A General Takes Charge

By Thomas A. Sanction

The new Premier may be Kania 's last chance to restore order peaceably

His green uniform gleaming with nine rows of ribbons on his chest and four silver stars on each epaulet, General Wojciech Jaruzelski strode to the rostrum of Warsaw's parliamentary chamber and formally took over as Poland's new Premier. In the clipped tones of a military commander, he addressed both a plea and a stern warning to the troubled nation. "I am appealing at this moment for three months of uninterrupted work, 90 days of calm," said the general. He went on to promise that his new government would be willing to sit down with Solidarity, the independent union federation, to examine those labor reforms that "the country can afford." At the same time, he warned that the government "has enough power to halt those who are striving for counterrevolution."

Referring to the wave of strikes and sit-ins that have shaken the country for the past eight months, Jaruzelski issued a final admonition: "Further destructive activities may lead to conflict and to fratricidal war. Every Pole should arrive at his own conclusions." Whatever those conclusions might be, it was clear to everyone by the end of the 50-minute nationally broadcast address that the new Premier meant business.

Jaruzelski, 57, had replaced the ineffectual Jozef Pinkowski three days earlier at a stormy meeting of the Communist Party's 140-member Central Committee. He thus became the only military man to head a Soviet-bloc government. More important, his accession marked the fourth major leadership shake-up since the eruption of labor unrest last summer and, in the opinion of many fretful Poles and foreigners alike, perhaps the last opportunity for the Warsaw authorities to restore order peacefully.

In addition to his new job, Jaruzelski retained the defense portfolio he has held since 1968, giving him control over both the Cabinet and the army (see box). That double duty made the Soviet-trained World War II veteran the second most powerful man in the government after Party Boss Stanislaw Kania. Jaruzelski, who has a reputation as a tough military professional as well as a staunch party loyalist, wasted no time in taking command. His predecessor had hardly cleaned out his desk when the general sacked two Deputy Premiers and five of 40 Cabinet ministers, many of whom were holdovers from the regime of deposed Party Boss Edward Gierek.

The Cabinet reshuffle drew differing analyses from Western observers. Foreign policy experts in Bonn see Jaruzelski as an orthodox party loyalist whose rise presages direct action by the Polish armed forces if the labor situation deteriorates further. U.S. State Department analysts, pointing to Jaruzelski's past reluctance to use force against strikers, predict that he will support Kania's relatively moderate policy toward the unions. If that happens, Kania will have gained a valuable counterweight in his struggle against extreme hard-liners like Politburo Member Stefan Olszowski who have been arguing for an immediate crackdown. Finally, Jaruzelski is trusted by the Kremlin; thus his entry into the government may reassure the Soviets that Warsaw intends to move firmly and effectively to restore order. Says one West German expert: "Jaruzelski is the last chance Moscow is prepared to give Warsaw."

Indeed, Soviet patience seems to be wearing steadily thinner. Official press organs throughout the East bloc were continuing their attacks on Polish unions and dissidents. The Soviet news agency TASS charged last week that "counterrevolutionary forces" in Poland had launched a "frontal attack" on the Communist Party. Soviet diplomats in Western Europe have been circulating the same message in their private conversations. Said one senior official at the Soviet embassy in Bonn: "The point has been reached when it is a waste of time to negotiate [with Solidarity]. It's time to get tough."

The intensity of current Soviet criticism has rekindled fears of a possible invasion. In a terse official statement last week, the State Department carefully declared that "military intervention in Poland is viewed as neither imminent, inevitable, nor justifiable on any grounds." But that public reassurance was intended to counter widespread reports that Secretary of State Alexander Haig is becoming pessimistic about the outcome of the Polish crisis. Privately, Haig and his top aides believe that it may deteriorate into chaos and create an unacceptable challenge to Moscow. Experts in Bonn and London tend to share that gloomy view, but still feel that the Soviets would move only as a last resort. Says one senior British diplomat: "If they send in the Red Army, they will have created a nightmare that will make Afghanistan look like a tea party." The Soviets still have 55 divisions poised within striking distance of Poland. While there is no sign that they have stepped up their state of readiness, the upcoming Warsaw Pact winter maneuvers could serve as a cover for a Soviet move. There seems little chance of intervention, however, before the Soviet Party Congress in Moscow later this month.

