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Most of the criticism for everything from nonexistent planning to shoddy building came from the Soviets themselves, not from the West, which seemed intent on showing the Armenians just how much compassion can be tapped once Moscow simply admits it needs help. Sixty-seven countries sent assistance, including nearly 2,000 rescue workers and more than 100 planes loaded with earth-moving equipment, medical supplies, tents and clothing. Japan donated $9 million, Italy wanted to build a prefabricated village for survivors, and West Germany offered to send 16 heavy cranes.
Americans did not spare themselves. Washington sent eight planeloads of official aid, plus a U.S. Air Force C-141 carrying supplies that left from Italy. Private donors gave millions of dollars' worth of supplies and equipment that required more than twelve planes to ferry them to Armenia. Industrialist Armand Hammer donated $500,000, and Chrysler Corp. Chairman Lee Iacocca announced a fund drive. In Chicago, one of five major Armenian population centers around the U.S., the local community raised more than $800,000 and collected 20,000 lbs. of supplies, from blankets to medicine. The Armenian Relief Society raised more than $10 million in little over a week.
Analysts disagreed about the lasting impact of the disaster on U.S.-Soviet relations. James Millar, a Soviet specialist at the University of Illinois, saw a danger in sentimentalizing Americans' view of the Soviet government: "There is always the risk of feelings turning into a philosophy that all people are really alike. That misses the point about states and foreign policy." And yet, noted Peter Frank, a Sovietologist at Britain's University of Essex, the Soviet leadership may find it very hard to sustain the old image of the capitalist West. Instead, he says, Gorbachev himself is helping create a new image "of a compassionate West willing to share its technology, charity and money. In a diffuse way, I think that could turn out to be one of the most beneficial consequences."
But Allen Lynch, deputy director of studies at the Institute for East-West Security Studies in New York City, argued that there is a craftiness to Gorbachev's handling of foreign aid. By allowing unrestrained Western aid to pour in, "he is showing his folks how things need to be done properly, how his people need to learn to run things well, how much they need to adapt for things to work as they should. In a way, he is deliberately exposing Western vs. Soviet efficiency." But, Lynch added, the earthquake is a "terrible drain" on Gorbachev's hopes for a revival of the Soviet economy.
Perestroika, now in its fourth year, seems stalled, and has yet to bring much improvement in economic conditions, with worsening shortages of food and consumer goods. The economy is afflicted by a $58 billion budget deficit, a $12.8 billion cleanup bill after Chernobyl, and serious losses in revenues from declining oil prices and the enforced drop in vodka sales. Now the billions of rubles that will have to be spent on reconstruction of an area about the size of Maryland must be figured in. Prime Minister Nikolai Ryzhkov admitted last week that the Soviet leadership "made a mistake" when it estimated the cost at only 5 billion rubles (about $8.4 billion). He said more money would be provided.