A Soviet Walkout

By George Russell

"Since by its actions the United States has torpedoed the possibility of reaching a mutually acceptable accord at the talks on questions of limiting nuclear arms in Europe ... the Soviet Union considers its further participation in these talks impossible."

Somber in tone and menacing in content, that announcement by Soviet Leader Yuri Andropov last week was far from unexpected.

Nonetheless, it marked a watershed of ominous dimensions for both the Soviet Union and the 16-member NATO alliance. Andropov's 1,500-word statement, delivered by the official Soviet news agency TASS, meant that Moscow had finally acknowledged the failure of its extended campaign to prevent the deployment by the U.S. and its allies of new Pershing II and cruise missiles in Western Europe. As a result of NATO's resolve, a long and frustrating interlude in the convoluted drama of the nuclear arms race was over. But by the same token, a door had swung open on new uncertainties for the process of arms control, with attendant risks for all the vitally interested players--and the world at large.

Last Thursday's announcement, made in Andropov's name on the 98th day since his disappearance from public view on Aug. 18, essentially formalized earlier threats. The Soviets were breaking off, at least for a while, the tenuous two-year dialogue between the superpowers aimed at limiting the spread of intermediate-range nuclear missiles in Europe. The actual walkout from the Intermediate-range Nuclear Forces (INF) talks had occurred the previous day at a 25-minute meeting in Geneva between Chief Soviet Arms Negotiator Yuli Kvitsinsky and his U.S. counterpart, Paul Nitze. Kvitsinsky had put the mildest face possible on the decision, saying only that the Soviets were "discontinuing the present round of talks" and would not be able to agree to a resumption date.

The Soviet walkout in Geneva had been virtually guaranteed 13 hours earlier in the West German capital of Bonn, where two days of tumultuous parliamentary debate had ended with a resounding affirmation of NATO's missile policy. While West German police struggled with antinuclear demonstrators in the streets outside, members of parliament voted 286 to 226 to accept a first shipment of nine Pershing II nuclear ballistic missiles on their soil. Within 24 hours of the decision, U.S. C-5 Galaxy transports had deposited the weapons at the Ramstein Air Base near Mannheim. From there, the Pershings were moved to the security-shrouded Mutlangen Army Base, home of the U.S. 56th Field Artillery Brigade, where the missiles will be ready for use by the end of the year.

In Washington, the first word of the Soviet walkout was greeted with relative aplomb. Prior to setting out for a four-day Thanksgiving vacation, President Reagan declared that "I don't think I'm surprised by what they did this morning, but I am disappointed. I can't believe that it's going to be permanent." The subsequent Andropov statement, however, may have been tougher than the White House bargained for. Along with cessation of the talks, the Soviet leader outlined in unusual detail his country's longstanding plans to up the nuclear ante by new deployments of atomic weapons. Among other things, the statement alluded to specific Soviet measures that would directly threaten the U.S. As for the NATO nations, said Andropov, "what will grow with the deployment of American missiles on European soil is not the security of Europe but the real danger that the United States will bring catastrophe upon the peoples of Europe."

The stormy response from the Kremlin seemed bound to strike an unjustifiably apocalyptic chord among Americans as they digested the fictional consequences of a nuclear holocaust in ABC-TV's The Day After (see NATION).* For his part, President Reagan replied from his Santa Barbara ranch on Thanksgiving Day that "we can only be dismayed," adding that the Andropov declaration was "at sharp variance with the stated wish of the Soviet Union that an [INF] agreement be negotiated."

The events that rattled much of the world last week had been building since December 1979. Largely at West European insistence, NATO unanimously agreed to start deploying 572 new Pershing II and cruise missiles by the end of 1983 if the U.S. and the Soviet Union did not reach an agreement that would reduce the number of Soviet SS-20 missiles trained on Western Europe. The "double-track" strategy, as it became known, ran into trouble almost from the start. The U.S. stance was weakened by indecision and infighting within the Reagan Administration, while the Soviets never budged from their initial refusal to accept a single new U.S. missile in Western Europe (see following story). Indeed, Moscow's bargaining strategy concentrated less on negotiating in Geneva than on stirring up Western Europe's growing peace movement, especially in West Germany. Said a senior Reagan Administration official: "They were betting heavily on fear created by the antideployment movement." Playing to that fear, Andropov issued a statement on Oct. 26 that explicitly threatened a walkout from the Geneva talks if deployment began on schedule.

