For citation, please use:
Forty Years After: Personality and History (Part II). Russia in Global Affairs, 23(3), pp. 106–124. DOI: 10.31278/1810-6374-2025-23-3-106-124
Forty years since Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev came to power, Russia in Global Affairs asked political scientists and international relations experts in different countries to say how, living in a completely different world of today, they assess the events of that time and the role of his ‘new political thinking.’
Part I
Yuri Slezkine, Professor, Graduate School, UC Berkeley; Senior Research Fellow, St. Edmund Hall, University of Oxford
The economy was no longer competitive and increasingly dependent on imported technology; the ideology no longer legitimate and routinely lampooned by its captive consumers; the society (as measured by the rates of alcoholism and infant mortality and portrayed by an endless succession of jokes) not fully sentient and amused by its own confusion; some socialist republics not happy with the “friendship of the peoples” and ready for a bit of enmity (or friendship with other peoples); most urban intellectuals passionately devoted to the country’s geopolitical rivals (having transferred the dream of unlimited cargo from an unimaginable communism to an imaginary West); and the “Brezhnev generation” of party leaders dead, buried and ridiculed, with no legitimate heirs or a political testament.
Some reforms were going to happen no matter what; the rest was up to Gorbachev and what Tolstoy called “the conjunction of wills,” where “each cause or a combination of causes seem equally true when taken separately and equally false in their insignificance when compared to the enormity of the event.”
Whatever the combination of causes, it seems likely that any new Russian leadership, however constituted, would have tried to join the family of “normal” nations. There is little doubt that they would have been rebuffed.
Feng Shaolei, Head of the Centre for Russian Studies, East China Normal University
As a politician, Mikhail Gorbachev left two major impressions on the Chinese people. First, his extraordinary efforts to restore Sino-Soviet relations. Second, his ambitious push for comprehensive reform and improved relations with the West, which, unexpectedly, led to the disintegration of the Soviet Union. Clearly, it is not only the Chinese who continue to reflect on and seek answers to the historical implications of the “Gorbachev phenomenon,” as it remains a product of an era deeply intertwined with an entire generation.
Let us begin with the first point. In the early 1980s, both China and the Soviet Union gradually signaled goodwill and proposed specific steps to restore relations. At that time, China had already embarked on its reform and opening-up policy. In 1982, Deng Xiaoping expressed the hope that the Soviet Union would first ease tensions along the Sino-Soviet border. Gorbachev was one of the key Soviet figures advocating for the restoration of relations with China. He once remarked that the inertia of confrontation built over decades had shut down the possibility of turning things around. Any politician, diplomat, or scholar who attempts to ease tensions, even slightly, is almost immediately accused of betraying national interests. It requires a strong figure from “above” to push forward. After taking office, Gorbachev sought to improve Sino-Soviet relations. On 14 May 1989, as he boarded a plane to Beijing, he told his entourage: “We should conduct ourselves as young activists paying a visit to the elders.” Two days later, he met with Deng Xiaoping. According to Qian Qichen, who was overseeing China’s foreign affairs at the time, Gorbachev’s “historic mission in Beijing deserves to be recorded in bold and vivid strokes in the history of Sino-Soviet relations.”
While Gorbachev’s efforts to normalize Sino-Soviet relations allowed China to formally step into a new era of major-country diplomacy and gain widespread international recognition, his all-encompassing Soviet reforms in 1985, which ultimately resulted in the USSR’s dissolution, sparked immense controversy.
Historical records show that by the late 1970s and early 1980s, major global countries had all recognized the need for reform to drive development and improve governance. However, why did Gorbachev’s reforms, once so highly anticipated, end in such regretful failure? Based on my own observations, several details stand out.
First, Gorbachev’s book Perestroika: New Thinking for Our Country and the World was widely discussed at the time. It introduced the concept of “the common interests of humanity,” inspiring many to pursue reform and openness. However, when I combed through the book, I could not find another crucial perspective that I was eager to see how he planned to safeguard Soviet national and ethnic interests while advancing global human interests.
