TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/caps/84/84chr13

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                                                                                February 27, 1984

SOVIET UNION

Moving To Center Stage


In his debut, Chernenko assumes a cautious but determined stance


"What will the West think?"  That timeless refrain, heard so
often throughout Russian history, was voiced by a puzzled Soviet
official last week as he pondered the remarkable political
comeback of Konstantin Ustinovich Chernenko. The official's
words were tinged with irony and embarrassment over what he
considered to be the advanced age and limited qualifications of
the man who had been selected by the Communist Party Central
Committee to succeed Yuri Andropov. But they also betrayed a
deep sense of uncertainty, even misgiving, that was felt around
the globe as one of the superpowers went about its secret rite
of political passage for the second time in just 15 months.

Only five times before has the world tried to peer through the
Kremlin's wall of secrecy to witness a changing of the guard.*
The sixth transition, which brought Chernenko to the forefront,
was announced at 1:57 p.m. Moscow time last Monday. It was as
full of imponderables as any that had gone before. Why, for
example, had the tiny circle of men who rule the Soviet Union
risked another short- term regime and picked Chernenko, 72, the
oldest man ever selected to hold the country's most important
position?  How would that choice affect the lives -- and indeed
the spirits -- of 274 million Soviets, who had watched Andropov
begin to energize a cumbersome economic system only to leave the
task undone?  For a world anxious about the arms race, could the
appointment lead to a thaw in relations with the U.S. and the
resumption of the nuclear arms negotiations that were ruptured
when the Soviets walked out of the Geneva talks late last year?

Because of the new Soviet leader's long career as chief
administrator of the Central Committee and as Leonid Brezhnev's
appointments secretary, many Western analysts had dismissed
Chernenko as a faceless bureaucrat who would always be
everyone's second choice for the job. Now he was being seen as
the last-gasp leader of a gerontocracy intent on keeping the
younger generation from moving too quickly in the corridors of
power. Said a Western diplomat in Moscow:  "If Andropov had
lasted another four months, I don't think Chernenko would have
made it."

Much about Chernenko suggested that he had stepped into history
straight from the Siberian village where he was born on Sept.
24, 1911, only seven months and 18 days after Ronald Reagan.
His open, almost cherubic face, with frosted brows that slant
upward and icy blue eyes set in high Asiatic cheekbones, seemed
unpretentious. As the new Soviet leader went through his paces
last week, his dark suit appeared to hang awkwardly from his
broad, slightly hunched shoulders. He seemed almost relieved
after a Kremlin reception to enjoy a few private moments of male
camaraderie with his elderly Politburo comrades, revealing a
glint of gold as he smiled once or twice.

No sooner had Andropov been buried near the Kremlin wall last
week than rumors began to circulate that Chernenko was not in
the best of health. It was widely noted that he had disappeared
for two months last spring, reportedly because of illness. As
the new Soviet leader read a eulogy for Andropov from atop the
Lenin Mausoleum, he spoke in short, icy gasps. It was observed
by a Western analyst -- and such observations are both the meat
and the bones of Kremlinology -- that Chernenko seemed to
breathe at least three times as often as his neighbor on the
reviewing stand, Defense Minister Dimitri Ustinov, 75. Later,
the new General Secretary was seen to be barely able to keep his
arm raised in a salute as crack Soviet troops marched past.
After meeting Chernenko, British Social Democratic Leader David
Owen, a physician, said that he thought the new Soviet leader
was suffering from emphysema, a disease marked by shortness of
breath.

Given the confusing circumstances of the latest succession, not
the least of which was the fact that 93 hours passed before the
Central Committee announced its decision, it was far too early
to make judgments about Chernenko's future or be definitive
about the direction that his regime might take. The coming
months would show whether he was capable of amassing the same
power that his recent predecessors had or whether he would have
to share the titles and trappings of Soviet rule with his
colleagues on the Politburo. Warned Dimitri Simes, a senior
associate with the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace:
"We overestimated Andropov. The danger now is to underestimate
Chernenko."

For the moment, the new Soviet leader, whatever his drawbacks,
plunged vigorously into the mandatory round of receptions and
speechmaking. In his international debut, he seemed intent both
on exuding confidence and authority and on reversing his
longstanding image as nothing more than Brezhnev's loyal aide.