Soviet negotiators had their first chance to walk out on Nov. 16, the day after the government of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher announced the arrival in Britain of the first shipment of Tomahawk cruise missiles. Instead, to put maximum pressure on the West Germans, another negotiating session was scheduled for Nov. 23, the day after the Bundestag vote. Meanwhile, one of the most curious episodes in the history of the two-year-old Geneva talks was unfolding.

On the evening of Andropov's Oct. 26 ultimatum, Negotiator Kvitsinsky and his wife were attending a dinner party at Nitze's Geneva apartment. As the meal ended, Kvitsinsky privately told Nitze that he had just learned of the ultimatum, and he noted that Andropov had also made a new bargaining offer. The gist of it was that the U.S.S.R. was prepared to reduce the number of SS-20s targeted on Western Europe from 243 to "about 140," down from a previous offer of 162, if NATO would cancel its plans for new missiles altogether. In addition, the Soviets would stop adding to their arsenal of SS-20s in Asia, which currently numbers 117. Said

Kvitsinsky: "Why don't you suggest equal reductions on both sides?"

Translated from arms-control jargon, Kvitsinsky was saying that if the U.S. would offer to give up the entire NATO deployment of 572 single-warhead cruise and Pershing missiles, the Soviets would agree to reduce by 572 the number of warheads on its missiles in Europe. Kvitsinsky sweetened the offer by explaining that he and his military advisers had calculated that this would leave the Soviet Union with only 120 triple-warhead SS-20s, fewer than in Andropov's latest offer. The bottom line, of course, was that the U.S. would still be left with no missiles.

Nitze was interested in drawing Kvitsinsky out to see if the Soviets might be willing to raise above zero the number of U.S. weapons permitted. For the West, this was a crucial point: the U.S. has never accepted the idea that the Soviets could veto any NATO deployments. Nitze probed further at a reception at the Soviet embassy a few days later. "Is there room in here for a reduction, say, of 472 that would leave us with 100 weapons on our side?" he asked. "No," Kvitsinsky tersely replied. "It is 572 or nothing." Nitze's response: "Under those circumstances, it is of no interest to us."

On Saturday, Nov. 12, Kvitsinsky made a highly unusual late-night telephone call to Nitze's home, urgently requesting to see him the next day. The pair met in Geneva's Botanic Garden, a park located across from the U.S. headquarters. "I am under instructions to give you the following message," Kvitsinsky said. "If the U.S. Government were to propose equal reductions from 572 to zero on your side and 572 from our side, my government would accept it." The Soviets, he said, would also temporarily set aside a longstanding Geneva sticking point: Soviet insistence that independent British and French nuclear forces be counted in an INF agreement. Nitze said that he would pass on the idea, but, he warned, "I'm certain that the U.S. Government will not convert a Soviet proposal into a U.S. proposal."

Along with his report to Washington on the "walk in the park," Nitze sent a comment saying that he considered it essential to inform America's NATO partners, especially West Germany, of what had happened, and to make clear that the proposal had been a Soviet initiative. The reason: Nitze was afraid the Soviets would leak the substance of the conversation and make it look like a Nitze idea. If the Reagan Administration then rejected the scheme, as expected, West Europeans would think that Washington had disavowed its own negotiator. U.S. officials took Nitze's advice and on Nov. 15 notified the governments concerned.

On Nov. 16, Nitze received the instructions he had expected: to turn the Soviet offer down flat.

