An American Life

by Ronald Reagan

  In several ways, the sequence of events described in the briefings paralleled those in the ABC movie. Yet there were still some people at the Pentagon who claimed a nuclear war was “winnable.” I thought they were crazy. Worse, it appeared there were also Soviet generals who thought in terms of winning a nuclear war.

  Several weeks later, convinced we had to do everything possible to develop a defense against the horrible weapons of mass destruction that the atomic age had produced, I gave a go-ahead to speed up research on the Strategic Defense Initiative, noting in the diary:

  Some 50 scientists were persuaded to look at the problem after my March 23, 1983, declaration. They started as skeptics and have wound up enthusiastic. We’ll proceed.

  A few weeks after the Korean airliner was shot down, the parliaments of Great Britain, Italy, and West Germany reaffirmed their intention to deploy Pershing II and Tomahawk cruise missiles in Europe, and we began hearing rumors the Soviets were going to walk out of the INF negotiations in a bid to court favorable public opinion in Europe. “Some on our side want us to come up with an additional proposal,” I wrote in the diary.

  That is a lousy negotiating strategy. It’s time for the Soviets to come up with a proposal of their own. We can’t keep changing our proposals every time they say “nyet.” Ambassador Hartman (Moscow), came by. He confirms what I believe: the Soviets won’t really negotiate on arms reductions until we deploy the Pershing II’s and go forward with the MX. He also confirms that Andropov is very much out of sight these days.

  A few days after I wrote this, the Soviets walked out of the Geneva talks on intermediate-range missiles, and shortly after that, the START discussions on long-range missiles.

  They’d left the ballpark, but I didn’t think the game was over.

  We had just changed the rules of the game. And they didn’t like it.

  The United States was in its strongest position in two decades to negotiate with the Russians from strength. The American economy was booming. We’d come a long way since the late seventies, when our country was plagued with self-doubt and uncertainty and neglecting our military forces.

  In spirit and military strength, America was back, and I figured it would be only a matter of time before the Soviets were back at the table—which reminds me of a story I heard about two Russian generals. One of them said to the other:

  “You know, I liked the arms race better when there was only one of us in it.”

  Now there were two of us in the arms race and the Russians knew it. That’s why I expected them to come back to Geneva.

  74

  THREE YEARS HAD TAUGHT ME something surprising about the Russians: Many people at the top of the Soviet hierarchy were genuinely afraid of America and Americans. Perhaps this shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. In fact, I had difficulty accepting my own conclusion at first. I’d always felt that from our deeds it must be clear to anyone that Americans were a moral people who starting at the birth of our nation had always used our power only as a force of good in the world. After World War II, for example, when we alone had the atomic bomb, we didn’t use it for conquest or domination; instead, with the Marshall Plan and General Mac-Arthur’s democratic stewardship of Japan, we generously rebuilt the economies of our former enemies.

  If anything, we had limitless reasons to be wary of the Red Bear, because from the day it was born on the streets of Russia it was dedicated to consuming the democracies of the world.

  During my first years in Washington, I think many of us in the administration took it for granted that the Russians, like ourselves, considered it unthinkable that the United States would launch a first strike against them. But the more experience I had with Soviet leaders and other heads of state who knew them, the more I began to realize that many Soviet officials feared us not only as adversaries but as potential aggressors who might hurl nuclear weapons at them in a first strike; because of this, and perhaps because of a sense of insecurity and paranoia with roots reaching back to the invasions of Russia by Napoleon and Hitler, they had aimed a huge arsenal of nuclear weapons at us.

  Well, if that was the case, I was even more anxious to get a top Soviet leader in a room alone and try to convince him we had no designs on the Soviet Union and Russians had nothing to fear from us.

  Less than a week before the Soviets walked out of the INF talks in Geneva in November 1983, I decided to make another attempt at communicating with Yuri Andropov outside the normal diplomatic channels. As I remarked in my diary after a meeting with George Shultz at which we agreed to create a small group within the National Security Planning Group with the goal of opening new channels to the Kremlin,

  I feel the Soviets are so defense minded, so paranoid about being attacked that without being in any way soft on them, we ought to tell them no one here has any intention of doing anything like that. What have they got that anyone would want? George is going on ABC right after its big nuclear bomb film Sunday night. It shows why we must keep on doing what we’re doing.

  Early in the new year, President Mika Spiljak of Yugoslavia came to the White House for lunch and confirmed some of my thoughts. “He’s a personable and reasonable man,” I wrote afterward.

  I picked his brains about the Soviet Union. He was an ambassador there for a time. He believes that coupled with their expansionist philosophy, they are also insecure and genuinely frightened of us. He also believes that if we opened them up a bit, their leading citizens would get braver about proposing changes in their system. I’m going to pursue this.

  Throughout 1984, while my own attitudes about the Soviets were changing a little, there were certain parallels in the situations regarding our economic recovery program and my attempts to get the Russians to the arms control table:

  In the economy, the tax cuts had begun to take hold, but there was a lag time before their full impact was felt: The effects were on their way, but weren’t there yet.

