Extraordinary, Ordinary People: A Memoir of Family

chapter thirty-seven

By October 3, 1990, Germany unified fully within NATO. With Eastern Europe liberated, it was time to think about returning to Stanford. Most universities allow a faculty member to take only two consecutive years of leave without forfeiting tenure. Stanford had been very flexible in my case, and I felt that I needed to get back to my academic career. I was also dead tired.

I went to see Brent in September 1990 and told him that I needed to leave the NSC at the first of the year. He asked me to stay, saying that he wanted to restructure the staff in light of international events. Moreover, Saddam Hussein had invaded Kuwait that August, and the United States had rallied an international coalition against him. It was likely that there would be war in the Middle East. I told him that I’d stay a little while longer to help set up the new structure in light of the coming Gulf War, particularly since Moscow was confronting grave difficulty in managing the republics that were part of the Soviet Union. This was especially true of the Baltic states, which were suddenly restive, having seen the collapse of Soviet power in Europe. “Brent,” I said, “the Soviet Union may break up, and I don’t think I have the energy for it.”

I did stay until April 1991. During the first part of that year, the Soviet Union’s decline accelerated precipitously. We decided that the President needed to meet Soviet leaders other than Gorbachev, who was caught between the backlash of alarmed conservatives struggling to halt or even reverse the flow of events and the rise of radical figures who wanted to move faster even if it meant the end of the Soviet Union.

Boris Yeltsin was one of those radical leaders. He was making a claim—outlandish at the time—that Russia needed to be liberated from the Soviet Union. Yeltsin was Gorbachev’s bitter rival, and when he requested a meeting with President Bush in September 1990, there was some reluctance to see him. The President had enormous respect and sympathy for Gorbachev and was determined to do nothing to embarrass the Soviet leader. We settled on a tried-and-true remedy for such a problem: a meeting with the national security advisor, during which the President would make an unannounced drop-by. Yeltsin was told only that he would meet Brent.

That afternoon I met Boris Yeltsin at the West Wing basement door. He got out of the car and turned to his aide. “This isn’t the door you go in to see the President,” he said in Russian. Obviously he’d expected to be received at the columned formal entrance to the White House where the Marine guards stand vigil.

Before the translator could say anything, I replied in Russian that Mr. Yeltsin’s meeting was with General Scowcroft.

“Who is this man Scowcroft?” Yeltsin barked. “Is he even important enough to meet with me?” Yeltsin, a big man—more than six feet tall and at least 250 pounds—stood there with his arms folded, red-faced and scowling.

I was furious. “Mr. Yeltsin,” I said, this time in English, “General Scowcroft is a busy man. If you don’t want to keep your appointment, let me know and I’ll cancel it and you can go back to your hotel.”

He muttered to himself for a few moments, then huffed and said sharply, “Where is he?” I took him by the arm and almost dragged him up to Brent’s office.

Brent, knowing none of this, greeted him warmly. Yeltsin sat down and launched into a soliloquy on his plans for Russia. Brent, who always worked too hard for his own good, fell asleep. Yeltsin didn’t notice, completely absorbed in his own presentation. About thirty minutes into the meeting, the President flung open the door. Yeltsin smiled broadly, jumped up, and embraced the startled leader of the free world in a bear hug. Then he continued his monologue. After about thirty minutes more he was done. The President left, and I escorted a self-satisfied Yeltsin out to his car.

My first impressions of the man were obviously not very good. But less than a year later Yeltsin stood bravely atop a tank on a Moscow street and faced down the army and the security services of the Soviet Union. Boris Yeltsin would become the historic if somewhat flawed figure who brought down the Soviet Union and launched democracy in Russia. I was very glad that we had arranged that early meeting—bizarre as it was—with the President of the United States.

As expected, January 1991 brought the outbreak of war with Saddam Hussein. This event dominated the news and the attention of the President and Brent. But I was consumed with simultaneous crises in the Baltic states. Suddenly faced with the prospect of Baltic independence, Gorbachev belatedly tried to crack down. Thirteen people were killed and more than a hundred were wounded when Soviet-backed Lithuanian security forces fired on and drove tanks over protesters in Vilnius, the capital city. Violence in the Baltics continued to escalate. “We condemn these acts,” President Bush told the press, saying that the events “could not help but affect our relationship” with Moscow. In spite of all the upheaval, however, the Soviet Union did not launch a full-scale military invasion of Lithuania and Latvia. I can’t be sure, but I have always thought that the President’s clarity helped to remind Moscow of the costs of doing so. After the events that January, it was increasingly clear that the Baltic states would become independent and that Gorbachev’s days were numbered.

Fortunately, our pressure on Moscow did not disrupt the Gulf War coalition, which, led by American military power, successfully expelled Saddam Hussein’s forces from Kuwait. But the war left the Iraqi dictator in power, able to threaten his neighbors and oppress his people. That would be a problem for another day.

With the war concluded, I decided that I had discharged my duties and could return home. The President sent me a lovely letter recounting the role that I had played. “While the fate of the Soviet Union is still not decided,” he wrote, “you have set us on a course to realize the historic dream of a Europe whole, free and at peace.” I was sad to leave but felt a tremendous sense of completion and accomplishment.

The day before my departure, First Lady Barbara Bush invited me to join her for tea in the residence. “You are such a good friend of the Bushes,” she said. “This won’t be the last that we see of you.”