The Spirit Of Washington

By Thomas A. Sancton

It will be remembered as the summit at which intimacy and symbolism overshadowed disputes about substance, and its spirit was captured during a private moment between Mikhail Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan on the morning after they signed their historic arms accord. The President led the Soviet leader to a little study next to the Oval Office and produced a baseball that Joe DiMaggio had hoped to have autographed by Gorbachev at the state dinner the night before. Reagan was not just fulfilling the old Yankee slugger's request. He had a metaphor in mind. Are we, he asked, going to play ball? Yes, Gorbachev firmly agreed. Then the two men rejoined their top aides in the Oval Office for a critical hour-long bargaining session on ways to reduce their bloated arsenals of strategic weapons.

Gorbachev's dazzling visit to Washington for the summit of 1987 seemed to herald a new and more personable ball game in the 40-year struggle between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. At center stage stood the leaders of the world's two most powerful nations, smiling warmly, shaking hands, exchanging pens, trading one-liners. The Soviet visitor even burst into song at one point. When it was all over, Gorbachev called the three-day Washington summit a "major event in world politics," while Reagan grandiloquently declared that the meeting had "lit the sky with hope for all people of goodwill."

Even though there were no breakthroughs on arms control -- the thorny issue of Star Wars was set aside for another day -- and there were heated exchanges on human rights, the exalted pronouncements uttered in the afterglow were more than mere hyperbole. Something extraordinary was taking place: four decades of often truculent cold-war rhetoric were giving way to dispassionate discourse and high-level rapport. Neither side was forgetting the vast ideological chasm that separates the superpowers, but they were learning to work around their differences, to stake out common ground on which to build a better understanding.

The centerpiece of the summit was the ceremonial signing of an intermediate- range nuclear forces treaty that eliminated an entire class of atomic weapons from Europe and the rest of the world. The product of six years of negotiation, the pact calls for the destruction of 1,752 Soviet and 859 American missiles and establishes rigorous on-site verification procedures that pave the way for more ambitious agreements in the Strategic Arms Reduction Talks (START) regarding longer-range weapons.

On that score, the negotiating teams were able to work out some new details concerning their goal of a 50% cut in strategic arms. By agreeing to set aside the issue of exactly how the 1972 Antiballistic Missile Treaty would restrict the development of Reagan's proposed Strategic Defense Initiative, the two sides showed a willingness -- at least for the moment -- to make that dispute less of an obstacle to a START treaty. Such an agreement, if the SDI issue can continue to be finessed, is expected to form the basis for a fourth summit in Moscow late next spring.

Reagan saw the Washington summit as a vindication of his hard-line policies of the past seven years. By seeking to roll back Communist influence and reduce, rather than merely limit, the number of nuclear weapons on both sides, Reagan believes he has repudiated the flawed policies of his predecessors. Many of the claims he made in his televised speech Thursday night were overstated: the INF treaty is not the first to require reductions in the number of nuclear weapons (SALT II provided for limited cuts), the summit did not represent a victory for his SDI program, and he was not able to make human rights or regional issues anything more than a sideshow to the business of arms control.

In fact, though the President would wince at the thought, the summit was not so much a triumph of a Reagan revolution in foreign policy as it was a return of the principles of detente: a reduction of tensions between the two superpowers and a recognition that arms control is the focal point of relations between the two countries. During the long and twisted walk up to the summit, Fritz Ermarth, the chief Soviet expert on the National Security Council, cracked, "Detente is dirty work, but somebody's got to do it." Last week Reagan and Gorbachev made it seem like good clean fun.

Although the meager results on substantive issues hardly justified the excitement and euphoria that surrounded last week's summit, what really mattered -- and captured the public imagination -- was the personal accord and the images of friendliness that pervaded the event. In diplomacy, especially in the age of television, the perception that tensions have been reduced tends to mean that tensions have in fact been reduced. What happened in Washington last week is that the perceptions changed measurably -- and for the better -- on both sides. This was true for the delighted Washington bystanders who had their hands pumped by Gorbachev; it was true for the fur-hatted Muscovites who huddled under a giant TV screen on Kalinin Prospect to watch their leader's pomp-filled arrival ceremony at the White House; and it was true, above all, for the two men who faced each other across the negotiating table.

