TIME: Almanac 1995

home *** CD-ROM | disk | FTP | other *** search

/ TIME: Almanac 1995 / TIME Almanac 1995.iso / time / 051093 / 05109933.000 < prev next >

Wrap

Text File | 1994-03-25 | 24.9 KB | 491 lines

<text id=93TT1658> <title> May 10, 1993: The Ultimate Summit </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1993 May 10, 1993 Ascent of a Woman: Hillary Clinton </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> SPECIAL BOOK EXCERPT, Page 50 The Ultimate Summit </hdr> <body> Reykjavik was called a near disaster or near farce. In Turmoil and Triumph, George Shultz tells the inside story of how Ronald Reagan came within one word of eliminating all nuclear weapons. (c) 1993 by George P. Shultz. From Turmoil and Triumph: My Years as Secretary of State, to be published by Charles Scribner's Sons/A Robert Stewart Book TAKING ON THE EVIL EMPIRE The beginning of a new year in Washington is always fresh. The Administration comes back with a sense of new possibilities. Early 1983 was such a time. I wanted to develop a strategy for a new start with the Soviet Union and its leader Yuri Andropov. I felt we had to try to turn the relationship around: away from confrontation and toward real problem solving. An opportunity had come to me in a message from Soviet Ambassador Anatoli Dobrynin in December 1982 proposing the start of U.S.-Soviet discussions at all levels. But I needed a much clearer sense of where Ronald Reagan stood if I was to be able to move us from rhetoric to real engagement. I knew there would be opposition--from National Security Adviser Bill Clark and his staff, from Secretary Caspar Weinberger and others at the Defense Department, from Director Bill Casey and his soul mates at the CIA--warning the President that I, with my negotiating experience, and the State Department with its bent to "better relations" posed a threat to the President's crusade against communism. I would have to be deft, but I was determined not to hang back. I realized that I needed to have Reagan's full support to turn our relationship with the Soviets into something constructive. On Saturday, Feb. 12, my telephone rang. It was Nancy Reagan inviting my wife O'Bie and me to the White House for dinner. A heavy snowfall had prevented the Reagans from going to Camp David. When we arrived that evening, the President and First Lady were relaxed and talkative. He expressed his ideas openly about the Soviet Union. He recognized how difficult it was for him to move forward in dealing with that country, that he was blocked by many on his staff and by his own past rhetoric. Now that we were talking in this family setting, I could see that he was much more willing to move forward in relations than I had earlier believed. Reagan saw himself as an experienced negotiator going back to his days as president of the Screen Actors Guild. He was self-confident about his views and positions. He had never had a lengthy session with an important leader of a communist country, and I could sense he would relish such an opportunity. "I will be meeting Dobrynin late Tuesday afternoon," I told him. "What would you think about my bringing Dobrynin over to the White House for a private chat?" "Great," he responded. "But we have to keep this secret. I don't intend to engage in a detailed exchange, but I do intend to tell him that if Andropov is willing to do business, so am I." After that first two-hour talk between the President and Dobrynin, I was impressed and reassured. The President had addressed many issues and spoken with genuine feeling and eloquence on the subject of human rights, and was personally engaged. I felt this could be a turning point with the Soviets. But getting the superpower dialogue going was not easy. On March 8 the President spoke in Orlando, Florida, to the annual convention of the National Association of Evangelicals. Unknown to me or others at the State Department, the end of the speech contained several passages on the Soviet Union. The President argued forcefully against the nuclear-freeze movement and harked to a struggle between good and evil, invoking a phrase that instantly became a center of controversy. "I urge you to beware the temptation of pride--the temptation of blithely declaring yourselves above it all and label both sides equally at fault, to ignore the facts of history and the aggressive impulses of an evil empire, to simply call the arms race a giant misunderstanding and thereby remove yourself from the struggle between right and wrong and good and evil." Calling the Soviet Union an evil empire transformed this into a major speech, even though it had not been planned through any careful or systematic process. No doubt Soviet leaders were offended, and many of our friends were alarmed. How conscious of the implications of the words the President and his speechwriters were, I do not know. Whether or not he was wise