Conor O'Clery - Moscow, December 25, 1991

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The implosion of the Soviet Union was the culmination of a gripping game played out between two men who intensely disliked each other and had different concepts for the future. Mikhail Gorbachev, a sophisticated and urbane reformer, sought to modernize and preserve the USSR; Boris Yeltsin, a coarse and a hard drinking “bulldozer,” wished to destroy the union and create a capitalist Russia. The defeat of the August 1991 coup attempt, carried out by hardline communists, shook Gorbachev’s authority and was a triumph for Yeltsin. But it took four months of intrigue and double-dealing before the Soviet Union collapsed and the day arrived when Yeltsin could hustle Gorbachev out of the Kremlin, and move in as ruler of Russia.
Conor O’Clery has written a unique and truly suspenseful thriller of the day the Soviet Union died. The internal power plays, the shifting alliances, the betrayals, the mysterious three colonels carrying the briefcase with the nuclear codes, and the jockeying to exploit the future are worthy of John Le Carré or Alan Furst. The Cold War’s last act was a magnificent dark drama played out in the shadows of the Kremlin.

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Outside its borders, the personnel and property of the USSR are also being transferred to Russia. Yury Vorontsov in New York wakes up on this morning as the long-serving ambassador of the communist superpower to the United Nations and will go to bed this evening as the ambassador of capitalist Russia. Vorontsov changes his status at midnight Moscow Time (4 p.m. the previous day in New York) by simply delivering to the UN Secretary-General, Javier Pérez de Cuéllar y de la Guerra, fax number 2338 from the office of the Russian president in Moscow. It informs the secretary-general that as the successor state to the USSR, Russia will take the Soviet Union’s seat in the UN Security Council as one of the five permanent members with veto powers, and “henceforth the name Russian Federation will be used in the United Nations instead of USSR.” It asks Pérez de Cuéllar to regard as official agents of the Russian Federation all the diplomats who until that day were Soviet representatives.

Only three years ago, Mikhail Gorbachev dazzled the General Assembly with his sweeping vision of a new world order for the twenty-first century that would be regulated by the two superpowers, the Soviet Union and the United States, which together would promote dialogue rather than confrontation and would work to eliminate nuclear weapons.

Yeltsin’s team has already taken possession of the Soviet foreign ministry in Moscow, seized its bank accounts, evicted the last Soviet foreign minister of the Gorbachev era, Eduard Shevardnadze, and installed Yeltsin’s foreign minister, Andrey Kozyrev. Throughout the day, Soviet embassies in different time zones around the world receive a communique from Kozyrev informing them that they all are about to become the foreign missions of Russia. Non-Russian Soviet diplomats will have to set up separate embassies for their own republics, which is the privilege and price of their independence. The communique instructs the diplomats that by December 31 the Soviet flag is to be lowered for the last time on every embassy building around the world and the Russian tricolor hoisted in its place. Some envoys are anxious to declare their allegiance to the new order without delay. Already the white, blue, and red emblem is flying prematurely at the embassies in New Delhi, Teheran, and Kabul.

In Washington, DC, on Christmas morning the red flag with hammer-and-sickle emblem is hanging limply from the mast above the first floor of the Soviet embassy on Sixteenth Street. It is a still, mild day with the temperature 12 degrees above freezing. Inside, the three hundred staff are dividing themselves into ethnic groups and claiming temporary diplomatic space by putting up the names of their republics on office doors. There is considerable chaos, compounded by a shortage of cash. Senior diplomats have had to give up comfortable homes in Maryland and Virginia and move into rooms in the embassy compound because there is no hard currency available from Moscow to pay their rents. Ambassador Viktor Komplektov has been in office only nine months, and he knows that, unlike his counterpart at the United Nations, his days are numbered. He is not trusted by Yeltsin because of his failure to condemn the coup in August. For three days before it collapsed, he enthusiastically disseminated the press releases of the putschists to the American media and peddled their lie to the U.S. government that Gorbachev was ill and unable to continue his duties. The fifty-one-year-old ambassador decides to use the remains of his Soviet-era budget to hold the embassy’s first ever Christmas party as a “last hurrah” for the USSR.

