U.S.-Soviet Relations: The Long Road Back

William G. Hyland

From Foreign Affairs, America and the World 1981

Summary:  American presidents have usually inherited poor relations with the Soviet Union. President Eisenhower, of course, was confronted by the tensions of Korea and President Kennedy by the Berlin crisis. Lyndon Johnson was a temporary exception, but Richard Nixon inherited Vietnam and the Czech crisis. Gerald Ford had to deal with a faltering détente, and Jimmy Carter was embroiled in early disputes. In January 1981, Ronald Reagan found himself in much the same position as his predecessors, except that relations were worse than usual. Indeed, relations were frozen. Even the outgoing Administration was pessimistic. The departing American Ambassador to the U.S.S.R., Thomas J. Watson, Jr., summed up the prevailing gloom: "I don't think the West has any conception of how dismal the future looks for East-West relations."

William G. Hyland is currently a Senior Associate at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. He served in the Department of State in 1974-75 and as Deputy Director of the National Security Council Staff from 1975 to 1977.

Even the policy of restricting the transfer of technology raises questions. The Soviet Union is highly vulnerable to the perennial failings of its own agricultural sector. Twenty-five years after the opening of the virgin lands and the adoption of a policy of massive investment in agriculture, the Soviet Union is still importing sizable amounts of grain and paying for it with scarce hard currency (including gold sales). Any alleviation of this problem clearly has some strategic significance for the U.S.S.R. So it could scarcely be argued that denying other technology was imposing a truly significant strategic burden, as long as grain sales were virtually open-ended.

Yet it is undeniable that the U.S.S.R. benefits from access to high technology, since a major Soviet economic problem is declining productivity. But most technologies are by and large available on standard commercial markets in the industrialized countries. Tightening technology transfers is no easy matter. It was one of the sanctions announced by President Carter in January 1980; the new Administration announced a further tightening, and then it was one of the sanctions invoked during the Polish crisis. Half-way measures, such as selling some pipelaying equipment and then suspending it, or selling a complete tractor-combine plant, created an image of a confused and uncertain policy. The main beneficiaries were in Moscow.

V

The issue of greatest long-term significance in 1981 was the Polish crisis. The political and institutional changes in Poland since July 1980 were the most important development within the communist system since the split between China and the U.S.S.R., as well as potentially the most far-reaching development in European politics since the formation of the two military alliances. The outcome could profoundly alter the relations between the U.S.S.R. and the United States. A Soviet invasion would deal a sharp blow to any near-term chances for détente, for arms control, or for an alleviation of global tensions. The evolution of a pluralist political order, on the other hand, could not fail to have an historic impact on both the East and West in Europe. The consequences of such a phenomenon were difficult to foresee because the Polish crisis was genuinely unique. A third alternative, an internal crackdown, seemed initially to be ruled out by the weakness of the Communist Party structure and the dubious reliability of the armed forces.

In the waning days of the Carter Administration when it seemed possible that the Soviet forces would intervene, stern warnings were issued. Some Carter officials take credit for deterring a Soviet move, which Moscow of course denied was intended. Whatever the actual situation had been in December 1980, the situation was still tense when the new Administration took office. Within a few days Secretary Haig, in a letter to Andrei Gromyko, warned against Soviet interference. This prompted Gromyko to reply on January 28 that the situation in Poland "cannot be a subject of discussion between third countries, including the U.S.S.R. and the U.S.A." He was wrong. Poland was the essence of the East-West discussion because it raised the fundamental questions about the nature of European détente: was Moscow prepared to permit peaceful political change in Eastern Europe? Or would it insist on some form of the Brezhnev Doctrine?

In essence, until mid-December the matter rested where the initial Haig-Gromyko exchange left it. The Soviets presumably needed no Western warnings to appreciate the repercussions of a bloody finish to the Polish crisis. Indeed, their behavior had been astonishingly restrained, so much so that some observers concluded there had been a loss of nerve in the Kremlin. More likely was a keen sense in Moscow of the high costs of direct intervention, matched by an equally deep apprehension over the consequences of a collapse of communist authority in Poland.

The primary Soviet maneuver was to try to strengthen the intestinal fortitude of the Polish party leaders. In April the Soviets toyed with a coup, but found no palace guard in the Polish Politburo. In exasperation, an attempt was apparently made to arrange the overthrow of Stanislaw Kania in June-an attempt which also failed. The Polish Party Congress which followed in July made matters worse: the Central Committee was almost completely purged and Kania's faction barely survived in the new politburo. After the Congress, the Soviets insisted on a "clear-cut program of extrication," and Kania's days appeared to be numbered. Steady Soviet pressure, including sporadic military maneuvers, and a vicious public letter in September succeeded in over-throwing him and installing General Jaruzelski on October 17, 1981. It was to be the penultimate move.

On December 13, Jaruzelski moved dramatically to impose martial law and to suspend, if not reverse, the whole process of change and reform that had evolved since July 1980. Tactically, the coup was executed with a precision and discipline that obviously reflected careful and long preparations, with Soviet coaching likely. It took completely by surprise the leaders of the Solidarity movement, which had by then obtained sweeping concessions even to the point of having a real share in power. Opposition was widespread but ineffective, with communications cut both within the country and externally. And although there were a number of strikes and outbreaks of violence, the Jaruzelski regime was apparently successful in maintaining control.

By the end of 1981 the situation seemed temporarily to have settled down, with the possibility of some form of negotiation involving the government, the Catholic Church and leaders of Solidarity, perhaps including Lech Walesa. The regime's special militia forces had proved reliable, but there had been no real test of how the army would perform if it had to deal with really serious resistance. And the economic situation remained desperate, with any improvement apparently dependent on some kind of compromise under which the Polish people would be willing to return to work on an effective basis, and on eventual financial and other assistance from the West.

Throughout the year, American opposition to Soviet military intervention had been straightforward. But beyond the worst contingencies, the Reagan Administration appeared divided over the proper response to the upheaval in Poland. Prior to Jaruzelski's imposition of martial law, the Administration had been wary of providing economic assistance, because it would relieve the Soviets of the responsibility or culpability for the failure of the communist system in Poland.