to use this phrase to describe the Soviet Union, it was in fact an empire and evil abounded. Nevertheless, I was determined to devise a new approach. The President gave me the go-ahead, but I could see that he was concerned that if he gave a green light, I would run off and initiate actions that would change the atmosphere with the Soviets. So I would need to be careful. There was no road map. I would need to make my own and keep going over my proposed route with the President privately, receiving his agreement and then seeking ways to have him make his Administration follow through. THE VISION THAT SHOOK THE WORLD My first intimation of what was to become the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI), though I didn't realize it at the time, came on the same snowbound evening of Feb. 12. That far-reaching conversation provided an important insight into Ronald Reagan's real feelings, his beliefs, his desires. He talked about his abhorrence of Mutual Assured Destruction as the centerpiece of the strategic doctrine of deterrence. The idea of relying on the ability to wipe each other out to prevent war had no appeal to him. How much better it would be, safer, more humane, he felt, if we could defend ourselves against nuclear weapons. Maybe there was a way. He hoped for the day when there would be no nuclear weapons. I later learned that he had received encouragement from the Joint Chiefs of Staff the previous day, that a defense against nuclear missiles might prove feasible and a major research effort was needed. I did not know much about the science, but it seemed to present huge, perhaps insuperable problems. As I listened to President Reagan that evening, I understood the importance of what he was saying, but I had absolutely no idea that the views he was expressing had any near-term operational significance. On Monday, March 21, Under Secretary of State Larry Eagleburger reported to me that the President would give a speech on Wednesday. The Joint Chiefs had convinced the President that the MX mobile missile would remain vulnerable to attack but that there was an alternative. "The alternative is a high-tech strategic defense system that can protect us against ballistic missiles and thereby protect our offensive capabilities. The President is intrigued and wants to make strategic defense the subject of his speech," said Eagleburger. "The chiefs," I countered, "are not equipped to make this kind of proposal. We don't have the technology to say this. It changes the whole strategic doctrine of the United States." Eagleburger replied that the President had nevertheless decided that "by the close of the century, we should turn to a strategic defense and by then banish all nuclear weapons." The two were always linked in Reagan's mind. Later in the day, I went to the White House for a meeting with the President. I found great resistance to any change in the words for the speech. "I'm not objecting to research and development," I told the President, "but this is a bombshell. Can you be sure of an impenetrable shield? What about the ABM treaty? What about our allies and the doctrine on which they depend?" His answers were not at all satisfactory to me. The next day we received a new draft of the speech, with the style and substance toned down. That evening the President called me again. "I still have great reservations," I said, "not about the research, but about advancing this as something of such tremendous importance and scope. I can see the moral ground you want to stake out, but I don't want to see you put something forward so powerfully only to find technical flaws or major doctrinal weaknesses. I have to say honestly that I am deeply troubled." The President responded by stressing the overwhelming attractions of a defensive system. I could see the depth of his feelings, and of course I could agree that if we could learn to defend ourselves, that would be wonderful. Then came the speech itself. It was stunning and dramatic, and so was the reaction. But the President carried his vision even further. A few days later, he told reporters that if the U.S. developed a comprehensive defensive system, a future President would offer to share that technology with the Soviet Union "to prove that there was no longer any need for keeping these missiles. With that defense, he could then say to them, `I am willing to do away with all my missiles. You do away with all yours.' " The truth of SDI's origin was simple: the vision came from Ronald Reagan. Physicist Edward Teller told me that in 1967, when Reagan had just been elected Governor of California, he came to the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory for a briefing on Teller's research on how to defend against nuclear attack by using nuclear explosives. Reagan listened intently, asked many questions but made no comments. This may have become the first gleam in his