Countering America's Crusade

By Richard Stengel

Leonard Peltier is not exactly a household name in the U.S. But in the Soviet Union he ranks right up there with Ronald Reagan and Michael Jackson. While the President is in Geneva, the White House will be deluged with sacks of postcards mailed by readers of the Young Communist League newspaper demanding the release of that "well-known" political prisoner. The paper called on its readers "to raise our voices in defense of the human rights and freedom of those whose only 'fault' is to struggle against the genocide unleashed by U.S. authorities against the native population." Translation: in the looking-glass logic of superpower relations, Peltier, an American Indian serving two consecutive life sentences for the murder of two FBI agents, is to Soviet propagandists what dissident Physicist Andrei Sakharov is to the U.S., a symbol of flagrant disregard for human rights.

The Kremlin has peppered the U.S. with scattered human rights charges ever since the Sacco and Vanzetti case of 1920. But in the maneuvering leading up to this week's summit, the denunciations have reached new heights. The campaign represents a tactical shift by Moscow; while the Soviets still maintain their traditional stony attitude about Western interference in their own "internal affairs," they are now going on the counterattack. In reply to the continued U.S. criticism of Soviet emigration policies and Reagan's recent rebukes of the oppressive nature of Soviet society, the Kremlin under Mikhail Gorbachev has taken the offensive with a rancorous propaganda drive. Its goal is to paint the U.S. as a nation teeming with human rights violations that run the gamut from unemployment to genocide. "They used to deal with human rights criticism by sitting in cold silence," says one senior Western diplomat in Moscow. "Now the new leadership are tough and embattled and intend to match our criticism with criticism of their own."

Virtually every day, Soviet newspapers fulminate about rampant U.S. censorship, persecution of dissidents, forced labor, religious discrimination and telephone tapping. Film of homeless Americans sleeping on subway grates and bag ladies foraging through trash cans has become so standard on Soviet TV that at least a few viewers must be convinced that all of New York City consists of such unfortunates. Recalling the concentration camps of the Nazi era, a professor serving as a commentator for one show tells his audience, "The U.S. is going through a prison boom; camps for dissidents are hastily being built there."

One heavily hammered theme has been the bombing in Philadelphia last May of the headquarters of Move, a radical cult. "American authorities recently gave the whole world a demonstration of their democracy," TASS declaimed, "when they publicly slaughtered more than a dozen black-skinned inhabitants of Philadelphia and bombed a whole city block." The Soviet press, however, omits any mention of the fact that the mayor of Philadelphia is black and that the bombing has provoked much soul-searching in addition to searing criticism and lengthy hearings and investigations.

Soviet authorities employ the catch-all term "state terrorism" to cover a multitude of human rights sins. Last week, for example, they wheeled out Vitaly Yurchenko, the fickle KGB defector, for a rather woolly and sometimes bizarre two-hour press conference in which he elaborated on his tales of kidnap and torture at the hands of the CIA. After Yurchenko reiterated his charges that he was given drugs by the CIA, a Soviet doctor compared the alleged doping "to the experiments perpetrated by the Nazis on our war prisoners." At one point, the press conference seemed to turn into a scene from an early Woody Allen movie. Rambling on about "cheap CIA tricks," Yurchenko gravely announced that the CIA "made me play golf." Worse was to come. "They also gave me a suntan," added an indignant Yurchenko, "to get rid of the green color of my skin."

The Soviet approach is double-edged; along with the vituperation, they have decided to offer some concessions. On the eve of the summit, Moscow announced that it had resolved about ten controversial emigration cases by granting exit visas to a small number of its citizens. Among those now able to leave the Soviet Union are eight long-separated spouses of Americans, representing about a third of the so-called divided-spouses cases, situations in which Moscow has prohibited Soviet husbands and wives from joining their partners in the U.S. In the past Moscow has been known to offer such symbolic gestures just before the start of major negotiations to create the appearance of compromise. But some of those involved were skeptical. "Until I hold [an exit visa] in my hands, I won't believe it," said Irina McClellan, 47, who married an American professor 11 1/2 years ago. On occasion even that has been insufficient. In 1974 the Kremlin granted exit visas to the family of Abe Stolar, 67, a Moscow resident who holds dual U.S.-Soviet citizenship. But the KGB removed them from an out-ward-bound plane just before takeoff.

As with virtually every issue dividing the two superpowers, human rights are defined differently by the Soviets and the Americans. While the U.S. emphasizes the rights of the individual, such as freedom of speech and religion, the Soviets stress the notion that individual rights are contingent upon the rights of the collective. They regard full employment, housing and comprehensive health care as the fulfillment of basic human rights; less tangible rights are barely considered. A Soviet law professor was quoted in TASS as saying, "About 9 million unemployed in the United States is evidence of the gross violation of international human rights in that country." Ironically, it is the Soviets, all the while castigating American capitalism, who view human rights in a materialistic rather than a political way.

The 1975 Helsinki accords, signed by Washington and Moscow as well as 33 other nations, committed those nations to "respect human rights and fundamental freedoms, including the freedom of thought, conscience, religion or belief." Often citing this document, Jimmy Carter turned America's concern for individual freedoms into a high-visibility moral crusade. Although Reagan has not been as vocal as Carter in condemning human rights violations, he will not be silent at the negotiating table. After years of stonewalling references to Helsinki's human rights provisions, the Soviets now frequently invoke them when accusing America of abuses, creating a distorted mirror image of U.S. human rights policy. As Pravda recently wrote, "The U.S. today is the biggest country in the world where the oppression of millions of people is camouflaged by unrestricted demagogy about 'freedom.'"

The offensive has probably been effective in changing perceptions about the U.S. among some Soviet citizens; its goal of taking the edge off Washington's charges about Moscow's alleged violations is still remote. Washington so far has not reacted to the stepped-up campaign, maintaining an aloof disdain for the Soviet charges, and is quietly relieved that the Soviets are talking about human rights at all. Notes one senior U.S. official: "Everybody here can judge this country's approach to the enhancement of human rights, and they can judge the other side's. We'll let those judgments rest." The offensive may come back to haunt the Soviets. While it is intended to put the U.S. on the defensive, it also opens the way for a closer look at the issue of human rights, an examination that the U.S. can only welcome. --By Richard Stengel. Reported by Laurence I. Barrett/Washington and James O. Jackson/Moscow

With reporting by Reported by Laurence I. Barrett/Washington, James O. Jackson/Moscow