With caviar, sturgeon, champagne, and vodka, the Soviet embassy in Washington goes down like the Titanic . “Enjoy yourselves,” Komplektov tells the four hundred guests. “This is the way we celebrate a grand occasion.” [42] 3 Irish Times, December 27, 1991. Afterwards the red flag is lowered, and the Russian colors are raised in its place, signifying it is now the Russian embassy. Komplektov is recalled within three months.

Perversely, in Israel a new Soviet mission opens this morning. As if nothing has changed in Moscow, the first Soviet ambassador in thirty-four years presents his credentials to President Herzog, and the red flag with hammer and sickle is hoisted over the ancient Russian Compound in Jerusalem. This anomaly arises from a promise Mikhail Gorbachev made two months previously, when he still had some authority, to his Israeli counterpart, Yitzhak Shamir, that he would restore Soviet-Israeli relations broken off at the time of the 1967 Middle East War. The credentials of the envoy, Alexander Bovin, are the last to be signed by a Soviet leader. Bovin’s destiny is to be Soviet ambassador for a week and then become ambassador of Russia, based in Tel Aviv, where he will remain in office for a further six years.

In Santa Cruz de Tenerife, the largest port of the Canary Islands, a Soviet cruise ship docks this Christmas morning. The passengers disembark for a day’s sightseeing. When they return they find that the hammer and sickle on the side of the funnel has been prised off by the Russian crew, and they sail away, citizens of a different country than when they boarded.

Approaching eleven o’clock President Boris Yeltsin leaves his office in the White House and takes the elevator down to the packed hall of the Russian Supreme Soviet. The 252 members of the upper chamber of the Russian Congress of Peoples’ Deputies have been summoned to the chamber to make history. They take their places on polished wooden benches beneath an eggshell-blue ceiling and massive circular chandelier to decide whether or not to approve the final dismemberment of the Soviet Union.

Chapter 7

A BUCKETFUL OF FILTH

Despite Yeltsin’s strenuous efforts, the situation in Moscow did not noticeably improve throughout 1986 and 1987. His replacements in senior posts were often just as corrupt or inefficient as those he fired. “We keep digging to get rid of all this filth, but we still haven’t found the bottom of this black hole,” he complained in a talk with Moscow trade officials. The research institutes ignored his demands for staff reductions. Food continued to rot in railway yards. He worked from 7 a.m. to midnight, his dissatisfaction growing all the while. Arriving home he often sat in the car for several minutes, so exhausted, “I did not have the strength to raise my arm.” [43] 1 Colton, Yeltsin, 125.

He grew more alienated from his comrades in the Politburo. It rankled with Yeltsin that after nearly two years in charge of Moscow he had still not been elevated to full membership of the Politburo, as his predecessors in the Moscow post had been, and that he was answerable to Yegor Ligachev, who believed that instead of radical change the party’s goal should be the strengthening of the USSR’s brand of socialism. Ligachev, the party puritan, saw him now as a dangerous populist.

After the fractious Politburo meeting of January 1987, Gorbachev began to pointedly shun the awkward Moscow party boss. He did his best to avoid shaking Yeltsin’s hand or speaking with him at the Thursday Politburo sessions. Yeltsin’s attack on party privileges had touched a raw nerve with him. Gorbachev did indeed like to live well. Besides building a palatial Moscow home, he had ordered the construction of an immense and architecturally tasteless summer residence for his exclusive use at Foros on the Black Sea. Even his most devoted aides were uneasy about his extravagant use of state funds. Georgy Shakhnazarov worried that it gave people reason to criticize him for his love of luxury. When he first saw the great mansion, with its glass-enclosed escalator down to the beach, his loyal adviser Anatoly Chernyaev too began to have serious doubts about “the perquisites attending his great historic mission.” [44] 2 Chernyaev, My Six Years with Gorbachev, 167.

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