On the surface, this appears to be a key difference between 1985 and 2025. Forty years ago, the world championed globalization and universal values, whereas today, the trend has shifted towards de-globalization and prioritizing national interests. However, in reality, whether then or now, balancing global interests with national and ethnic interests has always been necessary, only the emphasis has varied.
Second, while the Soviet Union was still intact and still exerted significant influence, particularly in its surrounding regions, Gorbachev complied with public sentiment and agreed to German reunification. This, in itself, was not a problem. However, despite securing verbal assurances from U.S. and European leaders that NATO “would not expand eastward by even an inch,” he failed to obtain a formal written guarantee.
This oversight significantly contributed to today’s series of bloody conflicts in the Eurasian region. Reflecting on the Cold War, people often recall an era of intense East-West confrontation. Equally important, however, is the historical fact that for over half a century, the East and the West maintained stability in Europe through geopolitical buffers. Understanding how historical memory can illuminate contemporary decision-making remains a topic of great interest.
Regardless of evaluations of Gorbachev’s reforms, this deeply etched memory will endure. For later generations, it is relatively easy to identify the mistakes that led to failure by analyzing historical outcomes. But for those directly involved, making real-time judgments about trade-offs and striking the right balance is an immensely difficult challenge.
Vladimir Putin, Gorbachev’s successor, holds very different political views. Yet, in his congratulatory message on Gorbachev’s 91st birthday, Putin wrote: “You have lived a long and fulfilling life, and have rightfully earned great prestige and recognition. It is gratifying that your extensive efforts continue to contribute to society, education, charity, and international humanitarian cooperation.” I do not believe that Putin’s positive remarks were merely a diplomatic courtesy to a former Soviet leader. In fact, a core aspect of Gorbachev’s reforms, launched in 1985, was the determined effort to end Cold War confrontation, eliminate the threat of nuclear deterrence, and dismantle the rigid centralization of power. Therefore, the failure of these reforms should not be attributed to their original intent being flawed.
On the other hand, the atmosphere of the time also played a role. Many, driven by an almost radical determination, were willing to pursue changes despite knowing immense costs. As a result, although the Cold War ended, traditional structures were dismantled, and nuclear deterrence was reduced, the question remains whether the progress achieved justifies the price paid and how sustainable these so-called advancements were. Looking at the past forty years, the world has reversed course in many ways: from prioritizing efficiency back to prioritizing equality, from globalization back to national self-interest, and from peaceful coexistence back to an adversarial mindset. Given these shifts, the resurgence of conservatism seems almost inevitable. It is an invaluable lesson from that period.
Thought-provokingly, in the late 1980s, Immanuel Wallerstein warned: “We are witnessing a period in which the meanings drawn from the events of 1989 are being hastily and severely distorted.” He pointed out that while the former communist world was rapidly replacing planned economies with markets, the West mistakenly interpreted this as a victory for Wilsonian liberalism and the failure of Leninism. Wallerstein cautioned that the end of the Cold War and the Soviet Union’s collapse also marked the decline of American hegemony. According to his logic, in the early 19th century, Russia helped Britain defeat France, allowing Britain to become the dominant global power. In the 20th century, the Soviet Union helped the U.S. defeat Germany, leading to its own rise alongside the U.S. Therefore, the sudden demise of such a powerful Soviet Union was not merely the disintegration of a single empire but the result of profound shifts in the global system. Furthermore, since the Cold War was built upon a U.S.-Soviet dichotomy, the disappearance of one meant the other could no longer sustain its original role. Today, while the U.S. has not collapsed, it is clearly struggling to maintain its hegemonic position. At the same time, though the Soviet Union is gone, Russia is rising from the ashes. Wallerstein’s world-system logic did not fully materialize, but it remains a warning worth remembering for the future.
This is the third critical lessons from the Gorbachev era.
