Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

The main contradiction has changed. Previously, it was a conflict between reformists and conservatives. Now, the power of conservatives has been greatly weakened. The old Dinhardt has either passed away or been purged. The remaining conservative cadres have been absorbed by neo-Stalinists in some cases and joined the moderate reformists in others due to the influence of Slava's successful economic reforms.

Slava has successfully demonstrated to the party that, while maintaining political stability and the framework of a planned economy, moderate reformers can improve people's well-being.

This gave a considerable number of conservative cadres a reason to join the moderate reformists.

Gorbachev had no reason to interfere when economic reforms were in full swing. Under Slava's reforms, workers' incomes increased, resource allocation efficiency improved, and laws against non-labor income were halted. In the logic of accelerated development, which uses economic efficiency as the standard of measurement, the moderate reformers were the winners!

He can only achieve a breakthrough through political reform.

This is exactly what Slava was worried about. Gorbachev and his radical reformers were like a hearse drifting around a bend in a dark tunnel.

In August, Gorbachev launched his political offensive.

On August 14, the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the Council of Ministers jointly issued Resolution No. 991, breaking the 58-year monopoly of the Minister of Foreign Trade and delegating direct import and export rights to more than 20 industrial ministries and more than 70 large conglomerates.

At the same time, Gorbachev also established the State Committee for Foreign Economic Relations.

This committee was designed to decentralize Ryzhkov's power as prime minister. The chairman's position was equivalent to that of a deputy prime minister. The first chairman, Kamentsev, was one of his own, an old acquaintance of Foreign Minister Shevardnadze from his time in Georgia.

Historically, as time passed and the conflict between Gorbachev and Ryzhkov intensified, major economic decisions were gradually implemented by him through his own advisory team and the Foreign Economic and Trade Commission, bypassing the normal procedures of the Council of Ministers.

"This is an open conspiracy."

Slava knew that opening up to foreign trade was the right thing to do, and anyone who opposed it was opposing economic reform. Every single thing Gorbachev did to weaken them was politically correct, and he couldn't oppose it.

He immediately began preparing for a new round of countermeasures, this time setting his sights on the East.

Gomez then began the struggle for ideological ground.

Throughout the summer, Yakovlev did the same thing in the Central Committee: gradually decentralize control over the newspapers of the constituent republics.

The floodgates of censorship were opened wide, and sensitive topics that were previously untouchable began to appear in official and semi-official publications. A large number of liberal and reformist scholars gained previously unimaginable space to voice their opinions, frequently holding public lectures in Moscow and Leningrad to discuss topics that would have cost them their jobs during the Brezhnev era.

For example, the Beria case, Stalin, Khrushchev...

Soon, newspapers began publishing articles implying that Ligachev was "ideologically conservative" and "hindering reforms," ​​while the actual things Ligachev had done in the past year—suspending the law against non-labor income, upholding the bottom line in the party platform, and preserving space for moderate cadres—were revealed.

Not a single report!

In a public discourse controlled by Yakovlev, moderate reformers are naturally at a disadvantage.

In response, Slava and Ryzhkov began distributing propaganda materials in factories and consortia. Although the party branches in these production units were nominally under the management of the Central Propaganda Department, their salaries were not paid by the Propaganda Department!

This is the core technology that truly controls the opponent's lifeline.

In late August, the differences between Ligachev and Yakovlev became completely public within the Politburo.

The trigger was the censorship of propaganda. Ligachev believed that the media was denying history too quickly and touching too many taboos, which would hollow out the entire foundation of the party's legitimacy.

Yakovlev, however, insisted that there was no turning back once the arrow was released, and the more thoroughly the truth was revealed, the better.

The two men held differing views at the Politburo meeting, and everyone was waiting for Gorbachev's stance—Gorbachev, of course, sided with Yakovlev!

Ligachev was the Second Secretary, nominally in charge of ideology and cadre work; the party's ideology should have been his domain!

Gorbachev's public support for Yakovlev was tantamount to telling everyone in front of the entire Politburo that on matters of ideology, the decision-maker was no longer the Second Secretary, but Yakovlev.

The situation was getting serious, and Slava realized that Gorbachev was unlikely to give him another chance to make a comeback.

He immediately arranged for Ligachev, Ryzhkov, and the young director to meet together.

On August 23, in a mysterious guesthouse outside Moscow that even American satellites couldn't detect, was where Slava was located.

"Comrade Ivanov, please speak first," Ryzhkov said, clearing his throat.

A year ago, they were scattered on their own fronts, each fighting their own battles; now they have to sit down at the same table.

Slava cut to the chase: "Gorbachev is using a divide-and-conquer strategy. Regarding Nikolai Ivanovich (Ryzhkov), he's using the Foreign Economic and Trade Commission and his advisory team to sideline the Council of Ministers."

For Yegor Kuzmich (Ligachev), he used Yakovlev to take over ideology;

For me, he prioritized reconstruction over the overall strategy of acceleration, making economic achievements seem insignificant.

Gentlemen, we must take action.

Ligachev's expression was not good. He had always believed in fair and square intra-party struggle, where opinions were raised in meetings and voted on, not treated national affairs as a game!