This time the two men seemed to hit it off personally from the first handshake to the last. In some of their public appearances, they traded quips like a well-rehearsed vaudeville team. At the White House treaty-signing ceremony, for example, Reagan repeated the Russian phrase doveryai no proveryai (trust but verify), only to be interrupted by Gorbachev's good- natured observation, "You repeat that at every meeting." When the laughter of the 250 assembled guests died down, Reagan flashed his off-center grin, gave Gorbachev a little bow and replied, "I like it." The audience exploded with laughter again. Said Gorbachev just before his final departure: "I think we trust each other more."

Gorbachev had another interlocutor: the American people. From his Monday afternoon arrival at Washington's Andrews Air Force Base to his rainy Thursday night departure, the General Secretary seemed to be leading a full-court media blitz. He unfailingly turned on the charm in his public appearances, such as Tuesday night's state dinner at the White House, where he and Wife Raisa joined Pianist Van Cliburn in singing Moscow Nights. Later in the week he stopped his motorcade on Connecticut Avenue to hop out and press the flesh with passersby. Gushed one thrilled bystander: "It was like the coming of the second Messiah or something." Now that's public relations.

The Soviet leader invited several groups of influential Americans to the Soviet embassy to push his case for arms reductions, world peace and his internal reforms. By far the most important of these meetings was with nine congressional leaders, including four of the Senators who will ultimately decide whether to ratify the INF treaty. Most of the legislators came out of the 90-minute meeting impressed by Gorbachev's intelligence, candor and optimism. But many of them let the General Secretary know that some positive Soviet actions were necessary to improve relations. Senate Majority Leader Robert Byrd, a West Virginia Democrat, noted that a timetable for Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan "would help" win Senate ratification for INF. Senate Democratic Whip Alan Cranston of California asked what could be done to speed the START talks along. "You know what needs doing," replied Gorbachev. He pointed out that the Soviet Union was now sending out "good vibes" and added, "We need good vibes from you."

Gorbachev later held separate meetings with intellectual and cultural leaders (including such luminaries as former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, Writer Norman Mailer and Composer Yoko Ono), media moguls and business executives. At times during these sessions, he seemed almost Reaganesque in his use of folksy anecdotes to make his points. He began his meeting with the intellectuals, for example, by reading a letter from an American teenager calling on the two leaders "to build a world of responsibility."

Gorbachev showed the blunt candor that has distinguished his domestic efforts at economic reform. In his talk with news executives, he referred to the Soviet Union as the "world's second ranking power." The remark, which surprised many Westerners in the audience, was consistent with the message he has been stressing at home: that the Soviet Union must squarely face up to the problems in its economic system. Soviet Foreign Ministry Spokesman Gennadi Gerasimov later told TIME that it was the first time Gorbachev had put his country's runner-up status so bluntly. Quipped Gerasimov: "He conceded -- to Japan."

But Gorbachev bared his teeth on several occasions, betraying a testiness that belied his appeals to sweet reason. The Soviet leader's performance at his farewell press conference, in fact, may have undone some of the political gains of the previous three days. After arriving 15 minutes late at the Soviet Union's new Mt. Alto embassy complex, he launched into a detailed 70-minute monologue summing up his talks with Reagan. Near the end of his statement, however, he suddenly delivered a diatribe against the press -- the very group he most needed to win over to get his message across.

Chopping the air with his hands and jutting out his lower lip, Gorbachev charged that all journalists wanted to do was grill him on human rights, "as if we are agreeing to give interviews not just to try to search for the truth, to prod each other to serious thinking, but to drive the politician into a corner." He then instructed the reporters, like a scolding schoolmaster, to "think over this part of my talk." The outburst, like his brusque answers to most of the questions that followed, revealed that glasnost has definite limits.

Reagan, meanwhile, showed his own hard-line side in a postsummit address. Having kept a relatively low profile during most of the visit, he went on national television only two minutes after Gorbachev's blue-and-white Ilyushin Il-62 had roared off into rainy black skies. Speaking from the Oval Office, Reagan called the talks a "clear success," giving cause for "both hope and optimism." But his speech included many declarations of his fundamental opposition to Soviet policies and philosophy. To some extent, Reagan was merely reverting to old familiar themes out of habit. But with an eye to the ratification process, he was also shoring up his right flank against charges by increasingly jumpy conservatives that he has gone soft on the Soviets.

