by Bret Baier
The discussion went on, vigorous and sometimes emotional. On that point the two men did not really understand each other. Each felt somewhat aggrieved by the other’s position. But Gorbachev was reaching for comity. Perhaps we could cooperate in space, he told the man whose SDI proposal had been a thorn in his side. Reagan agreed and laughed. It seemed as though they were still talking about Heaven—or at least the heavens.
The human rights agenda was at the front of Reagan’s mind as he sat down with Gorbachev the next day for their first official meeting. It was May 30, Memorial Day in the United States. It was the day Americans honored those who had died on the battlefield. Looking around the table, he realized that the people there were not just honoring those dead but aspiring to a peaceful world. That was a sobering thought.
Gorbachev, too, was thinking about the fight and the peace they sought.
The Russians had a great reverence for their country, with its noble history. They were a proud people who chafed at assaults by the West, including the harsh words Reagan had often directed against them. They wanted peace, but not if it meant abandoning their principles. And so Gorbachev began his remarks with that in mind: “If, as you say in the West, ‘politics should reflect the will of the electorate,’ then relations between us should grow more cordial. You can see how the Soviet people feel. I understand the American electorate also favors a resolution of differences with the Soviet Union.” Stressing that their people and the world at large were looking on with great interest and that any mistake they made would have grave consequences, he warned, “Both of us must play our roles carefully, recognizing the importance of our task and displaying maturity and responsibility in dealing with the problems before us.”
In their meetings, Reagan and Gorbachev discussed the matters at hand, the ratification of the INF Treaty, the stalled negotiations on START and the ABM Treaty, and of course, SDI. The tone was different from before, observed Matlock, who said the arguments lacked their usual heat. “The two were like actors wearily reciting a familiar script after it had been decided to postpone indefinitely the play’s opening,” he noted. That wasn’t quite true. In the aftermath of their success with the INF Treaty, there were more cumbersome matters to discuss, including how to constrain strategic arms and reach the 50 percent reduction they had set as a goal in Geneva. That was a far more complex matter, and both sides needed to be sure they got what they expected.
Gorbachev said the dilemma reminded him of a story his granddaughter had recently told him. An old man and woman heard a knock on their door one night. Opening it, they found an egg, which they put under their hen. But when it hatched, a three-headed dragon emerged instead of a chick. Message: Be careful you’re not giving birth to a monster.
And of course, there was the lingering question of SDI, which colored everything else. Although Gorbachev had essentially given in on SDI when they had met in Washington, it still bothered him. He pointed out that Reagan might mean well, but he was leaving office in less than eight months. How could he trust that future presidents wouldn’t turn SDI into an offensive program? He said wistfully that he wished Reagan’s term could be extended, as Roosevelt’s had been.
Reagan replied that if the SDI program became workable, it wouldn’t be put into effect until all nuclear weapons were eliminated.
Gorbachev countered with the obvious question: If all nuclear weapons were eliminated, why would SDI be necessary?
“It’s like a gas mask,” Reagan explained. Realistically, even if all nuclear weapons were gone, the technology existed and couldn’t be unlearned. There was no guarantee that another bad actor, such as Hitler, would devise weapons one day, and without SDI, the world would be vulnerable.
At that moment, Reagan waved his hand and knocked over a glass of water. He apologized, but Gorbachev found it quite amusing.
“Never mind, Mr. President,” he said. “A careless move with a glass of water is no big deal. If it happened with missiles . . .”
They talked for an hour and forty-five minutes and then broke. Earlier, Reagan had expressed his desire to visit a church. Gorbachev had arranged for the president to go to Danilov Monastery, which had been at the heart of the Russian Orthodox Church since its founding in 1282—except for a notable period between 1929 and 1983, when it had been closed and turned into a prison and then later into a factory. It had been the first monastery to be reopened in the modern era, the reason Gorbachev had selected it for a presidential visit. Additionally, it seemed that the monastery was one of Gorbachev’s pet showcases, which annoyed Christian dissidents who experienced too many other examples of repression.
