August 1, 1975 has gone down in history as the date when the leaders of 35 countries gathered in Helsinki, Finland to sign the Final Act of the Conference on Security and Cooperation in Europe. This document was intended to have long-term effects on international politics. Thirty years later, it has proven to be a powerful catalyst for the tectonic changes that have transformed beyond recognition the European and international political landscape.

The Soviet Union, which was among the initiators of that forum, sought to perpetuate, on a multilateral basis, the political and territorial outcome of World War II and the postwar period, that is, the division of Europe between two opposing blocs. At that time, it was obvious to Moscow that it would not be able to advance the “positions of Communism” any further westward; thus, it was necessary to establish the status quo in the Old World.

Of course, the principle of “inviolable” frontiers, which seemed to be established in Helsinki forever, did not survive the deep crisis which hit the Communist system in the second half of the 1980s. Today, the Helsinki process involves 55 states, instead of the former 35. The new members are comprised of the former constituent parts of three of the founder nations which later broke up: the Soviet Union, Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia. Ironically, the one form of integration the signatories to the Final Act sought to prevent – the reunification of Germany – did take place.

Thus, the initiative – which had been on the drawing board since as far back as the mid-1960s – ultimately failed. On the other hand, however, subjects that the Soviet leadership viewed as secondary – the so-called ‘third (humanitarian) basket’ and the human rights issue – moved into the foreground. The importance of this aspect of interstate relations was first emphasized in the Final Act. Now it has become a major instrument of international politics, and this instrument can be very useful if it is used in an honest way.

THE SOURCES OF THE PAN-EUROPEAN PROCESS

According to popular belief, the idea to convene a pan-European conference was the brainchild of Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko. The form proposed for the conference – a kind of party functionaries’ meeting convened on an international scale – reflected the bureaucratic way of thinking in the Soviet Union. Nevertheless, the idea promised a lot; its implementation would fix the boundaries of Europe without there being the need to discuss the delicate issue of a peace treaty with Germany. In any event, the slogan “Europeans should sit down at one negotiating table” was a good propaganda maneuver.

It was Gromyko who was the first to test the West’s reaction to the idea to convene an international conference. It happened in Rome in April 1966 at negotiations with Italian leaders, where the author of this article was an interpreter, as well as a witness. Italy at the time had “special relations” with Russia (the two countries had just signed an agreement for the construction of a car-making plant in the Soviet city of Togliatti), and the Italians immediately supported the Soviet minister’s proposal. However, the experienced descendants of the ancient Romans immediately proposed that the Soviet wording for the name of the conference – “Conference on Security in Europe” – also include the word “cooperation.”

The Soviet Union gave its consent to U.S. participation in the conference, although originally Washington had been excluded from the list of conference participants. The United States, however, was a signatory to the Yalta and Potsdam agreements and one of the guarantors of the quadripartite agreement on West Berlin; so, the project would have died before it was born without the participation of the U.S. To make Washington’s participation less pronounced, however, Moscow made the decision to invite Canada as well. Moscow’s allies gave their approval to this modified concept in a special declaration of the Political Consultative Committee of the Warsaw Treaty Organization. Now it was already a joint initiative of the Communist countries.

The implementation of the idea took a long time. Events in Czechoslovakia in the summer of 1968 were a blow to pan-European prospects, not to mention the prospects for a conference; the momentum could not be stopped, however. The “Eastern policy” of West German Chancellor Willy Brandt, and the treaties which Bonn concluded with Poland and the Soviet Union in 1970, served as new incentives for the commencement of a European conference. In order to overcome the skepticism of the West, the Soviet Union resorted to the entire arsenal of diplomatic techniques, above all, influencing of partners at top level. The United States was among the last countries to accept the idea of a pan-European conference on security and cooperation. It agreed to participate only after President Richard Nixon’s negotiations in Moscow in May 1972, which resulted in the ratification of START-1 Treaty. Before this time, however, Nixon and, most importantly, his mighty Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, did not hide their negative attitude to the European plan.

In November 1972, Helsinki hosted multilateral consultations at the ambassadorial level, which continued for almost 9 months. Finally, in early July 1973, the foreign ministers of 35 countries gathered in the Finnish capital. Europe had not seen such a representative assembly since the Congress of Vienna (1815), which was described as a “joyous holiday of all diplomacies in the world.” The first stage of the pan-European conference was a success: the ministers gave instructions to the experts on how they believed Europe should exist.

