The View From Above: An Insider's Take on Clinton's Russia Policy

The other triumph got even less attention: the laborious but ultimately groundbreaking work to get Russians and Americans serving together in Bosnia as peacekeepers after the Dayton peace accord was signed in 1995. True, the reality of that deployment today does not read quite like a NATO promotional brochure. (Americans have reported the experience of serving with the Russians as a "drunk fest.") But it is hard to exaggerate the importance of the 1995 agreement between Secretary of Defense William Perry and Minister

of Defense Pavel Grachev, which was later operationalized under U.S. General George Joulwan and Russian General Leonty Shevtsov. The work was remarkable, and the relationships that these men developed point to the enormous potential for solving problems on a face-to-face basis.

Mixed with the successes, of course, were more disappointing episodes. Some policies were tried but failed, others remained unfinished, and still others showed the limits of engagement. Each of these dynamics played a role when the United States tried to influence the internal politics of Russia. Clinton, a self-described "tomorrow guy," was gripped by the potential inherent in Russia's transition and convinced that he could make a difference there. But Talbott's assessment, like Russia's current condition, is mixed. Some readers will see enormous hubris in Clinton's thinking that U.S. policy could keep Russia from "going bad," whereas others will admire him for it. Talbott clearly falls into the latter category, but he is critical of the means Clinton chose.

THE PERSONAL IS POLITICAL

Clinton's main strategy for keeping Russia "on track" was to lend as much support to Yeltsin as possible. Almost as soon as he settled on that strategy, it became fashionable in certain circles to trash Clinton's bear hug of "Ol' Boris," as Clinton nicknamed him. Part buffoon, often thoroughly soaked in Scotch or wine, Yeltsin seemed not only unstable (whether manic, depressed, sick, or drunk) but a dubious "democrat" for Clinton to support. After all, Yeltsin turned tanks on his own White House and waged war against Russian citizens in Chechnya. What is striking is that Talbott himself seems to join in the criticism. Instead of embracing the vision of Yeltsin as "a real democrat and a real reformer," Talbott presents him as "an erratic, desperate and selfish old man." Many people wondered silently what Clinton ever saw in Yeltsin. They did not know that Talbott, and other advisers, were asking the same question.

A main reason for Talbott's reservations about Yeltsin seems to be his drinking, which figures centrally in the book. There was a lot of it, which will shock no one. But it is one thing to know that the president of Russia is an alcoholic and quite another to be exposed to it chapter after chapter. One gets to see Yeltsin slamming down several drinks at various summits, or hanging up on the president of the United States in a drunken stupor. Yeltsin's condition clearly bothered his own staff, and it appalled many in the Clinton administration.

Clinton might have been expected to be especially allergic to such drinking, given his stepfather's alcoholism. Instead, he was extremely tolerant, commenting once, "At least Yeltsin's not a mean drunk." Talbott finds Clinton covering for him and being excessively lenient of what Talbott considers "grotesque indiscipline." Clinton countered that a drunk Yeltsin was better than the sober alternative. But Talbott believes that Clinton also saw in Yeltsin a part of himself -- and was thus inclined to forgive. Describing Yeltsin but referring indirectly to Clinton, the author writes, "He was both a very big man and a very bad boy, a natural leader and an incurable screw-up."

RUSSIA WITHOUT THE RUSSIANS

In Talbott's account, Clinton's interaction with Russia was startlingly devoid of Russians other than "Ol' Boris." Although not unusual for the world of foreign policy, this narrow approach was at odds with Clinton's own style as a populist politician. On the one hand, he was clearly absorbed by Russian politics. On the other hand, he paid attention only to a highly sanitized version of events and saw Russia mainly through the prism of Yeltsin. As long as Russia held elections, he believed, it was on the right track -- as if elections were definitive proof that the country's main political players accepted democratic rules of the game.

Clinton was by no means alone in holding this view. The international community, as well as other U.S. officials (including Talbott), also applauded Russia's elections as signs of that country's commitment to democracy, despite numerous serious irregularities. This policy had unintended negative consequences. To Russian activists on the ground, it seemed that the Americans ignored the enormous problems with the electoral process. To Kremlin officials, it must have been clear that the Americans were generally interested in Russia but not concerned by the details; both sides seemed to silently agree that it was better to have Yeltsin elected by whatever means necessary than to have someone else, particularly Gennady Zyuganov, the communist candidate. This selective attention ironically undermined the international efforts, funded by the West, to build democratic institutions. As a result, the U.S. commitment to democracy in Russia appeared hollow, and Russian decision-makers learned precisely what the international community would accept as passable democracy.

CRIME BUT NO PUNISHMENT