Monday, Jan. 18, 1982

Calling for Freedom

By Thomas A. Sancton

Workers, intellectuals and clergy denounce the excesses of martial law

The 3,000 Poles who jammed into St. John's Cathedral in downtown Warsaw last week had come to celebrate the feast of the Epiphany. What they witnessed, along with the Mass, was one of the most courageous displays of free speech since martial law was declared on Dec. 13. Archbishop Jozef Glemp, the spiritual leader of Poland's 33 million Roman Catholics, mounted the carved oak pulpit to attack the excesses of General Wojciech Jaruzelski's military regime.

Glemp branded as "unethical" and "invalid" the government's demands that Poles sign loyalty oaths and renounce their membership in the suspended Solidarity union federation. He deplored the deaths of workers killed in clashes with troops--17, according to authorities, although unofficial estimates range as high as 200. Glemp also condemned the prolonged internment of thousands of workers and intellectuals who had been rounded up in the crackdown. Said he: "We would not like to see a society divided into the authorities, who order and coerce, and subjects, who are silent and who hate."

Glemp's sermon was one more dramatic indication that Jaruzelski was failing in his bid to impose national unity by force after four weeks of martial law. If his troops had managed to crush the last of the major strikes and restore outward order, the regime had won neither loyalty nor respect from the Polish people. A stubborn spirit of resistance still lived in the land (see box, following page).

Despite government claims to the contrary, economic activity has not returned even to its torpid pre-Dec. 13 levels. Production in Gdansk, where Solidarity was born in August 1980, is said to be at a standstill. In Warsaw, there is little apparent activity at the three main plants, the Ursus tractor factory, the F.S.O. car factory and the Huta Warszawa steelworks.

Solidarity's underground continues to encourage passive resistance. Former union activists issue at least three regular newsletters, all bearing the message COPY AND PASS ALONG, because most copying equipment has been confiscated. One appeal from an unnamed member of Solidarity's national commission urged on the resistance and said, "Let us not forget that 'every nation can lose, but only the most vile ones surrender.' " Though most union leaders, including Solidarity Chairman Lech Walesa, are in government custody, a number of prominent Solidarity figures remain at large. Among them: Zbigniew Bujak, the Warsaw regional leader; Bogdan Lis, a former Walesa deputy; Zbigniew Janas, union leader at the Ursus factory. In an underground letter circulated last week, Janas called on workers to "prevent the destruction of Solidarity" and urged preparations for a nonviolent general strike.

At week's end a number of prominent Polish intellectuals and cultural figures came forward to denounce the crackdown in an open letter to Jaruzelski. "The introduction of martial law," they declared, "was aimed at depriving society of its voice and subjugating the nation to military dictatorship. History proves, however, that the Polish nation will not submit to such a fate." Originally signed by eight people, including Violinist Wanda Wilkomirska, Writer Marian Brandys and Historian Stefan Kieniewicz, the document was being circulated in Warsaw to gain additional support.

The Catholic Church was exerting its traditional moral opposition to the crushing of human freedom. Yet the crisis was also causing friction within the church. Some Polish bishops and many of the clergy were pushing for a more militant role. Archbishop Glemp, anxious to keep the church above the political struggle and avoid inciting violence that might cause a Soviet invasion, was more cautious. But as last week's sermon showed, the primate was not afraid to issue moral condemnation when he felt the situation demanded strong words. Apparently stung by his criticism, Jaruzelski met with Glemp on Saturday to discuss what Warsaw radio called "normalization of life in Poland."

Lech Walesa, meanwhile, was reportedly refusing to negotiate with authorities except in the presence of Glemp, Solidarity's three legal advisers and the entire union presidium. Walesa's wife is said to have visited him several times and to have confirmed that he is in good health and relaxed enough to joke with his guards about trying to escape. But he eats only the food that visitors bring him, fearing that he might be drugged by his captors. Denying widespread reports that Walesa had been sent to a monastery, Wieslaw Gornicki, a Jaruzelski adviser, last week stated that the Solidarity leader was comfortably ensconced in a "luxury villa." He added that Walesa might be released when it became certain that he would resume his original role as a "trade union leader" rather than a "political figure."