The next day Soviet ambassadors in London, The Hague, Brussels, Rome and Bonn fanned out with official letters asserting that Nitze had presented a new proposal calling for a reduction of SS-20s in Europe to 120 in exchange for cancellation of the entire NATO deployment. Nothing was said in the letter about Soviet concessions on the issue of British and French forces. Just as Nitze had feared, the Soviets were transparently attempting to make the "walk in the park" appear to be a replay of the celebrated "walk in the woods." In July 1982, Nitze had privately worked out a potential breakthrough with Kvitsinsky, only to have the scheme repudiated by Washington and Moscow alike. Had the latest ploy worked, it could have sowed confusion in the West German parliament just as it was about to vote on the missile issue.

On Saturday, Nov. 19, Nitze called Kvitsinsky to the U.S. headquarters in Geneva for an angry confrontation. "Washington, and I personally, find unacceptable Soviet attempts, in direct approaches to our allies, to misrepresent the informal Soviet suggestion of Nov. 13 as an American proposal," Nitze declared. Kvitsinsky became obdurate. It had been a U.S. proposal, he insisted. "All this has been turned into a filthy thing by someone," Kvitsinsky charged. Thus ended the testiest encounter in two years between two men who had, despite the sadly deteriorating relationship between their two governments, managed to maintain a respectful, professional rapport. "Everything is finished," Kvitsinsky said as he hurried out of the building.

Had Kvitsinsky made a genuine eleventh-hour effort to find common ground for an agreement and subsequently been disavowed by his own government? Or had he engaged in a cynical and deceptive Kremlin ploy to trap Nitze and divide the U.S. from its allies? The answer may never be known.

Even without that murky incident, the West German debate over the Pershings would have been passionate. Now it was all the angrier. During the stormy discussion, which was demanded by opponents of deployment, 51 deputies argued for more than 27 hours. The final outcome was never in doubt, since the center-right coalition of Chancellor Helmut Kohl had a 58-seat majority. But the bitterness of the discussion brought West German divisions into sharp focus. After three decades, a bipartisan consensus on defense and foreign policy had fallen victim to the missile issue.

The keynote was struck by Kohl, who vowed that the question was "whether West Germany has the will and the ability to oppose, with its allies, the Soviet Union's demand for supremacy." Facing up to the Soviet walkout threat, Kohl declared that "whoever knuckles under to the pressure of a dictatorship always encourages fresh extortions and the use of force." Kohl's words drew a scathing rejoinder from the opposition Social Democratic Party (SPD), whose leadership had decided over the previous weekend to reverse a four-year-old party position and call for a delay in the Pershing deployment. Arguing that Soviet proposals "have not been examined seriously," SPD Floor Leader Hans-Jochen Vogel declared that an agreement with Moscow was "within reach." While pledging his party's support for NATO, Vogel argued that Kohl's backing of the U.S. was damaging the country. Said Vogel: "You have confused friendship with politeness, and cooperation with vassal-like subservience." The same theme was taken up by former Chancellor Willy Brandt, who termed Kohl "the alliance's best pupil."

The only notable attempt at critical evenhandedness from the opposition came from former Chancellor Helmut Schmidt, who first gave prominence to the Soviet SS-20 threat back in 1977. As if to show his contempt for current Social Democratic policies, Schmidt tossed paper airplanes labeled "Pershing II" around the Bundestag during Brandt's speech. In his first speech to parliament since losing office to Kohl more than a year ago, Schmidt said he still believed deployment of the new missiles was necessary to correct the nuclear imbalance created in Europe by the Soviet Union and to preserve West German credibility in the eyes of its allies. But Schmidt refused to vote with the government because he disputed Kohl's claim that the U.S. had made sufficient efforts to bring about an agreement. Washington, Schmidt declared, would have to share with Moscow the blame for the deadlock in Geneva.

West Germany's maverick anti-nuclear party, the Greens, did its best to obstruct the debate.

About an hour into Kohl's opening speech, a few of the 28 Greens deputies walked toward the Chancellor carrying large photos representing Hiroshima, Viet Nam, the Warsaw ghetto and Nicaragua. They were turned back by ushers. Later, the Greens attempted to stage a filibuster, invoking the right of each member to give a five-minute speech explaining his or her vote. The maneuver delayed proceedings by two hours.

