Yeltsin: A Life

CHAPTER SIX The Mutineer

He was never at ease on the Soviet Olympus. The starchy protocol grated on Yeltsin. Unlike in Sverdlovsk, his coworkers’ homes were not close by, and they rarely socialized or played games together. “It was almost impossible,” to quote from the autobiographical Confession on an Assigned Theme, “to meet with or contact anyone,” such was the security bubble. “If you went out in public to the movies, the theater, or a museum, a whole advance guard would be sent. First they would check out and encircle the place, and only then could you make your appearance.”¹

If his memoirs are any guide, Yeltsin was unsure what to make of the accoutrements provided him. His housing was middling and noisy, he said, and he implied that it was discrimination when he was not given quarters in the leafy neighborhood of Kuntsevo, in Moscow’s west end. Yet the “yellow brick building” on Second Tverskaya-Yamskaya Street in which the Yeltsins were accommodated—to Muscovites, the bricks and their hue bespoke a nomenklatura dwelling—was no hovel, and the family had as many square feet as on Working Youth Embankment in Sverdlovsk. As Yeltsin did not then understand, most apparatchiks assigned to Kuntsevo were lower in station than he and did not qualify for dachas. Yeltsin was supplied with one gratis in April 1985, a cottage shared with Anatolii Luk’yanov, the party department head who had just vetted him for the transfer to Moscow. If he at first thought his living conditions were too modest, they soon seemed Lucullan. Once in the Secretariat in July, he took Moskva-reka-5, the “state dacha” at the village of Usovo that had been occupied for several years by Gorbachev. He was “dismayed” at its ostentation. Set behind a stone wall, it was several times larger than Dacha No. 1 at Baltym, floored in marble, luxuriously furnished, and surrounded by a garden and playing courts. Yeltsin also professes to have been troubled by the dacha staff—three cooks, three waitresses, a chambermaid, and a groundskeeper, all of them on the roster of the KGB’s Ninth Directorate—who were his as soon as he was raised to the status of candidate member of the Politburo.²

Introduction to the innermost circle of power nudged Boris Yeltsin to think more globally about the regime’s raison d’être and its stance toward society. Naina Yeltsina was to use an intriguing culinary metaphor to explain how improbable mutiny would have been if her husband had not decamped from the Urals and gained the metropolitan perspective. “Chances are, if he had not come to Moscow he would not have carried out that act [his speech to the October 1987 plenum of the Central Committee]. That is because you learn more about the layer cake of life in Moscow than on the periphery. Out there, life is simpler. There is no layer cake there, by job and by level of life. There, although he had his high post, I don’t think we lived all that much better than other people.”³ Like many ex-provincials adjusting to the capital, he began the process a tad starry-eyed about those who had admitted him to the club. Some recruits over the years had set about conforming to it and finding a way to benefit. For Yeltsin, though, as Vitalii Tret’yakov puts it, naïveté curdled into aggressiveness. “At first it was a positive, constructive aggressiveness, the wish to do what it seemed to him Gorbachev expected, and to do it better and faster than the others…. But when it came to light that the general secretary did not view Yeltsin’s zeal and udarnichestvo [shockworkerness] with gratitude… [Yeltsin] took a turn toward an aggressiveness that was destructive of the power of the leader of perestroika.”⁴

Most of all, then, it was the fraying of his bond with Mikhail Gorbachev that disaffected Yeltsin. In his early months as Moscow chief, they spoke regularly. This tapered off over the course of 1986. A nitpicking point was the place of the Soviet first lady, Raisa Gorbacheva. Yeltsin felt she put on airs, and he was convinced that her husband told her more than was appropriate about political issues (often on long walks upon Gorbachev’s return from the Kremlin) and that she had more say on them from behind the curtains than was appropriate. In the summer of 1987, she hatched a project to convert the gigantic GUM department store on Red Square into an art museum. Yeltsin and Mayor Saikin were aghast and intervened with central planners to kill the idea.⁵ In one of his interviews with me, Yeltsin said he did not refer to Raisa in his letter or his October disquisition to the Central Committee (see below), but he had talked about her with Gorbachev face to face.⁶ Others confirmed this and said Gorbachev was furious that the question was raised in any form.⁷ When the U.S. ambassador asked Yeltsin in 1989 if he would bring Naina Yeltsina with him on his forthcoming visit to the United States, he said, “No. Absolutely not! I’ll not have her acting like Raisa Maximovna.”⁸ Yeltsin’s grousing about Mrs. Gorbachev was not only about her personally; it also indicates a certain sexism, one that was and is shared by many Russians.

More apropos were the two leaders’ styles and policy positions. To Yeltsin, after their political honeymoon in 1985–86, Gorbachev was vacillating, long-winded, and conceited: “You could not talk of any democracy in the Politburo. After the general secretary’s preamble, everybody was supposed to get up and read out from a little card, ‘Hooray, I agree with everything.’”⁹ Yeltsin had little experience in a collegial decision-making organ he did not head. In Sverdlovsk he was a member of the obkom bureau for only eighteen months before becoming first secretary, and in the Moscow city committee he was in the chair from the start. For his part, Gorbachev thought Yeltsin was playing the prima donna, and in mid-1986 he instructed the editor-in-chief of Pravda, Viktor Afanas’ev, to mute coverage of him in the paper.¹⁰ Gorbachev also thought Yeltsin was overstrung and that he was running scared when his intense tactics in Moscow did not bring results. It was generally believed when Yeltsin was made capital-city boss, and it was his expectation, too, that he would be a full member of the CPSU Politburo, with voting rights, as Viktor Grishin had been from 1971 to 1986.¹¹ He was hurt when Gorbachev refused to make it happen. Gorbachev was to concede in his memoirs that Yeltsin had reason to feel affronted, as there were still “mastodons and dinosaurs” from the Brezhnev era on the bureau.¹² And there were those who passed Yeltsin by. Of the three individuals promoted to full member of the Politburo in June 1987, one had been a candidate member for the same amount of time as Yeltsin, the second had spent less time than he as a candidate, and the third overleaped the candidate stage altogether. Ligachëv, whom Yeltsin more and more saw as a mastodon, has maintained that Yeltsin at some point in 1987 expressed anger directly to the voting members of the Politburo that the Grishin precedent had not been applied. Yeltsin retired from the room, and Ligachëv said he was categorically against such a promotion and would resign if Gorbachev made it. Gorbachev did not make it.¹³

