The Bear Growls Back

Irked by Solidarity's independence, Moscow issues a warning So far it was only a war of words, but it was heating up with alarming ferocity. In its harshest warning to date to Poland's Communist leaders, Moscow last week declared that an "unbridled" campaign of "rabid propaganda" against the Soviet Union had been allowed to reach "dangerous limits" with impunity. Delivered personally to Polish Party Boss Stanislaw Kania by Soviet Ambassador Boris Aristov, the message called on Warsaw to take "radical steps" to curb the "malicious propaganda and actions hostile toward the Soviet Union."

Warsaw's authorities lost no time in launching their own get-tough campaign--at least on paper. After two emergency meetings last week, the Council of Ministers published a statement accusing Solidarity of seeking to seize political power in Poland. To prove that charge, Polish authorities cited the resolutions adopted a week earlier at Solidarity's national convention in Gdansk. The union had called for self-management of industrial enterprises by the workers, free democratic elections and the emergence of independent labor movements throughout the Soviet bloc. The last resolution was presumably the main source of the "anti-Sovietism" complained of by Moscow. The Council of Ministers' statement ended with an ominous vow to undertake "definite measures" for the "defense of socialism." A similar Politburo communique had previously warned of a "possible confrontation threatening bloodshed."

But Solidarity Leader Lech Walesa and his fellow union leaders refused to be intimidated. Instead, Solidarity's National Commission charged the Polish Politburo with "a lack of realism" and rejected the official "scenario of provocation." Once again, the scene seemed to be set for a showdown, with the Soviets waiting none too patiently in the wings.

Many Western experts doubted that the Soviet message meant that an invasion was imminent. But it was unclear what "radical steps" Moscow expected the Poles to take. Short of declaring martial law, a drastic event that could cause a massive civil uprising, Polish authorities could presumably start suppressing Solidarity's publications, banning union meetings and even arresting people accused of "anti-Soviet" attacks. All of these acts have in fact already occurred in scattered instances. But in the present atmosphere, any case of local repression could balloon into a major confrontation.

A crucial test of wills could take place this week as Solidarity delegates gather in Gdansk on Sept. 26 for the second half of their national convention. Walesa and his fellow moderates are hoping to rein in union radicals. The argument for moderation was indirectly strengthened, in fact, by Pope John Paul II's encyclical on trade unions that many observers interpreted in part as a veiled warning to Solidarity not to become too politicized (see RELIGION).

But the Gdansk convention may never take place. Under pressure from Moscow, Polish authorities might try to bar delegates from entering the hall, or even try to evict them once inside. That could well spark the violence that has painstakingly been avoided for the past year. At week's end, there was still hope for some compromise. After all, the Poles had worked themselves out of similar impasses before. But Walesa, who was nominated last week for the 1981 Nobel Peace Prize, will have his hands full trying to keep his increasingly contrary countrymen calm.

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