Thus, if the system was prone to paralysis, with no one really at the helm, this did not prevent the emergence of a real pilot capable of imposing a change of direction, starting with a shake-up at the top. Sheer chance unquestionably played a role at the outset. But once that chance had been seized, it was possible rapidly to drain the ‘swamp’ by means of a vigorous purge of its supports in the party apparatus. With the arrival of new leading cadres, new initiatives became possible. And this is precisely what happened with Andropov.
One of his close associates in the KGB, Viacheslav Kevorkov, a high-ranking official in counter-intelligence, adds to our picture of him.[6] Kevorkov carried out various international assignments – in particular, running a ‘secret’ channel with West German leaders. In this capacity, he frequently met with Andropov and is thus a primary source. According to Kevorkov, Andropov reflected on the possibility of coming to an agreement with the intelligentsia whereby it would aid him to reform the system. His model was manifestly Lunacharsky who, under Lenin, had known how to communicate and cooperate with this social group. A highly intelligent man, Andropov was acutely conscious that the party suffered on account of the low intellectual level of many of its top cadres and leaders. The frequent sneers about his ‘pro-Brezhnevism’ are disingenuous: his job was in Brezhnev’s gift. My claim that Andropov appreciated the true worth of the top leadership is confirmed by Kevorkov, who quotes his chief’s opinion: ‘Virtually none of the party or state’s current leaders belongs in the class of talented politicians who could confront the problems the country is facing.’ For Kevorkov, Andropov did belong to this class, and he concludes his book with this sentence: ‘Andropov was no doubt the last statesman who believed in the vitality of the Soviet system, but not the system he had inherited when he came to power: he believed in the system he intended to create by carrying out radical reforms.’
From this and other accounts, it seems clear that an intelligent politician like Andropov understood that the system was in need of reconstruction, because its economic and political foundations were by now in a parlous state. Reconstructing it could only mean replacing it in a phased transition. Did he really think in these terms? Even though his personal archives remain inaccessible, the decisions he took (or was intent on taking) permit us to answer in the affirmative.
He took over power rapidly and smoothly. He started off very cautiously, but the country soon learned that something serious was afoot in the Kremlin. The first steps were predictable: restoring discipline in the workplace. But this extended beyond the workers to re-educating the elites, who were not a shining example when it came to their work ethic. He scoffed at their addiction to dachas and other amenities (he was known for his rather austere lifestyle). As soon as this became common knowledge, his popularity grew. The country had a boss – visibly so. Reforms required preparation and time: task forces and commissions were set up. Some measures were temporary; others were irreversible – notably, a rapid purge of a whole layer of powerful, backward-looking apparatus officials that had been the linchpin of the previous leadership. The account given by one of those nominated to replace them furnishes some details.[7]
The dismissal of N. A. Shchelokov, a Brezhnev protege running the Interior Ministry, was widely acclaimed. In the Central Committee apparatus, the heads of departments like ‘business organization’, ‘party organizations’, ‘research and academic institutions’ and the ‘general department’, who formed what was called the ‘small working cabinet’ (or sometimes the ‘shadow cabinet’), prepared many of the most important policies. Andropov put an end to their omnipotence.
The intelligentsia was delighted by the pensioning off of Trapeznikov, another Brezhnev protege who considered himself the ideological luminary of the party. A grand inquisitor and inveterate Stalinist, he pursued writers and academics whose statements displeased him. Such people were the hard core of the party leadership: eliminating them at one stroke sent a very powerful signal.
Under Andropov, Gorbachev’s role carried on expanding. New people arrived in key positions in the party apparatus. Andropov invited Vadim Medvedev to head the ‘research and academic institutions’ department. Medvedev had been violently criticized by its previous head for his ‘insubordination’ in trying to make the party’s Academy of Social Sciences, of which he was the director, a serious research institution. Andropov told him that new approaches were needed to accelerate technological and scientific progress and to improve the situation in the social sciences, which had been given a hard time by Trapeznikov. The Academy should engage in serious research, rather than producing utterly empty ideological texts.
V. I. Vorotnikov, Deputy Prime Minister of the Russian Federation, was appointed its Prime Minister and a member of the Politburo by Andropov in 1983. In the private diary he published,[8] he adds to our picture of Andropov. He was very impressed by his intelligence, which was evident from their conversations. His notes, taken during Politburo meetings, disclose a vigorous, incisive Andropov, not reluctant to broach ever more complex problems, from workplace discipline to the functioning of the economy and the search for a new model. The way he approached change was highly pragmatic: he wanted to proceed by gradually enlarging the scope of the reforms. The first important step in the economic sphere consisted in allowing factories to operate on a fully self-financing basis – that is to say, taking account of costs and profits. However, Vorotnikov – a novice who was not as yet fully integrated into Politburo practices – says nothing about the high-ranking commissions set up to prepare such moves and was not in the know as regards Andropov’s plans for reforming the party. For that we shall have to look elsewhere.
As Andropov’s first modest initiatives began to unfold, he was preparing others and alluded to them: ‘We have to change the economic mechanism and the planning system.’ A task force, which may have existed before he became general-secretary, set to work. In the meantime, private plots, which Khrushchev had reduced or outlawed, were rehabilitated. And the state administration was put on notice: ministerial departments had not given a good example of efficient organization and had failed to create the conditions for a ‘normal, highly productive work atmosphere’.[9]
These initiatives were significant, if rather predictable, and more seemed in the offing. But excerpts from the minutes of Politburo meetings that have become available cast new and surprising light on the emerging strategy. As the campaign for the re-election of party bodies approached, accompanied by the reports habitually delivered on these occasions, Andropov suddenly declared in an official party resolution in August 1983: ‘The party’s electoral assemblies are conducted in accordance with a pre-existing script, without serious and frank debate. Candidates’ declarations have been edited beforehand; any initiative or criticism is suppressed. From now on, none of this will be tolerated.’[10]
This was a bombshell. Criticizing sloppy, self-interested party bosses, and making it clear that they could be removed just as the re-election campaign was opening, created an absolutely novel situation for the whole ruling stratum. Most of them were ex officio members of ‘elected’ party bodies at all levels, from party offices and committees, via regional committees, to the Central Committee itself. Changing this set-up would be a momentous step. It would create an entirely different atmosphere from one in which ‘election’ simply meant ‘nomination’. Andropov openly stated that he wanted to see real elections. This meant he knew that the so-called ‘party’ was in fact a corpse, that it could not be resurrected and must be destroyed. And the incumbent rulers understood this full well. The notorious ‘security of cadres’ (security of tenure regardless of performance) was about to disappear – and, with it, the impunity of the ‘good old days’. The cosy, parasitic power of the class of party-state bosses was nearing its end. Genuine elections inside the party betokened the re-emergence of political factions and new leaders; and this could mean the advent of a new party, whatever its name might be. Such a party, still in power but planning reforms, could have served to steer the country during the difficult transition to a new model.
9
Here we follow the findings of Professor R. G. Pikhoia (who had access to presidential and other archives denied to common mortals):