In 1929, when the monastery had been taken over by Stalin, there was some fear that its beautiful bells would be destroyed. Charles Crane, an American businessman, had stepped in and purchased the bells, which were donated to Harvard. There they stayed until being returned to the monastery just that month. It was a historic restoration on the eve of Reagan’s visit.
Robed Orthodox monks showed the Reagans around the grounds, including the viewing of stunning icons, artwork Reagan spoke of in his brief address:
It’s been said that an icon is a window between heaven and earth through which the believing eye can peer into the beyond. One cannot look at the magnificent icons created, and recreated here under the direction of Father Zinon, without experiencing the deep faith that lives in the hearts of the people of this land. Like the saints and martyrs depicted in these icons, the faith of your people has been tested and tempered in the crucible of hardship. But in that suffering, it has grown strong, ready now to embrace with new hope the beginnings of a second Christian millennium.
Reagan also pointedly quoted from Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, the great Russian writer and dissident who had come to symbolize the struggle against oppression: “ ‘When you travel the byroads of central Russia, you begin to understand the secret of the pacifying Russian countryside. It is in the churches,’ Solzhenitsyn wrote. ‘They lift their bell towers—graceful, shapely, all different—high over mundane timber and thatch.’ ”
The day was becoming an ode to freedom, and that afternoon, Reagan continued the theme at a remarkable reception that had been in the works for weeks. As they’d made plans for their visit to Moscow, the Reagans had faced a very serious decision: whether to pay a personal visit to Yuri and Tatyana Zieman, Jewish refuseniks who had first applied to emigrate from Moscow more than a decade earlier. The plight of the Ziemans had come to Nancy’s attention through the wife of a musician named Vladimir Feltsman, who had emigrated the previous year, and their situation had touched her heart. She learned that Yuri had lost his job as a biomedical computer programmer when he had applied to leave and was working as a janitor. He had suffered a brain aneurysm months earlier, and even his doctors had recommended he travel to the West for lifesaving surgery. But the Soviets had turned down his latest appeal shortly before Shultz visited in April. Nancy wanted to do something, and she orchestrated a plan for the Reagans to drop by the Ziemans’ apartment to show their support while they were in Moscow. When Gorbachev learned of the plan, he was quite angry. Soon Jack Matlock was summoned for a discussion at Shevardnadze’s office. Shevardnadze’s deputy, Alexander Bessmertnykh, told the ambassador in no uncertain terms that if the Reagans went ahead with their scheme, it would be an embarrassment to Gorbachev and would place a strain on the summit. It would also be counterproductive for the Ziemans, jeopardizing their chances of leaving soon, if ever.
Bessmertnykh couldn’t make any promises, but he implied that if the Reagans agreed not to embarrass Gorbachev in that way, the Ziemans would soon be allowed to leave. (Just in case the Reagans went ahead with the visit anyway, the Soviets painted the Ziemans’ apartment and cleaned and patched the street outside their building.)
The Reagans agreed to forgo the drop-by. Instead, they planned an elegant reception in the ballroom of Spaso House, the US ambassador’s residence, for nearly a hundred dissidents and refuseniks, including
the Ziemans. The Reagans were well aware that it would be an act of courage for those people to attend an event there. Some revealed that they’d received threats from the KGB.
The stories told by the refuseniks were emotional and gripping. The very act of applying to leave had put them and their families in jeopardy. Some had spent time in prison; the careers of many had been terminated; all of them had been subjected to various forms of harassment.
Looking around, Reagan realized that those brave men and women were living embodiments of the quest for freedom that was his main purpose for coming to Moscow. He was inspired by them. “I came here hoping to do what I could to give you strength,” he told them. “Yet I already know that it is you who have strengthened me, you who have given me a message to carry back.”