At an international conference in Istanbul in late 2011, I had the privilege of meeting Gorbachev for a long and unforgettable conversation. He was no longer the vigorous leader I had seen daily on Soviet television during my studies there in the mid-1980s. The years had left their mark, and his thoughts were profound and reflective. He spoke of the deep loneliness after his wife Raisa’s passing, which is why the memoir he gifted me was titled Alone with Myself. He remained deeply concerned about his country and the unrest in the Middle East at the time. But above all, he repeatedly expressed admiration for China and its achievements. At the conference, he repeatedly and publicly expressed his approval of China’s achievements in development and diplomacy. He said: “Despite its accomplishments, China has remained particularly humble and cautious.” What left a deep impression was Gorbachev’s lingering attachment to China after his sole visit in 1989. He said: “How I wish I could have another opportunity to visit China, to go to Beijing and Shanghai once more, and see with my own eyes the changes that have taken place there.” Regrettably, I was unable to help him fulfill his last wish of revisiting China. Yet I firmly believe that the friendship and cooperation he once fostered between two great neighbors will endure for generations to come.
Seyed Mohammad Marandi, Professor, University of Tehran
Mikhail Gorbachev’s appointment as General Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party marked a pivotal moment that set the stage for transformative changes in the USSR and the world. While the conditions for change had long existed, Gorbachev’s policies of perestroika (restructuring) and glasnost (openness) accelerated the process, ultimately leading to the collapse of the Soviet Union. These reforms, rooted in a new political thinking, aimed to modernize the Soviet system and reduce Cold War tensions. However, their outcomes were far more profound than anticipated, reshaping global geopolitics.
In Iran, Gorbachev’s reforms resonated with political circles, as concepts like restructuring and openness were familiar following the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Although the Soviet Union had been viewed negatively, Gorbachev’s tenure saw a gradual improvement in Soviet-Iranian relations. However, the USSR’s collapse evoked mixed feelings in Iran. While most Iranians opposed communist rule, there was a widespread belief that the U.S. exploited perestroika and glasnost to infiltrate and undermine the Soviet Union. This perception fueled fears of similar U.S. interference in Iranian politics, shaping a cautious and often critical view of Gorbachev’s legacy.
Today, Gorbachev’s name is frequently invoked in Iranian political discourse as a cautionary tale. When a politician is deemed naive in dealings with the West, he is compared to Gorbachev, suggesting that well-intentioned reforms could inadvertently weaken national sovereignty through Western-backed actors in civil society and media. This reflects a broader concern about the unintended consequences of political openness and restructuring, underscoring the complex and enduring impact of Gorbachev’s era on Iranian political discourse.
Robert Legvold, Professor Emeritus, Department of Political Science, Columbia University, New York, USA
In March 1986, my Columbia colleague, Seweryn Bialer, and I organized a meeting with a dozen of our country’s leading Soviet specialists to assess what had just happened at the 27th CPSU Congress. Most of those attending noted that Mikhail Gorbachev seemed aware of the Soviet Union’s mounting failures, including the “bleeding wound” that was Afghanistan, but they anticipated that his response would be muted and constrained by what the traffic would bear. The boldest among the group, Jerry Hough, predicted that Gorbachev might be another Janos Kadar. We were hardly the only people, including many in his own country, who underestimated the historic change that Gorbachev would bring.
Putting that historic change in perspective, however, is difficult, because it fell short of its goals, and the assumptions on which it was based were often faulty. There may be another reason that post facto judgments tend to favor the negative side of the story: three decades after this historic interlude, the change that it wrought has largely disappeared, making it seem like something of a historical mirage. Eventually, however, historians, in particular Russian historians, will likely come to see Gorbachev’s seven years in power as one of the most striking periods in Russia’s millennial history, more so, if it turns out to be a forerunner of a path to which, at some point, Russia returns.