After a state funeral for Andropov in Red Square attended by
thousands, Chernenko received more than 170 foreign dignitaries
amid czarist-era splendor in the Kremlin's Hall of St. George.
Unlike his predecessor, who had engaged in reception-line
diplomacy following Brezhnev's funeral, Chernenko shook hands
stiffly, his face rarely creasing into the smile of the
practiced politician. He did not appear to greet such Communist
stalwarts as Cuban Leader Fidel Castro or Polish Premier
Wojciech Jaruzelski with any more enthusiasm than he greeted
Vice President George Bush or British Prime Minister Margaret
Thatcher.

Whatever personal words Chernenko had were apparently reserved
for private sessions, such as the meeting he held with Warsaw
Pact leaders. He also conferred with Castro, Afghanistan Party
Leader Babrak Karmal and Nicaraguan Junta Coordinator Daniel
Ortega Saavedra. Chernenko pointedly snubbed Palestine
Liberation Organization Chairman Yasser Arafat, whose leadership
has been challenged by pro-Syrian rebels and who had to watch
the funeral from a section reserved for the ambassadors of
Western and neutral countries. China's Vice Premier Wan Li, the
highest-ranking Chinese leader to set foot in Moscow in more
than two decades, was received by Soviet Deputy Premier Geidar
Aliyev, in strict conformity with protocol.

Vice President Bush had traveled to Moscow to affirm President
Reagan's new commitment to improved superpower relations. He
went into his private meeting with Chernenko wearing a tiny
lapel pin from the U.S.-U.S.S.R. Trade and Economic Council that
showed crossed American and Soviet flags. Bush described his
30-minute chat as "very tempered, very reasonable" and noted
that he was returning home "with a certain sense of optimism."
According to the Vice President, Chernenko seemed self-assured
and responded without using notes. "Mr. Chernenko conducted the
meeting without turning from right to left for assistance," said
Bush. "He gave the impression of a man who has the potential
to be a strong leader."

When asked if the White House was pressing for a summit with the
new Soviet leader, Bush would say only that the personal letter
from the President, typed in English, that he had handed to
Chernenko made no mention of "a date or specifics for a
meeting."  Meanwhile, Reagan, who had visited the Soviet embassy
in Washington on Monday to sign a book of condolences, was more
outspoken in dampening speculation about a super-power summit.
In a newspaper interview, he opposed the notion of a
"get-acquainted" summit. Said the President:  "You should have
an agenda to have such a meeting that lays out the issues that
we need to discuss."

Encouraged by the warm reception she received during a visit to
Hungary earlier this month, Britain's Thatcher was also intent
on improving relations with the Soviet Union. In her meeting
with the leadership, she managed to strike a subtle balance
between the stiffly formal Kremlin protocol and the more relaxed
style of Western diplomatic gestures. TIME has learned that
Thatcher, in consultation with Washington, hopes to expand
bilateral meetings between East-bloc and Western foreign
ministers in order to lay the groundwork for a possible
superpower summit along the lines of the 1974 meeting between
President Gerald Ford and Brezhnev in Vladivostok. Said
Thatcher:  "If there is to be progress on arms control, it will
come not through negotiating skill alone but because a broader
understanding has been reached."

French Premier Pierre Mauroy came away from his session with
Chernenko, whom he had met in Paris two years ago, confident
that Soviet-French relations were on the mend. West German
Chancellor Helmut Kohl had the feeling that the new Soviet
leadership was "weighing its words."  Canadian Prime Minister
Pierre Trudeau saw hope in the fact that "there was a repetition
of the use of the word detente and a real continuity with the
Brezhnev spirit."  But Chernenko gave Western leaders no hint
that the Soviet Union was about to change its position on the
new NATO missiles in Europe. Reports on Chernenko's round of
meetings carried by the official news agency TASS were decidedly
more guarded than most Western assessments.

