Bombast, Signs of Progress Woven in U.S.-Soviet Talks

During the past week, the conduct of U.S.-Soviet diplomacy has become quite baffling. The rhetoric of mutual recrimination has been unusually intense. Yet at the same time, U.S. and Soviet negotiators have narrowed differences on key issues to a degree that recalls the halcyon days of detente.

These are not two clashing worlds, something out of “Through the Looking Glass,” but two parts of the same superpower relationship. The striking disparities in mood, tone and substance can be explained only in terms of the many and competing levels on which U.S.-Soviet relations are conducted.

Most obvious to most of us is the human level. Nicholas Daniloff, chief Moscow correspondent for U.S. News & World Report, continues to be a prisoner in the Soviet Union. In his words, he has exchanged one “hotel for a better one,” but the issue remains unchanged: Can the Soviet Union frame an American journalist and get away with it? Will the United States refuse, in any way, shape, or form, to swap Daniloff for accused Soviet spy Gennady Zakharov?

Whatever else happens, this issue will remain important for Daniloff’s reputation as a journalist free of CIA associations, for the security of every other U.S. private citizen who visits the Soviet Union, and for the entire Western press corps in Moscow. But Daniloff’s case has also become a key factor in the struggle for the soul of Ronald Reagan. An unusual coalition of civil libertarians and right-wing opponents of arms control is demanding that Daniloff be freed before the President meets at the summit with Soviet leader Mikhail S. Gorbachev.

For many conservatives, “the Daniloff defense” is a last-ditch effort to head off a summit with the Soviet devil. Progress toward the summit is foretold in contrasting headlines. At Stockholm, the United States has joined 34 other countries in agreeing to notification in advance of military maneuvers and even some direct inspection. More an improvement on existing arrangements than a radical departure, this agreement does show that something is possible in East-West relations. It also ends the sterility in U.S.-Soviet arms negotiations that has marked the tenure of the Reagan Administration.

The two superpowers have also made key changes in their respective positions at the more important Geneva negotiations on nuclear weapons--changes that could lead to major achievements. On medium-range weapons limited to the European theater--so-called Euromissiles--Moscow reportedly has dropped its cardinal demand that British and French nuclear missiles be counted along with those of the superpowers. If true, it should be more trouble for American and Soviet negotiators to avoid agreement than it would be for them to complete the details and get their leaders to sign on the dotted line. And in parallel talks, there has even been significant merging of positions about how many intercontinental-range nuclear missiles the two sides are prepared to cut.

Competing strands of U.S.-Soviet relations came together in meetings between Secretary of State George P. Shultz and Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard A. Shevardnadze. The U.S. side, dominated by proponents of a summit, prepared for the talks by announcing that 25 named Soviet U.N. employees would be expelled from the United States by Oct. 1. A reduction-in-force had been ordered last March; now the time was propitious to follow through. The Soviet side revealed its preparations when Gorbachev called Daniloff a spy. He thus pointedly rebuffed Reagan’s personal reassurances on that point.

After meeting with Shevardnadze, Shultz made clear that he had remonstrated hard on Daniloff’s behalf. Reagan also took pains to deliver a tough message. And Shevardnadze echoed his master’s voice on the spying charge. But the fact that Shultz and Shevardnadze met and mulled the issues according to plan spoke more loudly than the rhetoric. Unless the leaders of the world’s two most powerful nations are unable to resolve the fate of a lone U.S. journalist, they will meet at the summit near the end of the year.

Bombast and bluster in each side’s domestic politics thus earned maneuvering room, enabling the two foreign ministers to get on with what they apparently see as more essential business. Yet this was not just a bit of superpower tomfoolery, nor is current conduct of the Daniloff affair some childish exercise to see which side will blink first. To be sure, it does provide a focus for competition among contending constituencies in each side’s capital. It is a means of keeping attentive publics preoccupied while closed-door discussions inch the two sides toward their summit.

But the question of civility--in this case, the treatment of Western journalists--also lies at the heart of the superpowers’ political relationship. Washington seeks to engage Moscow in precisely such areas as a condition and buttress for anything decided on arms control.

Thus the first round of the summit, the struggle over an agenda, has clearly begun. In a strange way, by arresting an American journalist, the Soviets have provided the U.S. President with a vivid demonstration that the political relationship must dominate summit preparation. It cannot take place until this political matter is resolved. In pursuing its resolution--hewing to principle--the American government can determine a summit agenda and aim toward a relationship broader than the technicalities of arms control.