On the nitty-gritty of within-system reform and its prospects, the perceptions of Yeltsin and Gorbachev came to vary. In retrospect, Yeltsin made it sound like a neat breach, where he questioned Gorbachev’s scheme for turning the country and the regime around and Gorbachev stayed with the tried and true: “Despite what seemed to be changes for the better, despite the upsurge of emotion that was roiling the whole country, I sensed that we were running up against a brick wall. The thing was, this time we could not get away with pretty new phrases about perestroika and renewal. We needed concrete actions, new steps forward, but Gorbachev did not want to take such steps.”¹⁴ At the time, the break was messier and more tentative than this passage implies, and more discomfiting to those on the ground. Yeltsin was to tell the Politburo in October 1987 that he first grew disconcerted in the summer of 1986. However, there were few public or semipublic clues of it until 1987, and it took most of 1987 for his mood to work itself out.

The bad blood between Yeltsin and Gorbachev showed in the weekly meetings of the Politburo in the autumn of 1986. It was unmistakable there, though not yet on the outside, when the Politburo sat on January 19, 1987, to deliberate Gorbachev’s report to the Central Committee plenum on political change, just around the corner.¹⁵ Yeltsin heard out Gorbachev on the draft report and then recited a litany of twenty suggestions for improvement. Several were bellicosely worded. The manuscript, he said, oversold the accomplishments of reform, and bureaucratic foot-dragging made it unwise “to succumb to optimism.” Comparisons of perestroika with the 1917 revolution, such as Gorbachev was given to, were “worthless,” since the Soviet social structure was not being transfigured. “It would be better to say simply that perestroika has something of a revolutionary character.” Even as moderate reform, Yeltsin continued, perestroika, or “restructuring,” had been more buzzword than reality. “Certain people are disinclined toward revolutionary changes. It is best to appraise the current period as one of new forms of work leading toward perestroika.” Yeltsin detoured to belittle a paragraph in the Gorbachev document claiming that the fundamentals of the regime guaranteed success: “The guarantees enumerated—the socialist system, the Soviet people, the party—have been around for lo these seventy years! So none of them is a guarantee against a return to the past.” The only insurance policy would be “democratization of all spheres of life,” and that had been barely put in motion, especially in spheres, such as local government, that dealt directly with people. Yeltsin ended with demands for identification by name of the authors of wrongful decisions in the present and past Soviet governments, for term limits for leaders, and for a discussion of ethnic relations in the USSR. Gorbachev said that Yeltsin’s time was up and stormed out of the room.¹⁶

When he resumed the chair a half hour later, Gorbachev made a scathing attack on the Moscow dynamo. “Boris Nikolayevich,” he observed, “deviates from our common assessment” by throwing out “loud and vacuous” reproofs. Personalized judgments had their place, but Yeltsin often lost sight of more general points and in Moscow was overseeing endless staff turnover and reorganization. “We cannot break the knees of the party and society. We need to speak respectfully about the party members who have been carrying and will carry the load and who are experiencing losses. They may have weaknesses but they have strengths, too.”¹⁷ The two swapped comments about Yeltsin’s overheated style, in which Yeltsin accepted Gorbachev’s rebuke only to hear Gorbachev restate it:

“I was beside myself,” Yeltsin recounts, at Gorbachev’s “almost hysterical” reaction to his well-intentioned statement.¹⁸ In a birthday call to Vitalii Vorotnikov, the head of the Russian government, on January 20, Gorbachev confided that the Politburo skirmish had left him with a “sour aftertaste.” Yeltsin was getting too big for his britches, pinning the blame for every snafu on predecessors and superiors, and “playing around with the masses.”¹⁹ Yeltsin paid his respects to Vorotnikov and asked if he had been too abrupt at the meeting. You have every right to take part, Vorotnikov answered, but you should do it more calmly and self-effacingly. “You are forever the accuser, the exposer. You speak acerbically, categorically. You can’t get away with that.”²⁰

And so it went until October 1987. At some gatherings of the leadership, the archives reveal, Yeltsin and Gorbachev butted heads; at others, Yeltsin kept silent or limited himself to needling. He was, he says, the odd man out or a queer fish (chudak) in the collective.²¹ In the Politburo on March 24, he sniped at the foreign-language “special schools” for the offspring of Moscow VIPs, which drew an answering fusillade from Gorbachev and Ligachëv. On April 23 Gorbachev denounced press articles on limousines, clinics, and other nomenklatura privileges, such as had been printed in the pages of Moskovskaya pravda; Yeltsin replied that reasonable explanations of the privileges, if justified by higher need, had to be given to the media and the people. In Politburo discussions in April and May, Yeltsin gave an equivocal signal in favor of deep economic reform. He supported retention of central planning but composition of the plan “from below,” with slack targets whereby efficient firms, once they had met their output quotas, would hold back surplus production for reuse or sale at unregulated prices. It was a branching out from the “complex brigade” model he had favored in Sverdlovsk. On September 28 Yeltsin proclaimed at a Politburo session that the party had been caught with its head in the sand by the emergence of the neformaly, the extra-governmental, informal organizations, and that the Komsomol was ossified and was proving incapable of offering Soviet youth alternatives to them. “It does nothing itself and only interferes with others.” Mobilization of old-style party propagandists into the youth league, as had been advised, “will bring no results.” And the sputtering economy was turning the population away from perestroika: “We said that in two years there would be an improvement. But there have not been any discernible changes. So questions arise. ‘There was one period when it got better [people say], but once again… ’”²²

At the marathon Politburo meeting of October 15, by which time their relations were on the rocks, Gorbachev refuted commentary Yeltsin made on the 120-page draft of his address marking the seventieth anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution on November 7. In Life and Reforms, Gorbachev characterizes Yeltsin’s comments as “saturated by a spirit of great caution and conservatism,” in contrast to his own latitudinarian views.²³ So black-and-white an interpretation is hard to sustain from the archival record.