If judged by the break from what existed before, the change Gorbachev brought was extraordinary. His recognition that something was seriously wrong with the system traced back, at least, to the conversations he had with Alexander Yakovlev in 1983 in Canada where Yakovlev was serving as ambassador. The reform he embraced, however, took shape slowly. The campaign for uskorenie [acceleration—Ed.] in 1986 was not yet perestroika, but it was a step towards freeing the economy and society from the dead weight of a sclerotic Soviet bureaucracy. The impulse behind the reform’s fuller form—perestroika—was more revolutionary. Gorbachev, as his other shestidesyatniki [free-minded people of the 1960s—Ed.] allies, sought to return the Soviet system to what they saw as its Leninist ideals, in effect, to “socialism with a human face,” a system open to democracy, to respect for the individual, and to basic freedoms.
Its fundamental objective—to restore vitality to the system—was its fundamental vulnerability—the failure to see that the system was fatally flawed and beyond saving. This, however, did not diminish the transformation of political life that it ushered in. The euphoria unleashed by the release from the stale and stifling existence under Gorbachev’s predecessors echoed in each new taste of freedom: in the audience reaction to Tengiz Abuladze’s film Pokayanie, when it opened in theaters in the fall of 1986; when people queued at 5:00 am on Wednesdays to get a copy of the Moskovskie Novosti weekly before it sold out, so that they could indulge something that looked like free speech in a no-longer controlled press; in 1989, when they stayed home from work, glued to their TVs to watch the workings of the newly elected Congress of People’s Deputies. By 1990, however, the euphoria had dimmed as store shelves emptied and Gorbachev’s readiness to take the next necessary steps in economic reform expired. That in the end Gorbachev’s appetite for economic reform—or capacity to implement it—hit a wall should not obscure one vital transformation that happened during those years: the population’s loss of fear. By 1987, writers, artists, journalists, academics, institute specialists, and even politicians, then and for the decade and a half after the collapse of the Soviet Union, no longer feared the consequences of speaking their minds, acting according to their conscience, and attempting to organize support for their political ideas.
Nor should the disappointing final chapter of those seven years diminish the extraordinary effect where his aspirations for change at home blended with his radically different approach to the world outside. Although few recognized it at the time, Gorbachev’s determination to lift the shackles of the calcified Soviet system led to his toleration of freedom elsewhere—to the “freedom of choice” that he said should exist within Eastern European countries. Overnight he cast aside the justification for the Soviet interventions in 1956, 1968, and more haltingly in 1979. He did this on a misconception parallel to that underpinning perestroika, namely, that opening the system would restore its popular legitimacy.
Similarly, his notion of a “common European home” rested on a misconception—in this case, that the home would have a vital socialist apartment alongside a capitalist counterpart—but it carried the seeds of a still bigger and more transformative idea. Presumably what he had in mind was something akin to the ill-fated effort to build a Euro-Atlantic security community that U.S., European, and Russian leaders regularly pledged to pursue over the two decades after the Cold War.
His truly fundamental break with the past, however, was abandoning the core principle guiding Soviet foreign policy, a “class approach” to the world outside, a world reduced to an elemental “class struggle.” As I wrote at the time, Gorbachev “set aside the holiest of Soviet foreign policy concepts, the notion that the most elemental dynamic of international politics resides in the tension between two historical social orders—socialism and capitalism.” In its place he substituted the notion of universal values and the interdependence of nations.
The implications of this historic about-face were extraordinarily practical. They upended the fundamental thrust of Soviet foreign policy. Soviet interventions on behalf of “national liberation movements” ended, and over-extended commitments to distant struggles were reeled back. Collective responses to global problems were stressed over the threats posed by potential adversaries. Violence was eschewed both as a tool for dealing with domestic discontent and a method for keeping intact the Soviet Union’s control over the fraying Warsaw Pact.
Most important, the notion articulated by Gorbachev in late 1985 that Soviet national security depended on mutual security with the other side sent the U.S.-Soviet relationship in a fundamentally different direction.
Early in Gorbachev’s tenure, the Carnegie Corporation of New York foundation, sensing that his arrival portended something new, organized what would become regular conferences for U.S. senators and congressional representatives to learn about and judge the change taking place. At the outset, many among the parliamentarians asked, “Is it in our interest for Gorbachev to succeed?” The obvious assumption behind the question was that success would produce a stronger and more formidable adversary. For my part, when I was invited to speak, my answer was that that depended on how Soviet policy towards the United States evolved in the process.