Early last week, Warsaw radio announced that talks on the future of the labor movement had begun among government officials, the old party-controlled industrial unions and unnamed Solidarity "activists." That report, which suggested an attempt to make Solidarity meaningless by absorbing it into the bureaucracy, was categorically denied in an underground statement signed by "members of Solidarity's national leadership."

Although Polish authorities speak of allowing the resumption of independent union activity and the other reforms won since August 1980, the government's methods of political control seem more reminiscent of the Stalinist era. Censorship remains ironhanded within Poland, although it was lifted at week's end for dispatches by foreign correspondents. All periodicals have been suspended except for a handful of officially sanctioned dailies. Telephone links, cut off since Dec. 13, are being restored between provincial capitals this week, but calls will be monitored by the government. Polish journalists must submit to "ideological verifications" by a panel of officials. Flight personnel of the Polish airline LOT are undergoing daily re-education courses in Marxism-Leninism. Military "commissars" are running Poland's major industries, and workers at many plants are required to take loyalty oaths.

Nothing recalled the Stalinist tactics more vividly than the summary trials of Solidarity members accused of organizing strikes and resistance to martial law. In Katowice, for example, five union members received jail sentences ranging from three to 6 1/2 years. In Tarnow, three workers drew three-to 3 1/2-year terms. Three employees of the F.S.O. automobile plant in Warsaw got two years each. In the same Warsaw court building, meanwhile, proceedings began in the highly publicized trial of Maciej Szczepanski, the former head of the state broadcasting networks, who is accused of embezzlement and bribetaking. He is one of several former officials, including former Party Boss Edward Gierek, who face criminal charges stemming from their alleged corruption and economic mismanagement.

Even as the Communist regime prosecuted its own ex-leaders, the party itself continued to crumble from within. Since the crackdown began, 4,000 party members in Warsaw alone have turned in their cards in protest. Gdansk Party Leader Tadeusz Fiszbach, a leading liberal, resigned last week. Many others are likely to be expelled as the party executes what Politburo Member Kazimierz Barcikowski called a "purge of opportunists, careerists and immoral people." Totally discredited in the eyes of the public, the party now has an estimated membership of only 2 million, compared with some 3 million before Solidarity was organized in August 1980. Since martial law was declared, there have been signs that the party would reorganize around a relatively small number of hard-core bureaucrats, the same people who resisted party liberalization and fought Solidarity at every turn. In the long run, there is little doubt that the party will reimpose its control over the life of the country.

For the time being, Poland is run by an eight-or nine-man group under Jaruzelski's leadership. It includes four other army generals plus Politburo Members Barcikowski and Stefan Olszowski, a leading hardliner. Another prominent civilian member is Deputy Premier Mieczyslaw Rakowski, a liberal by party standards who nonetheless endorsed the crackdown.

Jaruzelski last week summoned eight West European diplomats to a 1 1/2-hr. meeting at which he defended his martial law decision as the only cure for anarchy. Accusing Solidarity "extremists" of "haughtiness," he cryptically suggested that some of the interned union leaders might be exiled to the West. The general also attacked the U.S. economic sanctions as "interference" in Polish affairs and denied that he had acted on Soviet orders. Even as he spoke, however, foreign ministers of the European Community were meeting in Brussels, where they adopted a strong resolution condemning martial law in Poland and blaming it largely on Soviet pressure. Jaruzelski's tough line could not hide the fact that his regime was in serious trouble. Deputy Premier Rakowski, who visited Bonn two weeks ago to explain the imposition of martial law to the West Germans, confessed to a private gathering of diplomats and journalists that the military coup had brought Poland "back to square one." He gave the impression that the military, having grabbed power in Warsaw, was uncertain about how to proceed and might prolong martial law in definitely because of a lack of alternatives. The main problem, said Rakowski, was that the regime had no potential partners left to help repair the country's ravaged economy.

Jaruzelski had destroyed his bridges to the Polish nation. The attempt to find quislings in the Solidarity leadership had apparently failed. So had overtures to the intellectuals. Nor has the church been an ally. The general seemed condemned, at least for the present, to rule by force alone. It was an ironic mission for a self-pro claimed patriot who had once vowed never to use armed might against his own people.

-- By Thomas A. Sancton. Reported by Richard Hornik/Warsaw and Gregory H. Wierzynski/ Washington

With reporting by Richard Hornik, Gregory H. Wierzynski

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