Both Gorbachev and Yeltsin were unsure about how far to go in revising the Soviet past. In the October 15 discussion, Gorbachev differed from the communist catechism on many issues.²⁴ Yet he defended Stalin’s crushing of Trotskyism and other intraparty opposition groups, his wartime leadership of the fatherland, and “the liquidation of the kulaks as a class” during collectivization, reminiscing here about the organizing efforts of his grandfather in their birthplace of Privol’noye. Yeltsin—from a family of dispossessed kulaks—avoided collectivization and Stalin’s attacks on the opposition and wartime leadership, but spoke on a host of other historical issues. One unifying point for him was the need to recognize the past contribution of rank-and-file citizens and communists. In 1917 the party found out “how to win over the majority of the population and of the soviets [elected councils]” to its side; Germany would not have been defeated in 1945 without the unselfishness of anonymous workers and foot soldiers. Yeltsin asked for elucidation of the role of Lenin and—shades of his adolescent inquiries in Berezniki—for inclusion in the jubilee report of some evaluations of Lenin’s revolutionary contemporaries. Toward the end, he telegraphed irritation at the effort being spent on the past, since what mattered most to society was a decent life in the present. His plea was for a stock taking, a summary in Gorbachev’s speech about the Soviet experiment and the path ahead.

The declassified transcript shows Gorbachev taking to heart the question about the velocity of reform, though not quite as Yeltsin did. On other items, he tut-tutted Yeltsin for artlessness with reference to Lenin and, in Aesopian language, for his self-centeredness:

Gorbachev’s greater attachment to the road taken, and to theories of socialism, rings out. Yeltsin’s emphasis was on how effectively or ineffectively systems worked. If they did not, he implied, society would have to find ones that did.

An antagonism with Yegor Ligachëv, the second-in-command to Gorbachev, also ballooned. The two already differed on minor patronage and organizational issues. In late 1986, for example, Yeltsin walked out of a Politburo session when Ligachëv presented his choice for president of the Urals branch of the Academy of Sciences, located in Sverdlovsk. Yeltsin had not been asked his opinion, and the appointee, physicist Gennadii Mesyats, was from Tomsk, where Ligachëv had been party leader, and was given the job over the Sverdlovsker whom Yeltsin had in mind.²⁵ So far as the Moscow first secretaryship went, Ligachëv was resolved not to let Yeltsin evade Kremlin scrutiny and control, as he was persuaded Viktor Grishin had done under Brezhnev. Once Ligachëv and his operatives had determined to keep a close eye, physical propinquity on Old Square allowed them to do so.²⁶ As the organizational vicar of the CPSU, Ligachëv disliked what he saw as Yeltsin’s smears of the party apparatus on issues such as privilege, corruption, and dogmatism. Yeltsin in turn felt Ligachëv was braking progress and using his staff to undercut him.

For Yeltsin, it especially rankled that he had far less autonomy in the Moscow position than in Sverdlovsk and less, for that matter, than when he served as a Central Committee department head in 1985. At the Central Committee plenum in June 1987, he blasted Ligachëv: “We know, Yegor Kuz’mich, that the Secretariat is working hard. But still [we see] a profusion of petty questions, no letup in the volume of paper, undue tutelage, administration by command, over-regulation of the party organs, and continual visits by commissions chiefly to dig up negative examples.” “Practically nothing” had changed here since 1985 and nothing would until the party center gave local leaders room to exercise that distinctive Urals quality, self-reliance.²⁷ Things were such, he told Prime Minister Nikolai Ryzhkov in a chat, that Ligachëv had phoned him to complain that the lawn in front of Luzhniki, the city’s main soccer stadium, was poorly mowed.²⁸ To Moskovskaya pravda’s Mikhail Poltoranin, Yeltsin said that Ligachëv had him “account for every pencil and scrap of paper” and “put him in the shoes of a little boy.”²⁹

The tiebreaker for Yeltsin was a microissue in political reform. Gorbachev being away on summer vacation in the south, Ligachëv chaired the Politburo session of September 10, 1987. In the Politburo in early August, following rallies by the Pamyat nationalists and by representatives of the Crimean Tatars, a Turkic minority exiled to Central Asia by Stalin, Yeltsin had promised Gorbachev to consider how to regulate street demonstrations. In a memorandum, he proposed to take a permissive approach to citizens who wished to march and congregate but to limit meetings to Izmailovo Park in the east end, which would become a Moscow Hyde Park. Some guidelines had since been promulgated in the city press.³⁰ On September 10 Ligachëv and other standpat members criticized Yeltsin for not checking back with the Kremlin, and said the document was unnecessary and would invalidate police controls. Yeltsin replied that he had made an effort to clear the decision and that such matters were best left to Moscow and other city councils to legislate. Ligachëv waved him off pedantically. The old, centrally run system, which banned meetings other than official rallies, prevented “harm to society, the state, and other citizens.” “There is no need to pass other ‘rules,’” he stated, “and the document adopted in Moscow is to be repealed.”³¹ A Politburo commission merely tweaked the USSR-wide regulations. They would be redone in a much more liberal direction only in 1988–89.