In his remarks, he reminded them of the freedoms that were the right of every human, especially those they sought—freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and the freedom to travel. He encouraged them to hold on because change was upon them. He quoted the nineteenth-century Russian poet Alexander Pushkin: “It’s time, my friend, it’s time. The heart begs for peace; the days fly past, it’s time, my friend, it’s time.” Two months after the summit, the Ziemans were allowed to emigrate to Israel.
Later, a reporter asked press spokesman Gennadi Gerasimov if any harm would come to the refuseniks and dissidents who had met with Reagan. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I met with President Reagan today, but I don’t think I’m going to be harmed in any way by just meeting him.”
That evening, the Gorbachevs hosted their guests at a state dinner in the Chamber of Facets, housed in the Palace of Facets, a spectacular fifteenth-century Italian Renaissance–style stone building. The large, dramatic hall, with a central pillar, had once been a ceremonial setting for the czars. In his toast, Reagan turned personal and sentimental:
As wartime allies, we came to know you in a special way. But in a broader sense, the American people, like the rest of the world, admire the saga of the peoples of the Soviet Union. The clearing of the forest, the struggle to build a society, the evolution into a modern state, and the struggle against Hitler’s armies. There are other ways, too, that we know you: “Happy or sad, my beloved, you are beautiful,” says one of your folk songs, “as beautiful as a Russian song, as beautiful as a Russian soul.”
Gorbachev’s translator, Igor Korchilov, no doubt echoed many observers when he wrote of Reagan’s words and demeanor that night:
As I watched and listened to him, I found it hard to believe that it was happening right here in this “focus of the Evil Empire,” which he had castigated so often. That the former sworn enemies were now sharing speeches, but also private jokes and anecdotes, was hard to believe. I could have pinched myself to make sure it was not a dream . . . the ice of the Cold War seemed to be melting before my eyes.
Nancy was seated beside Gorbachev. At one point, he turned to her and said, “You know, your husband and I have a certain . . .”
Seeing that he was struggling for the word, she said, “Let me help you. Chemistry?”
“Yes, chemistry.”
“I know you do. I’m very aware of it, and so is my husband.”
“It’s very rare,” said Gorbachev.
REAGAN AND GORBACHEV WERE in Gorbachev’s office the second morning of the summit, alone after sitting for a photo op. Before they started their discussion, Reagan pulled out a gift for his friend, a denim jacket. Gorbachev held it up curiously and asked if it was his size. Reagan assured him that he had no way of knowing. “In any case,” Gorbachev said, “it was a marvelous souvenir”—one he would keep at home. In return, he gave Reagan a scale model of the Kremlin.
But the best gift was yet to come. Gorbachev said he had something pleasant he wanted to show the president. He grabbed a pile of correspondence from his desk and told him that they were some of the letters and cables people had sent Reagan through the Kremlin, which he wished to pass on. They sat together reading the messages, smiling and laughing:
OUR BABY DAUGHTER, WEIGHING 3100 GRAMS, WAS BORN ON MAY 28TH, THE EVE OF YOUR FIRST VISIT TO OUR COUNTRY. WITH THE BEST OF INTENTIONS, WE WISH TO NAME HER “REAGANA”—YOUR SURNAME WITH THE ADDITION OF THE LETTER “A.” WE WANT TO TELL YOU ABOUT THIS AND REQUEST YOUR CONSENT.
WE ARE HAPPY ABOUT YOUR ARRIVAL. WE HAVE JUST HAD A BABY GIRL. WE ASK YOUR PERMISSION TO NAME HER NANCY.
ESTEEMED MR. PRESIDENT: ON THE EVE OF YOUR ARRIVAL IN THE SOVIET UNION OUR SON WAS BORN. AS A SIGN OF STRENGTHENING FRIENDSHIP BETWEEN THE PEOPLES OF THE USSR AND THE USA WE HAVE DECIDED TO NAME OUR SON RONALD. WE INVITE YOU TO BECOME GODFATHER TO OUR SON.