The “fundamentally different direction” that followed rewrote the script. The United States turned from the enemy into the sought-after partner in backing perestroika. It would have been hard to envisage Brezhnev attending a meeting of the G7, as Gorbachev did in June 1991, appealing for the aid needed to create a market economy in the Soviet Union. Still more dramatic, Gorbachev, shaken by the Chernobyl catastrophe, joined Ronald Reagan in a lofty, albeit misconceived, bid to remove the scourge of nuclear weapons from the relationship. The nuclear arms control process had begun sixteen years before Gorbachev arrived in office, but never before, nor ever again, would the effort have the ultimate impulse driving Gorbachev’s commitment, until the whole effort died in our day.
As Gorbachev together with Ronald Reagan and then George H. W. Bush gradually thawed the ice-bound areas of the relationship and focused on expanding cooperation, a distinctly new and, alas, perishable phenomenon emerged. They came to trust one another. At a 1996 Princeton conference, Anatoly Chernyaev said: “I have notes that were taken during the discussions [at the 1989 Malta summit] between Gorbachev and Bush and Gorbachev and Baker that really prove that there was a human rapport among them, that Gorbachev actually in a personal way trusted those people. And it was my impression that they reciprocated.”
And forty years later, when reflecting on Gorbachev’s legacy, many would agree with Russian-Estonian literary scholar Yuri Lotman’s insight “that in Russia the most radical changes, despite appearances, actually reinforce the traditions of the society they are meant to change.” Forty years from now, however, might that legacy have come to have a deeper resonance defying this lament?
Aleksandar Raković, Research Fellow, Institute for Recent History of Serbia
Before the end of the Cold War, the citizens of the Soviet Union became eager for the standards and alleged civil liberties offered by the West. Moreover, the West had a much more humane face at that time than now, because the two opposing ideological blocs were correctives to each other. However, immediately after the fall of the Berlin Wall, the West demonstrated a completely different policy of expansionism towards Eastern Europe, with the intention of reaching out to Russia and breaking it into at least three parts. The struggle of the Serbian people against the West and NATO during the 1990s prevented an immediate campaign by the West against Russia, which was disoriented after the self-disintegration of the Soviet Union.
From today’s perspective, perestroika was a well-intentioned process that was supposed to grant greater freedoms to the citizens of the Soviet Union from within, while connecting them with parts of the world that had previously been “forbidden fruit.” However, also from today’s perspective, perestroika was a naive and misguided process that led to the Soviet Union’s self-destruction and the loss of the wall of states that protected official Moscow from Western imperialism. Also, perestroika led to decentralization and fragmentation of the Russian Orthodox Church according to the newly established borders.
The collapse of the Soviet empire, in which generations were raised, was bound to lead to a decline in self-confidence and a prolonged search for a new state support. At the same time, tens of millions of Russians remained outside the borders of the Russian Federation, and Russia received no guarantees for their future.
The beginning of perestroika was welcomed in socialist Yugoslavia with the hope that Soviet socialism was moving towards openness, like the Yugoslav socialism. At the same time, the thawing of East-West relations also suited Yugoslavia. However, as the end of Yugoslavia approached, it was obvious to the Serbs that because of perestroika and its consequence—the dissolution of the Soviet Union—Moscow would not be able to focus on the Balkans and that the Serbs would be left alone.
Xiang Lanxin, Visiting Scholar, Belfer Center, Harvard University; Distinguished Fellow, Stimson Center, USA
Gorbachev’s policies, particularly perestroika, led to instability and the eventual collapse of the Soviet Union. His policies reflected a misguided belief that ending the Cold War would make the Soviet Union great again. But Gorbachev voluntarily accepted the defeat in the Cold War, so the original foundation of the political union based on ethnically dominated republics could hardly exist. More importantly, Russians had no experience in governing a state without a multi-ethnic imperial structure. Dean Acheson made a famous critique of the fundamental problem faced by post-imperial Britain: “Britain has lost an empire, but not yet found a role.” We can say: “Russia has lost an empire, now it must learn how to run a Russian state.”