The rigors of the Moscow party position, and the tugging and hauling with Gorbachev and Ligachëv, wore Yeltsin down. Toward the end of 1986, he checked into a Kremlin clinic with a hypertensive attack and symptoms of anxiety. The doctors concluded that he was overworked and that a principal health issue was that in reaction to the nervous tension he “had begun to abuse sedatives and sleeping pills and to be enamored of alcohol.” The patient reacted cantankerously: He had no intention of curbing his workload and “no need of moral lectures.”³² It is to be noted that individuals who worked closely with Yeltsin in those years, and whom I interviewed, seem to have seen few or no effects of psychological dislocation, overmedication, or overconsumption of alcohol. For instance, Valerii Saikin, the mayor of Moscow from 1986 to 1990 and not well disposed toward Yeltsin, said the first secretary never ran out of energy. He might plead a headache at their planning meetings on Monday mornings and refer jocularly to staying up late to work on his weekly report. Beyond that, Saikin saw nothing out of the ordinary.³³

It was on September 10, the day of the Politburo brouhaha over street marches, that Yeltsin decided to fire off a letter to Gorbachev. He came home late to the Usovo dacha and sat with Naina in his study. He told her he intended to write the general secretary and to get out of the CPSU leadership: “I am not going to work with this band [s etoi bandoi] any longer. They are ruining the country” (the country at this time still being the Soviet Union). She was not surprised at his anger, as she had felt it for months, but was taken aback by the solution he proposed. Where would he work? she asked. Yeltsin said it was possible that Gorbachev would let him continue to run the Moscow party committee, without a Politburo seat, although his formal request was to give up both positions. If not, he would go back to the construction industry, perhaps as chief of a building trust. The party would never let him do that, she replied. Then he would work as a foreman, as he had in the 1950s, or perhaps they would move to the far north and start a new life there. Maybe it would be simpler to go on pension, Naina thought, and let their grown-up children feed them. Then came a pause: “He sat and sat and finally said, ‘No.’ I [Naina Yeltsina] thought the continuation of his thought would be, ‘I am not going to write it.’ But he said, ‘No, I am going to write my statement. And we will just see about work later.’ He did not say a thing after that.”³⁴ He drafted the letter that night and sent it to Gorbachev on Saturday, September 12, after what one must assume was further introspection.

Half of the missive was a swipe at Ligachëv, whom Yeltsin painted as a boor and a hat-throwing partisan of Tomsk. Party committees like Yeltsin’s in Moscow, restrained by Ligachëv and his minions, “are losing their self-reliance [samostoyatel’nost’],” even as the leadership was beginning to ease up on factory and farm directors.³⁵ Yeltsin also underlined “the disparity between revolutionary words and [unrevolutionary] deeds,” as had been a theme of his all year, and notified Gorbachev that people felt the inconsistency but were reticent to talk about it.

The novelty of the September document was not the compendium of allegations but the quandary it laid before the Soviet leader. Yeltsin’s undiplomatic request to quit his official posts was certain to cause consternation. The letter only magnified it by telling the general secretary that unnamed officials were shamming agreement with his reforms and blocking them on the sly. Gorbachev, Yeltsin said, had grown inured to the pseudo reformers’ game and was an accomplice in it: “This suits them and, if you will pardon me, Mikhail Sergeyevich, it seems to me [these people] are coming to suit you.” The author was not good at stroking his boss’s ego: “I am an infelicitous person and I know it. I realize it is hard for you to know what to do about me.” If he were to stay in place and nothing else changed, he would be a nuisance, and the problems “will grow and will hobble you in your work.” Most striking for the member of a collective leadership, Yeltsin raised the possibility of taking unilateral action. It was best if Gorbachev dealt with Ligachëv’s obstinacy, one way or the other: “To ‘decode’ all of this would be deleterious if it went public. Only you personally can make a change in the interests of the party.” Between the lines, Yeltsin was asking Gorbachev to throw overboard his second secretary and not Yeltsin, and to speed up reform. The closing sentence of the memorandum was a saber-rattling ultimatum about a widening of the arena of internecine conflict: “I do not think I will find it necessary to turn directly to the plenum of the Central Committee.”

Gorbachev was troubled enough by the letter to dial Yeltsin from his seaside villa in Pitsunda, Georgia. He agreed to discuss it with Yeltsin in Moscow but wanted the meeting to wait almost two months, until after the November 7 holiday break. Gorbachev’s hauteur was strange. One would have thought he would hasten to fix the problem. It was not every day that a candidate member of the Politburo resigned his position. Gorbachev has maintained that Yeltsin accepted his timing. Yeltsin says they agreed to confer “later,” and he assumed that meant in one or two weeks.³⁶ Yeltsin stewed when Gorbachev did not contact him. He feared that the planned October plenum of the Central Committee, the third of the year, was where Gorbachev was going to take up the question, and that he would be confronted there by a motion from Gorbachev and the voting members of the Politburo to purge him.³⁷ He got intelligence from Poltoranin of Moskovskaya pravda and others that Ligachëv was stockpiling data and poised for a preemptive strike against him. On injunction from Ligachëv, Yurii Sklyarov, the head of the Central Committee propaganda department, instructed Poltoranin to write a memorandum “showing that Yeltsin was a populist, that he got in the way of normal work, and so on.” Poltoranin turned him down and took the news to Yeltsin.³⁸

As Yeltsin gave his letter to the courier on September 12, he was to recall, he foresaw two options: “If they ousted me,… I would take up independent political activity…. If they did not oust me, I would appeal to the plenum of the Central Committee.”³⁹ His upbeat attitude is hard to fathom. Basmanovo or Butka homesteaders and maybe Sverdlovsk civil engineers could forage on their own—the word Yeltsin used for “independent” (samostoyatel’nyi) is the adjectival form of “self-reliance.” What, however, would political independence be in a country where one centralized party still controlled government and its means of violence, the media, and the economy? As for the Central Committee as a court of appeal, Yeltsin did not know if he would be afforded the floor. If he were able to speak, he might find some committee backing, but to suborn members would have been “sacrilegious,” as he was to say to the plenum, and would not have gone undetected.⁴⁰ He mulled over a third course and mentioned it to Naina: to write a special letter to the members of the Politburo. He rejected it; a letter could influence no one except possibly for Aleksandr Yakovlev, the Central Committee secretary who was the most change-acceptant of Gorbachev’s wards.⁴¹

