Moscow's Promising Offer

By Laurence I. Barrett.

In his Oval Office debut, Eduard Shevardnadze demonstrated that he had already mastered the institution of the White House "photo op" that precedes even the soberest diplomatic sessions. "The reporters are on the offensive," the genial Soviet Foreign Minister told Ronald Reagan. When asked by reporters what message he would convey to his host, Shevardnadze quipped, "If I tell everything to you, what am I going to say to the President next?"

Banter between the superpowers can mask a deadlock, a breakthrough or something in between. By the time he got to the White House last Friday, Shevardnadze had been through a well-publicized week of public polemics at the United Nations and quiet conversation with Secretary of State George Shultz. But the new messenger from Moscow had given no clues about whether he was carrying the fresh arms-control proposal that other Soviet officials had been hinting at for two months. The silence surprised his hosts. Was the Kremlin continuing its long propaganda prelude to the November summit between Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev? Had Moscow changed its mind about a significant new proposal?

Not at all. The Soviets did intend to make this summit prep session "serious," to use one of their favorite diplomatic adjectives, the beginning of substantive business. When the press cleared out, Shevardnadze gave Reagan a lengthy document written in Cyrillic characters: a personal letter from Gorbachev describing his general world views. Shevardnadze also outlined to the President some of the ingredients of a new arms-control plan. It could prove to be the most promising scheme ever put forward by the Soviets. Indeed, if the details still to come support the advance billing--and if the Reagan Administration decides to engage itself--the proposal could produce the most constructive negotiations since 1979, when the SALT II treaty was concluded.

Stepping back from what had become a presummit public relations duel, both sides avoided public discussion of the proposal, which will officially be placed on the negotiating table in Geneva this week. Government analysts spent the weekend parsing the Gorbachev letter and Shevardnadze's verbal presentation. But it seemed likely that the scheme will envision a large swap: the Soviets would move toward the U.S. position on reducing offensive nuclear weapons if the Americans severely limited their program of ultramodern Star Wars missile defenses.

It will not be clear for days or perhaps weeks how the U.S. will react. Until now the Geneva negotiations have been paralyzed. During the arid summer round, one U.S. representative told his Soviet counterpart, "Go ahead, tempt us. Make us an offer we can't refuse." Now Moscow appears to be trying to do just that. Further, the Soviets' move on the diplomatic chessboard will strengthen their argument that the summit can and should produce results. Reagan, on bidding Shevardnadze farewell, acknowledged that the visit had produced "progress" but declined to characterize it. Shultz, while saying that Reagan had not changed his view on Star Wars, spoke in positive terms about the latest proposition. "The President welcomed what was put before him," said Shultz. "It is something that comes forward. It is different from what they have been saying."

That was a new tone for the Administration. Reagan and his aides had been complaining for months that the Soviets were shoveling out propaganda in public while stonewalling in Geneva. As last week began, it appeared that both sides might indulge in more of the same.

Shultz and Shevardnadze addressed the U.N. General Assembly at the beginning of the world body's celebration of its 40th anniversary. The American spoke first, on Monday, presenting a predictable defense of U.S. positions across the global board. Anticipating that his opposite number would again accuse the U.S. of making space a potential battlefield, Shultz pointed out that "the Soviets have the world's most active military space program." It was time to cool the propaganda, Shultz said with an air of impatience, "so let's get down to real business, with the seriousness the subject deserves."

The next day, Shevardnadze also seemed eager. "There is no more time to waste," he said of nuclear negotiations. Much of Shevardnadze's hour-long talk consisted of moldy condemnations of the U.S. as the source of all the world's tensions. But Shevardnadze has the knack of sounding temperate while talking tough--an ability he shares with Reagan, along with an ear for catchy slogans. Thus he coined the term Star Peace as the Soviets' antidote to Star Wars, which the Reagan Administration prefers to call the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). Star Peace is a recycled version of a previous Soviet proposal for cleansing space of military hardware under international supervision. One senior Reagan aide dismissed it as "really hokey."

If the Americans thought Shevardnadze's rhetoric unedifying, they, along with U.N. diplomats, found the rhetorician to be personable (see box). In the long initial meeting with Shultz on Wednesday, neither side broke any fresh ground. But the new Foreign Minister came across as positively genial compared with his unsmiling predecessor, Andrei Gromyko. Shevardnadze even apologized to Shultz for having been absent from the General Assembly chamber when the Secretary of State spoke ("I have such a tight program, it is very difficult for me to operate"). Said one participant in the discussions: "The decibel level is lower, and there was real discussion back and forth. The atmosphere was not bad." The easier style was reflected in an exchange prompted by Shultz. In telling reporters of the Friday schedule, he unintentionally got a laugh by saying that after Reagan saw Shevardnadze in the Oval Office, "he had him for lunch." When a Soviet spokesman, Vladimir Lomeiko, briefed the press, he began by saying, "As you can see, we are alive and well."