ON THE DAY OF YOUR ARRIVAL IN OUR COUNTRY—A DAY OF HISTORICAL IMPORTANCE—OUR BABY DAUGHTER WAS BORN. WE HAVE DECIDED TO NAME HER NANCY IN HONOR OF YOUR WIFE. WE WISH YOU PRODUCTIVE WORK AND SUCCESS IN YOUR TALKS FOR THE GOOD OF THE WHOLE WORLD.
Gorbachev went on through the letters, both men beaming at the simple well wishes of the people from far and wide. Reagan was delighted, and Gorbachev promised to send him all the letters. They were still coming in. He hastened to add that they were completely spontaneous and genuine—similar to the types of letters he’d received from Americans after his visit to Washington. Reagan chuckled, imagining all the newly christened baby Mikhails and Raisas in the United States. It was a touching personal moment, highlighting the boundless hopes of ordinary people of both nations. In that way, two leaders with lofty issues on their minds, and burdened by political considerations, were pulled back to Earth by the simple expressions of the citizens who only wanted a peaceful world and better lives.
The letters from the United States were interesting, Gorbachev added. Some questioned whether the interaction between the two nations was worthwhile. He always responded by highlighting the interests at stake for them and for the world, and how the United States and the Soviet Union had a special role to play in that process.
“I have one simple rule,” Reagan responded. “You don’t get into trouble by talking to each other, instead of just about each other.”
Gorbachev then launched into a remarkably candid explanation of what he was trying to accomplish with perestroika. The main thing was democratization, he said. Not just economic, though that was important—especially autonomy in production and among the workers—but also in life. To achieve that, he confided, meant that the Party would need to give up some of the functions it should not have. Interestingly, he stressed that those reforms were not an abdication of socialism; his aim was to bring socialism to its fullest potential. Slapping the coffee table in front of them with the flat of his hand, he added that in socialism they did not want to level things out like a table. The point was, the better producer would be the better earner. The better worker or the better scientist would be paid more. That was a startling statement. Clearly he was still working out how socialism could thrive in what was essentially a market economy.
He was just thinking aloud, he said, but cooperation, expanded trade measures, bilateral exchanges—that was the direction in which they must go.
The key is to eliminate mistrust, Reagan replied simply. Yes, Gorbachev agreed, that was the whole point of what they were doing.
Before the summit, Shultz had urged Reagan to make sure to take a walk in Red Square, which he considered to be one of the greatest sights in the world. Some of the worrywarts at the White House were concerned about the optics—what would the American people make of pictures of Reagan in front of Lenin’s tomb? But in Helsinki Shultz brought up the idea again. He told Reagan about the beauty of the square, adding a bit of history: “Red” was the English translation of the Russian word for “beautiful,” and the “Beautiful Square” had been named that before communism. (Noting the translation, Korchilov later joked about the American saying “Better dead than Red,” noting that “ ‘Better dead than beautiful’ would not have had the same ring.”)
Shultz suggested that Reagan say, “Mr. General Secretary, I understand that Red Square is
quite a sight to see, and some time during the course of this visit, I’d like to see it.” Reagan nodded. He did want to see Red Square. “I’ll bet that Gorbachev will say ‘great idea,’ and he’ll wind up being your tour guide,” Shultz said. And that’s essentially what happened.
They looked perfectly at ease with each other as they strolled out onto the square, stopping to chat with groups of citizens. “There were all these collections of people around the square, maybe eight or ten people in one,” Fitzwater said. “And they were all dressed like peasants. The women had on long print floral dresses like the country ladies would wear and babushkas. The men wore suits, but they were workingmen’s suits.” It was, he thought, a picture of the common people straight out of central casting.
Fitzwater began to notice that some of the questions were odd, coming from ordinary peasants. For example, one elderly woman asked Reagan, “Mr. President, why won’t you allow us to see the telemetry from your space shuttle adventures or program?” Another asked about sharing space data, and a third asked a similar technical question.