  As a result the economy was still in trouble, and I was under constant pressure—not only from Democrats but from many Republicans and many of my own people in the administration—to throw in the towel and raise taxes.

  On the foreign affairs front, we had also adopted new policies—policies of realism and peace through strength—and from the laboratories and factories of the land we were starting to see the first fruits of our military modernization program, a new generation of strategic weapons whose development, I’m sure, was eagerly monitored in Moscow.

  The balance in the arms race had already changed and I was certain it was going to get the Russians’ attention. But, as with the economy, there was a lag time before the full impact of the new policy was apparent. And there were people who said it wasn’t working; there was pressure throughout that year to abandon the policy, forget the MX and peace through strength, and try something new with the Russians—which to many of my critics simply meant appeasement.

  As with my economic recovery program, I felt sure the new national security policies—if they were given time—would work. My instructions to our national security team were the same as I’d given to those working for an economic turnaround: Hang tough and stay the course.

  The collapse of the Geneva talks understandably worried many in the world who were anxious for the superpowers to begin the process of nuclear disarmament.

  As a result, the new year brought calls from people in Europe and the United States to submit to the Soviet demands and suspend deployment of the INF missiles. But along with our chief negotiator at Geneva, Paul Nitze, I believed the last thing we should do was yield to the demands—if we did, we’d not only be reneging on promises to our NATO allies to supply the weapons, we’d be accepting the status quo of a dangerous imbalance of nuclear missiles aimed at the capitals of Europe and be rewarding the Soviets for walking out of the negotiations.

  Still, from a propaganda point of view, we were on the defensive. In a speech to the nation televised to many other countries of the world January 16, 1984, we went on the
offensive. I said that I was sincere in wanting arms reduction and peace and that despite recent reversals in U.S.-Soviet relations, the United States stood ready to undertake another attempt at negotiating an arms agreement with the Soviets based on three guiding principles—realism, strength, and dialogue. Realism means we must start with a clear-eyed understanding of the world we live in; we must recognize that we are in a long-term competition with a government that does not share our notions of individual liberties at home and peaceful change abroad. . . .

  Strength is essential to negotiate successfully and protect our interests. If we’re weak, we can do neither.

  I have openly expressed my view of the Soviet system. I don’t know why this should come as a surprise to Soviet leaders who’ve never shied from expressing their view of our system. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t deal with each other. We don’t refuse to talk when the Soviets call us “imperialist aggressors” and worse, or because they cling to the fantasy of a Communist triumph over democracy. The fact that neither of us likes the other system is no reason to refuse to talk. . . .

  Deterrence is essential to preserve peace and protect our way of life, but deterrence is not the beginning and end of our policy toward the Soviet Union. We must and will engage the Soviets in a dialogue as serious and constructive as possible—a dialogue that will serve to promote peace in the troubled regions of the world, reduce the level of arms, and build a constructive working relationship.

  Neither we nor the Soviet Union can wish away the differences between our two societies and our philosophies, but we should always remember that we do have common interests and the foremost among them is to avoid war and reduce the level of arms.

  Twelve days later, I received a harsh letter from Yuri Andropov that again criticized deployment of the INF weapons in Europe and was unyielding on virtually every other aspect of the differences I’d raised regarding the U.S. and Soviet positions at Geneva. Here are a few paragraphs from his very long letter:

  If one must state today that the affairs between our two countries are taking on, to put it frankly, an extremely unfavorable shape, then the reason for it is not our policy—we did not and do not want it to be so. . . .

  We are prepared to accept very deep reductions both of the strategic and European nuclear weapons. With regard to the latter, even to the point of ridding Europe entirely of medium-range and tactical-range nuclear weapons.

  However, the United States has destroyed the very basis on which it was possible to seek an agreement. We have only one view of this step—it is an attempt to upset both the regular and global balance. So we are acting accordingly. It appears that the U.S. side has underestimated our resolve to preserve the military and strategic equilibrium, nothing short of equilibrium.

  Let us be frank, Mr. President, there is no way of making things look as if nothing happened. There has been a disruption of the dialogue on the most important questions. A heavy blow has been dealt to the very process of nuclear arms limitation.

  Yuri Andropov

  Twelve days after Andropov sent me this letter, he died, and soon we had another new man—Konstantin Chernenko—in charge at the Kremlin.

  Once again, I felt I had a chance, through quiet diplomacy, to reduce the psychological barriers that divided us. U.S.-Soviet relations were not yet at the point where I thought I should attend Andropov’s funeral. George Bush led our delegation to Moscow (which also included Senator Howard Baker) and he returned with the opinion that Chernenko seemed less hard-nosed and abrasive than Andropov. After hearing this, I remarked in my diary:

  I have a gut feeling I’d like to talk to him about our problems man to man and see if I could convince him there would be a material benefit to the Soviets if they’d join the family of nations, etc. We don’t want to appear anxious which would tempt them to play games and possibly snub us. I have our team considering an invitation to him to be my guest at the opening of the Olympics, July in L.A. Then he and I could have a session together in which we could start the ball rolling for an outright summit on arms reductions, human rights, etc. We’ll see.