Not surprisingly, Vladimir Putin sees the Soviet Union’s collapse as a tragedy, which he associates with Gorbachev’s leadership. For Putin, the geopolitical impact is obvious: Gorbachev weakened Russians’ national pride and Russia’s global standing. He did not even repair the relationship with the West, which perestroika was aimed to do, and his “common European home” turned out to be a fantasy. Chinese leader Xi Jinping, a keen supporter of Putin’s narrative about Gorbachev, went even further speaking of the Soviet leadership under Gorbachev: the collapse of the Soviet communist system was brought about by “a bunch of guys with no balls.”
Glenn Diesen, Professor, University of South-Eastern Norway
Gorbachev’s efforts to reform the stagnant Soviet Union and end confrontational bloc politics were necessary and commendable. A bipolar international distribution of power consisting of two rival military blocs with two incompatible ideologies in a struggle for global primacy unavoidably produced extremely destructive zero-sum politics. However, idealists’ desire to overcome power politics often results in neglecting power. Gorbachev unleashed nationalist forces that unraveled the Soviet Union and ignored the balance of power required to construct a “common European home.”
When there is a balance of power, a zero-sum struggle for relative power can be replaced with mutually beneficial cooperation to enhance indivisible security, as constraints are accepted when there is an expectation of reciprocity. Gorbachev’s unilateral concessions, weakening, and eventual demise of the Soviet Union eliminated the balance of power and thus the need to accommodate Moscow’s security interests.
Ending the Cold War with unilateral concessions resulted in capitulation. In 1990, Under-Secretary of Defense Paul Wolfowitz concluded: “With the end of the Cold War, we can now use our military with impunity. The Soviets won’t come in to block us. And we’ve got five, maybe 10, years to clean up these old Soviet surrogate regimes like Iraq and Syria before the next superpower emerges to challenge us.”
Instead of preserving the power parity required to obtain binding commitments to construct an inclusive European security architecture, the declining strategic balance allowed Washington to develop a new Europe without Russians. As NATO now has exhausted itself and new centers of power rise, a new balance of power is emerging again. Russia should also learn from the mistakes of its adversaries by aspiring to construct a Westphalian international system based on a balance of power that aims at mitigating security competition rather than defeating its adversaries.
Martin Hoffmann, CEO, German-Russian Forum
The perception of Mikhail Gorbachev in Germany has changed significantly over the past decades, especially after the events of 2014 and 2022. Immediately after the unification of Germany, primarily in the 1990s, he was considered the architect of unity and an icon of peaceful political and social change in Europe. However, the mounting tensions between the West and Russia and the escalation of the Ukraine conflict have noticeably changed the attitude towards Gorbachev, who, according to Western elites, did not distance himself enough from the Russian authorities’ criticism of NATO’s eastward expansion.
In the political domain and the media, Germany’s reunification is increasingly interpreted as the result of Western efforts, particularly of the United States. The change of perspective is exacerbated by the change of generations who did not live through the 1980s and 1990s and therefore have no emotional connection with either Gorbachev or Russia. For them, he is rather a historical figure, whose efforts to establish peace eventually failed due to Moscow’s geopolitical ambitions. Nevertheless, for the older generation, he remains a symbol of peaceful change associated with Willy Brandt’s eastern policy and the idea of a “common European home.”
It is paradoxical and frustrating that even in Germany Gorbachev has lost the status of a peacemaker. But he remains a symbol of hope, who proved that peace in Europe is possible, and Russia can make a significant contribution to its strengthening. His dual legacy reflects both the lost hopes of the past and the challenges for a shared peaceful future in the continent that is impossible without Russia.