Outside the legislature, feelings rose even higher as 3,500 demonstrators converged on the low-slung concrete parliament building. Their plan, well-advertised beforehand, was to "storm" the Bundestag to show their disapproval of the deployment decision. The protesters encountered a solid wall of green-uniformed police, backed up by armored water cannon. After first shooting a long, hard shower at the crowd, the police rushed the mob with plastic shields. Frustrated, the demonstrators drifted toward the city center to listen to further harangues against the NATO deployment. In all, 189 protesters were arrested during the two-day debate; most of them were held only briefly.

When the outcome of the Bundestag vote was announced, government deputies gave Chancellor Kohl a standing ovation. Social Democrats and the Greens, by contrast, sat in dejected silence. "For me, this is a black day," said Egon Bahr, the SPD disarmament spokesman. "But this is still the beginning."

The final Geneva meeting, held the day after the Bundestag vote, was the shortest ever. As host, Nitze invited Kvitsinsky to make an opening statement. Kvitsinsky instead read his closing remarks. Nitze responded by declaring that the U.S. "profoundly regrets" the Soviet discontinuance of the talks, a decision that he said was "as unjustified as it is unfortunate." He reminded the Soviets that during the two years of talks, the U.S.S.R. had increased its force of SS-20 missiles in Europe and Asia from some 140 to roughly 360. The U.S., said Nitze, "throughout this period has continued negotiating." As farewell gifts, the Americans presented the Soviets with pocket calculators; the Soviets bestowed lacquered bowls, caviar and vodka. After his departure, Kvitsinsky made a one-sentence statement to newsmen: "The present round of negotiations has been discontinued, and no date has been set for a resumption."

At a follow-up press conference, Nitze stressed that the Soviet walkout should not be viewed as a death knell for the talks. Progress, he said, "has been made on almost all issues." He added that the U.S. is "prepared to continue the negotiations at any time. All I can say is I hope they come back. They should come back."

Earlier in the week, Administration officials had expressed little concern about the imminent walkout. "It is a victory for the alliance and sour grapes for the Soviets," a cheerful State Department official had said. But Andropov's Thanksgiving Day statement came as a disappointment. Insisting, as the Soviet Union has done at every stage of its SS-20 buildup, that a "rough parity continues to exist in Europe" between NATO and Warsaw Pact medium-range missiles, Andropov warned that the U.S. and its allies must bear the consequences of their "myopic" policy. He labeled further participation in the Geneva talks "impossible" and then spelled out planned Soviet military countermeasures.

They were: 1) the end of a Soviet moratorium on the deployment of additional SS-20s in Europe, 2) accelerated preparations to introduce "operational tactical missiles of increased range," presumably meaning SS-21, SS-22 and SS-23 weapons, into East Germany and Czechoslovakia, 3) the probable deployment near U.S. shores of Soviet submarines carrying new long-range (1,500-mile) cruise missiles or rapid, depressed-trajectory ballistic missiles. At a meeting of NATO ambassadors in Brussels, Nitze called the Andropov statement a "hardening of the Soviet position."

Nonetheless, officials in Washington professed not to be worried about Andropov's countermeasures. The Soviet moratorium on SS-20 deployment, they noted, was largely a fiction. Moscow had exempted more than 20 launching sites currently under construction from its self-imposed "freeze." Soviet nuclear attack submarines already patrol off U.S. coasts, and those vessels are probably equipped with short-range (up to 200-mile) nuclear cruise missiles. These subs could be equipped with long-range cruise missiles, but that is not a matter of intense concern in the Pentagon, since an attack by such weapons would trigger a general U.S. nuclear retaliation before the bulk of Soviet missile forces, based in the U.S.S.R., could reach the U.S. Similarly, older short-range nuclear weapons are already based in Czechoslovakia and East Germany; the new longer-range missiles are, in the U.S. view, part of a modernization program that would have been undertaken in any circumstances. Said a U.S. official: "Remember, when the U.S. builds the Soviets build, and when the U.S. does not build the Soviets build."