Muscovites watched from a distance as the diplomatic motorcades,
led by blue-and-yellow police cars, crisscrossed the Soviet
capital. They also gathered in front of television sets for news
of what was transpiring in the Kremlin. For many, the stiff,
unsmiling black- and-white portrait of Chernenko that appeared
on the screen seemed to say it all. Soviets morbidly joked that
if they had missed the Andropov funeral, they would "catch the
next one."  A man overheard on an elevator offered his own
explanation of the succession: "Chernenko couldn't make it the
first time when he was competing with Andropov. Now that the
better man is gone he'll get his chance." Said a worried Moscow
housewife:  "We are going back to the old ways. Andropov was a
strong leader and a strict disciplinarian. Chernenko is like
Brezhnev, softer. The Soviet people need someone who will make
them work."

In his acceptance speech before the Central Committee,
Chernenko tried hard to allay the misgivings he must have known
many of his countrymen felt. "Continuity," he said, "is not an
abstract notion. It is a living, real cause."  He praised
Andropov and urged that the best tribute the nation could pay
the late Soviet leader would be to "carry on and further
advance" his work. But Chernenko also called on party activists
to "realistically evaluate what has been accomplished, neither
exaggerating nor belittling it."

The Kremlin's new master offered no bold foreign policy
initiatives. He restated his nation's commitment to the
principle of "peaceful coexistence" and railed against the
"reckless, adventurist actions of imperialism's aggressive
forces."  The Soviet Union, he said, did not seek military
superiority, but would not allow others to upset the strategic
balance. In a passage that must have pleased the military
establishment, he promised to "see to it that our country's
defense capacity be strengthened, that we should have enough
means to cool the hot heads of militant adventurists."

Chernenko balanced his tough words with vague assurances that
Moscow recognized that it had a responsibility for "preserving
and strengthening peace."  Said he:  "We are for a peaceful
settlement of all disputable international problems through
serious, equal and constructive talks. The U.S.S.R. will
cooperate in full measure with all states that are prepared to
assist through practical deeds to lessening international
tensions."  Washington analysts carefully scrutinized such
passages last week, looking for signals that the new regime
might be more amenable to finding a way out of the superpower
deadlock.

The main order of business for Chernenko, however, was the
Soviet economy, which has been plagued by slower growth and
widespread inefficiency. Borrowing some of the very words that
Andropov had used in several speeches, Chernenko complained
about "slackness" and "irresponsibility," noting that they
"inflict serious social, moral damage."  According to Chernenko,
the whole Soviet economic machine was in need of "serious
restructuring."  Said he:  "We expect from our economic
executives more independence at all levels, a bold search and,
if necessary, a well-justified risk in the name of increasing
the effectiveness of the economy and ensuring a rise in the
living standards of the people."

Drawing on his long experience in the Soviet bureaucracy,
Chernenko advocated a clearer separation between the work of the
party and that of state and economic organizations. The result,
he said, would be less duplication of effort. Said he:
"Workers at municipalities, ministries and enterprises do not
display the necessary independence, but shift to party bodies
the matters that they should handle themselves."  If such
practices continued, warned Chernenko, they would weaken the
party's political role. He reaffirmed that the party's strength
must be "its contact with the masses" and "their practical
attitude to production matters, to problems of public life."

Judging from Chernenko's speech, the new Soviet leader seems
intent on doing just what his predecessor did -- at least for
the immediate future. In the area of foreign policy, Chernenko
does not appear to be any more willing than Andropov to resume
nuclear arms talks. Nor does he seem to be eager for an early
summit meeting with Reagan. Given Chernenko's limited experience
with diplomacy and defense, he will probably rely on the advice
of two Politburo veterans, Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko and
Defense Minister Ustinov. Richard Thomas, director of the
Center for Strategic Technology at Texas A&M University,
believes that Chernenko will "rest on the oars a bit, see how
the wind is blowing and move accordingly."

The same principle may apply to the new leader's handling of
domestic problems. Chernenko will probably continue the limited
economic experiments that Andropov began, which give some
enterprises the power to make decisions more independently of
centralized control. He has given indications that he wants to
pursue Andropov's campaign for greater discipline and
efficiency. The former leader had cracked down on absenteeism
and drunkenness on the shop floor and on corruption in
government ministries. But Chernenko is a conservative by
instinct, with more experience in carrying out than in
initiating policies. Says French Sovietologist Helene Carrere
d'Encausse:  "He might adopt the themes of the anti-corruption
campaign, but he will keep the debate ideological and will avoid
making waves."