eye of what later became SDI. I later learned of another pivotal event that had shaped the President's thinking. In July 1979, Reagan visited the North American Aerospace Defense Command at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. He was accompanied by Martin Anderson, an economist who became Reagan's counselor on domestic affairs. As Anderson later recounted, they walked through massive steel doors several feet thick into what amounted to an underground city carved out of the mountain. After a series of briefings, they were ushered into the command center, a cavernous room with a large display showing the U.S. and its surrounding airspace and an array of consoles attended by the men and women on duty. Here, they were told, ballistic missiles and other intruders would be tracked. Anderson asked Commanding General James Hill what would happen if a Soviet SS-18 missile hit within a few hundred yards of the steel front doors. Without a moment's hesitation, the general answered, "It would blow us away." Reagan was incredulous. "What can we do about it?" he asked. The answer was that we could track the missile, but we couldn't do anything to stop it. Reagan shook his head, deeply disturbed that America had no means of defense against nuclear attack. He was clearly stunned. "There must be something better than this," he said. The impression this experience made on him was indelible. After Reagan became President, I learned, a small group of scientists and businessmen had been set to work secretly in the White House in September 1981, chaired by presidential counsellor Ed Meese. Teller, among others, kept pushing. In December 1982, at one of the President's periodic meetings with the Joint Chiefs, he had asked them whether they thought strategic defense was feasible. On Feb. 11, the Joint Chiefs gave encouragement and a supportive report. Once Reagan became sold on SDI, he looked for ways to persuade others that his idea was right. It was a Reagan characteristic I would observe again and again. He had visionary ideas. In pursuing them, he displayed some of his strongest qualities: an ability to break through entrenched thinking to support his vision of a better future and a readiness to stand by his vision regardless of pressure, scorn or setback. At the same time, he could fall prey to a serious weakness: a tendency to rely on his staff and friends to the point of accepting uncritically--even wishfully--advice that was amateurish and even irresponsible. Some in the Administration became deeply committed to strategic defense and believed that the program would succeed. To them this meant that SDI should never be mentioned in negotiations. Others saw SDI as a "bargaining chip" in the broadest sense, as a way of getting the Soviets' attention on arms control. President Reagan said SDI would never be a bargaining chip. In our subsequent negotiations with the Soviets, the integrity of the basic program was never compromised. But SDI proved to be of deep concern to the Soviets. In fact, it proved to be the ultimate bargaining chip. And we played it for all it was worth. WHAT REALLY HAPPENED AT REYKJAVIK Ronald Reagan's vision reached its apogee in late 1986 at the most unpredictable summit that ever transpired between the superpowers. There was a unique sense of uncertainty in the air. The meeting had come about so suddenly. Arms control would be central. Proposals and counterproposals had placed an immense amount of detailed content on the table in the strategic arms talks (START) and intermediate-range weapons (INF) negotiations. The area of space and defense was the most difficult and contentious. The two sides were converging on proposals to reduce offensive ballistic missiles, but the Soviets were trying to link the cuts to constraints on SDI development. On Saturday, Oct. 11, after a brief session for photographers, the two leaders met alone for 30 minutes. When Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze and I joined Reagan and General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev in a small room, the two leaders had confirmed to each other their mutual objective of eliminating all nuclear weapons. Gorbachev launched into a lengthy presentation of sweeping proposals on strategic and intermediate-range arms, space and defense, and nuclear testing. He was brisk, impatient, confident, with the air of a man who is setting the agenda. Ronald Reagan was relaxed, disarming in a pensive way, and with an easy manner. He could well afford to be, since Gorbachev's proposals all moved toward U.S. positions in significant ways. Reagan listened quietly to Gorbachev's dynamic presentation. When he got his turn, he commented briefly on various shortcomings of Gorbachev's proposals. "The point is," he said, "that success with SDI would make the elimination of nuclear weapons possible." Gorbachev seemed taken aback at