3—
The Foreign-Policy Mechanism and Other Influences
Whether from a more acute interest in the executive branch—the core of the foreign-policy-making system—or, more broadly, greater familiarity with organizational processes, Soviet Americanists seem strikingly comfortable in their treatment of the State and Defense Departments. Away from the wild terrain of legislative politics, where behavior is often unpredictable and surprises are frequent, they are much more self-confident when dealing with the bureaucracy. This, clearly, is the heart of politics in the Soviet view. In fact, it is only the belated recognition of the importance of "bureaucratic politics," (Halperin, Allison, et al.) writes Shvedkov, that has brought American analysts to a more realistic appreciation of their own political system.[1]
The "foreign-policy mechanism," in the Soviet view, is critically important. Whatever new policies the president may undertake, whatever treaties and accords the secretary of state may initial, all may be for naught unless they are properly implemented. As Chetverikov has written, "However thoroughly high-level decisions are thought out and substantiated, it is ultimately precisely the departmental apparatus which translates them into daily practice."[2] Fulfillment of new international agreements depends not only on "resolve to cooperate," but also concerns "the good will, frames of mind and the
traditions of the administrative apparatus called upon to implement [their] specific provisions."[3] The government apparatus itself is thus seen to exercise an independent influence on foreign policy.
The State Department
In its responsibility for the implementation of policy, the State Department performs a critical task, upon whose fulfillment may rest the success or failure of high-level policy decisions. "Its role," writes Chetverikov "may be on the one hand, positive and constructive, or on the other, retrograde and inhibiting."[4] In the view of Soviet analysts, the State Department's role has generally been a negative one. That is to say, the "frames of mind" and "traditions" which have prevailed in the department are seen as having been hostile to the Soviet Union. This view is expressed most sharply by Anatoly Gromyko. "When John Kennedy assumed office," he writes, " . . . American foreign policy was trapped in the ice of the 'cold war.' The refrigerating plant of the 'State Department-Pentagon-CIA' corporation was generating at full capacity."[5] The majority of people at the State Department, he goes on, like those in the Defense Department and the CIA, regard the Soviet Union as the enemy of the United States, "increasingly pressuring us." Thus they believe "all means are justified."[6] The State Department, writes Gromyko, "never made any recommendations to the White House that might have aided the relaxation of tension." Moreover, many in the department "regarded the president's actions with apprehension. All this displeased Kennedy."[7]
In the current view, the situation has remained essentially unchanged. In an article in Pravda , Arbatov explains the existence of anti-Soviet attitudes among State Department officials in terms of their "vested interest" in the cold war. Among the "influential forces . . . stubbornly resisting . . . any shift towards détente," he writes, is "a rather substantial stratum of people from among bureaucrats, scientific personnel [i.e., academics] and journalists who, nurtured by the cold war and interested in its perpetuation, do not want to, and perhaps are unable to, think otherwise than in flagrantly anti-communist categories."[8] Chetverikov views "the obsolete tradi-
tions which had formed in the foreign policy departments" in much the same way. He writes: "Among the career bureaucrats there is a grouping composed of people who were brought up on the cold war and who are interested in perpetuating it. They, naturally, actively oppose changes which do not correspond to their views and interests."[9] Having thrived in the cold war, State Department officials are believed to have acquired a stake—professional and psychological—in its continuation. This would, presumably, be especially true for the Bureau of Intelligence and Research and the Bureau of Politico-Military Affairs, those divisions within the department whose size and function were "swollen" during the period of the cold war.[10]
The strength of such anti-communist, cold war sentiments is bolstered considerably, it is argued, by the bureaucratic inertia which pervades the department. Quoting from an essay by former Secretary Kissinger (published in 1969), Chetverikov observes that "the very nature of government structure introduces an element of inertia." He goes on to suggest that "many links of the bureaucratic mechanism which had mastered the old process of making and implementing policy" are reluctant to abandon it.[11] Clinging to the familiar—as much from inertia as from conviction—State Department officials are considered to be slow to change their old cold war views.
In the view of Soviet Americanists, then, the State Department is the captive of its cumbersome, sluggish, inflexible bureaucracy, whose career impulses encourage stereotyped, anti-communist, cold war habits and traditions. Such a situation, writes Shvedkov, "materially hindered . . . negotiations with countries having a different socio-political system."[12] Thus when the new Nixon Administration decided to "normalize" relations with the Soviet Union—and China—it had, somehow, to overcome the resistance of the State Department bureaucracy. To strengthen the hand of the president and protect his new policy course from being frustrated, the National Security Council system was revitalized.
Under the stewardship of Henry A. Kissinger, the National Security Council (NSC) became the dominant foreign policy agency of the Nixon Administration, superseding both State and Defense Departments as a source of influence on the president. This reform,
argues Chetverikov, was of the utmost importance. It represented the "organizational registration and consolidation," the "institutionalization" of détente. Steps have been taken, he writes, which "take into account the key position of the executive apparatus," i.e., the White House, and which are "aimed . . . at improving the system of coordination and control primarily of the departmental apparatus." This new system of foreign-policy management attests "to the fact that the desire for détente has become deeply rooted in all the most important decisive spheres of American political life."[13]
The NSC system, therefore, was viewed as a means of overcoming the influence of a rigid immobile bureaucracy. Though "initially left by the wayside" by their resistance to the new foreign policy course, the State Department "began gradually to accept the changes."[14] With Henry Kissinger, one of the chief architects of the new policy, named to head the department in 1973, it had little alternative. Nevertheless, "obsolete traditions" and bureaucratic inertia have not been notably dissipated. Both "frames of mind" still persist and, as Arbatov noted, place State Department officials largely in the camp of the cold war traditionalists.
The main determinants of the State Department's policy orientation, it would seem, are largely political (high-level policy decisions) and organizational (bureaucratic interests, traditions and habits of mind), not economic. One still finds references to economic interests, of course. Chetverikov notes, for example, that "the apparatus of the state is linked by thousands of threads to the monopolies."[15] It is only in rather specific instances, however, that such assertions seem to be anything more than ritualistic. Even in the field of economic foreign policy, the significance of the "economic interests of the ruling classes" is not very clear. As we saw earlier, "contradictions have arisen between the monopolies oriented towards foreign and domestic markets"[16] as well as in respect to military industry. Thus, as Shvedkov observes, "even the influence of the leading businessman's organizations . . . is not unambiguous. . . . In the face of domestic problems and competition on foreign markets many of them are beginning to show a perceptible interest in expanding trade with the USSR . . . and in relieving world tension."[17] The best argument that the authors of "The Economic Levers" (in Shvedkov's volume, SShA :
Vneshnepoliticheskii mekhanizm [USA: The Foreign-Policy Mechanism ]) can make is that "all units in the U.S. government mechanism" responsible for financial, trade, investment and aid policy "are bound up with one another because in the economic sphere they serve the single course . . . aimed at strengthening the dominant position of the United States."[18] Not a clear-cut policy guide, to say the least.