The Central Committee met two or three times a year in Sverdlov Hall, in the eighteenth-century Building No. 1 of the Kremlin. The hall was a magnificent rotunda, ninety feet high and ringed in light Corinthian pillars and pilasters and a narrow gallery above. The plenum of Wednesday, October 21, was billed as a sedate affair. It was to consist of hearing out the Politburo-approved text of Gorbachev’s report commemorating the revolution, which was scheduled for delivery on November 2, and party etiquette prescribed early adjournment without discussion, followed by a pleasant luncheon together. Yeltsin was seated in the front row; only the full members of the Politburo were on the presidium, or presiding panel, which looked down on the Central Committee members, alternates, and guests across a skirted desk. He was unsure until the last about whether to try to speak. At about eleven A.M., as Gorbachev finished up, Yeltsin scribbled a few “theses” on one of the red cards used to register votes at Soviet committees and assemblies. He raised his good, right hand shakily in the air. Stage fright hit and he took it down. Gorbachev pointed him out to Ligachëv, who was chairing. Ligachëv asked the members if they wanted to open discussion of the report; when several said they did not, he motioned to Yeltsin that he would not get to speak. Yeltsin took to his feet and was again repelled by Ligachëv. Gorbachev interjected a second time: “Comrade Yeltsin has some kind of announcement.” Only then did Ligachëv surrender the microphone.

Why ever did Gorbachev override Ligachëv? He had to know Yeltsin was up to no good. The circumstances prompt the surmise that the general secretary thought he would kill two birds with one stone by letting the Moscow boss have the floor. One benefit would be to apply pressure on the party to get with the program of reform, on the rationale that incremental change was to be preferred to the shocks favored by Yeltsin. The other potential advantage was the chance for Gorbachev and his followers in the Central Committee to reply to and chasten the hotheadedness of Yeltsin, which could have led to further sanctions.⁴² Like Yeltsin’s decision to speak out, Gorbachev’s decision to allow him to speak carried its own heavy risks.

No drumroll announced Yeltsin’s cri de coeur. In Vitalii Vorotnikov’s words, he “strode up onto the dais. Clearly agitated, he took a pause and began to speak. He talked at first confusedly and then with more assurance, but without his usual force. Somehow, he was semi-apologetic and semiaccusatory, trying continuously to contain his passions.”⁴³ Gorbachev remembers in his memoirs a similarly “strange composite” of feelings on Yeltsin’s face. The combination, he says in one of his off-the-shelf digs at Yeltsin, was what you got from “an unbalanced nature.”⁴⁴

Yeltsin’s nine hundred words—his secret speech—lasted all of six or seven minutes.⁴⁵ In form, they will not put anyone in mind of Pericles’ Funeral Oration or the Gettysburg Address or even of the original secret speech by Nikita Khrushchev in 1956, with its gripping, four-hour narrative of arrest, torture, and gore under Stalin. Yeltsin gave mostly a rambling rerun of the letter of September 12 and of oral statements at meetings, open and closed.⁴⁶ Items about Ligachëv and hidebound Soviet bureaucracy tripped out pell-mell. The only concrete anecdote Yeltsin gave of messed-up reform was the workaday one of his inability to cut back on the number of research institutes in Moscow, as he had promised to do in 1986.⁴⁷

What was lacking in fluency and lawyer’s points Yeltsin made up for in audacity and heat. He wanted “to say everything that is in my soul, what is in my heart, and what is in me as a communist.” He unloaded three bombshells. The first was a sharpened position on how the mass of the population was tuning out the reform process. “People’s faith has begun to ebb.” Unless results were hewed to match promises, “we may well find that the authority of the party as a whole will diminish in the people’s eyes.” Yeltsin made the point clumsily, pushing both a stronger effort to make good on promises and a move away from the two- or three-year period he had spoken of in the Politburo on October 15. The second point was a call for “democratic forms” in Soviet politics, especially in the Communist Party, and disapproval of the growing sycophancy toward Gorbachev, which he said had the ring of a Stalin- or Brezhnev-like personality cult. Political deformations of this sort, Yeltsin asserted, accounted for the failures of the seventy years reviewed in Gorbachev’s report:

These broadsides landed, Yeltsin’s peroration made his third point—repetition of the request to get him off the Politburo that he had initially made in writing on September 12. It was offered with an addendum that was not in the letter to Gorbachev but was part of his September 10 conversation with Naina: the afterthought that his position as Moscow first secretary should be considered by the city committee of the party and not solely by the Central Committee, which would have made it possible for him to remain Moscow party boss after departing the Politburo. Catcalls rang out when he made the last statement. As he took his seat again, “My heart was pounding and seemed ready to burst out of my chest.”⁴⁹

Looked at in the sweep of Yeltsin’s life, the soliloquy was an instant of truth. He reflected on it in an interview fifteen years later as lonely and intimidating : “It was an expression of protest…. I had a venturesome attitude but no support…. I was all alone against this armada, this bulky and cumbersome communist thing, their KGB system.”⁵⁰ There is some self-dramatization here, and not for the only time, but there is no denying that Yeltsin was tempting fate. Irrespective of the cries from the hall after he spoke that he was consumed by vainglory, the eruption was not the result of naked power-seeking, for, absent something to defuse the situation, retribution was foreordained as soon as he had gone through with it. As Anatolii Chernyayev dryly put it to Gorbachev in early November, Yeltsin “was not aiming for the top spot: He was smart enough not to count on it.”⁵¹

Even pushing on Gorbachev to change policy was dicey, given past Soviet practice. Nor was Yeltsin adhering to a well-defined program or set of ideas. His perception that Gorbachev was acting timidly, and that he as a result should recalibrate his position, was grounded more in an almost feline instinct for the moment than in ideology. Gorbachev’s feet were still firmly planted in Marxism-Leninism. Now and over the next four years, inasmuch as he resonated to instincts at all, they were, in a manner of speaking, canine—trained, trainable, tied to the known and to the previously rewarded.⁵²

