Soviet Spin Control

The press spokesmen were open, friendly, disarming. Dressed like Dan Rather in woolen sweaters, they answered tedious questions with droll reasonableness and prickly ones with studied courtesy. They made lame but endearing jokes at their own expense, treating reporters with an unaccustomed deference.

Americans may have invented the soft science of public relations, but in Reykjavík it was the Russians who provided a textbook example of how to win friends and influence people. Soviet spokesmen went out of their way to help Western correspondents in repeated briefings. Their doors were always open–which helped give the illusion that their policies were as well.

Their American counterparts were less hospitable. The White House press center (a taxi ride away from the center of town in a city with no taxis) was open only to accredited White House correspondents, much to the annoyance of European journalists. At the outset, harried U.S. officials seemed peeved that they had to deal with the press at all.

In part, the contrast in styles reflects a contrast in goals: the Soviets sought to play up the summit as a historic occasion, while the Americans tried to downplay it as a low-key business session. But it meant that the Soviets seemed to outmaneuver the U.S. in the battle for spin control. “Yes, I’m perturbed,” said a U.S. official. “Not at their side–that kind of p.r. is perfectly within the rules. I’m perturbed by the lack of it from our own team.”

The Soviet effort in Reykjavík is a far cry from their past stentorian sloganeering. Under Gorbachev, they have come to realize that cultivating international public opinion can boost their foreign policy. The new affability and reasonableness was first evident at the 1985 Shultz-Shevardnadze meeting in Helsinki and became more apparent at the Geneva summit. In Iceland, the style has come into its own.

The Soviet advantage was underscored by the decision to have Raisa Gorbachev go to the Reykjavík meeting after all, even though Nancy Reagan was not attending. Asked about her presence, one Soviet newsman shrugged, “Women are often unpredictable.” But more than mere whim seemed to be involved. The Soviets seemed to be aping the American tradition that a leader abroad is more appealing when accompanied by an adoring spouse.

The Soviets also beat the Americans to the briefing room. As early as last Tuesday, a Soviet newsroom at the International Press Center was clicking with computers and copiers. The Soviets even decorated the corridor walls with framed photographs of Gorbachev and Reagan in Geneva under the neatly stenciled label AMERICAN-SOVIET RELATIONS. Soviet officials offered daily briefings for news-starved correspondents. “I welcome you with all my heart to this press center,” said the grayhaired Soviet propagandist Albert Vlasov with perhaps a trifle too much earnestness.

The Soviet presentations stressed Gorbachev’s campaign for glasnost, or openness, and Soviet spokesmen talked of “the process of democratization and reform that is taking place now in the Soviet Union.” Reform and democratization are not in the traditional lexicon of Kremlin propaganda. The Soviets even discussed internal opposition to Gorbachev’s reforms, implicitly suggesting that Soviet society is open to dissent. Questioned about dissidents inside the Soviet Union, the Soviets held their temper and made conciliatory remarks.

Yet after a while the mask of courtesy began to slip a bit. On Saturday the Soviets wheeled out their designated American hit man, Georgi Arbatov, who asserted that the summit “is not a symptom of improved relations but a test for worsening relations.” Arbatov went from cynical to surly at a press conference when a man attempting to ask a question identified himself as a representative of the Committee for Soviet Jewry in Stockholm. “No,” Arbatov snapped, “it is the Committee for anti-Soviet Jewry.”

Some seasoned reporters, more used to Soviet stonewalling, were bewildered by the new style. At one press briefing, an American reporter rose to ask the Soviets if they had a reason for the almost total lack of criticism of anything American. With a combination of irony and seriousness, the Soviet spokesman replied, “If you have any need for criticism, we can give you an exclusive interview.”