Moscow's allies were concerned, however. East German Communist Party Chief Erich Honecker declared last week that while he supported the threatened Soviet countermeasures, they would result in "no rejoicing in our country." In Ru mania, the Communist Party leadership issued a statement condemning both NATO and the U.S.S.R., declaring that the missile moves and countermoves "push Europe, the whole world, toward the precipice."

Amid the continuing rumors that Andropov was seriously ill, some Western diplomats interpreted the General Secretary's message as the result of a power struggle. Communist Party officials told TIME last week that Andropov's health had deteriorated after a vacation in the Crimea last September. The officials would not disclose the nature of the illness, or comment on whether the Soviet leader had undergone surgery. But the fact that the tough statement was issued in his name seemed to signal that whatever his present condition, Andropov was still in charge. Said Georgi Arbatov, a Central Committee member and director of Moscow's Institute for the Study of the U.S.A. and Canada: "He is feeling better, and he is taking part in all the important decisions."

Despite the tough Soviet response, the Reagan Administration remains optimistic that the NATO missile deployment will, if anything, make a negotiated arms agreement more likely. Insisted a State Department official: "There is an inevitable tendency to depict the current situation as a crisis. We do not view it in those terms." According to this thinking, the Soviets could never be expected to negotiate seriously at Geneva as long as they imagined that the NATO deployment could be stopped. On the other hand, said a White House aide, the Soviets "have told us privately that they can live with the NATO deployment. They couldn't say so publicly before deployment."

Administration officials believe the Soviets could even return to the nuclear bargaining table within a few months. Moscow has a military interest in curtailing the NATO deployment, which is sched uled to proceed gradually over the next five years. There is also the importance to the Soviets of continuing to portray themselves as peacemakers in their ongoing bid to split the NATO allies.

Finally, U.S. officials feel that the Soviets are pragmatic enough to see that Reagan stands a good chance of being re-elected next year. On that assumption, Moscow would figure that it can get a better arms-control deal from a President in the midst of a campaign than from one who has been returned to office. One possibility: folding the talks on European missiles into the ongoing Strategic Arms Reduction Talks (START) that are taking place in Geneva. The distinction between intermediate-range and strategic missiles has always been somewhat artificial, and merging the two sets of negotiations might offer new possibilities for concessionary tradeoffs.

U.S. officials acknowledge that West European public opinion might force the U.S. to accept such a merger, but they would prefer to avoid it on the grounds that the START talks are complicated enough.

A number of other negative factors could keep the superpowers at arm's length.

The most important is the overall climate of U.S.-Soviet relations, which has reached poisonous intensity. Another is the uncertainty, thanks to elections and illness, about leadership on both sides, but most particularly in Moscow.

A further reason for pessimism is the stagnation of almost all nuclear arms-control efforts. The Geneva START talks have made no progress to speak of in the 17 months since they began. The unratified SALT n treaty of 1979, which both sides have agreed to comply with informally, is eroding with every passing month as each side accuses the other of activities that violate the understanding. Meanwhile, new weapons systems under development by both sides are becoming harder and harder to deal with under arms-control proposals. One crucial new area that must be dealt with soon: an effort to limit the use of weapons in space.

In the short term, the two most likely effects of last week's events are that the number of missiles in Europe will grow substantially and that demonstrations against them will continue. West Germany's pacifists have already called for a huge antinuclear protest to take place on Dec. 12. But there was an important positive consequence: the oft-fragmented Atlantic Alliance had, contrary to many predictions, responded to its most stringent test in more than 25 years by affirming rather than weakening its resolve. --By George Russell. Reported by Roland Flamini and Gary Lee/ Bonn and Strobe Talbott/Geneva

-The film will be shown in West German theaters beginning Dec. 2, and later in at least eight other West European countries.

With reporting by Roland Flamini, Gary Lee, Strobe Talbott This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.