It was an enormously difficult task and took almost two years to fulfill: from September 18, 1973 to July 21, 1975. The concluding document, which was entitled the Final Act, had 35 authors (including the Vatican – it was the first time the Holy See participated in a major international forum since 1824). One dissenting voice against the phraseology of any part of the document was enough to make all of the participants go back and search for new wording. Never before had the principle of consensus – the highest manifestation of democracy – been used on such a scale; it will take a long time before something like this happens again – if ever. And think of the scope of the Final Act! The 30,000-page document comprised every possible aspect: from the principle of the inviolability of frontiers and various military aspects of security to specific matters of economic and humanitarian cooperation, specified in the minutest detail; the Follow-Up to the Conference section provided for further development of the process.

HOW THE SOVIET DIPLOMATS WORKED

The second stage of the conference took place in Geneva. The Soviet delegation was headed by Deputy Foreign Minister Anatoly Kovalyov, a very talented individual with advanced views, who built a strong team of leading experts from various government agencies. The walls in his office in the “bunker,” a gloomy building where the European negotiators worked, were covered with large sheets of paper, on which we put agreed-on, or “registered,” pages of the future document. These were brought from various committees and commissions. I was on the Soviet delegation to Geneva for two months.

At the Soviet Foreign Ministry, the person in charge of preparations for the conference at the level of deputy foreign ministers was Igor Zemskov, a real professional who fully devoted himself to his work. As regards his views, he was the exact opposite of Kovalyov. It was typical of Gromyko to make pairs of this kind. During the course of preparations for the conference I was promoted to the head of a department which made me in charge of everything at the working level. My office was several blocks away from the ministry, and I often had to rush between the two buildings. The most difficult part of my work was getting approval for Kovalyov’s liberal touches in the text from Soviet officials with more orthodox views.

In keeping with their strategy, the Soviet Union and its allies in the Warsaw Pact (although they had different degrees of conviction) fought for the unconditional establishment of the inviolability of frontiers, which implied that the territorial and political setup of Europe established by that time could not be altered. This principle would thus perpetuate the division of Germany and keep East Germany in the Communist bloc. In a sense, the Soviet Union flipped the chessboard: during the early postwar years, it was Moscow that advocated the unification of Germany, while Washington (and actually the entire West, although not officially) vehemently opposed the idea. The Americans believed, and not without certain grounds, that they would have much more difficulty maintaining control over a unified Germany. Thus, the lengthy suppression of Germany’s striving for unification is a painstakingly concealed skeleton in the American closet. (Incidentally, West Germany’s allies agreed to unification only when developments became irreversible. Even as East Germany ceased to exist of its own free will, the unification of Germany still worried many in the West.)

During the preparation of the Final Act, the Germans – not only in West Germany – were well aware of the hidden motives behind the principle of the inviolability of frontiers. Its wording caused the most heated debates, but of course no one intended to reject it. The very thought of territorial claims was contemptible to Europe which had passed through horrible wars. Yet it was beyond the Germans to give any hope for a re-unification, no matter how much they spoke about the absence of revanchist sentiments in their country. Finally, the negotiators found a way out of the impasse. They included in the Final Act a reservation which provided for the possibility of changing frontiers between states “by peaceful means and by agreement.” Theoretically, this provision could not be challenged, but in practice who would give such consent to West Germany? The Soviet Union would never provide it; nor would East Germany. And the West itself, it seems, would not have been too anxious to extend the offer. Who could imagine then what would happen to the Soviet Union in a mere 15 years?

THE ‘THIRD BASKET’

The West displayed goodwill with regard to the fixing of the territorial and political realities in Europe in the hope that the Soviet Union would make concessions on its home affairs. The main motive behind this goodwill, however, was not the wish that the Soviet people would live in a more democratic state. Western leaders held that the more predictable the Soviet policy, and the more founded on generally accepted international terminology, the more secure Europe would be.