Within the department, the Bureau of Intelligence and Research is believed to be in a highly important position. The bureau is "the only departmental unit which processes information for all its other subdivisions. It receives the entire mass of information coming in from foreign points, it systematizes, analyzes and interprets it." The functions of analysis and interpretation have an especially important bearing on policy since they are, "as a rule . . . accompanied by a list of alternative political courses which inevitably predetermine the thinking of people making the decisions." The bureau, therefore, has unique access (within the department) to the information upon which policy is based, and is responsible for presenting policy recommendations, functions which give it—along with the CIA—a very important role in the formulation of policy.[19]
In the view of Soviet analysts, the State Department is far from monolithic. Its "internal structure;' writes Bessmenykh, is "contradictory, unstable, complex and muddled." In addition to incessant conflicts between "career diplomats" and "political appointees" over key diplomatic assignments, the "broadly-trained" career officials are said to resent the recent influx of "specialists" (planners, economists, programmers, psychologists, propagandists, etc.) into the department. The "hostile reception given the newcomers" is due to (a) the "professional conservatism of the career diplomats," who have argued that foreign-policy decisions can and should be "based almost exclusively on knowledge obtained from experience, on an intuitive understanding of the processes taking place" rather than on "timely planning and forecasting" and (b) the fact that the new specialists "destroyed the 'elite' position which the diplomats previously enjoyed as members of a 'closed professional club.'"[20]
In addition to "professional incompatability" and "social dissociation," there are even cases of what are described as "disagreements on specific tactical matters." Thus not only does Arbatov note "serious
disagreements" within the "power apparatus itself" at the time of the invasion of Cambodia, which provoked a protest from "250 State Department employees,"[21] but he has also commented on the fact that in the 1940s there was a policy disagreement between Secretary Acheson and Soviet experts within the State Department.[22]
As troubled as they may be by the internal strife, far more significant for the department's leadership is the sharp political struggle which pervades the whole executive branch. The entire foreign-policy apparatus, writes Bessmenykh, is torn by "intense, internecine conflict." The State Department is in continual conflict with the USIA, ACDA, and the Departments of the Treasury, Commerce, and Agriculture, not to speak of "the still more difficult relations" with the Defense Department and the CIA.[23] The "augmented role of the military and intelligence departments" has been a particular source of difficulty.
Though these "external factors" were seen to be "qualifying the role" of the State Department,[24] in the early 1970s the situation began to change. The creation of the new NSC system, Kissinger's role in the State Department, and especially his retention in the White House as head of the NSC after he became secretary of state, were all seen to reflect the administration's "desire to consolidate the system of levers of influence on the Pentagon."[25]
This bureaucratic competition is the heart of the policy process according to Shvedkov. He writes: "Policy is usually the result of various pressures on the government mechanism from outside, the complicated maneuvering of the agencies that comprise it, and the compromises concluded between them."[26] While corporate interests are seen to exert pressure "from outside," the focus of attention is on the mechanism itself. And though other agencies, especially the Defense Department, may well have some advantages, the State Department's position remains a central one.
The Defense Department (DOD)
The first and perhaps most important point made by Soviet analysts is that the Defense Department is "the largest and most expensive part of the government apparatus" dealing with the implementation of foreign policy. Not only is its yearly budget almost 10
percent of the annual American GNP, but it owns property worth more than $200 billion (three times greater than the combined properties of U.S. Steel, General Motors, Metropolitan Life Insurance Co., AT&T and Standard Oil of New Jersey), and is the country's largest single purchaser (signing more than 200,000 contracts a year, with more than 100,000 permanent suppliers). DOD is thus seen to be an enormous concentration of power, wealth and influence. "This position in the national structure makes it possible for the military complex to play a special role in U.S. domestic and foreign policy."[27]
The great size and wealth of DOD have enabled it to gain enormous political influence. Given its huge budget, it has been able to acquire "more up-to-date equipment for communications, data-processing and organization of management than the other government departments." This fact alone has magnified its power. While the "capabilities and intentions of men working in an organization" may affect its political role, "frequently the organization, particularly such a giant mechanism as the Pentagon, overpowers people and dictates their actions as if it had itself become an independent force."[28] The Pentagon's vast material resources have thus given it"a number of important advantages . . . in its constant rivalry with the State Department for influence over foreign policy."[29] Furthermore, writes Chetverikov, "since not one significant presidential decision is adopted without military factors being taken into account, the president is virtually constantly dependent on the Pentagon's information and recommendations . . . even when he has a certain mistrust of military people."[30]
In light of the Pentagon's central role in the formulation of foreign policy, the influence of the secretary of defense has since the end of World War II been very considerable. Under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, writes Kulagin, "it was the secretary of defense rather than the secretary of state, who had the greatest influence." The military, along with the CIA, "played the most important role in planning and carrying out" the invasion at the Bay of Pigs. The policies of Secretary McNamara also "predetermined escalation" of the U.S. military involvement in Vietnam.[31] The role of his successor was believed to have been somewhat less important. Defense Secretary Laird was seen to fall "far short of a man like
McNamara in both energy and erudition." During the Nixon Administration, the importance of the defense secretary "declined somewhat."[32]
Another factor which has helped bolster the influence of the Pentagon over that of the State Department, according to Kulagin, is the relative advantages of military over political planning. "Military planning," he writes, "is based on a completely fixed material base: the size, structure, and deployment of armed forces, characteristics of weapons systems, the military capabilities of potential adversaries and allies, and so on." In contrast, the planning units of the State Department face an altogether different situation. "They have at their disposal only foggy projections, subjective guesses and proposals, facts and tendencies that are difficult to put in precise quantitative terms." The military can, therefore, engage in "concrete planning," which the State Department cannot. Its greater precision and concreteness, it is said, increases the influence of military over diplomatic planning estimates.[33]
The power of the Pentagon is increased still further by its vast political influence. Not only does it enjoy a symbiotic relationship with large military corporations, its powerful and wealthy allies in the "military-industrial complex," but DOD also has the firm support of a number of highly influential congressmen, viz., Senators Russell, Goldwater, Jackson, Thurmond, and Stennis.[34] Further, in order to ensure its continued influence on Capitol Hill, DOD employs the largest number of lobbyists of any department in the executive branch. "In 1969, it had 339 officials for relations with Congress, i.e., there were two Pentagon lobbyists for every three members of Congress."[35]
We are told, furthermore, that the scope of the "military-industrial complex" is much greater than the term itself implies. "It is essential to stress," wrote Trofimenko in 1972,
. . . that the military-industrial complex is not only a bloc of military-industrial firms and the armed forces. The military-industrial complex is a concept which is far more capacious. It also includes large groups of scientists working on Pentagon assignments, journalists defending the viewpoint of the military on all questions of policy, trade union bosses . . . in a word, all those who are . . . interested, for reasons of "skimming off the cream of patriotism," in preserving the "cold war" situation.
The Pentagon's influence deeply permeates American society. Rather than speak of a "military-industrial complex" Trofimenko prefers the rubric "military-industrial-trade union-academic-scientific complex."[36]
The policy implications of this vast accumulation of power and influence by the Defense Department are essentially negative. As noted earlier, "the military-industrial complex" thrives in conditions of tension and world conflict. In order to protect its privileged bureaucratic position and enormous arms appropriations, the Pentagon strives to maintain constant nervous tension in the highest government circles. This inevitably places DOD in the anti-Soviet camp. As Oleshuk has written, the "military-industrial complex . . . based on its own strictly selfish interests," seeks to prevent improved relations with the Soviet Union.
