But politics is not a computer game. Gorbachev was destined to take on what was not a pleasant mission. Strictly speaking, he had to pay the bills and loans that had accumulated in huge amounts by the start of his rule. The need for change was obvious even to hardcore conservatives. The Soviet Union was no longer able to carry out a modernization reminiscent of Stalin’s breakthroughs in the 1930s. The country did not have the demographic strength, nor could it use terror and reprisals like before, nor again was there a comparable level of outside threats. There was an abortive attempt to liberate society in the 1960s. During Leonid Brezhnev’s rule, the country fell into a blissful stability. Contemporaries still recall this period with nostalgia, especially after the shock of the 1990s. But this stability had a price – renunciation of structural reforms in the economy and in the political system, which was fraught with the risk of losing control of the situation.
By 1985, the Soviet Union was faced with several fundamental challenges at the same time. For all its enormous scientific and technological achievements, the economy was stagnating and increasingly dependent on the export of natural resources. Administrative efficiency was in rapid decline. It was degenerating into mismanagement, major shortages of everything, and increasingly obvious lags behind the West. Attempts to bolster up the economy through administrative strategies – from catching idlers to free labor of conscripts and YCL members – failed to produce the desired results. The political system began to be dominated by once tough leaders, who were becoming sick and frail by that time. Standing behind them was an outwardly conformist but increasingly corrupt state and party apparatus. Society was being eroded by cynicism, a combination of feigned loyalty and informal nihilism, comprehensive alcoholism and universal larceny. The gap between the true grandeur of national achievements and the country’s decline in everyday life was staggering. The situation was aggravated by the Cold War, enormous defense spending and support for freeloaders all over the world, who said the right words but betrayed the USSR at the first opportunity.
What could be done about these countless problems? How could they be sure their resolve would not sink under the weight of an indifferent bureaucracy? How could they prevent the system from overheating and losing control over the domestic situation? It is not easy to respond to these questions even now, knowing what has happened. If it were possible today to restart this era as a saved game, would we be able to replay it with success? And how should it be replayed? With another round of stagnation? By launching an authoritarian modernization? By resorting to reprisals? Or by starting up an uncompromising democratization from the very start again?
And, one more question: What forces or people should we replay this saved game with? After all, the Soviet Union in 1985 was not a field of activity for the science-fiction “progressors” invented by the Strugatsky brothers. We can only use the people who lived in those times, with their limited capabilities and their own picture of the world. This applies to Gorbachev himself, a product of this very system. He was an exemplary hero, a self-made man from a lower social stratum. He climbed the steps of the career stairway from the provinces. The country had to be reformed using its own potential, with all its accumulated ulcers and diseases.
It seemed logical to start with the economy without touching the political foundations at first. The attempt to reduce the burden of the confrontation with the West in a controlled mode looked equally logical. In the final count, glasnost (openness) and the radical shake-up of the party apparatus seemed an obvious proposition as well. Otherwise, the reforms would have turned into a bubble that rises and then bursts on the water surface of a swamp, returning the country to its rotten and pernicious tranquility. This was how the feverish and ill-conceived reforms of Khrushchev’s Thaw died out.
In all probability, several factors contributed to the loss of control over the situation. To begin with, Gorbachev fell hostage to his own humanism, his unwillingness to use reprisals, and a tendency to seek compromise. Having realized this, a host of diverse players began testing his strength. Was it possible to promote the idea of a “common European home,” while brutally crushing the emerging opposition movements in the socialist camp? Could they use force to suppress Budapest, Prague, or Warsaw? Was it possible to respond with tanks to the fall of the Berlin Wall? This could be done, of course. But it was also likely that such actions would only have expedited the self-destruction of the system. The testing of red lines was gradually becoming more resolute.
There was a riot in Vilnius. Force was used, but a whirlwind of protests could not be stopped without much bloodshed. Ethnic conflicts started flaring up, one after another, in the South Caucasus. Boils were bursting in Central Asia. Ukraine was drifting towards independence, with its nomenklatura increasingly aware of the opportunity to take power into its own hands. Eventually, the RSFSR (Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic) itself came to lead the process of disintegration. Boris Yeltsin was very skillful at exploiting Gorbachev’s reluctance to use force. Later, Yeltsin himself was not embarrassed to fire at the parliament building, send troops to rebellious Chechnya, or establish a super-presidential republic. It is likely that in so doing, Yeltsin managed to stop the disintegration of Russia itself. But the Soviet Union and its political structure collapsed overnight, by historical standards. It was not saved by the nomenklatura, the secret services, the multimillion-man army, or one of the world’s biggest political parties.
A much deeper neglect of economic and administrative problems and any opportunity for reform was another factor in the dissolution of the USSR. The informal sector and top to bottom corruption interfered with the implementation of any formal plans. They were only seen as a talking shop and demagogy, an imitation of actual activity, and a chance for milking the budget. All the demons of the 1990s in the shape of a raw-material economy, corruption and rampant lawlessness that we are scaring ourselves with even now, had slowly been brewing for several decades and finally fermented by the mid-1980s. The beginnings of a market economy and democracy gave the corrupt elites a chance to privatize their power and privileges. They became the main beneficiaries of the USSR’s disintegration.
Gorbachev happened to be at the worst crossroads of challenges and threats in the process of historical change in Russia. Unlike Tsar Nicholas II, who was afraid of political reform, who clung to old ways and was estranged from people, and who became entangled in unfortunate wars, Gorbachev initiated reforms himself and was unprecedentedly close to the people. He tried to finish wars and develop relations with the outside world. But he lost the country, for which he would be blamed for many years to come. He did, however, avoid bloodshed that would have been comparable to events in Yugoslavia in the 1990s or the Civil War in Russia in the early 20th century. Our society has rarely had such a deep breath of fresh air as during Gorbachev’s rule. But Russia has never experienced such a deep decline, despite its enormous resources.
New generations must not forget Gorbachev’s record. On the one hand, they must be conscious of the dangers of an overwhelming corruption, the abyss between society and the powers that be, and total dissimulation. On the other, they must not forget the abuses of reform, excessive trustfulness, and the lack of toughness, when needed. Gorbachev is part of our history, a symbol of a major turning point, who left important lessons for us. Our ability to understand them will largely determine the future of Russia, which has many trials ahead.