Bertrand Renouvin, Founder and President of Nouvelle Action Royaliste, a royalist political movement that emerged after the split with Action Française; a presidential nominee in the 1974 election
Many analysts view diplomatic processes through the lens of supposedly objective patterns dictated by history, the economy, or national mentality. The public is offered simplified schemes that hide the uncertainty of processes and the ambiguity of their outcomes. Such concepts are often put forward in order to scrap previous dogmas that asserted the exact opposite just as categorically.
In the 1970s, French intellectuals, who had switched from ultra-left views to human rights rhetoric, stated that the Soviet Union would never get rid of totalitarianism, although totalitarianism had actually come to an end after Stalin’s death. The same people, in 1991, proclaimed the “West’s victory” over communism. Confident that the institutions of representative democracy alone would give people prosperity, they set the stage for neoliberal economists to impose a new version of the “natural order of things”—an irreversible transition to a market economy that would bring universal prosperity after the collapse of the collectivist system.
It was through this lens—a combination of emotions and ideology—that the reforms launched by Mikhail Gorbachev in the second half of the 1980s were perceived. Many viewed his diplomatic initiatives through familiar stereotypes as yet another trick of “insidious communism” and an incorrigible collectivist system. However, along with this anti-Soviet skepticism, there was another point of view: sincere admiration for Gorbachev, who was honored as a peacemaker and a great reformer. The end of the Cold War, declared at the Malta summit in December 1989, the liberalization of the Soviet regime, reforms in agriculture, the development of small business, and the reorganization of state-owned enterprises were seen as the beginning of a smooth transformation of society, social norms and mass consciousness.
The political crisis of 1991, the collapse of the Soviet Union, hyperinflation, shortages of goods, and rampant economic crime were seen rather as natural and inevitable stages of the transition to democracy and a market economy. The catastrophic nature of this transition in 1992-1998 was practically not discussed by the French political establishment, intellectuals, or the press.
France, like no other Western European country, could have played a key role in Russia’s transition to a new political, economic and social system. French academia had a deep knowledge of the Soviet economy, which could have played an important role in its transformation.
Instead of destroying the collectivist economy in the name of illusory “transition to a market system,” it was possible to build a mixed model of industrial and agricultural production that combines the public and private sectors within one project of economic reconstruction and social welfare. Such a system required strong political power capable of putting public interests above private ones, as well as an independent judiciary and law enforcement agencies immune to pressure and corruption.
With a wealth of experience in public administration, France was able to offer a mixed economy model that was successfully used after the war, when public and private enterprises collaborated as part of the indicative planning mechanism.
Such an approach would have allowed preserving a significant state-run industrial and commercial sector with the established production ties, as well as to carry out controlled privatization of enterprises that did not meet public utility criteria. Domestic market protection, capital controls, export-friendly monetary policy, and tax mechanisms aimed at investing in production and preserving social welfare benefits would have supported the complex transition from a collectivist economy to a decentralized system combining national development, free trade in the private sector, and the social economy—a key element of the French experience.
But Western elites imposed two dangerous illusions on the post-Soviet states. The first one is the belief in a “transition to a market economy” as a natural continuation of successful neoliberalism in the West, although in reality the state has always remained the main guarantor of economic growth and social stability. The second one is the illusion that the European Union is ready to share its seeming prosperity with new members and offer the states of the Russian, Central Asian, and Caucasian periphery a universal model of successful development.
No one ever said that the European Union had spent years to build a complex system of treaties and governance institutions but had not made a choice between intergovernmental cooperation and supranational governance, between effective European integration and subordination to the United States. Also, no one said that prosperity would not be distributed evenly but would largely be retained by those who already enjoyed it, while new EU members would supply cheap labor.
Fleming Rose, Editor-in-Chief, Frihedsbrevet, Denmark
Gorbachev’s most important contribution to Russia’s political history was that he largely renounced the use of force against his political opponents—the exceptions being Georgia in 1989, Azerbaijan in 1990, and Lithuania in 1991. If Gorbachev had sent Boris Yeltsin to Cuba as ambassador instead of giving him an insignificant post in Moscow in 1988, much would have been different.