It is now a familiar story which is repeated from year to year: when the time comes to "push" new appropriations for military expenditures through the Congress, the Pentagon and the monopolies filling military orders inspire a routine noisy campaign on the subject of the "military threat" from the USSR. This helps force through Congress large appropriations for the armed forces.[37]
Such campaigns about "sinister Soviet intentions," writes Arbatov, "are whipped up with the inevitability of other seasonal phenomena (like the blossoming of the cherry trees in Washington)."[38]
So as to extort large appropriations, the Pentagon presents overstated appraisals of potential enemies. The influence of such practices is highly pernicious and serves to further aggravate Soviet-American relations. They lead, inevitably, to what Kulagin refers to as "the fabrications and myths that have intensified the atmosphere of cold war hysteria."[39] With its privileged power and status—and budget—dependent upon the continued primacy of national defense as a policy issue, the Pentagon has a definite stake in the cold war. In the case of the professional military men in the Pentagon, however, they tend towards aggressive behavior not merely because it is in their self-interest to do so; their political views and professional narrowness naturally bend them in this direction. Most American military officers, notes Kulagin, hold conservative or ultra-right wing views. Furthermore they tend to see only military answers to complex political
issues. Thus, "in most cases the influence of professional military men on foreign policy is oriented toward the use of military means."[40] (General Gavin's criticism of U.S. Vietnam policy and Admiral La Rocque's opposition to high levels of military budgeting are among the exceptions noted.)
Though the Pentagon is enormously powerful, Soviet analysts do not view it to be uniformly evil. First, the Defense Department is not seen to be a tightly-knit, monolithic organization. In contrast to earlier writings, which tended to stress its vast size and pervasive influence, current Soviet writings recognize that DOD is a complex organization, which as often as not is at odds with itself. Trofimenko and his institute colleagues have noted, for example, the "fierce competition" which has existed between the three main military services since the end of World War II. The particular attitude taken by each branch to specific issues, they argue, is shaped by "purely egotistical considerations." That is to say, the position of the army, the navy and the air force on such matters as strategic doctrine ("massive retaliation," "flexible response") and weapons technology (ICBM, ABM, Polaris) is determined mainly by the implications of such policies for the budgetary and political position of each branch. Conflict over funds and influence, they point out, is rife within the Pentagon.[41]
While all branches seek ever larger defense appropriations—a circumstance which by itself helps stimulate the arms race—they respond in much the same "egotistical" fashion to the prospect of arms limitation. During the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks (SALT) with the USSR, notes Zhurkin, "fights" developed between the representatives of the various branches:
The air force leaders suggested the limitation of anti-missile defense systems (belonging to the American land forces), but opposed the limitation of intercontinental ballistic missiles or strategic bombers; naval commanders suggested the limitation of intercontinental ballistic missiles and bombers, but would not agree to the limitation of nuclear submarines and submarine ballistic missile carriers. As for the commanders of the land forces, they favored the limitation of offensive strategic weapons (intercontinental ballistic missiles, submarine ballistic missile carriers and strategic bombers), but opposed the limitation of anti-missile defense systems.
All of which provides "further evidence of the fact that although the military-industrial complex rallies against common enemies, it still does not represent a unified whole and is being torn apart by acute internal conflict."[42]
"Fierce competition" and conflict within the American military is of considerable significance. Clearly the implications of some strategic doctrines and weapons systems may well be more ominous for Soviet security interests than others. This circumstance takes on additional significance in light of the fact that not all Pentagon leaders are seen to be equally hostile to the USSR. For example, even though he was severely condemned for U.S. policies in Vietnam, Secretary McNamara's reputation in Moscow is not wholly negative. Kulagin, as noted, regards him as a man of "energy and erudition." Trofimenko also views him with respect. He writes:
One of the first U.S. leaders to be more or less realistically aware of the hopelessness of the "senseless inertia" of the arms race . . . was Robert McNamara. . . . He put forward the thesis of the "diminishing return" of capital investment in strategic arms systems under modern conditions. . . . "The country can reach a point," McNamara concluded in 1966, "when, in buying more military hardware, it is no longer buying more security for itself, and we have reached such a point."[43]
A recent study adopts a more critical posture. While recognizing his "sensible calculations," Trofimenko and his colleagues regard McNamara's policies with considerably less enthusiasm. Despite "all his sound judgments and evaluations," they write, "McNamara continued the strategic arms race even more zealously than his predecessors . . . increasing the American arsenal of 'overkill.'"[44]
Defense Secretary James Schlesinger, on the other hand, was at no time viewed positively. In the view of two prominant military analysts at the USA Institute, Mil'shteyn and Semeyko, Secretary Schlesinger's endorsement of the doctrine of "limited strategic war" was highly "dangerous," "runs counter to the trend towards détente . . . and gives ground for suspicion and distrust."[45] According to Arbatov, Schlesinger fell victim to "strategic scholasticism." His military doctrines were not only "completely divorced from reality" but, more dangerously, increased rather than reduced the threat of general nuclear war.[46]
Such militaristic views do not, however, go unchallenged. As we saw previously, "the sharp expansion" of the powers of the president's special assistant on national security affairs was, as Chetverikov writes, "a measure aimed at creating a balancing force to counter the military's influence in the NSC machinery."[47] These new arrangements, in the Soviet view, worked well. Mr. Kissinger was "'the president's man,' that is, the one who does not represent narrow departmental interests." He became, in effect, "deputy president on foreign policy matters."[48] Thus, though Defense Secretary Schlesinger was considered one of the "influential forces among the enemies of détente," he was constrained by the more powerful—and more moderate—forces in the White House.
There are, in addition, other forces for moderation. As previously noted, there is growing uncertainty within the business community regarding the wisdom of continued high levels of military spending. It would be simplifying too much, notes Semeyko, to suggest that American foreign policy is shaped by the interests of major war "businesses" and the military. The influence of such groups is restricted, among other things, by "the heterogeneity of interests among the war-oriented and other monopolies," i.e., the conflicting interests of the military and civilian sections of the economy.[49]
Furthermore, doubts regarding the desirability of large military budgets have spread, as we have seen, to Capitol Hill. There are in the Congress, writes Tsagolov, "many who actively oppose an increase in military spending and the continuation of the arms race, and their ranks have recently swelled."[50] The desire for constraint in the "arms sphere," writes Konovalov, "has been characteristic of both chambers . . . in recent years." For example, in the fall of 1974 Congress "made a cut of almost $5 billion" in the military budget requested by the Defense Department. He notes further than American "statesmen and military figures have themselves frequently stressed . . . the sober thesis . . . [that] the true security of the United States cannot be ensured by means of the endless spiralling of the arms race."[51]
The USA Institute's basic assessment remains, however, highly negative. The Defense Department is seen to be a powerful force in American political life, with a vital stake in the continuation of the arms build-up. This fact has critical implications. Any decision by the White House to negotiate arms control agreements with the USSR
would, of necessity, jeopardize the power, influence, and economic position of the military. The basic interests of the Pentagon therefore demand that such decisions be opposed. This inbred hostility to arms control and, more generally, to détente inevitably generates what Soviet analysts see as "a certain inconsistency and dangerous zig-zags" in U.S. policy, which often "contradict the positions which have already been asserted" by the American political leadership.[52] The Pentagon—and its allies—remain in the Soviet view, a "complex" of enormous power and influence "which did not emerge yesterday and which will not depart the scene tomorrow."[53]
Special Interest Groups
Of the various other forces in U.S. political life which bear on foreign policy, Soviet analysts make particular note of three: special interest groups, public opinion, and the communications media. In dealing with the first, attention is focused on the worlds of business and of academia.