The only goal of the Soviet leadership when discussing the principle of non-interference in internal affairs was the containment of the “price.” As Gromyko once stated in one of his speeches, “internal affairs and internal laws are a boundary at the gate of each state, before which the others must stop.” This approach prevailed under the Soviet leadership. This is why it still remains a mystery to me how the Final Act, with its humanitarian “heresies,” successfully passed through the Politburo of the Soviet Communist Party. There are authors of memoirs and other observers who believe that the Kremlin simply underestimated the explosive nature of the bomb which the ‘third basket’ planted under the Soviet ideological edifice. I do not believe this theory to be correct. Conservatives, who made up a majority in the country’s top leadership, could not overlook such an obvious attempt to “undermine the foundations of the Soviet system.” Yet they kept silent. The reason was that General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev, who was full of life and mental vigor at the time, patronized the pan-European conference. His attitude, in turn, was shaped by professional and intelligent Soviet functionaries. Furthermore, they were good writers (which was particularly valued), honest and, most importantly, really cared for the interests of their country.

These people held that the movement toward the observance of human rights was not a concession to the West but an indispensable prerequisite for the country’s development, that democratic reforms had long been ripe, and that if foreign policy could help to promote them, this should only be welcome.

And was it not in the interests of the Soviet Union to see Europe transformed from a zone of bitter East-West confrontation into a friendly region; to materialize the policy of détente, including in the military sphere, and establish the much-needed level of cooperation? It was particularly enticing for war veteran Leonid Brezhnev to sum up the collective results of the war and, jointly with the leaders of Europe, the U.S. and Canada, to solemnly open a new page in the history of the European continent. The third stage of the conference – the adoption of the Final Act at summit level – was the triumph of the policy of détente. Brezhnev’s advisers had told him that without a counterbalance – the human rights issue – the West would never sign the Act. And they were right. Although the number of those advisers was small, some of them held positions that enabled them to influence top-level politics.

Who would oppose the General Secretary? The Politburo, the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet and the Council of Ministers of the U.S.S.R., in a joint document highly assessed the results of the European conference, and it seems their conclusions were warranted.

For the Soviet liberals, however, the trouble began shortly after the euphoria had vanished and the aides to the hawks in the Soviet leadership attentively read the Final Act. It was discovered that the 10 principles, by which the signatory states were now to guide themselves on the world stage, included such commandments as “respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, including the freedom of thought, conscience, religion or belief.” The aides wondered, was it no longer “our own home affair?” And holy Moses! The Soviet Union, according to the declaration, would have to provide facilitated access to information, put up with the reunification of families, and invite observers to its military exercises. The strong reservations forwarded against all of those provisions by the wise Kovalyov were not taken into account.

The more orthodox members blamed the “doves” that they paid the West with a ‘third basket’ for what the country already had: territorial integrity in Europe, the existence of the German Democratic Republic and other Communist countries. Now, they argued, the West received loopholes for interfering in the Soviet Union’s home affairs, thus making it more difficult to foil the enemy’s plans.

Without much publicity, the authorities took disciplinary action against the main “perpetrator,” Kovalyov. The punishment was not harsh, though – he was only denied election to the Communist Party’s Central Committee. The unofficial conclusion was that the humanitarian provisions – and other unwelcome provisions – would have to be quietly buried, especially since they were not legally binding but merely moral and political obligations.

The intuition of the conservatives did not betray them. Indeed, the commitments assumed by Moscow, even though only formally, soon were turned into an instrument of pressure on the Soviet regime – not only by the West but also by domestic human rights activists who demanded that Moscow abide by the Final Act’s provisions. When détente gave way to a new cold wave in East-West relations in the late 1970s, the human rights issue became a battering ram used by the Americans against the “evil empire.” Anti-Western politicians in Russia still argue that the Soviet Union collapsed as a result of the Soviet leadership’s “weakness”  which it showed on the liberals’ advice in 1975. I think the reality was quite the opposite. It was not the commitments assumed by Moscow that proved fatal for the country, but its unwillingness to follow the path outlined in the Final Act. This resulted in yet another round of confrontation with the West, which proved to be a burden Russia could not bear.

AFTER HELSINKI

Many observers view the triumph of the Helsinki forum as the funeral of the Cold War. Yet, the “witch” proved to be long-lasting and was buried many times. The pan-European process, which reached its peak at the signing of the Final Act, began to die out. Despite some early hopes very little changed in Russia’s home affairs. In the realm of foreign policy, however, the climate improved somewhat. Those years witnessed the buildup of bilateral political and economic relations and cross-border people-to-people contacts, although in very small degrees. The Soviet Union signed its first long-term agreement (until 2003) for natural gas supplies to Europe. The climate in European politics improved, as well: Italy and Yugoslavia, for example, reached final agreement on Trieste.

