Michael Dobbs - Down with Big Brother

Gorbachev brushed aside the general’s demand for his resignation and, for good measure, pretended that he had forgotten Varennikov’s name and patronymic.

“Valentin Ivanovich, is it? Well, just listen, Valentin Ivanovich. The people are not a battalion of soldiers to whom you can issue the command ‘right turn’ or ‘left turn, march,’ and they will do just as you tell them. It won’t be like that.” 80

After hurling some more Russian swearwords at his former subordinates, Gorbachev told them they were “criminals” who would be held responsible for their actions. As the conspirators left the room, he shook them by the hand.

Raisa was sitting in the hall with her daughter and son-in-law. She was frightened that the conspirators would arrest her husband on the spot. She was particularly shocked to see Boldin among the group that had confronted her husband since she regarded him as a friend of the family. He stopped a short distance from her but did not say anything. Shenin and Baklanov said hello.

“Why have you come here?” she asked Baklanov.

“Force of circumstances,” he replied, adding, “We are your friends.”

He held out his hand to say good-bye, but Raisa refused to take it. 81

GORBACHEV’S COLLEAGUES HAD GATHERED in the prime minister’s office, on the second floor of the government building in the Kremlin. They were seated around a long conference table, covered with green baize. Bottles of mineral water, half-drunk cups of tea and coffee, plates full of biscuits and sandwiches, and top secret documents were scattered around the table. Cigarette smoke hung in the air.

The participants in the meeting had arranged themselves on either side of the table, in order of seniority. The most senior officials were farthest from the door. Whenever someone came into the room, there would be a shuffling of places, in order to preserve the Kremlin pecking order. But the seat at the head of the table—the place reserved for the chairman of the meeting—was always left vacant. It was as if none of the men around the table were willing to assume individual responsibility for the events that were taking place. All sought refuge behind the anonymity of the collective. In the absence of Gorbachev, they were effectively leaderless.

Vice President Yanayev arrived late and reeking of alcohol. The conspirators were hoping he would agree to declare himself acting president, but he had yet to give his consent. He had spent the afternoon in the company of an old drinking buddy at a government rest home outside Moscow. His somewhat disheveled appearance provoked a sarcastic comment from Prime Minister Pavlov, who had also been drinking heavily that afternoon, having attended a homecoming party for his son.

“Here we are, discussing important matters, and the vice president is wandering about somewhere,” Pavlov remarked jocularly as Yanayev entered the room. 82

The vice president sat down in his usual place, to the immediate left of the empty chair. The place opposite was reserved for the speaker of the Soviet parliament, Anatoly Lukyanov, who had also been summoned to the Kremlin at short notice. The wily Lukyanov was insisting that his name be removed from the list of members of the GKChP. As the representative of the legislative authority he could not take part in the work of the executive.

The meeting had been convened by Kryuchkov, on the pretext that the president was “ill” and urgent measures were necessary to stabilize the situation in the country. Now that he had isolated the president, the KGB chief had the delicate task of broadening the plot to include other members of the leadership. Gorbachev’s “illness” was a convenient fiction that enabled everyone at the meeting to hide behind a cloak of legality.

Yanayev allowed the debate to swirl around him. He was unsure what position to take, and his alcoholic stupor made it even more difficult for him to think straight. He had talked to Gorbachev a few hours previously by phone—the president had told him he was flying back to Moscow on the nineteenth—so he knew perfectly well that he was not seriously ill. He shared his colleagues’ dismay at the state of the country and believed that a “strong hand” was the only solution. On the other hand, he had never had any pretensions to being a leader, far less a dictator.

Like most Russians, Yanayev had been surprised by his election as vice president eight months earlier. The press had dismissed him as a colorless bureaucrat who had managed to reach the top by never sticking his neck out. After writing a doctoral thesis on Trotskyism and anarchism, he had spent most of his career in the Communist youth organization, the Komsomol. He had also worked for the official trade union organization, which was known as a refuge for mediocrities. Yanayev’s lackluster biography and weak personality had caused a revolt in the Congress of People’s Deputies when Gorbachev proposed him for the post of vice president. Even his jokes fell flat. Questioned by deputies about the state of his health, he replied, “I perform my husbandly duties satisfactorily.” (According to Russian prosecutors, Yanayev was a notorious womanizer.) It took two ballots to get him elected, but Gorbachev seemed satisfied with his choice. The president did not want a strong number two, who might one day challenge him.

Shortly after 10:00 p.m. the delegation that had visited Gorbachev in Foros burst into the room. They too had been drinking, on the plane home. Shenin and Baklanov gave their accounts of the meeting with the president, complaining that he had refused to go along with their perfectly reasonable suggestions for a state of emergency. Yanayev attempted to find out precisely what was wrong with Gorbachev but had no success.

“What’s the matter with you? We’re not doctors,” said one of the group. “We were just told, ‘He’s sick.’ ” 83

Realizing that the others wanted him to declare himself acting president, Yanayev began to squirm. He protested that Lukyanov, who had known Gorbachev since the university, would be a better choice. The Supreme Soviet speaker was adamantly opposed to this idea. He had come to the meeting armed with a copy of the constitution, which he had helped draft. The constitution was clear, he told Yanayev. If the president is incapacitated, for whatever reasons, the vice president must take over.

“According to the constitution, you become acting president, not me. My job is to convene the Supreme Soviet.” 84

At this point, Kryuchkov shoved a piece of paper across the table to Yanayev. It contained a single typewritten sentence:

In connection with the inability of Gorbachev, Mikhail Sergeyevich, to fulfill his duties as President of the USSR, due to his state of health, I assume the responsibilities of President of the USSR from August 19, 1991, on the basis of article 127 7of the Constitution of the USSR.

“Don’t you understand?” said Kryuchkov, one of the few people in the room still sober. “Unless we save the harvest, there will be hunger. In a few months the people will come out onto the street. There will be civil war.” 85

“Perhaps we shouldn’t say that he is ill,” mused Yanayev, smoking one cigarette after another. “They might not understand us properly. There will be all sorts of speculation, talk. People will immediately want to know when he is going to get better.”

“If we don’t link this with Gorbachev’s illness, what other basis do we have for assuming his responsibilities? Now is not the time to investigate whether or not he is ill. We have to save the country.” 86

There was silence around the table as everyone waited for the vice president to make up his mind.