Enter Stage Left, on Knees

By Thomas A. Sancton.

After their defeat, the Communists sell out for Cabinet posts

The unsettling news reached the U.S. Vice President on the eve of his scheduled talk with President Franc,ois Mitterrand in Paris. In the full flush of his sweeping victory, which gave the Socialists control of the National Assembly, Mitterrand had decided to appoint four Communists to his 44-member Cabinet. When George Bush emerged last week from a three-hour luncheon meeting with Mitterrand at the Elysee Palace, he read, with the restrained air of a guest who felt obliged to chastise his host, a brief statement to reporters: "The position of the United States on the subject of Communist participation in the governments of our allies is well known. This participation is bound to cause concern."

Standing at Bush's side, looking slightly fatigued but as tranquil as ever, Mitterrand pointedly reasserted Paris' traditional independence from Washington. Sounding much like his old rival Charles de Gaulle, the Socialist President declared: "France's policy is that of France and will remain such." Yet he went on to describe his country as "a faithful and loyal ally of the United States."

The State Department followed up that gentlemanly exchange with a brusque warning that "the tone and content of our relationship as allies will be affected by the inclusion of Communists" in the Mitterrand government. For all their public protestations of injured innocence, French officials admitted privately that Washington's wrist slap had not been unexpected. For the first time in 34 years, the Communist Party had been called to share national power in France. Not since the earliest postwar reconstruction days, in fact, had the government of such a key Western European country included Communist ministers.*

Washington's caveat reflected a two-fold concern: 1) that the French precedent might be emulated in other, less stable European countries with large Communist parties, especially Italy, Spain and Portugal; and 2) that Western defense secrets might be compromised by a Communist presence in an allied government. One Administration official said privately that the U.S. would now have to give a "careful look" at how well French authorities protect Atlantic Alliance secrets before it passes new defense information on to the Mitterrand government.

Those fears found a restrained echo in other Western capitals, but most allied leaders sought to muffle the alarm bells. Cautioned West German Chancellor Helmut Schmidt: "It's not an infectious disease. I don't think one should dramatize it."

To soothe allied jitters, French Foreign Minister Claude Cheysson noted that the four ministries under Communist control had nothing whatsoever to do with defense. (In fact, the Communist-controlled transportation ministry does coordinate troop mobilizations and has access to certain NATO information concerning joint military transport.) The strong U.S. reaction, the Foreign Minister added, played up to American public opinion: " 'Reds in government'--that is how people in the Midwest envision the new French government."

The explanations of the Mitterrand administration seem to have had some effect in mollifying Washington's alarm. Just before returning to the U.S. at week's end, Bush told reporters in London that he felt "there wouldn't be the complications some might think" over the composition of the French Cabinet.

But why had the Socialists exposed themselves to any criticism at all? The Socialists' spectacular victory in legislative elections had given them 289 of the 491 seats in the Assembly and freed them of any dependence on Communist votes. Indeed, the number of Communist seats had crashed from 86 to a humiliating 44, the lowest number in more than a decade. There were two main reasons for Mitterrand's action. First, he wanted to secure the cooperation of the country's largest trade union, the General Confederation of Labor (C.G.T.), which is controlled by the Communists. Second, a role in the Cabinet would make it awkward for the Communist Party to oppose government policies.

In addition, there was Mitterrand's personal ideological commitment to forging an all embracing union of the left under his leadership. As Premier Pierre Mauroy put it: "The Communists voted for Franc,ois Mitterrand. Why not secure their representation in the government?"

Finally, the Communists were too feeble to cause Mitterrand any domestic problems. Nothing illustrated that weakness more strikingly than their endorsement last week of a joint political platform supporting all the key Socialist positions on domestic and foreign policy. Many of its planks, such as those on Afghanistan and Poland, reversed the Communists' traditional pro-Moscow line. On the issue of Euromissiles, the Communists were led for the first time to support a specific call for a negotiated reduction of Soviet SS-20s in Eastern Europe.

Only after performing that dizzying pirouette from dogma to moderation did the Communists finally get their four portfolios. By far the most important belonged to Charles Fiterman, 47, the party's second-in-command. Named Transportation Minister, he also became a Minister of State, one of the five highest ranking Cabinet officers. Other new ministers arrived at the Elysee in sleek, gray, chauffeur-driven Citroens, but Fiterman rolled up behind the wheel of his own tiny brown Renault--with a team of TV reporters huddled in back. Interviewed after his appointment, Fiterman bristled at suggestions that Communist ministers would give state secrets to the Soviets. Said he: "Nobody has the moral right to question our loyalty to France."

After the bargain with the Socialists had been struck, Communist Party Boss Georges Marchais, in a rare moment of candor, dropped his usual ebullient swagger and admitted that his party had not exactly been dealing from a position of strength. Said he: "I would be a hypocrite if I were to try to hide that we would have preferred to go into the government in a more comfortable situation from the point of view of our influence." He added lamely: "Some will call this capitulation. I call this the continuation and the development of the Communist Party's policy." But the far-left Paris daily Liberation seemed to be closer to the truth with its morning-after headline COMMUNISTS ENTER THE GOVERNMENT ON THEIR KNEES.

-- By Thomas A. Sancton.

Reported by Jordan Bonfante and Sandra Burton/Paris

* Communists were in the government of France from 1945 to '47 and of Italy from 1944 to '47.

With reporting by Jordan Bonfante and Sandra Burton

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