(a) Economic
As discussed in detail previously, Soviet analysts regard the American business community as internally divided in terms of its economic interests and, accordingly, having different foreign policy orientations. The weapons suppliers and their subcontractors, seeking an ever larger slice of the military pie, support an aggressive foreign-policy line. The far bigger non-military sector, concerned about inflation and economic stability, do not. For example, as Shvedkov points out, American oil companies opposed United States aid to Israel during the 1973 Yom Kippur War. Fearing Arab sanctions against their operations in the Middle East, the oil companies took what the Soviets saw to be a distinctly moderate stance.[54]
The one additional point worth further note is the interest shown recently in those segments of the American business community seeking improved relations with the Soviet Union. This, of course, is not a totally novel development. In the early 1920s, the newly-established Soviet regime hoped that "far-sighted [American] business leaders would see the advantage of commercial and diplomatic relations with Russia" and encouraged the Republican administration of President Warren Harding to pursue a friendly policy.[55] Soviet
analysts and political leaders have placed similar faith in such business leaders as David Kendall, Armand Hammer, and David Rockefeller to promote trade and political relations between the U.S. and the USSR, with equally unimpressive results. (We shall return to this at a later point.)
(b) Academic
Soviet analysts are showing a growing interest in the American academic community. Once condemned as mere intellectual apologists paid to rationalize and justify the official government line, scholars in the United States are today regarded as an independent source of influence on policy. Government agencies, writes Gromyko, "have in recent years . . . been increasingly using the services of the academic community, turning for advice either to scholars who are experts on general problems of international relations, or to specialists on some particular country."[56]
To facilitate this relationship, a "fairly well organized system for exchanging ideas, understandings and mutual assistance" has been established between the U.S. government and the academic world. Although, as Gromyko writes, "primacy in the making of decisions belongs to the government and the last word remains, of course, with the president,"[57] academic influence is seen to be significant. For example, "the NSC staff regards scholarly research as an important instrument which makes it possible to outline more thoroughly possible alternatives of the U.S. position on the most important and complicated international problems before they are presented to the president."[58] This "approach" was used, Berezin notes, in putting together the American position in the SALT negotiations. After the conclusion of the first round of talks in Helsinki in November 1969, a special task force (headed by NSC weapons-system specialist Lawrence Lynn) including specialists from outside the government, prepared twelve studies for the American side.[59] Furthermore, as V. P. Lukin points out, scholars have played an important part in the shaping of U.S. policy in the Far East. He writes that "the actual content of the principal premises" of the Nixon Doctrine "evolved from debates over modern foreign-policy problems within scholarly research circles." In 1975, he notes, the Brookings Institution and
other influential and "practically-minded research centers" published a number of studies which laid the foundation for creating a new "Pacific doctrine."[60] Thus, while not decisive, academic influence can be important.
Soviet analysts have made particular comment on three different segments of American academia—the "Arms Control Community," "think tanks" specializing in military and strategic problems, and Soviet specialists.
(1) The "Arms Control Community"
The USA Institute has for some while been alert to the activity of those specialists working on questions of arms control, the so-called "Arms Control Community." During the "great strategic debates" in the United States on the adoption of an ABM system, notes Trofimenko, "eminent scholars and specialists . . . joined vigorously." Their role, he suggests, was positive. They opposed the ABM system as enormously expensive and basically ineffective. As a result in part of their writings and testimony before Congress, "a realistic line emerged victorious" when the president signed the 1972 SALT accords in Moscow, which limited ABM development.[61]
Soviet sources are unanimous in their conclusion that the Arms Control Community has grown into a considerable political force. "The strengthened influence of these sober scientists," writes another observer,
indisputably contributed toward official Washington's recognition of the principle of equivalency with the Soviet Union . . . and has already had a definite effect on the development and adoption of a number of proposals on arms control by the U.S. government and Congress, the most realistic of which have been recorded in treaties with the USSR.[62]
The critical role of the Arms Control Community is explained in part by the credentials of its members. The "eminent scholars and specialists" usually referred to—York, Kistiakowsky, Wiesner, Scoville, Rathjens, Chayes, Ruina, Panofsky—have all been high-level officials in previous administrations or served as government advisors. Their judgments, in the Soviet view, are authoritative; their criticism of Defense Department policy is, therefore, especially telling.[63]
USA Institute military analyst M. A. Mil'shteyn has observed a similar discussion regarding SALT-II. He writes: "There were continuous broad discussions at the most diverse levels in the United States around the questions which had to be solved at the second phase" of SALT—"in Congress, in government departments, at symposia and seminars . . . and particularly among the circles of people engaged in arms control questions (The Arms Control Community) [given in English]."[64] In this instance Mil'shteyn found the American discussion to be "unjustifiably pessimistic." Nonetheless he and Trofimenko clearly consider the "Arms Control Community" an influential group of "realistic" scholar-advocates who can frequently—though not always—be counted on to raise serious objections to the Pentagon's latest programs and contribute to the public and congressional discussions of arms control issues. Their influence, though not decisive, has at times been important.