Reagan's desire not to stray too far from his conservative base also probably accounted for some of his caution in dealing with arms control at the summit. As he has pursued his visions of disarmament through strength, many Republican strategists -- notably Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger -- warned that the headlong rush to cut missiles was not being guided by any strategic vision of how the U.S. and its allies could best defend their vital interests. Yet another surprise "breakthrough" that discarded the carefully wrought strategies of deterrence could have been disconcerting.

As it was in Reykjavik last year, SDI remained the main stumbling block to a major breakthrough. The Soviets have long claimed that all but the most basic Star Wars research is precluded by the 1972 ABM treaty. The Reagan Administration, under its much disputed "broad" interpretation of that treaty, insists that more advanced research and certain types of tests in space are permitted. In addition, the Soviets seek a guarantee that neither side will withdraw from the ABM treaty to deploy a space-based antimissile system for at least ten years. Dealing with that impasse was the job of the working group that was set up on Tuesday under Paul Nitze, the President's chief arms-control adviser, and Marshal Sergei Akhromeyev, the Soviet armed forces chief of staff.

Reagan outlined his position on SDI during his Wednesday-morning meeting with Gorbachev in the Oval Office. "We are going forward with the research and development necessary to see if this is a workable concept," said the President, "and if it is, we are going to deploy it." Gorbachev listened intently, looking Reagan hard in the eyes as he spoke. When Reagan finished, the Soviet leader replied: "Mr. President, do what you think you have to do. And if in the end you think you have a system you want to deploy, go ahead and deploy. Who am I to tell you what to do? I think you're wasting money. I don't think it will work. But if that's what you want to do, go ahead." He added ominously: "We are moving in another direction, and we preserve our option to do what we think is necessary and in our own national interest at that time. And we think we can do it less expensively and with greater effectiveness."

U.S. experts were unsure what he meant but offered several possible explanations: that the Soviets were working on their own defensive system (a fact that Gorbachev seemed to concede in his interview with NBC's Tom Brokaw two weeks ago); that they might consider breaking the moratorium on antisatellite systems, which could cripple space-based SDI components; or that they might resort to abrogating existing treaties and rebuilding their nuclear arsenals.

American analysts were similarly baffled by another vague Gorbachev claim, made during his final press conference, that the Soviets possessed the means to identify the location and megatonnage of land- and sea-based nuclear weapons -- even those deployed on submarines. If the Soviets could indeed pinpoint U.S. subs, they could neutralize a key leg of the U.S. nuclear triad. State Department and Pentagon experts were highly skeptical that the Soviets possessed such technology.

However obscure Gorbachev was about his secret hardware, he left no doubt that the SDI issue was no longer an obstacle to an agreement on strategic cuts. This was a considerable concession from the Soviets, whose insistence on nipping Star Wars in the bud had led them to link SDI restrictions to the tentative wide-ranging agreements reached at the Reykjavik summit last year. Yet the Soviets have long pursued a tactic of linking and unlinking and then relinking SDI to other agreements; the idea is sure to come back to haunt a START agreement before the two leaders can clink glasses again in Moscow next year.

The Nitze-Akhromeyev working group focused its efforts on drafting the language of its joint communique in such a way as to defer the SDI problem without undermining the validity of the ABM treaty. At the same time, it sought to reach agreement on the "subceilings" that would be placed on different types of strategic missiles and bombers within the framework of reducing each side's warheads by half. The group was still struggling with texts and numbers as Gorbachev and Reagan were ending their final working lunch in the Family Dining Room of the White House. Stretching out their meal while waiting for negotiators to finish, Gorbachev and Reagan lapsed into casual conversation. The two leaders got to talking about being politicians. Reagan told Gorbachev that he had watched his curbside handshaking interlude on TV, explaining that American politicians called that "working the crowds." Gorbachev laughed and won Reagan's hearty endorsement of his observation that leaders learned more when traveling in the provinces than in their own capitals. There was unintended irony in Gorbachev's remark, since for all his efforts to impress his views on Americans during this trip, he had shown little interest in learning about the country itself.

