TIME: Almanac 1995

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<text id=91TT0043> <title> Jan. 07, 1991: They Also Made History </title> <history> TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1991 Jan. 07, 1991 Men Of The Year:The Two George Bushes </history> <article> <source>Time Magazine</source> <hdr> MEN OF THE YEAR, Page 34 THEY ALSO MADE HISTORY </hdr> <body> SADDAM Desert thug he may be, but Iraq's leader possesses an ugly finesse By Lisa Beyer Equating an enemy with Hitler is hazardous business, distorting perception and setting reason aflame. Yet with Saddam Hussein the temptation is nearly irresistible. He blithely knocks off rivals, gasses Kurdish children, launches rockets against big cities. He murders a neighboring country, then makes himself the record-breaking hostage taker of our day. At times in the gulf confrontation, Saddam has played the dumb thug to a T. He made a video of himself petting the head of a small, petrified boy, one of his captives. He recklessly provoked France by violating its embassy in Kuwait City, prompting an incensed Paris to double its troop strength in the gulf. Given the chance to address the American people, he badly miscued, unleashing an insufferably long, rambling diatribe. Such blunders testify to the limits of the man's sophistication. Scarcely traveled, haphazardly educated, counseled only by sycophants, Saddam was stunned to learn this summer that in America there is no penalty--let alone the mandatory death prescribed in Iraq--for criticizing the nation's President. Desert bumpkin though he may be, Saddam has played the gulf game with an ugly finesse. He released the transcript of his preinvasion chat with a courtierly April Glaspie, humiliating the U.S. ambassador and the government she represents by publicizing her unctuous comments. He set hostages free in dribs and drabs, enticing a parade of foreign has-beens and wannabes to his door. Then, recognizing finally that his "human shields" offered him no real protection, he dismissed them all, portraying himself, however dishonestly, as amenable to reason. Saddam may yet complicate life for George Bush by staging a partial withdrawal, crippling (perhaps fatally) the resolve of the alliance arrayed against him. Artfully exploiting the Arab psyche, Iraq's "Father-Leader" managed to muddy a clear-cut case of avaricious land gobbling by convincing millions of fellow Arabs that the real issue was Israel's intransigence, or the haves and have-nots of the Middle East, or the imperialism of the West. By exciting Arab resentment, Saddam raised the stakes for his opponents, threatening the West with terrorism and neighboring regimes with unrest. If it comes to war, Saddam may end up losing in the skies over Iraq but prevailing as a hero on the streets of Cairo, Damascus and Amman. Yet Saddam has no death wish. He has survived an enfilade of 10 assassination attempts, and was constantly moving his sleeping quarters long before he antagonized any superpower. He once told another Arab ruler, "If I am killed, there will be no part of me left bigger than the tip of my finger." A man who knows such things can be counted on to employ every last drop of cunning for the task of staying alive--and on top. KOHL Seizing the moment, he overcame all obstacles and remade Germany By Bruce W. Nelan Dreams, like revolutions, have the power to galvanize wildly disparate forces. The dream of a unified Germany, so long as it seemed unattainable, commanded the West's official support for decades. But when the Berlin Wall crashed down in November 1989, NATO's decades of pro forma unanimity also tumbled--into confusion, hesitancy and doubt. Of all the European leaders, one man read the moment and seized it. Helmut Kohl, the consistently underestimated master of German domestic politics, knew instinctively that the communist regime in East Berlin was kaput. He saw that unification of Germany and the mending of Europe were now within reach. He set to work, overcame every objection and obstacle, and in December's all-German election became, literally, the unification Chancellor. At first his obstacles included not only anxieties in Britain, France and the Soviet Union but the mood in East Germany as well. The peaceful revolution had been led mostly by intellectuals, members of the clergy and students who believed their state should become democratic but remain socialist and separate from West Germany. As an initial response, Kohl proposed a federation of the two German states. That was his only stab at a go-slow approach, and events quickly swept it aside. East Germans demonstrated their rejection of half measures by surging into West Germany: 340,000 in 1989 and more than 300,000 in 1990. Kohl headed the other way, wading into East German politics with a clear-cut promise: a vote for his Christian Democratic Union was a vote for unification. In March his conservative coalition won by a landslide in East Germany's first free elections. While Kohl was still viewed by many as a provincial politician, he proved to be a diplomatic whiz. His biggest problem of all remained Moscow. The Soviets, who make a cult of memorializing World War II, resolutely opposed German unity. After a visit from Kohl in February, however, President Mikhail Gorbachev modified his position, conceding that unification was Germany's right, but not immediately and not inside the NATO alliance. Unperturbed, Kohl flew back to the Soviet Union in mid-July and went hiking in the Caucasus with Gorbachev. The two leaders were downright jovial as they announced that the united Germany would enjoy full sovereignty, including the right to join NATO. Kohl had not depended entirely on persuasion to bring Gorbachev around; he also agreed to pay most of the tab for a package of joint projects. Now that Kohl's triumph is complete and he has won a new four-year mandate as Chancellor of the united Germany, he still cannot sit back and enjoy it. Like most visionary projects, German unification will cost much more than the original estimates, requiring hundreds of billions of deutsche marks to modernize the five states newly added to Germany. This means increasing budget deficits and possibly new taxes. Germany also feels it must support the economic and political development of Central and Eastern Europe, which remain perilously unstable. That task, far too big for Germany alone, will require a major effort from the whole European Community. By bringing Western Europe to the aid of the East, Kohl continues to help the Continent mend its divisions. MANDELA A famous prisoner is freed at last, and hope dawns for the future By Scott