(2) The "Think Tanks"
Aware that, as Gromyko has written, the American position at SALT-II depends "upon the entire complex of forces . . . which take part in work on military-political problems,"[65] Soviet interest extends beyond the "Arms Control Community" to the research centers specializing in strategic analysis. The Soviet position on the strategic "think tanks" has turned 180°. Previously denounced for their "right-wing," militaristic attitudes, such organizations as the Institute for Defense Analysis and the Center for Strategic Studies of the Stanford Research Institute (SRI) are now openly courted—precisely because of their association with the Department of Defense. Such institutions, Gromyko notes with unusual candor,
can significantly affect the process of government decision making if only because they are in a position "to shoot upward" their analytical and military-technical documentation and expertise, which may exert a very significant influence on responsible government officials.[66]
Thus even though "the interests of the military-industrial complex are deeply-embedded in these institutes," and "many on their staff take positions which coincide with the views of Senator Jackson," Mr. Gromyko managed to spend some time visiting with SRI's "energetic Richard Foster" (whose office, he notes, is "a ten-minute drive from the White House and right next to the Pentagon.")[67] And, presumably in the hope of "shooting upward" their own views on such matters,
ranking officials from the USA Institute and IMEMO have participated in a series of "research symposia" with SRI dealing with questions of military strategy and doctrine, Soviet-American trade, global economic problems and political/strategic issues related to détente.[68]
(3) Soviet Specialists
A special place in the Soviet pantheon of the enemies of détente is reserved for American scholars specializing in the Soviet Union. At best, according to USA Institute Director Arbatov, the "well-known vices of Sovietology" include the following:
empty thoughts, the deliberate complication of the most simple things, [and] persistent attempts to make great conclusions from facts of little significance (the method of "splitting hairs" or, as we say in Russia, attempts to "make an elephant out of a fly and then trade in ivory").[69]
Put less politely, academic specialists on the Soviet Union, like many of their brethren in the State Department, are considered to be a product—and a major beneficiary—of the cold war. Gromyko refers to American Sovietology as "that product of the cold war which, in turn, it did everything to stimulate."[70] Having made their career in anti-Communism during the cold war, they seek to prolong its existence. Thus, charges Arbatov, they disseminate false notions—regarding an alleged "expansionist drive" in Soviet policy—"calculated to discourage any desire in the West to seek alternatives to the cold war."[71]
Purveyors of ossified anti-communist dogmas, many of the professional anti-Soviets are believed to have made a sizeable contribution to the cold war. In their time Zbigniew Brzezinski (long a favorite bête noire) and numerous other lesser lights served in the State Department, sowing the seeds of distrust and suspicion towards the USSR. They appeal, in their writings, to liberal intellectuals and students, "an impressionable and occasionally fickle and fashion-conscious milieu."[72] Soviet scorn for Western liberalism is well captured in Arbatov's characterization of "liberal circles": "Like frivolous young girls," he writes, "(although many of them are gray-haired), they swing from one fashionable political trend to another."[73]
While numerous others—such as Walter Laqueur, Richard Pipes, and Leopold Labedz—are also regarded as overt enemies of détente, the picture is not all bleak. In a recent issue of SShA , "political scientist"—a less ominous profession—Marshall Shulman
was mentioned without any abusive references and Zbigniew Brzezinski was seen to have begun to recognize reality.[74] Despite deep reservations about Jimmy Carter's choice of foreign-policy advisor, Soviet observers were diplomatic in their commentary during the 1976 election campaign. Though Mr. Brzezinski was identified as an "expert 'on Kremlin affairs' . . . well-known for his anti-Sovietism," his "positive" remarks regarding détente were cited in Pravda as "uniquely symptomatic" of the increasing support in the United States for a "sensible approach" to Soviet-American relations.[75]
Whatever influence they may have had in the past, "the prestige and authority of the so-called Sovietologists has declined sharply." The "new realities" of Soviet-American relations, writes Gromyko, ran counter to their "dire predictions." As a result, "the authority of these experts has now been shaken and their advice is listened to with an increasing amount of skepticism." According to Richard Barnett, reports Gromyko, "their analysis of the dynamics of the processes of development of Soviet foreign policy is now rejected by the government itself."[76] Just as détente enhances the authority of "far-sighted businessmen," it apparently "washes away" the positions of the "adherents of the cold war," America's Sovietologists.[*]
Public Opinion and the Media
Soviet accounts of the role of public opinion in U.S. political life are strikingly generous. SShA authors have observed that public sentiment has become so potent a force in recent years as to have compelled critically important changes—in both policy and personnel—on the U.S. government. In recognition of this vast power, official circles are striving to "manage" public opinion, i.e., to manipulate it and, it is hoped, render it harmless. It is to the accomplishment of this purpose, it is argued, that the activities of the
[*] As evidence of the current "crisis of 'Sovietology,'" of the fact that "the once-thriving specialists on the Soviet Union are going out of vogue," the Soviet press agency TASS points to the serious financial difficulties facing the Russian research centers at Harvard and Columbia Universities
communications media are directed. American newspapers, magazines and television have no function, therefore, save to serve the interests of the official leadership.
(a) Public Opinion
In an article in the August 1974 issue of SShA , Eduard Ivanyan, then the USA Institute's chief of section on U.S. public opinion, wrote that "there is every reason to assert that public pressure is objectively in a position to force a bourgeois government to take actions in foreign and domestic policy which might not have been considered in other times or under other circumstances." While stressing that public opinion is "only one and not the only factor " influencing its behavior, he underscores the fact that "position taken by broad circles of the American public was one of the factors along with a number of political economic and military factors, that influenced the decision of the U.S. government to withdraw its armed forces from Vietnam [emphasis in the original]."[77]
A similar position is taken by numerous others. Writing in early 1972, G. A. Trofimenko said that "the powerful popular protest against the war . . . with its nationwide 'Vietnam moratoria' of 1964–71 and with its long and stormy anti-war campaign of 1971 is the main factor forcing the Republican government toward the gradual withdrawal of American troop units from Vietnam." Furthermore, writes Trofimenko, it was this "grass roots" movement which "forced President Johnson, who was responsible for the escalation of aggression in Vietnam, to leave the White House in 1968."[78] Still more recently Geyevsky took the position that the anti-war movement was "one of the main factors which impelled Washington to sign the [Paris] peace agreements" ending the Vietnam war. Geyevsky, in fact, berates former student members of the anti-war movement for their political apathy. In his view they are "unable to understand the complex system of interrelationships between domestic and foreign policy" and unnecessarily "devalue the methods of mass struggle."[79]
The role of public opinion in the American political system is now clearly recognized. Thus popular "dissatisfaction" with CIA activities in Chile and its "systematic performance of police functions within the nation" is said to have led to an investigation and public
exposure of its activities.[80] Further, "opposition to militarism" within the Congress is seen to be a result of changes in the public mood. "The necessity to listen" to the American people, writes Dolgolopova, "forces many members of the Congress more and more frequently to criticize the military-industrial complex and large military expenditures."[81] Most importantly, as just noted, U.S. policy in Vietnam was dramatically shaped by popular opposition. As Zhurkin recently observed, "It is difficult to over-estimate the significance of the anti-war movement in the United States . . . at the end of the sixties and beginning of the seventies. It was one of the main factors which caused the defeat of the U.S. intervention in Vietnam."[82] And having come to grief in Vietnam most "genuine Americans" now prefer to live by the principle of "live and let live." Such attitudes are said to have had "a most notable effect" on Washington. The public mood has been an "important factor" in the government's decision to abandon its "policy of confrontation," "insistently urging" the White House and Capitol Hill "to search for and find ways to develop and intensify détente."[83]
What explains this extraordinary turn of events? The orthodox Party interpretation argues that public opinion in bourgeois societies plays a negligible role, especially where foreign policy issues are involved. As Lenin wrote, "the most important questions—war, peace, diplomatic questions—are decided by a small handful of capitalists, who deceive not only the masses but very often parliament as well."[84] How is it conceivable, then, in the view of Soviet Americanists, for a popular protest movement to cost the political career of one American president and force his successor to abandon a major foreign policy commitment?