Once the hunch took with Yeltsin, he acted as he had at times in the past, going beyond survival, duty, success, and testing to revisit the dormant rebellion script. In Confession, he explicitly drew the parallel to a simple act of defiance back in his adolescence—at his commencement from elementary school. In the school hall, he had piped up, “almost as at the October plenum of the Central Committee,”⁵³ and announced to horrified parents and staff that his homeroom teacher was not fit for her job. But Sverdlov Hall in the Moscow Kremlin was, to say the least, a more consequential stage for rebellion than Railway School No. 95 in inconspicuous Berezniki. And, although Yeltsin concentrated in 1987 on his immediate superior, Ligachëv, as he said it had been on his teacher in 1945 or 1946, this time he also went after the headmaster. The Khrushchev secret speech was about the Stalinist past and attempted to absolve the current leadership of responsibility for that past. The Yeltsin secret speech was about the Gorbachevian present and attempted to make the person and the group in charge responsible for the malpractice of reform.

When Yeltsin was back in his seat, Gorbachev took control from Ligachëv. He was, noticed Valerii Boldin, his chief of staff, “livid with rage” at the monkey wrench Yeltsin had thrown and at the claim about kowtowing to Gorbachev as general secretary.⁵⁴ Still, Gorbachev did have options. He could have voiced receptivity and asked Yeltsin to explicate his points. He could have picked some of them apart. Yeltsin had cast aspersions on Gorbachev for exalting palaver over action; the same could have been shown to apply to some degree to Yeltsin’s speech. Or Gorbachev could have finagled the matter by undertaking to review it with Yeltsin or to refer it to the Politburo. That he did not do so is proof that by the time Yeltsin’s speech was over Gorbachev had shifted to giving his uppity associate a dose of his own medicine.

In high dudgeon, Gorbachev rejected Yeltsin’s position that the Moscow party organization should be left to decide on his standing there: “We seem to be talking here about the separation of the Moscow party organization [from the party as a whole]… about a desire to fight with the Central Committee.” Under the “democratic centralism” bolted in place by Lenin and Stalin, local and regional leaders served for the good of the whole and bowed to the will of higher-ups. It was anathema for the Moscow committee, and not the Politburo and the Central Committee apparatus, to choose the city’s party boss.⁵⁵ Gorbachev then solicited opinions, signaling that he had made willingness to berate Yeltsin a badge of loyalty to him.⁵⁶

Nine Politburo members—Ligachëv, Prime Minister Ryzhkov, Vitalii Vorotnikov, Eduard Shevardnadze of Georgia (Gorbachev’s foreign minister), and Viktor Chebrikov (the chairman of the KGB), inter alia—spoke against Yeltsin. All were willing and even happy to oblige, although later Ryzhkov and some others would hold it against Gorbachev that he had not let them in on Yeltsin’s September letter.⁵⁷ A parade of fifteen officials and two blue-collar workers then had at Yeltsin. It was four hours’ worth of imprecations, with time off for a recess in which Yeltsin stood alone. Some committee members approached Gorbachev at the break to demand that Yeltsin be expelled from the Central Committee; Gorbachev refused.⁵⁸ Several members long affiliated with Yeltsin, such as Yurii Petrov, his successor in the Sverdlovsk obkom, and Arkadii Vol’skii, who had tried to bring him to Moscow in the Andropov years, did not respond to Gorbachev’s invitation to attack him verbally. Several others, notably Mayor Saikin, Politburo member Aleksandr Yakovlev, the Sverdlovsker Gennadii Kolbin (now party first secretary in Kazakhstan), and academician Georgii Arbatov, showed some fellow feeling for him even as they got in their digs. Saikin truly stuck his neck out. He was opposed to Yeltsin’s speech and underlined that he had no forewarning of it (he was right off a plane from Beijing), but said there had been some achievements in Moscow since 1985 that Yeltsin had “worked around the clock” to bring about.⁵⁹ The rest ranged from the admonitory to the abusive. These rejoinders were as new as Yeltsin’s almost unrehearsed piece. Since Stalin’s time, would-be speakers at Central Committee plenums had requested a place on the docket weeks ahead, written out their remarks, and filed them with the Secretariat before meeting day.

Ligachëv led off by demanding to know why Yeltsin had been unengaged at many Politburo meetings; the answer must be that all along Yeltsin had knavishly been collecting materials for use in his speech to the plenum.⁶⁰ If Ligachëv’s venom was predictable, some blows smarted more—they were acts of “betrayal,” Yeltsin later said.⁶¹ They came from several provincial party bosses, from Yakov Ryabov, and from Politburo members Ryzhkov and Yakovlev. Boris Konoplëv, the first secretary in Perm oblast, where Yeltsin grew up, wrote Yeltsin’s presentation off to “either cluelessness about life or an effort to shove us aside and distort reality.” Ryabov, sponsor to Yeltsin in Sverdlovsk in the 1960s and 1970s and now ambassador to France, said he should never have drafted him into the party apparatus and promoted him, and ought to have been awake to his “delusions of grandeur.”⁶² Ryzhkov parroted Ligachëv’s charges and added ones of his own about “political nihilism” and a desire to split the Politburo. Yakovlev found that Yeltsin had displayed panic, “petit-bourgeois attitudes,” and an infatuation with “pseudo-revolutionary phrases.” Mikhail Solomentsev, a backer in 1985, faulted him for a tendency to accumulate hostilities the way a snowball does bits of gravel. Vorotnikov, also an early supporter, saw it differently: “At Politburo sessions, Boris Nikolayevich, you mostly keep to yourself. There is some kind of mask on your face the whole time. It was not that way when you were in Sverdlovsk…. You seem to feel malcontent with everyone and everything.” Chebrikov of the KGB reproved the sinner for never having “loved the people of Moscow” and for blabbing to foreign journalists.⁶³

