Moscow, December 25, 1991

There have been several instances of Raisa taking an interest in affairs of state. Most criticism was aired in private but at the Congress of People’s Deputies a delegate from Kharkov once told an outraged Gorbachev from the podium that he was incapable of escaping the “vindictiveness and influence” of his wife. On one occasion she took it upon herself to explain to Fyodor Burlatsky, editor of Literaturnaya Gazeta, that the people were not ready for the market. Gorbachev’s wife is still dabbling in policy matters in the final months of the Soviet Union. Congress Speaker Ivan Laptiev complained to Rodric Braithwaite that he was rung by Raisa and it was forty-five minutes before he could get off the phone, leading the British ambassador to conclude that Gorbachev couldn’t get a word in edgewise at home.⁶

Raisa was seen as rather frosty by the tradition-bound Kremlin wives, whom she in turn found to be “full of arrogance, suspicion, sycophancy and tactlessness.” Korzhakov claimed in his tell-all memoirs that Raisa once ordered—in front of his subordinates—the head of the KGB security department, General Plekhanov, who later became one of the August coup participants, to move a heavy bronze lamp standard. “When I heard that, I thought, that’s why he betrayed Gorbachev.”

By contrast, Yeltsin boasted that he never discussed work with his family. If his wife and daughters bombarded him with questions about the events of the day when he came home from work, he would tell them to be quiet, saying, “I don’t need politics at home.” Naina concurred in a comment she once made to Novosti news agency: “He didn’t like it when someone began discussing political or economic issues at home. That is why we refrained from giving him advice, although we were certainly concerned over the situation in the country and wanted it to improve fast.” If she voiced an opinion he didn’t like, Yeltsin would tease Naina, a qualified sanitary engineer, by saying, “Just concern yourself with the plumbing!” She would retort, “If there was no plumbing, where would you go?”⁷

The novelty of dealing with Raisa created a problem for the Soviet media. The liberal head of Soviet television from 1989 to 1990, Mikhail Nenashev, said she spoiled the mood of everyone when involved in a program. He perceived her as unhealthily ambitious, and he resented having to broadcast her speeches, which, like those of most spouses in her position, were often filled with empty banalities. If he cut them back, Gorbachev’s aides gave him a hard time. Her favorite correspondent, Sergey Lomakin, believed Raisa did a lot of good, such as recruiting musicians and doctors she met abroad to come to Russia. But from the beginning Yegor Ligachev warned Gorbachev about the negative effect of her overexposure on television, and even the submissive Kravchenko, who succeeded Nenashev, told Gorbachev that the shorter any item about her on television, the better. When Gorbachev protested in a pained way that other world leaders traveled with their wives, Kravchenko responded that as a rule they didn’t make declarations on television.⁸

Gorbachev knew well from the start that some people made negative comments at seeing Raisa by his side, such as, “Who does she think she is, a member of the Politburo?” Nevertheless he valued her both as a close companion and as a considerable political asset on his international travels. When he made a speech to French legislators in Paris on one of his first visits abroad, he glanced at Raisa in the audience and gave her what Paris Match described as a look full of tenderness. She made a stunning impression in London in 1984, when she appeared at an evening function in a stylish white satin dress and gold lame sandals with chain straps, and held forth on English literature with British ministers. In Washington she discussed world affairs with prominent American women at the Washington home of socialite Pamela Harrison. Woman’s Own magazine in the United Kingdom made her “Woman of the Year” in 1987.