America Abroad

By Strobe Talbott

Soviet and American diplomats were back at it last week, trying to make an agreement out of the disarmament bombshells that George Bush and Mikhail Gorbachev had just finished lobbing at each other. The latest round of benevolent one-upmanship is intended to diminish the danger of war, save money both countries need for domestic spending and set a good example for the rest of the world.

That much Bush and Gorbachev acknowledge. But they're also engaged in a tacit conspiracy to eliminate as many nuclear weapons as possible from parts of the U.S.S.R. that want to be independent countries.

As recently as a few months ago, the leaders of pro-independence movements in the non-Russian republics were virtually unanimous in demanding the removal of Soviet nukes. One parliament after another passed resolutions proclaiming nuclear-free zones. Popular support for such measures was strongest in Ukraine and Belorussia, which are permanently scarred by the Chernobyl disaster, and Kazakhstan, where radioactive "venting" from underground testing at Semipalatinsk has caused generations of children to be born deformed and diseased.

The leaders in the outlying republics are an odd mix. Some were dissidents under the old regime; others were minions of Moscow who embraced nationalism only when it was expedient. When the abortive coup in August accelerated the disintegration of the union, sovereignty went from a slogan to a realistic, negotiable objective. Provincial politicians looked in the mirror and saw statesmen and strategists. They started having second thoughts about whether sending local Soviet missile crews packing was a good idea after all. Nuclear storage facilities and launch sites suddenly looked less like imperial outposts and more like valuable assets that might come in handy as the republics bargain with the Kremlin over the terms of confederation or secession: You want your ICBMs back? O.K., but first you'll have to agree to the following 87 points in our declaration of independence.

"Almost overnight these guys have seen an impossible dream come within reach," says Roger Molander, a strategic analyst at the Rand Corp. "They look at the leverage they've got in their dealings with Moscow, and they say to themselves, 'Hey! Here's the chance of a millennium. Let's go for it!' "

Some leaders in the republics are almost surely thinking about more than just the trade-in value of all that lethal hardware in their midst. They may be asking themselves, What's the ultimate status symbol and guarantee of sovereignty in the late 20th century? One tempting, though dangerous answer: a nuclear arsenal of one's very own.

Officials in Ukraine, Kazakhstan and Belorussia have been dropping broad hints that they want at least to preserve the option of eventually commandeering nuclear-weapons facilities under their jurisdiction and running up their own flags over the command-and-control bunkers.

Ukrainian President Leonid Kravchuk, the prototypical born-again nationalist, is in the habit of referring to all Soviet weapons in his republic as "ours." He enjoys pointing out that Ukraine would be the third largest nuclear power on earth, after the U.S. and whatever is left of the U.S.S.R. Kazakhstan would be fourth. Belorussia would be in the next echelon with Britain, France and China.

In an interview with CNN last week, Alexei Arbatov, an expert on international security in Moscow, asked, "Who knows what might happen in even half a year? Extremist forces ((in the republics)) might claim the right" to their own nukes.

If the Soviet stockpile, like the Soviet Union itself, mimics nuclear fission and splits into smaller pieces, the result could be a burst of proliferation throughout the Eurasian landmass. Just one example: if a free Ukraine were to have its own Bomb, Poland might want one too. Sooner or later, Germany would feel compelled to rethink its policy of remaining a nuclear have-not.

To avert that kind of chain reaction, the Bush Administration is trying to dissuade the republics from making proprietary claims to whatever weapons of mass destruction remain within their borders once the latest arms-cut agreement is implemented. When traveling to the U.S.S.R. or receiving Soviet visitors in Washington, American officials issue a blunt warning: U.S. political and economic support for the republics will depend on their willingness to leave control over all nuclear forces firmly in the hands of the central government.

There is a certain logic and appeal to this injunction. Even if the would-be founding fathers of some would-be new countries harbor nuclear ambitions, they know perfectly well which republic will end up with the most warheads and launchers stationed on its territory: Russia. The Ukrainians, Kazakhs, Belorussians and the rest would prefer that all that megatonnage remain Gorbachev's responsibility rather than become the property of Boris Yeltsin.

Nothing personal against Yeltsin here. He's been a champion of democracy. But no one can be sure about Yeltsin's successors. The other republics don't want to break free of their decades- or centuries-old bonds to Moscow only to live in the shadow of a nuclear-armed Russia. In the end, they may even settle for something less than total sovereignty, ceding what they see as their nuclear rights to a higher and larger authority, if only to be sure that Russia does the same thing.