Shooting through the proceedings was paternalistic and pedagogical imagery. When Yeltsin toward the end tried a hangdog rebuttal, Gorbachev interrupted midsentence: “Boris Nikolayevich, are you so politically illiterate [bezgramotnyi] that we should be organizing a reading and writing class for you right here?” No, Yeltsin gulped. Gorbachev then pontificated on Yeltsin’s “hypertrophied self-love” and puerile need to have the country “revolve around your persona,” as the city had since 1985. Several accusers said Yeltsin would do well to think of the plenum and similar conclaves as a rectifying “school” for his “political immaturity [nezrelost’].” Shevardnadze, after Yakovlev the most liberal member of the Politburo, inveighed against his “irresponsibility” and “primitivism.” Stepan Shalayev, the chairman of the Soviet trade unions, said Yeltsin should have been heedful of Ligachëv, whose apparatus was “a great school for each communist who takes part in its work,” a point also taken up by Ryzhkov. Yeltsin dawdled in enlisting in the party in the 1960s, stated Sergei Manyakin, and never was tempered as a communist and citizen; Ligachëv had erred in coddling Yeltsin and not “thumping the table with his fist” at Yeltsin’s roguery.⁶⁴

Yeltsin got with the spirit in his closing by describing the plenary as “a severe school… that will do me for my whole life.” He tried gamely to recycle several of his propositions in conciliatory form, saying, for instance, that his barb about hosannas to Gorbachev applied to only “two or three comrades.” And he allowed that he generally agreed with the assessment of him: “In speaking out today and letting down the Central Committee and the Moscow city organization, I made a mistake.” Gorbachev then asked if Yeltsin was capable of continuing with his work—a giveaway that he was open to a rapprochement, provided Yeltsin ate his words. Yeltsin would not and said again he wanted to be discharged. In his wrap-up, Gorbachev retracted the lifeline and moved that Yeltsin be censured for his “politically erroneous” outburst and that the Politburo and the Moscow committee meet to examine his status.⁶⁵ Yeltsin, like everyone else, voted for the resolution.

There was still time to salvage something from the debacle. The Moscow party bureau met several days later, excoriated Yeltsin for putting them on the spot by speaking out without consultation, but passed a resolution that he should be permitted to stay as gorkom first secretary. They delegated the estimable Saikin to press this position with Gorbachev, yet the general secretary considered the case closed and would not meet with him. Yeltsin attended the Politburo meeting of October 31 and again asked pardon for his conduct ten days before. He informed members he would agree to the Moscow bureau’s proposal that he remain in his local position—an initiative that went unmentioned in his memoirs:

On November 3 Yeltsin sent the general secretary a letter repeating his request. Gorbachev consulted with several Politburo members and called him at work to turn it down summarily. He was fed up with indulging Yeltsin and now had a new plaint: Yeltsin had not disavowed bastard versions of his October 21 speech that were popping up in Moscow and in the world press. “He [Yeltsin] ostensibly perceives himself a ‘popular hero,’” the general secretary exclaimed to staff.⁶⁷ The underlying worry was that Yeltsin’s conceit was shared by the crowd.

It is mind-boggling how close the two gladiators came to a compromise. On October 21, even after Yeltsin refused to withdraw his resignation request, Gorbachev said to the plenum that the position of Moscow party chief might not be “beyond his powers” in the long term, if Yeltsin were “able to draw the correct conclusions” and work well.⁶⁸ Yeltsin did eat humble pie on October 31 and November 3. As late as November 10, Anatolii Chernyayev was recommending to Gorbachev in a letter that he conserve Yeltsin as an ally, in a manifestation of magnanimity and reformism, and not drive him into the ranks of the outcast.⁶⁹ Yeltsin could have been left in the Moscow position with a slap on the wrist—not a kick in the groin. And he could have been wheedled into signing a nonaggression pact that would take him out of the Politburo, something he had wanted since September, with eligibility for a return. Had this been done, as Yeltsin theorized in an interview in 2002, “History might have veered in a different direction.”⁷⁰

On November 7, the anniversary of the revolution, Yeltsin was on the Lenin Mausoleum reviewing stand with the other Soviet leaders, waving at the tanks and rockets in the military parade. Fidel Castro of Cuba, who admired his spunk (and later was to despise his policies), came up and gave him a rib-crunching hug. At the Kremlin reception for the diplomatic corps, Yeltsin, U.S. Ambassador Jack Matlock wrote, stood apart from his Politburo colleagues, “bore a rather sheepish smile, and periodically shifted his stance from one foot to the other, rather like a schoolboy who had been scolded by the teacher.”⁷¹

During the holiday—reading by now off of a primordial script for survival—Yeltsin got the family together to ponder his plight. Would he get work in industry, be rusticated to Sverdlovsk, or worse? His distress took a morbid turn on November 9. He was found dripping in blood in the dressing room off of his Old Square office and whisked by ambulance to the TsKB (Central Clinical Hospital, the main Kremlin hospital) on Michurin Prospect. He had slashed the left side of his rib cage and stomach with office scissors. The weapon chosen and the injury, too superficial to require stitches, indicate it was a howl of anger, frustration, and perhaps self-hate rather than an act of suicide. Of his hospitalization, Yeltsin has said no more than that he had “a breakdown” (sryv), headaches, chest pains, and heart palpitations: “My organism could not stand the nervous strain.”⁷² Naina Yeltsina cared sufficiently about her husband’s mental state to have his head bodyguard, Yurii Kozhukhov, remove hunting knives, guns, and glass objects from their home and dacha before his return, and to tell a friend later she had taken precautions against an overdose with prescription drugs.⁷³