Meanwhile, a tantalizing harbinger of movement had already come not from New York or Washington but from Geneva. On Sept. 19 the Soviet delegation there formally requested two "joint plenary sessions" to take place this week. Since March, each side has been divided into three teams by subject: strategic offensive weapons, intermediate-range missiles and defensive technology (including space-based systems). They want a joint meeting of all the groups, the Soviets said, to present a "major exposition." Last week it became clear that this would be their new plan.

The broad outline is believed to include at least four major elements. First: long-range nuclear delivery systems on both sides--missiles and bombers --would be reduced as much as 50%. Second: what Moscow calls "nuclear charges"--the warheads and bombs carried by these vehicles--would also be reduced. Third: there would be a percentage limit on the nuclear charges that each side could put on any one segment of its strategic forces. Land- based missiles (ICBMs) or submarine-launched missiles (SLBMs), for instance, could carry only a specified proportion of each country's warheads. The fourth and stickiest provision: neither side could test or deploy space- based defenses.

In principle, the first three points appear to coincide with U.S. goals. The Reagan Administration has sought both a gross reduction in weaponry and a strict limit on warheads, particularly those borne by ICBMs. Moscow has invested most of its nuclear resources in giant land-based multiwarhead missiles, the deadliest arrows in its strategic quiver. Their accuracy, power and speed give them "hard-target kill capability," the theoretical ability to destroy U.S. missiles in their underground silos. Until now, the Kremlin has been extremely reluctant to dicker about explicit limits on warheads. The Soviets' current arsenal of land-based warheads is about 6,400, vs. the Americans' 2,125. (Counting all nuclear weapons, the U.S. still has a small numerical lead, roughly 11,000 to 10,000.)

The precise details of these Soviet proposals could make them seem less attractive than they do in broad outline. Washington and Moscow differ, for instance, in the method of counting nuclear charges. That alone would require much hard bargaining, which would not be close to completion before the summit. Still, the concept is attractive to many American arms-control experts. It could eventually produce a deal that substantially reduces the Soviet advantage in ICBM warheads.

From the White House's viewpoint, the Kremlin's price for this promising new approach is high, perhaps prohibitive. The demand that Reagan agree to confine his prized SDI program to laboratory research has so far met adamant rejection. Reagan restated his position after seeing Shevardnadze.

It was the threat of an American breakthrough in strategic-defense capability that brought Moscow back to the bargaining table last March after a 16-month absence. That same fear appears to have produced the Soviets' new willingness to negotiate on warheads. Now Gorbachev is adroitly reversing the pressure, using the prospect of real reductions in offensive weaponry to lure the U.S. away from SDI. The Soviet leader is also reversing the historic flow of arms-control proposals. Traditionally the U.S. proposes, and the Soviet Union disposes.

Reagan is under pressure from other sources as well. Many Government alumni in the national-security community argue that SDI's main value is as a bargaining lever. Gerard Smith and Paul Warnke, who negotiated for the Nixon and Carter Administrations respectively, contended last week that full development of defensive weaponry would "drive the nuclear arms race to an even higher level." Writing in the New York Times, they said that a trade- off has "the makings of an agreement of historic proportions."

On Capitol Hill there is some sentiment for limiting SDI appropriations. That lingering skepticism found new support last week in a study published by the Congressional Office of Technology Assessment. The 325-page report on missile defenses concluded that SDI would not produce an effective shield for U.S. population centers. While Star Wars weaponry could protect missile sites to a considerable extent, actual deployment on both sides, unless governed by a Soviet-American treaty, might increase the temptation of one nation to strike first. "There is great uncertainty," the analysts said, "about the strategic situation that would arise."

Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger, in an interview with TIME, said of the congressional study, "Wrong, just plain wrong." Now one of SDI's most fervent supporters in the Administration, Weinberger said the findings assume that SDI systems would be vulnerable to saturation attacks by an aggressor, like the 1970-vintage antiballistic missile. "But," Weinberger insisted, "we're talking about a totally different strategic defense, which cannot be overwhelmed simply by the addition of more numbers."

Not everyone in the Administration, however, shares Weinberger's--and Reagan's--unalloyed enthusiasm for Star Wars. The latest Soviet offer could have the effect of strengthening the faction inside the Administration that still hopes to obtain an important arms agreement. Reagan wants that as well, if he can somehow reconcile that goal with his desire for an effective defense against nuclear attack.

Last week's development could prove to be a step in that direction. It could also enlarge the pot at the summit poker game. Before November, Shevardnadze said, "We have quite a lot of things to do ahead of us, and we'll meet frequently with you." Without question, the summit's prologue last week was a tantalizing start to that progression.

With reporting by Johanna McGeary and Barrett Seaman/Washington