Ivanyan attempts to explain, but his answer is rather vague. "In formulating and implementing their domestic and foreign policies," he writes, "bourgeois governments are forced to recall that unless they ensure support for their chosen course from the country's public opinion, it is difficult to count on its successful realization."[85] What, precisely, the source of the difficulty is Ivanyan leaves unclear. Trofimenko provides a more discerning explanation. His reasoning runs as follows: whatever its public rhetoric, the United States government pays little attention to the view of the general public when
formulating its foreign policy. On the contrary, its "optimum policy" is either to ignore public opinion completely, or, by manipulating public sentiment, to create an artificial climate of support for official policy. "However," he goes on,
the possibilities for such manipulation are not infinite. Moments arise when the split between the sentiments and feelings of broad public circles and official policy proves so deep that a bourgeois government, wishing to remain in power, has either to correct official policy or to resign from power.[86]
Fearful that public wrath will result in their defeat at the polls, American politicians must mend their ways or leave the scene. "This, strictly speaking," writes Trofimenko in 1971, "happened in the United States in 1968, when public opposition . . . forced President Johnson to quit the White House." Similarly, the "present Republican administration must take account of the opinion of the overwhelming majority of voters."[87]
What Trofimenko refers to as "political reality" therefore demands that the U.S. government give some heed to the sentiments of "the broad mass of voters." Citing General Westmoreland, he refers to public opinion as the "Achilles' heel" of official policy. President Nixon admitted as much, notes Trofimenko, when he declared: "We do not have the authority to run matters as they used to be run in this country, and the enemy knows this." This declaration by the president, Trofimenko suggests, amounted to a recognition of "the power of public pressure on the administration."[88] Others take much the same view. At a November 1970 symposium at the USA Institute, Shvedkov noted that it "is not by accident" that the Nixon administration pays a great deal of attention to public moods. "The president must take into consideration the fact that twice during the postwar years, in 1952 and 1968, the American public's dissatisfaction with U.S. foreign policy has cost the ruling party dearly."[89] And later Shvedkov notes that "the dramatic and unprecedented refusal" of President Johnson to run in 1968 and the failure of Senator Humphrey to win the election "showed clearly the dimensions of the American voter's rage."[90]
American elections, therefore, traditionally denounced as nothing more than exercises in political casuistry—as Khrushchev
declared in 1964, "a 'flowery screen'. . . . behind which capital is omnipotent and the workers are actually deprived of their rights"[91] —are seen to be an effective democratic political mechanism. An incumbent American administration must, in the current view, heed the changing popular mood, lest it lose public support at the polls. Such indeed happens at all levels of American political life—as demonstrated by the defeat of Senator Fulbright.[92] All elective officials, therefore, including the president and members of Congress, are seen to be subject to some degree of public influence.
Electoral considerations are seen to have a direct bearing on one particular area of U.S. foreign policy—the Middle East. This is true for two reasons. First, the distinctive distribution of Jewish voters—who are largely concentrated in five major states (New York, California, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Ohio)—is of considerable political importance. Their strategic location in these crucial states "which account for 165 electoral votes out of the 270 needed to elect a president," writes V. A. Kremenyuk, is "a fact capable of influencing the policy of the Washington administration." The views expressed by candidates of both parties on the Middle East during the 1972 campaign were influenced in considerable measure by this factor, that is to say by their desire "to attract to their own side the greatest number of Jewish voters." Thus "all prominent Democrats" and the Republican administration favored "decisive" and "active" support of Israel.[93]
The Jewish vote, though only 4 percent of the total electorate, is seen to have an influence well beyond its size. This is not only due to the pecularities of American electoral geography. Other factors are involved. While small, the Jewish vote is well-organized and led. Zionist groups in the United States, notes Ye. M. Primakov, deputy director of IMEMO , have considerable political influence. Quoting General George Brown, chairman of the U.S. joint chiefs of staff, he argues that "The Israeli lobby . . . is 'unbelievably powerful.'" Primakov writes:
pro-Zionist elements occupy fairly strong positions in the American press, radio and television. . . . The compact Jewish community . . . , which takes an active part in elections, represents an important means of pressure on political leaders on Capitol Hill and in the White House. . . . Another important means of pressure is the fact that Jewish organizations make
large campaign contributions. . . . These organizations are responsible for more than half of the large contributions to the Democratic party's campaign fund.[94]
Given their domestic political leverage, Zionist groups in the United States are seen to exert considerable influence on official policy. They have, of course, a major impact on U.S. policy toward the Middle East. According to Primakov, "Domestic political considerations in general largely determine the development and implementation of the American course in the Middle East."[95] Their interests and influence extend to other issues as well. During the Nixon administration, writes A. K. Kislov, Zionist organizations pressed the White House to organize special Yiddish-language broadcasts to the USSR over the Voice of America (VOA). At the insistence of these groups, VOA "increased the volume of its radio broadcasts which slanderously depict the situation" of Soviet Jews. Further, just prior to the 1972 summit conference in Moscow, American Zionists "persistently made demands to include provocative questions [regarding easing of restrictions on the emigration of Soviet Jews] on the agenda of the Soviet-American negotiations which were, by design, deliberately intended to complicate these negotiations. . . . In order to 'calm' Zionist circles," prominent members of the Nixon administration "repeatedly . . . stated that they were devoting 'a great deal of attention' to the problems 'facing Soviet Jews.'"[96]
Clearly electoral considerations are now believed to have a significant influence on U.S. foreign policy. This factor, according to Pakhomov, played a key role in the passage by the Congress of the Tunney Amendment which cut off U.S. military aid to Angola. The fact that 1976 was an election year, he writes, a period "when public opinion is of 'great significance' for the politicians" had "a serious influence on the decision adopted by the legislators."[97] Soviet analysts have apparently learned that, whatever the teachings of Party doctrine, the formal requirement of winning periodic elections can and often does affect the behavior of U.S. government officials.