If Gomez keeps messing things up like this, the league is doomed!

“I’ve been doing party work my whole life, from Tomsk to Moscow, and I’ve never seen anything like this! I’d rather he were Comrade Stalin; at least Comrade Stalin wouldn’t choose to destroy this alliance just to attack political enemies.”

Political struggle isn't like this! You should first play along with me in the Politburo to hide your true intentions, then increase my favorability, occasionally praise me at the Central Committee plenary session, then ask me to come to the meeting without weapons on a rainy night, and finally raise political differences with me at a party congress that will never be made public, so that I'm forced to agree to a public debate with you at the congress?

How could you just jump right in and put Yakovlev in charge of ideology? Political struggle isn't like that at all; I don't accept it!

"What should we do?" Ryzhkov asked the question that everyone was thinking about. "We can't just oppose openness and openness to the outside world, can we?"

That fell right into his trap, confirming the accusation against him.

This is precisely the dilemma faced by moderate reformers. Every position Gorbachev occupied—openness, democratization, and openness to the outside world—was morally unassailable.

Opposing it is tantamount to jumping into a pit of anti-reform.

After listening for a while, Director Nian finally spoke: "Let me start by throwing out an idea. A head-on confrontation is a dead end!"

Gorbachev was indeed better than us in the arena of public opinion, because in those places it's all about rhetoric, and rhetoric can be fabricated out of thin air.

But we have something he can't create—real results.

He wants to be open, and we don't object—we should strongly support him! But we need to guide the word "openness" in our direction.

He wanted to make historical issues and political differences public, so we pushed for the release of economic data, corporate accounts, and officials' assets...

Both involve openness, but his openness creates controversy, while our openness resolves the problem!

Let the people compare for themselves! Let them compare and see which type of transparency is more beneficial to their lives!

"As for unity," she said, glancing around at the group of people present. "From today onward, we must be a unified whole. We need to win over the other ministers now. If we find them trustworthy, we should try to subtly probe their opinions."

Since Slava returned to the central government from Ukraine, the moderate reformists finally have a backbone. Now many people are wondering if Slava has the determination, even if it means bloodshed.

Slava firmly stated, "Rest assured, everyone, I will not surrender. These swarms of insects will only destroy the mentor's legacy. Only we can truly bring a good life to the people, and only we are qualified to lead the party in the right direction!"

If we can get Gorbachev off the party congress, that would be great. If things get so bad that we have to use force to force Gorbachev to come to the meeting, I wouldn't mind either.

But what if things go wrong...?

Slava took a deep breath and looked at everyone.

“I did everything. You can throw all the blame on me if you want. I’ll just go find a mentor before everyone else! As for what happens after I’m gone... our dreams will have to be carried on by the rest of us.”

Slava stood up, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and said to everyone, including the mentor on the wall, "Comrades, there's no turning back now. I, Velikoslav Ivanovich Ivanov, am taking my leave first!"

From that day on, the Andropov orphan group, which had previously existed as a loose alliance, had for the first time a clear agreement on offense and defense.

History will prove that this meeting was a turning point for moderate reformers, moving from appeasement to full-scale confrontation.

Meanwhile, in places completely unnoticed by this high-level power struggle—in university dormitories, factory workshops, and computer rooms late at night—millions of ordinary Soviet citizens were experiencing the changes brought about by these two reform paths in their own ways.

Most of them were unaware that a split had occurred at the top. In their eyes, Gorbachev and Ivanov were the two chariots of the country, one in charge of politics and the other of the economy, pulling the vast nation toward a better tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be better.

------

Moscow State University, a July evening.

Andrei Sokolov, a fourth-year philosophy student, and his three best friends squeezed into a dormitory.

The room originally housed four people, but now it was crammed with eight; the other four were from the neighboring history and journalism departments. On the table sat a well-worn copy of "Spark" magazine and several newspaper articles photocopied from the library.

"Have you guys seen this issue of 'Spark'? Korodžić has really gone too far this time! He actually published an article discussing the Great Purge of the 1930s. Although he didn't mention Dalin by name, everyone can tell what he's talking about!"

Andrei was a 22-year-old Muscovite. His father was a mid-level officer in the Ministry of Defense, and his mother was a high school teacher. Before 1985, like all Soviet university students, he treated political classes as a tedious ritual that had to be endured. He would cram for the exams by memorizing the standard answers in the textbooks, and then forget everything on the same day the exam was over.

But things changed starting in 1986. The censorship gates of the propaganda department loosened, allowing some topics that were previously strictly forbidden to appear. Spark magazine, under editor Korotich, became a publication that dared to touch on historical taboos, and Moscow News also began publishing articles that infuriated conservatives.

"Do you think Gorbachev is serious?" a female history major asked.

“I think he’s serious,” Andrei said. “Look at what he said about rebuilding the Volga automobile plant. It means he acknowledges that the existing system needs to be fundamentally changed, not just patched up. Ivanov’s approach is useless.”

"What exactly does 'reconstructable' mean? Did he say how exactly it should be changed?" Victor, another male student from the journalism department, pressed.

