America Abroad

By Strobe Talbott

The furor over Eduard Shevardnadze's resignation had the air of a dry run for a much bigger event that suddenly seemed entirely plausible: Mikhail Gorbachev himself quits in disgust or exhaustion or defeat, and the world is abruptly confronted not just with a new Soviet leader but a new -- or perhaps an old -- Soviet Union.

Within hours after the news from Moscow, James Baker appeared in public to assure everyone that American policy is "not one that's based on personality." Translation: we're not betting on the fortunes and stamina of any individual foreign leader; we're pursuing U.S. interests, period. There would probably be a similar statement from the White House if Gorbachev departed the scene under almost any circumstances.

Government spokesmen must say such things, if only because governments are supposed to be more enduring than human beings. But Baker's disclaimer should not be taken at face value. In fact "personality" -- that is, the identity of the No. 1 man in the Kremlin, and even the No. 1 man in the Foreign Ministry -- is crucial in Soviet politics and therefore in U.S.-Soviet relations as well.

When George Bush took office, he and his advisers, notably including Baker, groped for a policy no one could call Gorbocentric, one that would work equally well no matter who was on the other end of the hot line. The result was a nonpolicy. The Administration was so determined to be ready for anything the cunning and unpredictable Soviets might do next that for months official Washington seemed all but incapable of doing anything on its own.

But American advice to wait and see did not sit well with the West Europeans, who could see how Gorbachev was transforming their continent. Meanwhile, East European reformers argued to Bush that the success of their own programs depended on the continuation of perestroika, and Eduard Shevardnadze convinced Baker that perestroika depended on Gorbachev's ability to control the change without resorting to a violent crackdown.

The President and the Secretary of State came to recognize that kibitzers who were saying the U.S. should support the "process of reform" rather than Gorbachev were making a distinction without a difference.

In the normal political life of a democracy, laws and institutions are what count. Even a leader as forceful and as long in office as Margaret Thatcher can suddenly leave, and while the world certainly notices, the event doesn't constitute a national, much less an international crisis.

But these days there is nothing normal about Soviet politics. In a way, there never has been. In the bad old days of Stalinism and stagnation, the personality of the leader mattered so much because he stood at the top of a hierarchical system -- and at the center of a highly centralized one. What he said counted because anyone who disagreed with him could be shot or at least banished from public life.

Now the familiar edifices of the U.S.S.R. have crumbled; the center cannot hold. Yet paradoxically the leader matters more than ever. Now, in the absence of all those ugly but unifying structures and attitudes (particularly that of fear), he often seems to speak for all that is left of a single country. What he says counts because everyone else is arguing not just with him but with one another. If Shevardnadze's warning comes true and Gorbachev gives way to -- or becomes -- a neo-Stalinist, that personality too must be the focus of U.S. policy and the outside world's anxious attention.