At the same time, Moscow was increasingly accused of failing to fulfill the Final Act, which in the West was often presented to the public as a document consisting of just the ‘third basket.’ The first post-Helsinki meeting of the participants who were previously involved in the European conference – convened in Belgrade in 1977-1978 to follow up the process – made no headway.

The late 1970s marked the beginning of gloomy times for détente and its advocates. The tone on both sides of the East-West border was set by forces that were not interested in reducing international tensions. I personally doubt that the Soviet leadership really believed the two different social systems could peacefully co-exist. Many generations of Soviet leaders were brought up in the belief that, sooner or later, one of the systems would “bury” the other. This belief suggested that détente would not last long, and eventually we would be deceived, thus, we should not go beyond a certain threshold. Besides, our class enemy would do the same. A buildup of armaments was inevitable, although the introduction of some limitations would certainly not be a bad thing. Moreover, the mighty military-industrial complex was quite happy with how things were developing.

Incidentally, détente, the way it was understood thirty years ago, ruled out any “ideological convergence.” Despite Moscow’s signature under the Final Act, the Soviet mass media continued to write the words “human rights” in inverted commas and adding “so-called” before them. The Kremlin only began to speak of common human values at a much later date, after Mikhail Gorbachev came to power and launched his perestroika reforms.

Finally, the status quo was maintained only in Europe. In other parts of the world – in Southeast Asia, Central America (Nicaragua) and Africa (Angola) – the bitter struggle continued. In Africa, for example, only months after the signing of the Final Act, Angola, led by “Marxist” Agostinho Neto, chose the “socialist path of development” with Moscow’s and Havana’s military and political support, which caused a wave of protests in the West. But when the Soviet Union launched its Afghan campaign in December 1979, the sky became ominously dark for Moscow. After Ronald Reagan came to power, the Americans came to the conclusion that the task of crushing their strategic rival was not at all unfeasible; intensifying the arms race and increasing pressure on Moscow over the human rights issue proved very effective.

In the above situation the Helsinki process almost ceased to exist. The second post-Helsinki meeting, held in Madrid, was more like a clash which lasted three years. This should have come as no surprise, however, considering that it was held amidst the Soviet campaign in Afghanistan, the boycott of the Moscow Olympic Games, conflicts over the deployment of medium-range missiles in Europe, the introduction of martial law in Poland, and finally, the scandal over the downing of a Korean Boeing airliner by the Soviet air defense.

The pan-European process was again saved by a Soviet General Secretary, this time Yuri Andropov. The following is what I myself witnessed. The Soviet delegation to Madrid was headed by Leonid Ilyichev, an outstanding person, yet not someone who could be described as a “dove.” (Later, he was replaced by Anatoly Kovalyov.) Ilyichev was very tough with the Americans, who had lost any interest in the European process unless it was a pretext for putting pressure on Moscow over the humanitarian issue. The Madrid meeting was nearly concluded by a purely formal document or statement, as was proposed by the U.S., that the parties simply failed to agree. From my frequent contacts with the minister (I then headed the Foreign Ministry’s First European Department, whose scope of interests included, among others, Spanish affairs) I concluded that Gromyko viewed the latter variant as possibly acceptable.

Such an outcome, however, would have meant that plans to convene a conference on military détente and disarmament in Europe, which we had been advocating for several years, might be disrupted. At the risk of being punished for letting things out of the bag, so to speak, I nevertheless contacted Anatoly Blatov, an aide to Andropov. Blatov failed to sense the urgency of the situation, however, since not all the wires from Madrid had reached him (that was an old bureaucratic trick), yet he grasped the heart of the problem immediately. On the following day, he called me back: “Your alarm signal has worked,” he said. But by then I had already understood as much, since my superior had changed the course of his policy. In the long run, we had prevented a failure of the Madrid meeting, while the aforementioned conference opened in Stockholm in January 1984.

