Nuclear Winter

Bac

k when Bill and Boris were new in their jobs, they called each other friend and partner, and Washington placed its chips on a bet that Russia could be Poland--able to shed Marxism in short order for free markets, democracy and cooperation with the West. This week, when Russian Prime Minister Yevgeni Primakov arrives on his first official trip to Washington, the wreckage of that early optimism will be piled high. Yeltsin is sick, erratic and unpopular. Parliamentary elections scheduled for December are likely to give more power to communists and nationalists. The ruble's collapse last summer, Moscow's struggles with its foreign debt and vast corruption have terrified investors and left average Russians convinced that capitalism is a con game fixed by criminals in high places. The government can't collect enough taxes to keep afloat, and has delayed economic reforms to preserve stability. Meanwhile, life is so miserable that life expectancy for men has dropped to 58 (from 65 years in the mid-'80s) and the country's population shrank by 400,000 last year. "Russia," says Paul Goble, a Radio Free Europe analyst, "has more in common with Somalia than Poland."

No one in the Clinton Administration goes that far. But Russia's problems seem so vast and impervious to foreign help that the forward momentum has drained out of its Russia policy. Deputy Secretary of State Strobe Talbott, its chief architect, now advises "strategic patience." Republicans, enthused by polls that show growing discomfort with Clinton's leadership in foreign affairs, are hoping to draw blood from the Administration's evident lack of a Russia policy. An added incentive: Al Gore will be the Administration's point man in talks with Primakov.

The main plan for U.S. aid to Russia is frighteningly modest in the eyes of Russia worriers--some extra dollars for a program to keep Russian nuclear technology and scientists from ending up in dangerous places. There is no plan for a policy to help Russia through its chaos and bring out a friendly government on the other side. "We'd love to help them do more," says an Administration official, "but Primakov's motto is 'Just don't do something; stand there.'"

But Primakov arrives in Washington with a full "to do" list. His biggest hope is for a multibillion-dollar loan from the International Monetary Fund. So far the IMF insists that new loans will be contingent on fiscal responsibility in Moscow. Faced with a choice between lending and chaos, however, the IMF may well cut a check.

To improve his chances, Primakov has been plucking weeds from the U.S.-Russia agenda. Last week he took steps to have the Duma ratify the long-delayed START II treaty, which will slash U.S. and Russian nuclear arsenals by two-thirds. And his Nuclear Energy Minister hinted that the country might curtail some of the atomic work with Iran that prompted U.S. sanctions. The two nations have some clearly irreconcilable differences--Iraq and Kosovo, in particular. At home millions of Russians are souring on the U.S. A U.S. Information Agency poll found that 75% of Russians believe the U.S. is "using Russia's current weakness to reduce it to a second-rate power." The domestic backlash may mean the U.S. is on the brink of losing its once close relationship with the Russian leadership.

Ironically, Washington's biggest problem right now may be Yeltsin himself. Despite public denials, Primakov seems to want Yeltsin's job--an ambition that has resulted in a quick pink slip for previous Prime Ministers. And while American policy-makers may find it frustrating to deal with Primakov, they are terrified of the alternatives.