devotee of Milton Friedman and the Chicago School of Economics. He had grasped the crucial point that you could not
create a market economy in Moscow — or anywhere else for that matter — without both private property and a clear framework of law. It was the fact that the distribution of property was lagging far behind the other reforms which he saw as at the root of the current political turmoil. So he wanted people to be encouraged to own their own flats and shops and he wanted the service industries to be transferred to private ownership.

I went on to talks and a working lunch with President Gorbachev. I found him rather less ebullient than usual but equable and good-humoured. I took the opportunity to tell him that I continued to believe passionately in what he was trying to achieve in the Soviet Union. Many commentators and journalists had become blasé about how much had already changed. I assured him that he would have my full support both privately and publicly. As regards the changes which were taking place in central and eastern Europe, I tried to convince him that it was in the Soviet Union’s own interests that a unified Germany should be part of NATO, because otherwise there would be no justification for the presence of US forces in Europe. It was this presence which was the crucial condition for European peace and stability. I also described to him my ideas about the development of the CSCE. Slightly to my surprise, I noted that at no stage did he say that a united Germany in NATO was unacceptable; so I felt on this matter at least I was making progress. The only significant differences between us were over Lithuania — as I have mentioned earlier — and my decision to raise with him the evidence which we had gleaned that the Soviet Union was doing research into biological weapons — something which he emphatically denied, but nonetheless promised to investigate.

That afternoon I had an hour’s discussion with the Soviet military leadership. I had decided that I wanted to see how they were thinking and also let them know precisely what my own views were. Marshal Yazov, the Soviet Defence minister, was very much in charge and the others — including Marshal Moiseev, whose interventions and demeanour marked him out as someone of unusual intelligence and strength of character, only spoke when the Defence minister had nothing to say. This was a pity because what Marshal Yazov did say was conventional and predictable. I quickly turned the conversation to the subject of East-West relations. I said that it was good that we were entering a new period of better relations but that we should each of us understand the need for strong defence. There was scope for reducing conventional forces and nuclear weapons and for modifying our strategy to new circumstances. But we would continue to need some nuclear
weapons which were the only effective deterrent. Marshal Yazov took up the line that I had heard so many times from the Soviets before about the need to do away with nuclear weapons altogether. I said that I took leave to doubt whether the views of Marshal Yazov and his colleagues on nuclear weapons were really very different from mine. After all, they did have an awful lot of them and presumably for some purpose. Unlike President Gorbachev, Marshal Yazov stated that the Soviets would simply not accept a united Germany in NATO. But whether this was because his views were genuinely different from the Soviet leadership or because he expressed them less subtly I could not fathom.

The following morning I flew to Kiev. My main purpose was to attend the ‘British Days’ Exhibition which was the return leg of an exchange which had opened with a ‘Soviet Month’ in Birmingham in 1988. When the idea of my going had first been mooted I had made enquiries with the Foreign Office about how much was being spent on the exhibition and — as usual — found that it had been subject to some penny pinching. Partly as a result of my pressure, the Kiev Exhibition turned out to be very good indeed. The intention was to portray a typical street in a typical British northern town showing shops and, in particular, the house of an ordinary working-class British family. When the local people looked around at the hi-fi and other domestic gadgets and luxuries and the car standing in the garage at first they could not believe their eyes. As I went round, they asked me whether this could really be true; did ordinary British people really live like this? I said that indeed they did. Well, came the reply, all we have been told was a lie and this proves it. In fact, everything in that house was typical, even down to the teenager’s bedroom which — like most teenagers’ bedrooms — had clothes and other possessions strewn about it. My immediate reaction was that it should all have been tidied up, but I was eventually persuaded that this was more authentic.

But if the Ukrainians had not been prepared for what life was like in Britain, I found that I had not been properly briefed on the situation in Ukraine. Everywhere I went I found blue and yellow bunting and flags (the colours of pre-Soviet Ukraine) and signs demanding Ukrainian independence. This put me into something of a quandary. Much as I admired General de Gaulle, I was not going to outrage my Soviet hosts by proclaiming the Ukrainian equivalent of ‘Vive le Quebec Libre’. It was not just that I was convinced that Mr Gorbachev was never going to let Ukraine out of the Soviet Union without a struggle. That not just the USSR but even Russia would be threatened by the
emergence of a separate Ukraine was a view that non-communist Russians as well as communists held. (In fact, since the break-up of the USSR, the emergence of an independent Ukraine has proved to be strategically advantageous for Europe and the West and much still rides on its economic and political stability and success.)

Any hope that I could avoid saying something which would be misinterpreted by one side or the other quickly evaporated. The recently appointed First Secretary of the Ukrainian Communist Party, Mr Ivashko, said that it was a pity that I had made no time in my schedule to meet members of the newly elected Ukrainian Supreme Soviet. Would I be prepared to do so? I agreed. I imagined that this would be a modest and informal reception. I entered the Parliament building and then went through the door into the Chamber to find, to my horror, that the whole hemi-cycle was full. I had no prepared speech and it was clear that they were expecting one. I thought that at least I would be able to think up something to say while I was being introduced. But Mr Ivashko simply welcomed me and then asked me to speak. I managed well enough, as I always do. But then came questions. One of the questioners told me that there were ten deputies present who used to be political prisoners. He said that he knew that it was due to my efforts and the efforts of President Reagan that he was there as a deputy able to see me today and not still a prisoner. But what I could not do was to agree to set up an embassy in Kiev; nor could I put Ukraine in the same category as the Baltic States. I felt that I disappointed them. But I went away understanding just how fundamental the whole problem of nationality was becoming and doubtful about whether the Soviet Union could — or should — ultimately be kept together.

The final leg of my visit to the USSR was Leninakan in Armenia, where I was to open a school built with British aid after the earthquake of 1988. It was another politically sensitive occasion for there had been fierce fighting between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the enclave of Nagorno-Karabakh and the Soviets were very jittery about security. The school itself was one of the few buildings which had been reconstructed: the general Soviet performance of rebuilding the area had been lamentable. I found myself engulfed in huge, enthusiastic crowds — to such an extent, indeed, that I was turned back by the security people from my original route. Though I had to cut short my visit I came away with no more doubt than in the Ukraine of the immense national fervour of the people around me.

I shall always be glad that I was able to visit two former communist countries while I was still Prime Minister. In Czechoslovakia and Hungary in September 1990 I found myself speaking with people who not long before had been totally excluded from power by the communists and who were coming to grips with the communist legacy of economic failure, pollution and despondency.

I had been greatly impressed by the inaugural speech of President Havel of Czechoslovakia. He had spoken of ‘living in a decayed moral environment … [in which] notions such as love, friendship, compassion, humility and forgiveness have lost their depth and dimension’. He had described the demoralization which communism brought about, how ‘the previous regime, armed with its arrogant and intolerant ideology, demeaned man into a production force and nature into a production tool. In this way they attacked their very essence and the mutual relationship between them.’

Czechoslovakia was lucky to have President Havel as an inspiration, but no less lucky to have Václav Klaus as a dynamic, convinced free enterprise economist for its Finance minister (now Czech Prime Minister). Together they were rebuilding the social and economic foundations of the country. Apart from the obvious problems which confronted them, there was also the tension between the Czech and Slovak elements of the Federal Republic. I spent most of my time in Prague — a city which I did not know but where all my surroundings reminded me that I was genuinely at the heart of Europe. But I also visited Bratislava, whose economy and built environment bore many more scars of communist vandalism. The Slovakian Prime Minister, Mr Meciar, assured me that Czechoslovakia would remain a federal state and this seemed to me sensible until more economic progress had been made. But it was not to be.