MacLeod History's great men and women ordinarily become myths by fighting their spectacular battles for all to see. Nelson Mandela became the stuff of legend while languishing in South African jails for 27 years, seen only by his guards, his family and a handful of friends. True, he had earned a wide following before his imprisonment in 1962. But it was during his time behind bars and away from the public that Mandela came to symbolize an entire people's struggle against apartheid. Transition from myth to man has not been easy. Yet Mandela, 72, has managed it with amazing grace. In the space of one extraordinary year, South Africa has moved from its nightmare of eternal racial conflict to a hopeful dawning of racial reconciliation--and that is largely due to Mandela's statesmanship. He, in fact, initiated the current negotiation process in 1986 when he received a visit from South Africa's Justice Minister. Three years of secret talks followed between Mandela and government ministers on the country's future. Hard-liners within the African National Congress disapproved, but Mandela's initiative prepared his militant organization for the eventual necessity of a negotiated settlement. Mandela has not looked back since that sunny afternoon in February when he strode through the gates of Victor Verster Prison, clenched fists raised skyward. Trading smiles and handshakes with his former jailers, he exhibited uncommon magnanimity in guiding the A.N.C. through two rounds of historic talks with President F.W. de Klerk's government. The discussions at Groote Schuur and Pretoria began solving some of the probpolitical prisoners--that stood in the way of negotiations on a new constitution. If Mandela has disappointed many of his admirers, it is because he has been unable to stamp his authority fully on his organization and its restless following. Within days of his release, Mandela was largely ignored in the township of Soweto when he called on students to end their boycott and return to school. He was again dismissed a few weeks later in the Natal port city of Durban when he pleaded with rival black factions to "throw your pangas into the sea." The year of Mandela's long-awaited freedom witnessed the worst black-vs.-black violence in South Africa's history. In prison Mandela expressed a desire to end the bitter fighting between the A.N.C. and the Zulu-based Inkatha movement, headed by Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi. Yet, bowing to the pressure of his A.N.C. comrades, Mandela has repeatedly refused to hold peace talks with Buthelezi. A.N.C. strategists seem to find Mandela more useful as a fund-raising machine. He has spent about half his time since his release outside South Africa, traveling to North America, Europe, the Middle East and Asia in search of money. South Africa may not cleanse itself of violence soon, but without Mandela the country would be even less likely to achieve peace. No other leader commands the respect not only of many blacks but also of De Klerk and his fellow Afrikaner reformers. Mandela the man has not measured up to Mandela the myth. That was inevitable. But it is a sign of Nelson Mandela's greatness that he continues to inspire such expectations--and dreams of a free South Africa. YELTSIN This onetime comrade is setting the agenda for his whole country By John Kohan BORIS, BORIS! That Russian pun, prominently displayed on buttons and posters from Moscow to the icy reaches of Magadan, means "Boris, fight on!" No last name is needed, for to the Russian Federation's 147 million people there is only one Boris, and the great majority of them are rooting for him. Elected chairman of the Russian parliament in May, Boris Yeltsin oversees what is by far the largest, wealthiest and most populous of the Soviet Union's 15 republics. More to the point, Mikhail Gorbachev cannot make a decision without glancing over his shoulder at this onetime comrade turned rival who was bounced from the party's ruling Politburo in 1988 because he wanted reforms to move further, faster. With his booming voice, Texas-style handshake and wide smile--not to mention his reputed fondness for the occasional drink--Yeltsin is Long of Soviet politics. The Moscow elite may wince at his unabashedly populist attacks against privilege. But to millions Yeltsin is a reckless street brawler ready to abandon caution in the interests of principle, a modern-day David who took on the establishment Goliath and won. Russians adore such underdog heroes. As a middle-aged fan passionately puts it, "I believe in no one but Yeltsin. He has suffered." Thanks to the Russian leader's brand of people power, a dramatic realignment of forces took place in the Soviet Union during 1990. Gorbachev, once the prime force behind perestroika, found himself outmaneuvered and put on the defensive. While the Soviet President battled to hold his crumbling empire together, fending off separatist challenges from the Baltic republics and armed insurrection in the Caucasus, an invigorated Russia led by Yeltsin issued a brazen declaration of sovereignty in June. The genie was out of the bottle. According to Yeltsin, all the republics faced a common enemy: the centralized bureaucracy controlled by the Kremlin. Whatever the issue, be it legalizing private property or drafting a new constitution, Yeltsin and the Russians have been setting the agenda for the entire country. In a legal war that has all the makings of a tennis grudge match, Russian parliamentarians pass measures asserting their republic's sovereignty, only to have Gorbachev strike them down. The Russians in turn countermand the presidential decrees, whereupon Gorbachev ignores them. Even when Gorbachev tries to join forces with Yeltsin, as he did in August to draft a 500-Day Plan for radical reform, the effort seems to dissolve almost immediately in mutual recrimination. Gorbachev needs to win Yeltsin's support for a new treaty of union, and the two will probably begin their mating dance again. As confidence in the central government has evaporated, more and more Soviets are looking toward Moscow's "White House"--the nickname for the headquarters of the Russian republic's government--to fill the leadership vacuum. The obvious candidate is Yeltsin, whether in league with Gorbachev or alone. The Russian leader likes to speak of his "credit of trust" with the people. To bring Russia safely through a winter of worsening food shortages, haunted by the danger of ethnic and labor unrest, Yeltsin may have to draw on every kopeck in that account. At the moment, he is the only Soviet politician with enough trust to draw upon. </body> </article> </text>