Moscow, December 25, 1991

All these changes demanded utmost exertion and were carried through under conditions of an unrelenting struggle against the growing resistance from the old, obsolete, and reactionary forces—the former party and state structures and the economic management apparatus—as well as our patterns, our ideological prejudices, our egalitarian and parasitic psychology. The changes ran up against our intolerance, a low level of political culture, and a fear of change. That is why we have wasted so much time. The old system tumbled down even before the new one could begin functioning. And our society slid into even deeper crisis.

I am aware of the dissatisfaction with today’s grave situation, the harsh criticism of authority at all levels, and of my personal role. But I would like to stress once again: In so vast a country, given its heritage, fundamental changes cannot be carried out without difficulties and pain.

The August coup brought the overall crisis to a breaking point. The most disastrous aspect of this crisis is the collapse of statehood. And today I watch apprehensively the loss of the citizenship of a great country by our citizens—the consequences of this could be grave for all of us.

I consider it vitally important to sustain the democratic achievements of the last few years. We have earned them through the suffering of our entire history and our tragic experience. We must not abandon them under any circumstances, under any pretext. Otherwise, all our hopes for a better future will be buried.

I am speaking of this frankly and honestly. It is my moral duty.

Today I want to express my gratitude to all those citizens who have given their support to the policy of renovating this country and who participated in the democratic reform. I am thankful to statesmen, political and public leaders, and millions of ordinary people in other countries—to all those who understood our objectives and gave us their support, meeting us halfway and offering genuine cooperation.

I leave my post with concern—but also with hope, with faith in you, your wisdom and spiritual strength. We are the heirs of a great civilization, and its revival and transformation to a modern and dignified life depend on all and everyone.

I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to those who stood by my side, defending the right and good cause over all these years. We certainly could have avoided certain errors and done better in many ways. But I am convinced that, sooner or later, our common efforts will bear fruit and our peoples will live in a prosperous and democratic society.

It is 7:12 p.m. when Gorbachev ends his address. He looks up to the camera and adds, “I wish all the best to everyone.”

On Russian television, announcer Yelena Mishina declares, “A new day in a new state.” Seconds later the television channels revert to their normal schedules. One cuts back to a puppet show, another to a documentary on baby care.

Some of Gorbachev’s aides and staff have tears in their eyes, having watched their chief complete the final act of his presidency. Chernyaev perceives him suddenly as a tragic figure, “even though I who was used to seeing him in everyday life find it difficult to apply this term to him, by which of course he will be known in history.”² Grachev feels certain that for many people watching, an unpardonable and irreparable error is being committed, as the country and the world look on.

For Alexander Yakovlev, standing partly hidden behind one of the cameras, it is a seminal moment, the end of the road on which he embarked with Gorbachev nearly seven years ago. At the same time it is yet another occasion when Gorbachev ignored his advice. Hardly any of his suggestions for the speech appeared in the final draft, which was mostly Chernyaev’s work. He feels Gorbachev couldn’t find the strength or the courage to critically analyze and understand what has happened, especially in these final days. The speech in the end demonstrates how his comrade lost touch with reality in the four months since the coup. It is a laborious attempt to defend himself, to justify himself and save face. “This is the typical delusion of someone devoid of self-analysis,” reflects Yakovlev. “He did not come out of that psychological cul-de-sac where he put himself, having taken offense with the whole world.”³

With all eyes on Gorbachev, Palazchenko finds himself thinking that perhaps someone is watching him too, “wondering where I would be a couple of weeks later.” The next day he and his colleagues will go their own ways, with their labor record books stamped “Discharged from his post due to the liquidation of the office of the president of the USSR.”

CNN’s Russian interpreter, Yury Somov, is in fact watching his Kremlin counterpart and thinking that “Gorbachev was the biggest catch of Palazchenko’s career, and now Gorbachev is going down.”⁴