Elections, however, are not the only channel through which public opinion can make its influence felt. As the institute's Deputy Director, V. V. Zhurkin has recently observed, "the public . . . has no few opportunities to exert a sobering influence" on U.S. foreign
policy. "This was very graphically revealed," he notes, "during the mass movement against aggression in Vietnam which unfolded in the United States during the late sixties and early seventies."[98]
The anti-war movement, writes Zhurkin, had a major impact on American political life. "This was, in terms of scale, the most powerful campaign for stopping aggression in the history of the United States."[99] It united practically all the major anti-war organizations into a broad public front and directed their activity toward one goal—ending the war. It successfully coordinated its efforts with anti-war campaigns in other countries. Further, it developed many new "means of struggle"—"the "teach-in," the "sit-in," mass burnings of draft cards, boycotts of corporations which "profitted" from the war, etc. As a result of these efforts, the anti-war campaign was by 1967–68 transformed into a nationwide movement. Between 1969 and 1971 millions participated in mass protests against U.S. "interventional" policies in Southeast Asia.[100]
These nationwide demonstrations, notes Zhurkin, had a profound effect on the American government. They "gave rise to growing anxiety" within U.S. leadership circles and "split their ranks." Further, "they prodded Congress into putting forth more decisive demands to stop the war and compelled official Washington to maneuver, to seek a compromise." The Pentagon Papers , suggests Zhurkin, provides evidence from "the inside" which shows "how in practice the anti-war movement exerted influence on the leadership of the military and the whole U.S. state machine." As the authors of the report indicate, "unhappiness with the war" and the growth of "public criticism" generated doubts within the government as to the wisdom of military escalation in Vietnam. Defense Secretary Clark Clifford, notes Zhurkin, in a secret memorandum of February 1968, "warned that continued escalation will lead to 'growing dissatisfaction,' 'evasion of military service and disorder in the cities' and in the end could lead to an 'internal crisis of unprecedented proportions.'" The contents of these secret documents, writes Zhurkin, "graphically demonstrate how powerful and effective was the pressure of social forces on the government."[101]
Thus it was fear of public indignation, he argues, which "forced" leading government officials to modify their policies. Not only did
such public pressure compel President Johnson to quit the American political arena, and President Nixon to withdraw U.S. forces from Indochina and finally in January 1973 to sign the Paris Peace Agreement. It was dread of a new wave of public protest which, according to Zhurkin, deterred Washington from again resorting to force when in the fall of 1975 the Saigon regime in South Vietnam collapsed.[102]
On the basis of this experience, Zhurkin concludes that "the public now represents one of the decisive factors in diminishing and preventing international confict." The position of American public opinion, he writes, "which clearly demonstrated its potentialities during the struggle to end the aggression in Indochina . . . serves today and can serve in the future as a serious means to contain the aggressive schemes of the lovers of military adventures." The worldwide struggles against the war in Vietnam, he suggests, "embody and reflect the enormous potential" of the anti-war movement.[103]
Though obviously impressed with the anti-war movement in the United States, seen by some to be evidence of "the exceptional capacity of democratic forces to exercise an influence on government foreign policy,"[104] Soviet enthusiasm regarding the political role of public opinion is decidedly mixed. First, there is the problem of its staying power. The "mass struggle" against the Vietnam war was by all accounts a unique phenomenon. Zhurkin notes repeatedly that in terms of numbers of people, scope of activities and political effectiveness, the peace movement was unprecedented in American history. Soviet analysts recognize that the political climate in the United States during other periods of military conflict has been rather different. Most Americans during the Korean war, notes Kremenyuk, were not bitterly critical of government policy. It was only with the war in Vietnam that an end was put to the "apathy of the ordinary American in foreign policy matters."[105] Whether the future will give rise to unprecedented circumstances and once more turn public opinion into "a factor whose influence has proven impossible to nullify" must be in considerable doubt.
Second, and more important, Soviet observers have little faith in the basic political instincts and judgment of the American public. As a matter of fundamental political doctrine, Moscow holds that rank-and-file Americans, like "ordinary people" everywhere, are by their
very nature democratic, peace-loving and basically progressive. Recently, however, Soviet analysts have been giving voice to rather harsher views. Soviet commentators, especially since early 1976, have been depicting "the average American" as one "who still has not quite understood the nature of the changes occurring in the world and who has become accustomed to America's predominant role" in world affairs.[106] Trofimenko finds most Americans afflicted with "illusions . . . regarding American omnipotence and American superiority, the certainty that the United States could decide everything unilaterally."[107] Institute Director Arbatov puts the matter still more sharply when he warns against "emotions still lurking deep in the minds of many people" in the United States—"national superiority, jingoism, suspicion and enmity to everything that is unusual and alien."[108]
Even the traditionally hallowed working class is regarded with some misgivings. The "thick-skulled policies" of the "right-wing" AFL-CIO leadership aside, Popov warns against underestimating "the force of conservatism in the American labor movement." Not only does the ideology of the trade unions in the United States accept the existing capitalist system, but its policies are very much influenced by a "strong conservative nucleus." Furthermore, "most ordinary workers" are believed to have "a passive attitude toward matters of foreign policy." Living in "a nation surrounded by oceans," they are not concerned with questions of foreign policy "unless there is a war going on." American unionists are also seen to be victimized by anti-communism ("the trade unions as a whole are freeing themselves of the burden of militant anti-communism more slowly than other groups in American society") and "fairly strong feelings of jingoism and chauvinism . . . combined with racism."[109]
Given the persistence of such unenlightened attitudes, it is not surprising to find, as Berezhkov reported, that 57 percent of American "blue-collar workers" supported Nixon over McGovern in the 1972 presidential elections. The workers rejected the Democratic candidate, according to Berezhkov, because he was seen as too radical. They feared McGovern's social program would have meant additional tax burdens for them. They opposed many of his other programs such as his endorsement of amnesty for those who evaded the draft during the Vietnam war, racial quotas in trade unions and school busing
to promote racial integration. They were offended by his image—cultivated by the Republicans—as a defender of hippies, a proponent of drugs, sexual license and other vices. "It must be admitted," writes Berezhkov, "that on the whole American workers are still very conservative and such propaganda as accused McGovern of 'dangerous radicalism' played a certain role" in his defeat.[110]
The public as a whole, including its "leading detachment," the American worker, is regarded with considerable suspicion. The distinctly conservative even chauvinistic views of many Americans—a significant number of whom are acknowledged to be advocates of a "new conservatism" (calling for the decentralization of power and restrictions on "big government")[111] —are potentially a negative influence on Washington, allowing in given circumstances for a turn towards the political right. During the 1976 election campaign, for example, "some statesmen" were seen to be compelled by "the drive for votes . . . to flirt with reactionaries."[112] Arbatov notes that "the entry of the extreme right-wing figure of R. Reagan into the fray managed to shift the election battle far to the right, forcing some other candidates to try to prove that they would be even more orthodox than he."[113] Fearful of being outflanked by Reagan's appeal to the country's conservative voters, President Ford was forced "to make particularly great concessions to right-wing circles," i.e., by publicly jettisoning use of the term détente. Furthermore, while the political attitudes of the American public can become a powerful constraint on government policy (as in the case of Vietnam), they can also prove helpful to more aggressive elements. Thus, suggests Trofimenko, "Conceptions of power, falling on the fertile soil of Yankee chauvinism, rooted in the century-old tradition of 'the American dream,' still, apparently, hypnotize . . . the ordinary citizen" and lead him to support the claims and policies of the Pentagon. It was this tendency in American politics, he writes, which led the leaders of both parties during the 1976 campaign to stress the importance of America's "position of strength" even though "it was precisely such intoxication with strength which led U.S. foreign policy into the blind alley" of Vietnam.[114]
In sum, the American people are seen to be an uncertain, sometimes even negative influence on U.S. foreign policy. As a measure of Moscow's exasperation with public opinion in the United
States and its willingness to endorse "conservative" and "jingoistic" policies, Soviet sources frequently judge the average American to be "politically naive," "lacking information"
and "misinformed."[115] Whatever its potential—via elections or more direct action—the American public is obviously not considered a steadfast or reliable political force.
(b) The Media
The communications media are the most poorly understood feature of American political life. Paul Hollander has remarked on the striking tendency of Soviet judgments on American society "to project upon it characteristics of the Soviet social-political environment. . . . Time and again Soviet spokesmen credit American society with political conditions which actually exist . . . in the Soviet Union."[116] Nowhere is this more clearly the case than in the Soviet treatment of American newspapers.
The starting point in the Soviet interpretation stems from their analysis of public opinion. Ivanyan puts it simply. He writes: "Bourgeois states would violate their nature if they were not to at least try to halt or retard the . . . awakening of class consciousness and the political activity of the popular masses."[117] Such concerns explain the role of public opinion surveys in American political life. U.S. government officials are interested in opinion polls, writes Ivanyan,
not so much because they want to take into account the attitude of the public in the formulation of government policy as because they want to try to obtain information about how they should conduct their propaganda work in order to alter tendencies in public opinion that are unfavorable to the country's ruling circles.[118]
Thus if public opinion cannot simply be ignored, then it can be transformed. It is to this end, that is to say the management of public opinion, that the media are directed.
