Mikhail Gorbachev Reflects on Working Toward Peace

My personal situation and experiences as the president
of the former Soviet Union have provided me with insight into an unimaginable terror that has been shared by only a few individuals on this planet. In my hands there rested the sheer raw power to unleash nuclear weapons on the world and destroy human life. For seven years this power was never more than a few feet away.
At all times of the day and night, wherever I went, whatever I did, awake or asleep, some military aide was nearby, holding at the ready that infamous black box containing the nuclear codes that became the dark and evil emblem of our tortured nuclear age.
I was haunted by the constant awareness that I might be required to calculate and decide in an instant of time whether some kind of nuclear action might be required in response to a real or imagined or mistaken attack perceived to be under way against my country. I know this nightmare was shared equally by Ronald Reagan and George Bush when they were president.
Each of us in our time in high office had our ample share of severe critics. But only we actually knew, far better than our worst critics ever dreamed, how truly fallible and all-too-human each of us really was. In a strange way, it was this fact and our recognition of it that perhaps brought us together more than anything else.
The ultimate absurdity of relying on nuclear weapons was dramatically revealed to me, and I am sure to President Bush as well, when we met in Washington in the summer of 1990.
During that visit, we shared a helicopter ride together to Camp David. Near President Bush sat a military aide with the nuclear codes enabling him to destroy the Soviet Union. Near me sat my military
aide with the codes required to destroy the United States. Yet President Bush and I sat together on that small helicopter talking about peace. Neither of us planned to ever use the awesome power we each possessed. Yet we possessed it. And we both knew how ordinary and fallible we both were.
Even if it now seems that the danger of nuclear annihilation presented by the Cold War is over and mercifully behind us, it is my firm belief that the infinite and uncontrollable fury of nuclear weapons should never be held in the hands of any mere mortal ever again, for any reason.
There is great peril in allowing ourselves to be lulled by a soothing
but incorrect sense that because the Cold War has ended, the nuclear danger has eased and no longer requires urgent attention. If anything, this false sense of security makes the mortal danger that yet lurks in the shadow of our unfolding new affairs more perilous than ever.
The danger that has become apparent is what I would call the new
arms race. I am referring to the continuing global proliferation of the most dangerous kinds of military technologies and the real threat of the spread of nuclear and other weapons of mass destruction. Furthermore, the advanced countries are turning out increasingly sophisticated weapons, and many conventional arms are assuming the quality of "absolute weapons."
In the final analysis, the nuclear threat is a direct product of the cult of force that has dominated the world for centuries. It is, if you will, its supreme incarnation. For it is more than just someone's threat to use force against another. It stands for the readiness to physically destroy the adversary. It is a kind of mental illness, the loss of reason that Homo sapiens must possess. The world of interdependence and cooperation must absolutely rule out the use of force, particularly of nuclear weapons, as the solution to any problems.
The world must take a series of interrelated and properly timed steps to alleviate further the nuclear danger. These should include further deep cuts in the Russian and American nuclear arsenals, with the other nuclear powers joining the process; the cessation of the production of weapons-grade plutonium; the complete and final cessation of nuclear weapons testing without exception; strengthening the International Atomic Energy Agency, extending its jurisdiction to the supplies of all "near nuclear" materials; and the substantial extension and modification of the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty.
I am committed to a nuclear-free world. Whereas I understand those who are mindful of possible aggressive ambitions of some rogue dictator or authoritarian regime, I believe that a new structure of international
relations, which I here propose, combined with the absolute superiority of democratic nations in sophisticated conventional arms, provides guarantees that are quite sufficient for genuine national security in the new world order.
The twentieth century must be seen as a century of warning, a call of caution to humankind for the necessity of developing a new consciousness and new ways of living and acting. Has it fulfilled this role? No, at least not completely.
It has been the fond hope of many that the end of the Cold War would liberate the international community to work together to avert threats and work in a spirit of cooperation in addressing the dangerous problems that affect the world as a whole. But, despite the numerous summit meetings, conferences, congresses, negotiations, and agreements, there does not appear to have been any tangible progress.
In all likelihood, no one-neither the political leaders nor any other thinking individual-really believed that right after the end of the Cold War we would immediately start living under a new world order. Between the old order and the new one lies a period of transition that we must go through-moving toward a new structure of international relations marked by cooperating, interacting, and taking advantage of new opportunities.
What we are actually seeing today, however, looks rather like a world disorder.
It is my belief that today's policymakers lack a necessary sense of perspective and the ability to evaluate the consequences of their actions. What is absolutely necessary is a critical reassessment of the views and approaches that currently lie at the basis of political thinking and a new combination of players to envision and carry us through to the next phase of human development.
The world is truly at a crossroads. We face many complex problems whose solutions will take more than just physical resources and financial expenditures. To meet these challenges the rules of international behavior will have to be changed. The roots of the current crisis of
civilization lie within humanity itself. Our intellectual and moral development is lagging behind the rapidly changing conditions of our existence, and we are finding it difficult to adjust psychologically to the pace of change. Only by renouncing selfishness and attempts to outsmart one another to gain an advantage at the expense of others can we hope
to ensure the survival of humankind and the further development of
our civilization.
Each generation inherits from its predecessors the material and spiritual wealth of civilization. And each generation is responsible for preserving this inheritance and developing it for the succeeding generations.
Human beings do not choose the times in which they live. It has fallen to our lot to live in extremely dramatic times.
Ours is a time of acute problems and unprecedented opportunities.
We shall be able to accomplish our historic task of developing our inheritance only if, irrespective of our political opinions, religious beliefs,
or philosophies, we try to understand and help one another and act in concert for a better future.

A Note From Photographer Michael Collopy

President Gorbachev is one of those rare individuals who changes a room when he enters it. I first met him when I was scheduled to do a portrait of him at the opening of the Gorbachev Foundation in San Francisco. I had set up my equipment upstairs at their new headquarters, a small house near the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge. Gorbachev was scheduled to enter the house briefly and then give the keynote speech outside. By the time he arrived with his wife,
Raisa, the tiny first floor was completely filled. I sensed that the overflowing crowd made him uncomfortable and that my hopes of photographing him
were fading fast.
As I climbed the stairs to regroup with my publicist, I felt someone tug
on my shoulder. It was Gorbachev, asking me to show him around the second floor. Of course, I immediately brought him to the room with my equipment. He walked into the room, smiled, and walked out. I learned later that being
photographed for him was like going to the dentist.
Through their interpreter, I pleaded my case with Raisa, who convinced him to sit for me. Once he was in the chair, she teased him over my shoulder, prodding him to say "cheese," one of the few words I think she knew in English. Thanks to Raisa I was able to photograph President Gorbachev several times over the next few years. Her passing was a tremendous blow to everyone who had the great pleasure of being in her company.

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