Meanwhile, it appeared that a new cycle of labor calm might ease the rising tensions. In southwestern Jelenia Gora, workers ended a two-day general strike after the government agreed to convert a party sanitarium into a public hospital. After Jaruzelski's dramatic public appeal for a 90-day moratorium, Solidarity's national commission in Gdansk canceled a threatened printers' strike and ruled out all other work stoppages for the time being. But Union Leader Lech Walesa added that "our ultimate response to the call for a moratorium will depend on what happens during negotiations with the government." Those union-government talks currently under way concern a range of topics: the drafting of a new trade union law, the granting of radio and television time to Solidarity, and the continuing question of legalization for an independent farmers' union known as Rural Solidarity.

In its long-awaited decision on Rural Solidarity last week, the Supreme Court executed a deft compromise that at first appeared to defuse a dangerous possible confrontation. Thousands of peasants from all over the country, many of them wearing colorful local costumes, had converged on Warsaw to hear the court's decision first hand. They sang and cheered as Walesa, sporting a short-brimmed peasant's cap, entered the gray stone court building to attend the hearing. He got a less enthusiastic reception when he emerged onto the steps five hours later to announce the court's verdict: the farmers were forbidden to form a union, but were invited instead to register as an "association."

The court argued that the country's 3.2 million independent farmers, who own their own land, were not employees and under Polish law were therefore ineligible for membership in a true union with the right of collective bargaining. By holding out the vague offer of association status, however, the judges hoped to stave off the widespread strikes and protests that had been threatened in the event of an outright rejection. Though there was disappointed grumbling outside the court building, Walesa helped keep tempers cool by calling the verdict "a tie, but one that gives us a great deal." He added: "We must now take time for a respite, for organization and for an end to strikes."

Though they later rejected the idea of an association, Rural Solidarity organizers said that they would continue to seek union status through legal channels rather than with strikes. But the next day in Rzeszow, where 300 peasants have occupied a government building for six weeks, the group's leaders suddenly reversed themselves. They now threatened not to plant crops this spring unless they are granted full union status. They also received an influential new endorsement: Poland's Roman Catholic hierarchy issued a bold statement declaring that the farmers' "right to free assembly as trade unions must be recognized." Once again Walesa's calls for moderation were tending to be undercut within his own ranks and among his own allies.

Another source of unrest was the continuing student strike that erupted three weeks ago at the University of Lodz and later spread to several other cities. Government negotiators in Lodz had already accepted some of the strikers' demands, for example, granting students a voice in the administration of the university. But the unresolved goals carried inflammable political overtones: no censorship of academic papers, free access to foreign books, abolition of obligatory courses in the Russian language and fewer courses in Marxism. Even if those issues remained understandably deadlocked, however, student leaders last week discouraged further university strikes "because of the difficult situation in our country."

Meanwhile, Poland's economy progressively worsened. According to government statistics released last week, industrial production has fallen 7.6% since January 1980, while wages have risen by 19%. That sort of socialist stagflation, compounded by a $24.5 billion foreign debt, spells economic collapse un less there is a huge influx of outside financing. Warsaw's major Western creditors may defer Polish debt payments when they meet in Paris later this month, thereby providing some emergency relief. But substantial long-term aid from the West, if it materializes, would probably take the form of a multinational package that would be conditional on economic reforms and political liberalization inside Poland. Assuming Moscow would stand for it, that sort of capitalist bailout would give an ironic twist to the Marxist maxim that economic conditions determine the course of political change.

ed by Richard Hornik/West Berlin and B. William Mader /Bonn

With reporting by Richard Hornik, B. William Mader

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