The role of the media is described simply as that of a tool of the ruling clases to ensure continued public support. The "powerful mass media" make it possible for the ruling classes "who exercise control over them, to constantly and vigorously exert an effect" on American public opinion "and thereby to artificially implant ways of thinking that are necessary to these circles."[119] Competition between various segments of the media—newspapers, magazines, radio and
television—can be found. Such competition reflects, however, not freedom of the press but a struggle between the owners of different media for the advertising dollar. And "even though commeecial competition does exist, it does not prevent all mass media from working as a united front when it is a case of brainwashing the public. . . . In such a case, there is complete unity between them notwithstanding tactical differences stemming from the political sympathies and convictions of the individual owners."[120]
The picture is one of endless manipulation and pervasive government control. The following comments give some sense of the tone of Soviet commentary: "There is a rather clearly defined distribution of duties and demarcation of spheres of penetration between the mass media. Each has its target." "In the overwhelming majority of cases, newspaper owners permit official Washington . . . to use newspapers and journals to implement its domestic and foreign policies and to influence public opinion." "Government power and the capital press corps" are "linked . . . by transmission belts[!] (press conferences, briefings), that make the latter a 'quasi-official branch of the government.'"[121] "Very strict censorship has for a long time prevailed over the speeches . . . made by any employee of the federal government on matters of foreign policy"—"rigid control . . . exercised over the news media . . . is constant."[122]
The USA Institute's handling of the publication of The Pentagon Papers by the New York Times , the Washington Post and other leading newspapers in June 1971 reflects the basic Soviet attitudes towards the press. In a lead article appearing in its September issue, SShA reported the following:
Newspaper corporations in the USA are a great force closely linked to the banks and industrial monopolies. If the most powerful and influential newspapers in the country publish documents of the military establishment against the will of the government and most of the members of the Supreme Court support them for doing so, this means that someone's patience has reached its limit on the American Mount Olympus.[123]
Trofimenko argues similarly. The "close connections" between American "business circles" and the media, he writes, explain such "seemingly paradoxical actions as the publication by bourgeois press organs of exposés" like The Pentagon Papers "despite government opposition."
It can be said that a certain section of the U.S. ruling classes has grown tired of the war. Having suffered commercially from the war, they . . . are therefore prepared to resort to powerful "shocking" eruptions within the "establishment" itself to achieve a speedier end to the protracted and fruitless adventure.[124]
In deciding to publish The Pentagon Papers , therefore, Katharine Graham, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger and the other publishers involved were responding not to any journalistic notions of public service; their main concern, like that of the non-military sector of the "ruling class," was the interests of "coffers and commerce" (Trofimenko).
The only other explanation offered for the "paradoxical actions" of the media, i.e., the publication or broadcast of material hostile to the interests of government policy, is a bureaucratic one. Such "scandalous exposures of Washington's policies" as the publication of The Pentagon Papers or the release by Columnist Jack Anderson of the minutes of the NSC's Washington Special Action Group meetings during December 1971, at the height of the Indo-Pakistani crisis, writes Shvedkov, "are by no means random initiatives by individual persons." These "'bureaucratic scandals' are above all the result of the keen rivalry in the ruling clique in Washington, a result of the struggle for power and influence." The "real reason" behind these "leaks," he writes, was the effort by Defense Secretary Laird to discredit Henry Kissinger and the NSC system. Resentful of the White House's "administrative innovations," Laird, with the support of allies at the State Department, sought to sabotage his chief rival.[125]
The media, therefore, have no independent role; they are, at once, the tool of the business world and the foil of Washington bureaucrats. While occasional kindly remarks are made about individual "realistic" journalists (e.g., Walter Lippmann), and "authoritative" newspaper columnists (e.g., James Reston) are quoted, Soviet Americanists view their publishers in the grimmest light. As for "investigative reporting," this is seen to be nothing more than "an attempt to calm the American public by suggesting the idea that it ought not be particularly troubled and dissatisfied with the present state of affairs because the press is 'on guard' to protect its interests."[126] Like the American muckrakers of the early 1900s, Jack Anderson, Ralph Nader, Robert Sherrill, Seymour Hersh et al. are
considered to be agents of the establishment, employed "to distract the masses" and allow dissatisfied elements "to let off steam."[127] Thus "the hullaballoo in the press" concerning Watergate "fully corresponds to the traditions of the American two-party system . . . [of] using passing scandals to distract the public's attention from the really fundamental social problems of society.'"[128] So much for the efforts of Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, and their colleagues at the Washington Post .
In terms of Moscow's political calculus the media are a hostile force. According to V. A. Kremenyuk, "the American press, or in any case, the overwhelming majority of its most influential organs, such as the New York Times , the Washington Post , and magazines such as Time and Newsweek . . . all function as mouthpieces of pro-Israeli circles."[129] The major media, furthermore, are considered to be anti-Soviet. "They do everything to present life in the Soviet Union in the most gloomy terms," observes Berezhkov, "and make people mistrust the Soviet Union's policies and to renew cold war fears about the so-called Communist menace." They adopt such policies for predictable reasons. "The owners of the mass media," notes the editor-in-chief of SShA , seek "to stir up the old fears and are trying to make it seem as though the Soviet Union presents a threat to the United States. They thereby hope to divert the people's attention away from the flaws and diseases of American society."[130]
In pursuit of this mission, the media are said by Berezhkov to be carrying on a "persistent fight against the policy of easing tension." To this end no efforts are spared. According to Berezhkov's deputy, N. D. Turkatenko, the opponents of détente "use all means, including the most base. One of their favorites includes personal attacks on precisely those people who in one way or another are connected to the policy of détente." According to Turketenko, the screening of the film, All The President's Men , based on the book by Woodward and Bernstein on the Watergate affair, and the simultaneous publication of The Last Days by the same authors, were nothing more than "salvos" in the campaign against détente.[131] The publishing and film industries, apparently, made common cause with the Washington Post in a campaign to defame President Nixon and his foreign policy—using methods "most base."
Soviet treatment of the American media is especially undistinguished. The most compelling explanation of their abyssmal lack of understanding reflects both an ignorance of such institutions and, relatedly, a tendency to engage in mirror-image thinking. First, as observed earlier, the Soviets have difficulty conceptualizing what they have never experienced. In the USSR the press and other means of communication have always been considered agents of the official leadership, whose prime function it is to elucidate and legitimize the specific policy line of the moment. They can, and often do, reflect internal bureaucratic and political interests, but the possibility of a press independent—even critical—of official policy is totally unfamiliar and poorly understood. Furthermore, given their own distinctive conceptions of the media, Soviet analysts tend to have a mirror image of Western institutions. That is to say, they view the output of the New York Times , the Washington Post, CBS and Time much as they do Pravda, Radio Moscow and New Times , viz., the products of a politically-sponsored campaign to defend the faith. Here, too, the notion of a free, uncommitted, critical press seems to be beyond their ken.