Soviet Union Playing for Keeps

By Bruce W. Nelan

Moving backward down the carpeted corridor, a squad of television cameramen scythed through onlookers who were craning their necks for a better look. Flanking the cameras and electric cables came the men with microphones and blazing lights. In the middle of it all strode the politician they were focusing on, trailing a small group of aides. Had the scene been set in the U.S. Capitol, it would have been run-of-the-mill stuff. But this was the Kremlin, and the man doing the politicking was President Mikhail Gorbachev. As he moved along, he buttonholed Deputies of the new parliament of the Russian federation, urging them to preserve national unity by electing his candidate to the post of chairman.

Even in the surprising era of demokratizatsiya, the sight of the head of government lobbying in the corridors of the Grand Kremlin Palace is an extraordinary spectacle. But these are extraordinary times for Gorbachev: at stake are not only his reforms and his own political health but also the survival of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

Last week Gorbachev spent considerable time trying to head off the election of his most influential critic, former Politburo member Boris Yeltsin, as president of the Russian federation. He met with Lithuanian Prime Minister Kazimiera Prunskiene for nearly two hours in an attempt to persuade her that, at a minimum, her republic must suspend its two-month-old declaration of independence. It may be a measure of his domestic difficulties that Gorbachev's most solid accomplishment came in foreign affairs. After four days of talks between U.S. Secretary of State James Baker and Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze in Moscow, the two sides made substantial progress on a new arms-control treaty, making it likely that Gorbachev and George Bush can announce a basic agreement at next week's summit in Washington.

Under the circumstances, Gorbachev's flashes of frustration as he stalked the Kremlin anterooms in the glare of TV lights were understandable. "In politics," he grumbled, "the public doesn't accept pluralism. Perestroika depends on public opinion, and it is conservative." But Gorbachev's candidate for the presidency of the Russian federation, Alexander Vlasov, a nonvoting member of the Politburo and prime minister of the federation, hardly seems the < stirring leader needed to carry out his boss's vision. When Vlasov delivered an hour-long report last week, it was so plodding that not even Gorbachev seemed to be listening. He sat in a VIP box and conferred with his senior advisers.

What Gorbachev really wants to do is defeat Yeltsin, 59, a onetime ally who was fired from the Politburo 2 1/2 years ago, after he delivered a stinging denunciation of foot dragging by some of his conservative colleagues. But Yeltsin rose from the political dead by urging even greater and faster reforms than Gorbachev proposed. A Yeltsin victory could mark the beginning of the end for Gorbachev's brand of perestroika. Russia contains 75% of the Soviet Union's land, half of its people and most of its natural resources, which many Russians complain are being used to develop the other 14 republics. If Yeltsin and his radical supporters take over, they pledge to wrest control of those resources from the central government. While they do not favor actual secession, they take a literal stand on Russia's claim to sovereignty. Said Yeltsin: "Russia is a state, not a republic, with all the rights that entails, including its own ministries and its own foreign policy."

Head counters in the Russian parliament say the 1,050 attending Deputies are divided almost evenly into three groups: Yeltsin supporters, Vlasov loyalists and the undecided. Even the reformers have mixed feelings about the erratic, boastful populism of Yeltsin. He is, however, a vivid alternative to Vlasov, an organization man who is considered a Gorbachev puppet. "Yeltsin is a man of many contradictions," says Nikolai Yershov, a Deputy from Borovichovsky, "but a vote for him is the only guarantee that there will be no returning to the past. He's the only guy who can look Gorbachev in the eye and tell him the truth."

The leaders of the Baltic republics of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania also pressed ahead with their challenge to Gorbachev, possibly hoping to make their case an issue at the summit. The presidents of the three republics met on May 12 in Tallinn, the Estonian capital, to form a united front by reviving the Baltic Council, a policy-coordinating body that dates from before World War II. They sent a letter to Gorbachev asking for joint negotiations on independence. Gorbachev responded last week with two decrees that said the Baltic states were violating the Soviet constitution.

The following afternoon some 5,000 demonstrators filled the tiny square in front of Tallinn's pink-and-white Toompea Palace, the Estonian seat of government. It was a Russian-speaking crowd, carrying banners calling on workers to DEFEND SOVIET POWER and demanding the resignation of President Arnold Ruutel. When the protesters broke through a locked gate into the palace courtyard, Prime Minister Edgar Savisaar put out a radio call for help, crying, "We are being assaulted. This is a coup attempt." Crowds of Estonians rushed to the square and pushed the Russians out.

In Riga that same day, Russian military officers and cadets in civilian clothes marched in front of the Latvian parliament. President Anatolijs Gorbunovs agreed to accept a petition from the Russians and to set up a commission to deal with their grievances. Most Baltic nationalists assume, however, that the demonstrators' real intention is to maintain Moscow's control rather than protect the rights of ethnic Russians.

Lithuania quickly shifted toward flexibility. Seizing on an idea floated last month by French President Francois Mitterrand and West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl, Vilnius offered, in return for negotiations, to suspend all legislation it had passed since declaring independence. Prime Minister Prunskiene flew to Moscow to present the offer to Gorbachev. While she was still in the air, Gorbachev called the Lithuanian mission asking to see her as soon as she arrived. This was a gesture of compromise on his part, since he had insisted no talks were possible until the Lithuanians canceled their declaration of independence.

After her session with Gorbachev, Prunskiene said she felt that "significant steps toward agreement" had been taken. But by the next day it was clear the basic issue had still not been resolved. TASS observed that Lithuania had failed to repeal the act of independence. Soviet officials later added that at least a "suspension" of the declaration was required. Baker tried to keep the pressure on by urging Prunskiene to consider suspending the independence declaration as a way to open a dialogue.

Gorbachev did not find good news last week even in the Moscow district where he ran for a seat at this July's Communist Party congress. Though he won 61% of the vote, he encountered surprisingly vigorous opposition from a watch- factory foreman and his pro-democracy supporters. The irony cannot have escaped Gorbachev: he is now facing his strongest challenges from those who have taken his message of reform most to heart.

With reporting by Paul Hofheinz and John Kohan/Moscow and J.F.O. McAllister/with Baker