As Chernenko moved to take control, Kremlinologists set about
the task of unraveling the mystery surrounding the new leader's
rise to power. A western envoy concluded that Chernenko's
acceptance speech was almost three times as long as Andropov's
because he had to please more factions. Many Soviet experts
viewed the delay in announcing a new leader as an indication of
serious divisions within the Politburo. But in fact there was
no concrete information about what took place between Andropov's
death and the announcement of Chernenko's elevation.

With the benefit of hindsight, many experts concluded that
Chernenko's election was predictable. For months his name had
appeared near the top of the lists of dignitaries who signed
official obituaries. Chernenko's collected writings and
speeches were reprinted amid glowing reviews in the press. When
workers nominated their candidates for next month's elections
to the Supreme Soviet, the nominal parliament, Chernenko along
with Premier Nikolai Tikhonov, 78, consistently placed second,
after Andropov. The selection of Chernenko as chairman of the
funeral committee was the final hint.

But how had Chernenko staged his political comeback?  According
to speculation at the time of Andropov's election, Chernenko had
been passed over because of his close ties to the Brezhnev
bureaucracy. According to this theory, the party apparatus, and
hence Chernenko, had lost out when Defense Minister Ustinov
tipped the balance in support of Andropov, who had been head of
the KGB for 15 years and shared the military's concern for
discipline and efficiency. The actual explanation may have been
far simpler. Andropov's colleagues on the Politburo apparently
considered him to be the more qualified of the two. But once
Andropov's health began to fail, Ustinov, Tikhonov and Gromyko
evidently decided to line up behind Chernenko rather than throw
their support to a younger contender whom they considered too
inexperienced for the job. It was Tikhonov who eventually
nominated Chernenko in the closed Central Committee meeting.

Chernenko may be well suited to serve as chairman of the board
in what could prove to be the most collective Soviet leadership
since the first years of the Brezhnev era. A major test of his
personal power will come when the Politburo decides who will
assume two other posts left vacant after Andropov's death:  the
largely ceremonial position of Chairman of the Presidium of the
Supreme Soviet, in effect President, and Chairman of the Defense
Council, a shadowy group that oversees national security policy.
If Chernenko fails to be named to either post, he may prove to
be little more than a caretaker.

Just as Andropov promoted several of his own men into the party
machinery, Chernenko could use his power of appointment to
consolidate control. But he too may run out of time. For the
second time, the Politburo has postponed handing authority to
the younger generation, represented by Geidar Aliyev, 60,
Mikhail Gorbachev, 52, Grigori Romanov, 61, and Vitali
Vorotnikov, 58. One of Chernenko's most pressing tasks will be
to find ways of moving men like these into positions of power
without threatening the old guard. One possibility is to give
one of the "youths" the job of Premier, now held by Tikhonov.

There were signs last week that the logjam at the top had
finally begun to break. Soviet officials hinted to members of
the French delegation that Gorbachev, who is responsible for
agriculture, had emerged from the Central Committee session as
the No. 2 man in the leadership and that he might soon be given
"a high rank in the state bureaucracy."  If Andropov had been
grooming Gorbachev to succeed him, as had been widely thought,
Gorbachev was apparently shrewd enough not to press his claims
now. In a move that could be significant, he gave the closing
address at the party meeting that elected Chernenko; when
Andropov was named, that honor had gone to Chernenko. Another
hint of Gorbachev's rise in status came when he stood at
Chernenko's right as the leadership paid its respects to
Andropov at the neoclassical House of Trade Unions. Gorbachev
later assumed a prominent position among the pallbearers at the
funeral.

Since the Central Committee session was closed to the public,
it was during Andropov's burial ceremony that Soviets heard
Chernenko speak for the first time as leader of the Communist
Party. The performance did not inspire confidence. Standing
atop the dark red marble Lenin Mausoleum in 23 degree F weather,
Chernenko read the prepared text of his eulogy haltingly, almost
gasping his words. He restated briefly the main foreign policy
themes of his address to the party plenum. Noting that the
Soviet Union was ready "for honest talks on the basis of
equality and equal security," Chernenko also warned that "we
will not be scared by threats."  His voice sounded thin and
quavering as he said, "Farewell, our dear friend and comrade,
Yuri Vladimirovich! Your bright image will remain with us
forever."