  But the next day a letter arrived from Chernenko that was not the kind to encourage expectations of an early improvement in our relations. After thanking me for sending my condolences to the funeral with the vice-president, Chernenko in no uncertain terms said that he and other members of the Soviet leadership stood by the letter Andropov wrote to me just before his death: The Soviet Union remained unswervingly opposed to NATO deployment of the Pershing II and cruise missiles. These are excerpts from his letter:

  I would like, Mr. President, that you and I have a clear understanding from the very beginning on the central matter of the relations between the USSR and the USA.

  We are convinced that it is impossible to begin to correct the present abnormal and, let’s face it, dangerous situation and to speak seriously of constructive moves, if there is a continuation of attempts to upset the balance of forces and to gain military advantages to the detriment of the security of the other side, if actions are taken prejudicing the legitimate interests of the other side.

  There is another important point which the U.S. leadership must clearly understand: Not only the U.S. has allies and friends, the Soviet Union has them too; and we will be caring for them. . . .

  We look at things realistically and have no illusions that it is possible to carry on business in total abstraction from the objective differences which exist between a socialist country and a capitalist country. For instance, our morality does not accept much of what is endemic to the capitalist society and what we consider as unfair to people. Nevertheless, we do not introduce these problems into the sphere of interstate relationships. Just as we believe it is wrong and even dangerous to subordinate our relations to ideological differences.

  Chernenko ended his letter on a slightly positive note: The Soviets were “resolute advocates of a serious and meaningful dialogue, a dialogue that would be aimed at searching for common ground, at finding concrete and mutually acceptable solutions in those areas where it proves realistically possible,” and improvements in U.S. Soviet relations were “feasible given the same desire on the United States side.”

  Despite the rebuff from Moscow, I still felt the time had come to explore holding a summit conference with Chernenko. He was cut from the same cloth as Brezhnev and Andropov—a tough old-line Communist addicted to Lenin’s secular religion of expansionism and world domination, so one thing hadn’t changed regarding U.S. Soviet relations.

  But something else had changed: I felt we could now go to the summit, for the first time in years, from a position of strength, as this entry in my diary a few days after I received Chernenko’s letter indicated:

  I met for the seventh time with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I had one of the most exciting hours being briefed on where we are as a result of these past three years. Our technology is so superior to what our possible adversaries have and our improvement in training and readiness are inspiring. In all branches, 91 percent of our recruits are high school graduates. Highest level in our history. I wish it were possible for our people to know what has been accomplished but too much of it must remain secret.

  Ever since I had seen how they operated during the Depression in Dixon, I’d never put much faith in bureaucracies—and bureaucracies usually played a large role in the conduct of American foreign affairs. Whenever I wanted to send a message to a foreign leader, for example, copies of my message were usually first circulated to a half-dozen or more agencies at the State Department, the Pentagon, the Commerce Department, and elsewhere for comment and suggestions. And often the bureaucrats down the line (I’m sure in good faith) would try to add or change something—whether it was needed or not. The result: often a blurring of my original intentions.

  Because arms reduction was so important, I decided in this instance to switch to a more hands-on approach—without help from the bureaucrats.

  At a National Security Council meetin
g in early March, I announced that I had decided to draft a response to Chernenko without asking input from the bureaucracy. From then on, I would consult only with a small group—George Bush, George Shultz, Cap Weinberger, and Bud McFarlane, my national security advisor, in the National Security Planning Group to determine whether we could develop a long-range plan that offered the Russians a series of small steps, and showed that we were sincere about wanting to improve relations as a prelude to a summit and hoped they were, too. These entries from my diary in March summarized some of the developments that were happening then:

  March 2

  I’m convinced the time has come for me to meet with Chernenko along about July 1. We’re going to start with some ministerial level meetings on a number of substantive matters that have been on ice since the KAL 007 shoot down.

  March 5

  Helmut Kohl, West German chancellor, arrived. We had a good meeting and lunch. He confirmed my belief that the Soviets are motivated at least in part by insecurity and a suspicion that we and our allies mean them harm. They still preserve the tank traps and barbed wire that show how close the Germans got to Moscow before they were stopped. He too thinks I should meet Chernenko.

  March 7

  George Shultz and I met. Our plans about the Soviet Union are going forward. He is giving Ambassador Dobrynin my letter for delivery to Chernenko.

  In the letter to Chernenko, I said I believed it would be advantageous for us to communicate directly and confidentially. I tried to use the old actor’s technique of empathy: to imagine the world as seen through another’s eyes and try to help my audience see it through my eyes. “I fully appreciate the priority you attach to the security of the Soviet state,” I wrote, “particularly in light of the enormous costs shouldered by your people in helping to defeat Nazi Germany.” I said it was my understanding that some people in the Soviet Union felt a genuine fear of our country.