Finally, the arms-control group reached consensus and rejoined the leaders. Gorbachev was escorted to the map room to be briefed by Akhromeyev, while Reagan retired to the library, where Secretary of State George Shultz and Lieut. General Colin Powell, the National Security Adviser, explained the language to him. Informed that the Joint Chiefs were satisfied with the text, Reagan approved it. Then he went to shake hands with Gorbachev before accompanying him to the South Lawn for the farewell ceremony.

The working group had refined instructions for the Soviet and U.S. negotiators in Geneva, who will seek to translate them into treaty language over the next few months. As originally agreed in Reykjavik, the plan calls for a 50% reduction in overall nuclear warheads, down to 6,000 for each side. Of those, the combined number of intercontinental ballistic missiles plus submarine-launched ballistic missiles was limited at 4,900. No more than 1,540 warheads can be on heavy multiwarhead missiles. They also agreed to a limit of 1,600 delivery systems (missile launchers, bombers, etc.). Verification procedures remain to be worked out, although U.S. officials feel their earlier breakthroughs on INF on-site inspections will take them a long way toward finding solutions.

On SDI, the language worked out was both tortured and mushy, just what was needed to defer the dispute to another day. Says Gerasimov: "It means we postponed our quarrels." The negotiators in Geneva were instructed to "work out an agreement that would commit the sides to observe the ABM treaty, as signed in 1972, while conducting their research, development and testing as required, which are permitted by the ABM treaty, and not to withdraw from the ABM treaty for a specified period of time." Behind the convoluted language lies a compromise that allows the two leaders to take opposed positions on SDI. Does this mean the Soviets have accepted the inevitability of eventual SDI deployment? Hardly. They have given up on trying to get this President to accept any formula that explicitly limits SDI testing. Yet they see that Congress is applying its own budgetary constraints on Star Wars and has made it clear that it will not let the Administration break out of the narrow interpretation of the ABM treaty.

Moreover, given the still preliminary state of the program, Reagan has little need to violate the narrow interpretation right away. Having won the President's commitment not to withdraw from the ABM treaty, the Soviets are content to wait and deal with the next President on the question of what the treaty means. Yet it would be a mistake to assume that they have totally delinked SDI from the question of strategic arms reductions. In his Friday press conference, Reagan flatly stated that Star Wars now offers "no impediment" to a START agreement. That view, however, was openly disputed by a senior arms-control adviser, who noted that the Soviets might well relink the issue before the Moscow summit.

The two sides made even less progress on the other issues under discussion. Reagan began the very first session with an hour-long lecture on human rights, pointing out that the U.S., a nation of immigrants, felt strongly about the right of people to travel and live where they pleased. He referred in particular to the cases of Jews who were not permitted to leave the Soviet Union. In the heated discussion that followed, Gorbachev angrily told the President, "I'm not on trial here, and you're not a judge to judge me." Gorbachev then compared the Soviet Union's emigration curbs with America's restrictions on immigrants, notably from Mexico. Replied Reagan, quite rightly: "There's a big difference between wanting out and wanting in." Not surprisingly, the debate led nowhere.

Nor was there any movement on regional issues. There had been some hope that Gorbachev would announce a starting date for a promised Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan, but he declined to do so unless Reagan cut off aid to the Afghan rebels. There was no agreement, either, on Nicaragua or the Persian Gulf. Commenting on the lack of progress in these areas, Administration officials pointed out that in private meetings Gorbachev was much tougher than the charming image he offered to the public. "What you have gained is a guy you can talk to," said one Reagan aide, "but when it comes to substantive changes, forget it."

That judgment seems excessive. The INF treaty offers proof that a man one can talk to is a man one can deal with -- at least some of the time. In an upbeat press conference at week's end, Reagan said an "entirely different relationship" had now been established between himself and Gorbachev. To place too much significance on the wonders that can come from more amiable relations and personal rapport would be foolish and would dangerously ignore the vicissitudes of Soviet-American relations since World War II. Yet to dismiss the opportunity created by the vigorous Soviet leader who came calling last week would be equally foolish, and perhaps just as dangerous.

With reporting by James O. Jackson with Gorbachev, Barrett Seaman and Strobe Talbott/Washington