President Reagan's pleasant but argumentative reaction. He suggested that since he had put many new ideas on the table, we should take a break. When we reconvened that afternoon, Reagan spoke from the heart, explaining why the U.S. would go forward with research on a space defense system. The American people, he said, should not be left defenseless. SDI would eventually make possible the elimination of all nuclear ballistic missiles, he felt. If tests showed that the system worked, the U.S. would be obligated to share it with the Soviet Union. Then an agreement could be negotiated on the elimination of all ballistic missiles. Ronald Reagan presented a revolutionary, far-reaching concept, and his presentation made clear how devoted he was to that vision. Gorbachev was highly irritated by the presentation. "You will take the arms race into space," he said. He added regretfully that he did not believe that the U.S. would share SDI with Moscow. "If you will not share oil-drilling equipment or even milk-processing factories," he said, "I do not believe that you will share SDI." President Reagan responded eloquently about the need to free humanity from fear: "When I was a boy, women and children could not be killed indiscriminately from the air. Wouldn't it be great if we could make the world as safe today?" The whole nature of the meeting we had planned at Reykjavik had changed. During the night, working teams arrived at dramatic agreements. On START we both accepted big reductions in heavy ballistic missiles, with equal outcomes of warheads and delivery vehicles. Paul Nitze, our arms-control coordinator, achieved a critical breakthrough on bomber-counting rules that truly made the outcome equal for our different force structures. And we had come close to agreement on INF. Day two began early Sunday. When the President and the General Secretary reviewed the night's work, their faces fell. Reagan said he was disappointed. What about INF? Gorbachev said he was very disappointed. What about SDI? I thought, here are stunning breakthroughs in arms control--they both know that--and they are disappointed! I was far more impressed with the accomplishments than they were. But I also agreed with the President that now was the time to press Gorbachev to get as much out of this meeting as possible. The weather was alternating every half hour between dark, driving rain and brilliant sunshine, and the course of our work mirrored the weather. Round and round we went. The President finally won from Gorbachev an agreement to eliminate all Soviet INF missiles in Europe and limit the ones in Asia to 100 warheads, matched by our right to deploy 100 in the U.S. But with the SDI issue totally up in the air, Gorbachev said, "We've accomplished nothing. Let's go home." After a testy exchange, the two leaders decided to add one more meeting. Shevardnadze and I went back to the negotiating table first. I found him cold, almost taunting. The Soviets had made all the concessions, he said. Now it was our turn. Everything depended on agreement on how to handle SDI: a 10-year period of nonwithdrawal from the ABM treaty and strict adherence to its terms during that period. That was their bottom line. Bob Linhard, an Air Force colonel assigned to the NSC staff, was scribbling away on a draft idea, which he then passed to the other U.S. delegates, who one by one nodded in assent. I read the draft carefully. I said to Shevardnadze, "I would like to explore with you an idea that I have not discussed with the President, but please hear me out. This is an effort to break the impasse. If, after we break, you hear some pounding, you'll know that is the President knocking my head against the wall." Our proposal was that both sides would agree to confine themselves to research, development and testing of space defenses for five years, during which time a 50% reduction in strategic nuclear arsenals would be achieved. Then in the next five years, the balance of ballistic missiles would be eliminated. At the end of 10 years, with all offensive ballistic missiles eliminated, either side would be free to deploy defenses. When the final session commenced, Gorbachev read out a Soviet counterproposal. He would not accept freedom to deploy strategic defenses even after 10 years; he wanted strategic weapons rather than ballistic missiles eliminated in the second five-year period, and he wanted testing on SDI to be restricted to the laboratory. "I've given you the 10-year period you wanted," President Reagan responded. "And with no ballistic missiles, you cannot fear any harm from SDI. We should be free to develop and test during those 10 years, and to deploy at the end. Who knows when the world will see another Hitler?" "Leave open for negotiation what will happen at the end of 10 years," argued Gorbachev. "Prohibit testing in space, and confine research and testing to the laboratory." Reagan