In contrast, Gromyko and Ustinov seemed poised and assured as
they stepped to the podium, conveying the impression that the
foreign policy Establishment and the military were strong
pillars of the new regime. In a resonant baritone, Gromyko
stated bluntly that "those who are pursuing a policy of
militarism, the mad arms race and interference in the internal
affairs of other countries should renounce this policy and
substitute for it a policy of peace and cooperation."  Ustinov
added his own forceful commentary. Ten times he invoked
Andropov's name, praising the late Soviet leader for his
"unflagging attention to securing a reliable defense."

The funeral rites had unfolded with solemn precision, a fitting
tribute to a leader who had stressed discipline and order. As
the strains of Chopin's Funeral March sounded over and over
again in mournful monotony, the procession set off from the
House of Trade Unions toward Red Square along 600 yards of
streets that had been brushed clean of ice and snow. A burial
plot had been marked off for Andropov in the special cemetery
along the Kremlin wall reserved for prominent Communist leaders.
Appropriately, Andropov was buried alongside Felix Dzerzhinsky,
the man who in 1917 had founded the security agency that grew
into the KGB empire that Andropov ran before becoming party
leader.

Two generals led the funeral parade, carrying a large portrait
of Andropov. His full-cheeked, almost youthful face contrasted
dramatically with the skeletal, almost alabaster profile that
thousands had glimpsed while filing past his coffin. A sea of
red floral wreaths followed, adding a brilliant touch to a
procession colored mostly in drab grays and black. Then two
officers in tall Astrakhan hats appeared, carrying the late
leader's 21 medals, including Orders of Lenin and Orders of the
Red Banner of Labor on red satin pillows. It was exactly half
the number of medals that had accompanied Brezhnev to his grave.

Finally the coffin, draped in red and black cloth, came slowly
into view, resting atop a gun carriage drawn by an olive-green
military scout vehicle. Walking immediately behind were the
members of Andropov's family:  his son Igor and his daughter
Irina, who was wearing a stylish red fox coat. Andropov's widow
Tatyana, whose existence was not publicly known before
Andropov's death, was too grief-stricken to join in the
procession. The Politburo leaders, almost indistinguishable
from one another in their fur hats and look- alike overcoats
with red armbands, led the last group of official mourners.

In life, Andropov was a figure far removed from the world of
average Soviets. The tears of distraught family members made
him seem more human in death. Before the lid could be closed
on Andropov's coffin, his wife bent to kiss his pale forehead.
She tenderly caressed his sparse hair and then kissed him
again. She had behaved at that moment of grief as any Russian
woman would. For many Soviets witnessing the scene on their
television screens, that moving glimpse of private pain seemed
to cut through the hundreds of thousands of words that spewed
forth in official obituaries and were scarcely different from
those that had marked Brezhnev's passing.

At exactly 12:45 p.m. Tuesday, Andropov's coffin was lowered
into the ground 50 feet from the Kremlin wall. From the Moscow
River, foghorns blared, joining with sirens, wheezing factory
whistles and rolling gunfire in a mournful cacophony. When the
noisy tribute had ended, an eerie silence hung for five minutes
over Red Square -- and the nation. Then Chernenko and his
eleven comrades on the Politburo regrouped on the mausoleum to
review troops from the Moscow garrison, parading briskly past
them to the strains of a stirring march. The Andropov era,
brief as it was, had ended.

As the Chernenko regime began last week, workmen dismantled the
enormous portraits of the late leader and took down the red and
black bunting that had shrouded the Soviet capital during four
days of mourning. The hammer-and-sickle flags above the Kremlin
were raised again to full staff. Most dead Soviet leaders
vanish quickly into history. It was not clear how much of
Andropov's legacy would survive the transition. For the moment,
the watchword appeared to be continuity. Said a senior British
diplomat:  "Making haste slowly is likely to be the policy."
After months of stasis and drift, the Soviet colossus may begin
to move again.


*Joseph Stalin became party leader in 1922. After his death in
1953, Georgi Malenkov briefly held the post, but he soon gave
way to Nikita Khrushchev. Leonid Brezhnev took over in 1964,
and Andropov succeeded Brezhnev in 1982.

--By John Kohan.  Reported by Erik Amfitheatrof/Moscow, with
other bureaus