The nadir for Yeltsin was the city party plenum called by Gorbachev and Ligachëv for the evening of Wednesday, November 11. Gorbachev phoned him in his TsKB room that morning to tell him KGB officers would come for him. He cut short Yeltsin’s protestations that he was too ill even to walk unassisted to the toilet; the doctors would help, Gorbachev retorted. Only at this stage did the general secretary canvass Yevgenii Chazov, by this time the Soviet minister of health, who warned him that participation in any public meeting would be a danger to Yeltsin’s health; Gorbachev replied that the matter was settled and Yeltsin had given his agreement.⁷⁴ Naina was in her husband’s room when the guards arrived at Michurin Prospect, and she wanted him to refuse to cooperate. He disagreed because he still hoped against hope that some would side with him, and even that he might win a vote of confidence, and because he was afraid that not to go would be taken as cowardice and would leave pro-Yeltsin members of the Moscow bureau in the lurch. Yeltsin feared a replay of the post–World War II Leningrad affair, when the leadership of the USSR’s second city was decapitated on Stalin’s orders. Until he mentioned this to Naina, she had urged him to stay in the hospital, “And then there was nothing I could do.”⁷⁵ In light of later events, it is of note that one of Stalin’s accusations against the Leningraders in 1949–50 was that they were scheming to set the Russian republic against the central government.⁷⁶

Yeltsin arrived at Old Square bandaged, his face and lips of a violet color, and dazed by the medication. Aleksandr Korzhakov and Chazov both write in their books that he had received a potent shot of baralgin, an analgesic and antispasm agent. He felt so poorly, Yeltsin was to say in 2000, “that it seemed like I would die right there, in the meeting hall.”⁷⁷ KGB officers had roped off the first three rows of the gorkom’s auditorium. Pre-selected speakers filed in and filled up the seats—“flushed, quaking, like borzois [Russian wolfhounds] before the hunt.”⁷⁸ In his introduction to the meeting, Gorbachev said his erstwhile protégé had taken “an exclusive position” on political issues and “put his personal ambitions above the interests of the party.” Yeltsin’s October speech “did not contain a single constructive suggestion” and showed he had forfeited the party’s trust.⁷⁹

Twenty-three borzois then subjected Yeltsin to yet another round-robin hazing. No one from the bureau or the parent city committee, not Mayor Saikin or any of the party secretaries, emitted a benevolent peep, which cut Yeltsin to the quick. A select few were temperate. Alla Nizovtseva, a secretary of the gorkom, said she had met many times with the first secretary and never heard him say anything unfaithful. But he had swerved off the rails, and they had not seen it coming: “We really deluded ourselves, we… overestimated his savvy and knowledge.”⁸⁰ One brave soul, cosmonaut Aleksei Yeliseyev, now the rector of the Bauman Technical University, flayed committee members for coming out against Yeltsin only when it was politically convenient and for denying responsibility for his errors. Most of the other speakers would not take any of the blame.

Some of the vitriol came from officials whom Yeltsin had demoted or dressed down since December 1985. “You have ground everything into dust and ashes,” Vladimir Protopopov, a professor of economics, formerly a raion first secretary, declared, “but when it was time for something creative all you did, Boris Nikolayevich, was stumble around.” Yurii Prokof’ev, a party apparatchik banished to city hall, reminded Yeltsin of his comments to the Twenty-Seventh CPSU Congress in 1986, when he said he had lacked the courage and political experience to speak out before then. “So far as courage goes, you have it, but you have never had political maturity and you do not have it now. The only way to explain that is by reference to your character.” A. N. Nikolayev of Bauman raion stated that Yeltsin had committed “a party crime” and “blasphemy” and “qualified for the same bossman syndrome against which he spoke so angrily at the [1986] party congress.” As an example of the syndrome, A. I. Zemskov from Voroshilov district cited Yeltsin’s inattentiveness to the courtesies Viktor Grishin had been master of: “It is repugnant when not a single raikom [district party committee] secretary… has been able to phone the city secretary direct. Over the course of two years, we have had to report to an assistant why the first secretary of a raikom wants to have a word with the first secretary of the gorkom.” Consecutive orators bandied about invidious comparisons: to Napoleon again (“elements of Bonapartism”); to a prancing general on horseback (“on your steed in front of the man on the street”); to Julius Caesar (“‘I came, I saw, I conquered’ is not the motto for us”); even, with a snicker, to Christ (anti-communists “are trying to make out of Boris Nikolayevich a Jesus Christ who has been tortured for his frightfully revolutionary love of social renewal and democracy”). Some of these speakers were later to ask Yeltsin’s pardon,⁸¹ but that evening the schadenfreude hung over the hall.

Yeltsin went up to the microphone, Gorbachev holding him by the elbow. As he spoke, communists in the first three rows stamped their feet and hissed “Doloi!”—“Down with him!” Gorbachev motioned them down and said, “That’s enough, stop it.”⁸² Yeltsin recanted more abjectly than he had at the Central Committee plenum or the Politburo—before the party, before his Moscow comrades, and “before Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev, whose authority is so high in our organization, in our country, and in the entire world.” “The ambition talked about today” had been his siren song. “I tried to struggle with it, without success.” Were he to transgress in the future, he said, he ought to be expelled from the party.

When the meeting was over and Gorbachev and the audience were gone, Yeltsin, overwrought, put his head down on the presidium table.⁸³ Back at the hospital, Naina exploded that the guards were no better than Nazis—the worst abuse that could be hurtled by a Soviet citizen of her generation—and asked them to tell Gorbachev, whose orders they had carried out, that he was a criminal.⁸⁴

The resolution of the city committee gave Yeltsin’s position to Lev Zaikov, the blimpish Central Committee secretary for the military-industrial complex, the same job Yakov Ryabov had held in the 1970s. Zaikov, a former mayor of Leningrad, had been appointed a CPSU secretary in July 1985, the same day as Yeltsin, and to the Politburo in February 1986. The morning of November 13, Pravda led with an abridged transcript of the November 11 meeting. On February 18, 1988, two years to the day after the Central Committee elevated him to candidate member of the Politburo, it voted him out. Zaikov crowed to editor Mikhail Poltoranin that “the Yeltsin epoch is over.”⁸⁵