In hindsight, perhaps we should not have tried to save the European process? At that time, however, we did the right thing, since the political situation was so tense that one more blow could have been fatal. Andropov understood that “shutting down” détente was not in our interests. Yet, in principle, we asked ourselves that very same question many times. Indeed, the political task was accomplished and the inviolability of frontiers ensured, so why try to continue with a process that only brought problems?

Gorbachev’s perestroika allayed those doubts for some time. Moscow began to implement the Helsinki accords even in those aspects that it had formerly ignored, and the country only gained from that decision. This referred, for example, to the shameful and costly act of jamming foreign radio broadcasts, which was only fully terminated in 1988, in the third year of Gorbachev’s rule. This was one of Moscow’s concessions that contributed to the success of the third European conference held in Vienna from November 1986 to January 1989, where discussions of the human rights issue with the Americans were less confrontational. My American counterpart at the time, Richard Shifter, Assistant Secretary of State for Human Rights and Humanitarian Affairs, still holds that our interaction on that issue was the decisive factor in the meeting’s success. (Human rights were among the issues I was in charge of at the Foreign Ministry after I was appointed deputy minister in 1986. It was then that we began to write the words “human rights” without inverted commas.)

Gorbachev and his team began to build a state based on the rule of law, while removing certain injustices and absurdities from Soviet society. That was our home affair, our own initiative, and we did not need any impulses from the outside. Simultaneously, that was the main cause for the peak in pan-European activity. We even came up with an idea to hold a conference on human affairs in Moscow, and organized it during one of the most dramatic periods in Soviet history: September 1991.

But the most important international document of those times – the Charter of Paris for a New Europe, adopted in November 1990 at a summit meeting held in the French capital within the OSCE framework – played a rather negative role. It failed to help build a European home for all, gave rise to inflated and impossible expectations, and clouded the vision of real European problems: the unification of Germany, the collapse of the Communist bloc, and the progressive weakening of the Soviet Union.

BETWEEN THE PAST AND THE FUTURE

After the Soviet Union left the political stage, the European process began to lose any sense. The Helsinki idea served agreements between the East and the West when these were understood as two different social systems. But when this division ceased to exist – despite the Final Act’s principles of inviolability of frontiers and territorial integrity, rather than in accordance with them – the initial idea lost all its meaning.

As a rule, even very good international agreements do not live long. Any specific situation is determined not by officially stamped documents but by the correlation of forces. On January 1, 1995, the CSCE was reorganized into the Organization on Security and Cooperation in Europe, but the move did not help much, as the institutionalization of the process was never completed. The OSCE’s enlargement – due to the inclusion of all the former Soviet republics – did not bring with it any new goals or new agendas to the organization. Over the ten years of its existence, the OSCE has brought little benefit to Russia, and in the last few years its mission has been reduced to giving verdicts on the level of democracy in the elections of the post-Soviet space. Even though the majority of the newly independent states in the ex-Soviet Union cannot boast achievements in building democracy, the objectivity of the OSCE raises certain doubts.

We cannot bring ourselves to bury the OSCE – it would be a pity to lose this unique Eurasian forum which still operates on the basis of consensus. Russia even has veto power there and has used it, although not as often as it once did in the UN. On the other hand, we cannot forever remain captives to our own ideas, however wonderful they may appear to be. Europe and the world have changed dramatically, and if we were to cite the international organizations through which Russia promotes its national interests, the OSCE would appear at the bottom of the list (far below the European Union or NATO – in any case, Russia’s relations with these organizations do bear fruit through regular practical interaction, despite some problems.

The OSCE has not become – and will now hardly become – a major factor in building a European security system that would encompass all aspects of cooperation, from military cooperation to humanitarian activity. Presently, this organization is busy discussing minor subjects that do not match its initial idea. It is not accidental that the OSCE has not held a single summit meeting since the 1999 summit in Istanbul.

The OSCE has two options available to it. Either, as the successor to the CSCE, it will remain in its glorious past, with its experience of unprecedented cooperation and accomplishments in improving the general climate in Europe. This includes its past promotion of détente and cooperation, as well as the involvement of a large number of countries, including neutral states, in big politics. Or it must transform into a purely specialized organization to fulfill a really important task – that of promoting democratic changes, modernizing law, and protecting human rights. But this requires the organization’s own modernization that would suit all the participating nations. It is a consensus-based organization, after all.