In the end, neither side could quite carry off the conceit. Summits between Moscow and Washington just aren’t what they used to be–and not simply because, post cold war, the United States and Russia seek to be, in Bill Clinton’s word, ““partners.’’ It’s because the Russians have fallen so far, so fast, since the end of the cold war. The country’s economy bears more than a passing resemblance to a corrupt, Third World kleptocracy; its military is a crumbling embarrassment, and its vaunted nuclear capability is scary mainly because it’s not clear that Moscow has its arsenal under full command and control–as Boris Yeltsin’s own defense minister conceded a few weeks ago. Because of its history, its geographical expanse and the endurance of its long-suffering people, Russia may well be, as Bill Clinton continually insists, a ““great nation.’’ But being a great nation these days does not translate into global diplomatic clout, as last week’s meeting made acutely obvious.
Consider the issue around which the presummit sparring centered: the expansion of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization to include at least three new members– Poland, the Czech Republic and Hungary. Russia’s leaders hate the idea; central Europe, many of them believe, is still their backyard, even if the Warsaw Pact no longer exists. Never mind the NATO pledges (no nukes on virgin NATO soil; strict limits on troop deployments) that make expansion look more like a velvet restraining rope than the ““new Iron Curtain’’ of Russian nightmares. The very idea of the West’s military machine taking in former Soviet satellites simply drives men like Russian Foreign Minister (and former intelligence chief) Yevgeny Primakov to distraction. That’s why, before the summit, he and other Yeltsin advisers had hinted that Russia might just walk away from talks about the ““charter’’ Bill Clinton so eagerly seeks between Moscow and NATO if the West kept up its chatter about expansion.
But Russia’s present impotence, its inability to dissuade the West from proceeding with its plans, could not have been more obvious in Helsinki. Early on Friday, one of President Yeltsin’s foreign-policy advisers said gravely that it would be a ““historic mistake’’ to expand NATO this summer. Looking ahead to the next inevitable source of heat between the two sides, he also announced that it would be ““tragic’’ to even think of allowing the three Baltic countries–Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia–into the alliance. At which point a journalist from Lithuania asked a straightforward question: ““What, precisely, would be so “tragic’ about Lithuania joining NATO?’’ Nothing quite captured the gulf between Moscow’s proud rhetoric and its waning influence than the squirming silence that followed. A few hours later Yeltsin said straightforwardly that Russia still thought NATO expansion was wrong. But he also instructed Foreign Minister Primakov to continue discussions with NATO Secretary-General Javier Solana, with an eye toward completing an agreement between the alliance and Moscow in time for NATO’s July meeting in Madrid–when invitations to the newest members will be issued on schedule. A physically recuperating Boris Yeltsin was sentient enough to understand (even if some of his advisers weren’t) that while the West goes about its business, Russia gains nothing by going off into a corner to sulk.
Of course, serious work got done in Helsinki. Yeltsin promised to push Russia’s balky Parliament to ratify the stalled START II treaty, even if his postsummit-press-conference optimism about his ability to do so may be excessive. If he succeeds, the two presidents agreed to pursue even more radical nuclear-arms reductions in the START III treaty–one that would eventually cut arsenals by 80 percent from their cold-war peak. That, to be sure, would be a historic achievement. And the fact that the two leaders worked out a deal on missile defense–once the most contentious issue of the Reagan Star Wars era–was good news for the West, and another example of Russian capitulation.
But what, in truth, would make everyone feel safer now would be if Yeltsin could find a way to pay the commanders of the nuclear-submarine fleet in Murmansk. They haven’t had a paycheck in four months. And it’s hard to think of a greater post-cold-war security threat than the issue of ““loose nukes.’’ But the Americans say the two sides will deal with that issue in other forums (specifically, the commission chaired by Vice President Al Gore and Prime Minister Viktor Chernomyrdin).
Both sides preferred, instead, to talk about NATO expansion. Those who oppose the idea–both in the West and in Russia–argue that it amounts to kicking a guy when he’s down. Russia poses no threat to anyone, so why bother? Moreover, they say, a prideful nation will remember, and one day Russia will be back: a nuclear superpower with an economy to match. It is not, in truth, a bad argument. It’s just that in Helsinki in 1997, that day seemed a long, long way off.