“No, but I think the openness itself is the beginning.” Andrei shrugged.

“I think Yakovlev played a big role,” another classmate added. “I heard that the father of my uncle’s colleague is pushing for the formation of a new ideological committee to replace the old system run by Ligachev.”

Among these young intellectuals, Ligachev has been labeled a symbol of conservatism, a man who hinders Gorbachev's reforms.

They didn't know what Ligachev had done in the past year; all they knew was that the newspapers said Comrade Ligachev was conservative while Comrade Yeltsin was bold in reform.

These media outlets are shaping a generation's perception of Soviet politics.

After returning to his bed that evening, Andrei wrote in his diary:

"We are experiencing a historic moment, a great change unseen in a century. Gorbachev represents the best possible outcome for the Soviet Union; he is a leader willing to confront the problems of his country head-on."

Openness may only be the first step, but it is the first step toward civil liberties, and our generation is fortunate to witness this beginning.

Twenty-two-year-old Andrei Sokolov had no idea what kind of end the beginning he was witnessing would lead to.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Tolyatti Volga Automobile Plant

Semyon Petrovich, a worker in the final assembly workshop, picked up a form printed from an information terminal during his break after lunch.

The table lists their team's production data and performance calculations from the previous week, including each worker's output, pass rate, attendance rate, and individual income calculated according to the new performance plan.

“Look, my pass rate last month was 97%. Based on the pass rate, I received an extra 20 rubles in bonuses, while I received 5 rubles less from old Vasily.”

“It’s fair! I get more because my pass rate is higher, and he gets less because his pass rate is lower.”

Semyon worked at the Volga automobile factory for twenty years. He didn't know what openness was, nor did he care much about what was being discussed in the newspapers.

He was concerned about the extra 20 rubles on his payslip this month and whether the canteen food had improved. The answer was yes—the workers' committee voted last month to approve a proposal to increase the variety of lunch dishes, with the money deducted from the collective meal allowance.

But he knew two names: one was Comrade Gorbachev, who seemed to have endless energy and was always on TV, and the other was Comrade Ivanov, because he was the one who got the terminal in the workshop.

He understands what Gorbachev is doing but doesn't care. A thousand words from the factory's Party Committee are not as good as a pot of stewed beef and potatoes in the kitchen tonight. He can enjoy the fruits of Ivanov's labor every day.

"To be honest, comrades, we should all thank Comrade Ivanov."

After getting off work at 6 p.m., Xie Miao and several coworkers went to the factory's workers' club to chat and practice their accordion. He said:

"Since the establishment of that Information Technology and Workers' Committee, for the first time I felt that the factory belonged to us. This is much more real to me than the reconstruction mentioned in the newspapers."

Workers' clubs were standard features in Soviet factory districts: a three- or four-story brick building containing a small auditorium, a library, several pool tables, and a television.

After get off work, the workers would play billiards, chess, drink tea, and chat here, talking about either family matters or Jianzheng.

An elderly, soon-to-retire player, who was playing pool, suddenly interjected:

"That's true. I've worked at this factory for thirty-five years. In those thirty-five years, there have been six different factory directors, and each one of them talked about reform: Khrushchev's thawing, Kosygin's reforms, Brezhnev's improvements, Andropov's discipline, and now Gorbachev's reconstruction..."

The name has changed again and again, but the information technology that Ivanov got into was pretty good. At least before I retired, I saw that we workers had the final say.

In my opinion, this cadre is the one who has done the best for Ilyich.

He stared at the white ball on the table, then flicked his wrist and the red ball fell into the pocket with a snap.

The portraits of the mentors on the club wall have always been watching over all of this.

No one applauded, but those few seconds of silence carried more weight than applause.

The conversation quickly turned to the ball game; the sounds of billiard balls clashing, musical instruments from upstairs, and the passionate commentary from the TV host dispelled the silence.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Valery Nikolayevich, 24, is a graduate of the Belarusian Polytechnic Institute and is currently a maintenance technician at the Minsk Third Public Computing Center.

His job is to ensure that the six computers in the center do not malfunction within 24 hours.

During the day, operators from various enterprises and planning departments use these machines to process data. At night, the computing center is closed to the public, but the machines cannot be turned off.

The alliance's 8-hour workday means the day shift ends at 6 p.m., and these people work night shifts.

Valery's night shifts are usually very boring. After confirming that all the machines are running normally, all he can do is sit in front of the terminal and stare blankly at the slowly scrolling system logs on the screen.

The only sounds in the computer room were the humming of the cooling fans and the occasional news anchor's voice drifting from the radio of the old man on duty in the distant corridor.

But starting three months ago, he had a new pastime during his night shifts—chatting with on-duty technicians in other cities via data networks.

Slava's information network was initially designed to transmit economic data, including production, inventory, material allocation, and financial statements...

However, the network itself does not distinguish between data categories. As long as you know how to operate a terminal, theoretically you can send any text information through the data link!

Slava did not prohibit non-business communication between terminals when designing the system because he knew from his experience in Ukraine that informal communication between technicians was invaluable for system maintenance and troubleshooting.