The same was true of Gorbachev and large parts of the Russian elite’s ambition to be recognized by and included in the West as an equal partner. At a distance of 40 years, the process around German reunification and the question of a new European security order appears central. Why did Gorbachev change his position on a unified Germany in NATO in the space of four weeks in May 1990 without demanding anything fundamental in return? From a categorical ‘no’ to a unified Germany in NATO to an unconditional ‘yes’? Many years later, George H. W. Bush’s national security adviser Brent Scowcroft still did not understand why Gorbachev had not offered German Chancellor Helmut Kohl to withdraw all Soviet troops in exchange for a reunited but neutral Germany, which, according to Scowcroft, would have raised the question of the presence of American troops in Europe and the future of NATO.
Gorbachev saw Lenin as a role model, but unlike Lenin he did not understand the importance of nationalism. In his book on perestroika and the new political thinking, which Gorbachev dictated in the summer of 1987, he stated that the national question in the Soviet Union had been resolved, but nationalism was precisely the engine that drove the dissolution of the Soviet Union, also in Russia, where Boris Yeltsin instrumentalized a liberal nationalism in the fight against Gorbachev and the Soviet center of power. If Gorbachev had had a better understanding of nationalism, he might have been able to save the Soviet Union in the same way that Lenin did with his formula “national in form, socialist in content,” because in this way Lenin, as the only state leader after the First World War, was able to gather most of a dissolved empire into a new state formation.
From a distance, the dissolution of the Soviet Union and its economic collapse did not seem as inevitable as it did in 1991. Gorbachev had a limited understanding of how a market economy works, and this affected his reforms, which in several areas proved disastrous and accelerated the decline.
Zhang Shuhua, President of the Institute of Political Science, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences; Executive President of the Chinese Political Science Association
Gorbachev’s dire efforts to end confrontational bloc politics put an end to the Cold War, but did this relieve the world of contentions and imbalances?
In today’s world, the political situation is complex and intricate. International cooperation is on the decline, while the competition and game—playing among major powers—are becoming increasingly intense. At the same time, artificial intelligence, biotechnology, etc., are transforming the face of human society. World politics stands at a crossroads of history: Will there be peace and cooperation, or war and confrontation? The world today is like a giant ship tossed around in a tempestuous storm, and rational statesmen are undoubtedly the key force to steer its course.
Rational statesmen should have a sense of historical mission and a global perspective, foregoing personal and sectional interests. They should step out of narrow circles, reach out to the people, and care about the progress of the world and the well-being of humanity.
The flames of the Israel-Palestine conflict have been raging continuously, with countless lives lost and homes destroyed. At this moment, rational statesmen should abandon narrow geopolitical thinking, uphold fairness and justice, build communication bridges, and urge both sides to put aside their hatred and resolve core issues such as territorial disputes and religious conflicts through peaceful negotiations. Through dialogue, they should explore common interests and resolve differences by compromise and tolerance, injecting hope into the peace and stability of the region and even the world.
Rational statesmen should prioritize development. Development is the master key to solving all problems. Rational statesmen need to take promoting global development as an important mission. Faced with the widening gap between the North and the South, and the still severe problems of poverty, hunger, etc., statesmen should work together to promote the building of an open world economy. Developed countries should assume more responsibilities, provide developing countries with technical and financial support, help them improve infrastructure, education, and medical care, narrow the gap between the rich and the poor, and achieve common development and prosperity.
It is also a must-do for rational statesmen to respect diverse cultures and advocate exchanges and mutual learning among civilizations. Different countries and ethnic groups have unique cultures and values, which together form the brilliant galaxy of human civilization. Statesmen should break down cultural barriers, encourage cultural exchanges, and enhance understanding and trust among different ethnic groups, making cultural differences a driving force for mutual learning and common progress rather than a source of conflict.
On the ever-changing world stage, rational statesmen are defenders of peace, promoters of development, and facilitators of civilization. Only by being guided by rationality and aiming at win-win cooperation can we break through the thick fog and lead the world towards a bright future.