saw that a restriction of SDI to the laboratory meant that the research would be far less productive than he wanted it to be. He would not agree to such a restriction. "We are so close!" Reagan said. "In our proposal," responded Gorbachev, "you can conduct laboratory research, and after the 10 years, we can eliminate all strategic weapons." "I have a picture," said Reagan, "that after 10 years you and I come to Iceland and bring the last two missiles in the world, and we have the biggest damn party in celebration of it." "Mr. President, we are close to a mutually acceptable formula," Gorbachev countered. "Don't think we have evil designs." "A meeting in Iceland in 10 years: I'll be so old you won't recognize me. I'll say, `Mikhail?' You'll say, `Ron?' And we'll destroy the last two," Reagan said. "I'll have the burden," replied Gorbachev, "of having gone through all these meetings with a President who doesn't like concessions. He wants to be a winner. We must both be winners." "Fifty percent. We both got it. You told your people 10 years, and you got it," said Reagan. "I told my people I wouldn't give up SDI, so I have to go home saying I haven't. Our people would cheer if we got rid of the missiles." "What we say about research and testing in the laboratory," said Gorbachev, "constitutes the basis for you to go on within the framework of SDI. So you would not have renounced SDI." "It would be fine with me if we eliminated all nuclear weapons," said Reagan. "We can do that," Gorbachev shot back. "Let's eliminate them." But Gorbachev, referring to the many concessions he had made, said he wanted only one concession in return: SDI. Reagan did not give up. "It is," he said, "a question of one word." Gorbachev responded that the President should agree to that word. "I cannot go back to Moscow and say we are going to start reductions in offensive weapons, and the U.S. will continue to do research, testing and development that will allow it to create weapons and a large-scale space defense system in 10 years. I will be called a dummy and not a leader. This is not an acceptable request." He said with resignation that he had tried to move everywhere he could. "My conscience is clear before the President and his people. What depended on me I have done." Finally, he said, "It's `laboratory' or goodbye." Ronald Reagan wrote a note and pushed it over to me. "Am I wrong?" I looked at him and whispered back, "No, you are right." Reagan, disappointed but resigned to the inability to resolve this impasse, stood up, as did Gorbachev. It was dark when the doors of Hofdi House opened and we emerged, almost blinded by the TV lights. The looks on our faces spoke volumes. As one reporter said, "We read their body language, and it said, `Close but no cigar.' " Back in our residence, the President and I slumped in chairs. "Bad news. One lousy word!" the President said. "The haggling was not over one word," I said. "It was over what the word stood for. And we were nowhere near agreement on `strategic arms' vs. `ballistic missiles.' " The sweep of what had been achieved at Reykjavik was nevertheless breathtaking. The reality of the actual achievements never overcame the perception conveyed by the scene of Reagan and Gorbachev parting. The summit was judged a failure. The popular perception was one of near disaster--or near farce. Massachusetts Democratic Congressman Ed Markey criticized that Reagan had had a chance to cash in "Star Wars for the best deal the Russians have offered us since they sold us Alaska." Others charged that the President had gone too far, expressing alarm at giving up all nuclear weapons. In truth, far-reaching concessions had been put forward by Gorbachev. They could never be taken back. The Soviets had agreed to recognize human-rights issues as a regular and legitimate part of our agenda. That was a magnificent triumph. We had virtually reached agreement on INF, and had set parameters that would reduce strategic nuclear forces by 50%, once considered impossibly ambitious. But the world was not ready for Ronald Reagan's boldness. What happened at Reykjavik seemed almost too much for people to absorb, precisely because it was outside the bounds of conventional wisdom. "Critics used to say that your positions were too tough," I told the President. "Others said they were unrealistic. But you smoked the Soviets out, and they were stuck with their concessions." We were even contemplating the notion of a world without nuclear weapons. I recognized full well that the nuclear age could not be abolished or undone. But we could at least glimpse a world with far diminished danger from possible nuclear devastation. I had never learned to love the bomb or the ballistic missile that carried it. As I often said to the critics of Reykjavik, "What's so good about a world where you can be wiped out in 30 minutes?" </body> </article> </text>