Soviet Union War of Nerves

By Michael S. Serrill

On the surface the two men would seem to be absurdly mismatched. Mikhail Gorbachev is a master politician who has pushed aside all competitors for power and won countless political battles in his struggle to reform the Soviet Union. He has an army of 4 million at his disposal, and has demonstrated his willingness to use it to crush civil disobedience in the Soviet Union's restive Transcaucasian republics. By contrast, Vytautas Landsbergis, the newly elected President of the tiny Baltic state of Lithuania (pop. 3.7 million), is a bookish, bespectacled musicologist who never before held political office. He presides over a breakaway government that has few laws, no army, no currency, no foreign recognition and a tenuous hold on its territory.

Nevertheless, the stubborn nationalist seemed to be holding his own last week in a tense confrontation with Gorbachev over Lithuania's effort to break away from the Soviet Union. Day after day the two fought a battle of communiques. The struggle reaffirmed a fact that has become increasingly clear since Lithuania's declaration of independence two weeks ago: the mild-mannered pianist may turn out to be the Soviet President's most dangerous enemy -- not because he is so strong, but because Lithuania represents the first crack in what could be the collapse of the union that binds the country's 15 republics.

Early Saturday morning, a column of more than 100 military vehicles, including 59 tanks, rumbled into the Lithuanian capital of Vilnius. As residents rushed to their windows, the convoy clattered by the parliament building, where legislators were toiling through the night to put the final touches on the creation of an independent government. Though the caravan quickly disappeared behind the gates of an army base in Vilnius, the ominous parade was obviously intended to intimidate the Lithuanians. But the ploy only persuaded the legislators to prepare for the worst. They immediately passed an emergency resolution to transfer their authority to the republic's representative in Washington in case martial law was imposed.

Increasingly concerned that events might spin out of control, the Bush Administration stopped soft-pedaling its support for the Lithuanians and made it clear to Gorbachev that military intervention would seriously damage both perestroika and East-West relations. Said Bush: "Any attempt to coerce or intimidate or forcibly intervene against the Lithuanian people is bound to backfire."

Gorbachev's preoccupation with the secessionists is understandable. "As Lithuania goes, so goes the nation," observed a senior White House official. The volatile standoff between Moscow and Vilnius came just as radical ( nationalists won a majority of seats in the local legislatures of the other two Baltic republics, Estonia and Latvia. Gorbachev's angry words had some effect: Estonian Communist Party leaders last week said the republic should negotiate its secession with Moscow, while the parliament of independence- minded Georgia postponed elections until the fall.

The Supreme Soviet last week fine-tuned a law that would require a republic to hold a referendum in which two-thirds of the permanent residents vote in favor of secession. The national legislature would then review the results and set a transition period of up to five years before independence could be achieved. But that statute is unlikely to affect the fait accompli already presented to Gorbachev by the Lithuanians.

As each day passed last week, it became more apparent that Gorbachev was not going to take no for an answer from the Lithuanians. After a string of ultimatums from the Kremlin had been ignored or rejected, Gorbachev got tough:

-- According to the Soviet news agency TASS, additional Soviet troops were sent across the Lithuanian border to "ensure the rights" of ethnic Russians and Poles, who make up almost 20% of the republic's residents. Some 30,000 troops were already stationed in Lithuania.

-- On Friday all foreign diplomats, including two Americans, were told to leave Lithuania within twelve hours.

-- Gorbachev gave the Lithuanians two days to rescind a law creating a volunteer force to guard the republic's ports and borders. At the same time, some 1,500 Lithuanian deserters from the Soviet army were ordered to return to their units by Saturday. Landsbergis responded by urging deserters to seek sanctuary in churches.

The war of nerves began building almost two weeks ago, when Gorbachev gave the Landsbergis government three days to respond to a declaration from the Congress of People's Deputies stating that the republic's secession on March 11 had been illegal. Landsbergis replied that the Congress's resolution was "without legal foundation" and a violation of Lithuania's internal affairs.

From that point the confrontation escalated. Leaflets scattered over Vilnius from helicopters urged the Lithuanians to abide by the Soviet constitution. Unscheduled military maneuvers were staged in and around the rebel state. Squads of security police arrived in the eastern Lithuanian town of Ignalina to reinforce the perimeter of one of the Soviet Union's largest nuclear power plants. These moves were accompanied by a shower of anti-Lithuanian decrees from Moscow. The most ominous was a directive from Gorbachev ordering Lithuanians to turn in their firearms. He also instructed the KGB to step up security on the borders and asked the Foreign and Interior Ministries to tighten control over foreigners in the republic.

Throughout the propaganda barrage -- abetted by anti-Lithuanian coverage in the Moscow media -- Landsbergis and his colleagues never wavered from their insistence that as the governors of a sovereign nation, they need not take orders from Moscow. "Psychological warfare is being waged against Lithuania," said Landsbergis in a speech to the local parliament. "I have no doubt that we will bear this pressure. It is a question of who has sovereignty over this land. Does it belong to the people of Lithuania or to some other state?" As for the decree ordering the surrender of firearms, Landsbergis replied, "It can be enforced only through brutal, armed force . . . The ghost of Stalinism is walking in the Kremlin, and the shadow of it lies far to the west" -- over Lithuania.

The weapons in the hands of the populace are an estimated 30,000 hunting rifles and shotguns. In the days after the order from Moscow, no more than a handful were turned in, though a group of students made a show of surrendering a cache of toy pistols. When General Ginutis Taurinskas, head of the local military-training program, told parliament he had obeyed orders and relinquished weapons and motor vehicles to the Soviets, jeers filled the hall.

Even as the situation deteriorated, officials in both Lithuania and the West were convinced Gorbachev would not dare intervene militarily. "Things are calm here," said Kazimira Prunskiene, the tough economist whom Landsbergis had named as his Prime Minister. "An invasion would provoke a tremendous crisis. It would be the end of perestroika, and I don't think Gorbachev is prepared for that."

Western observers concurred that a full-scale invasion was unlikely. "What we see now is Gorbachev raising the ante in what will be hard and drawn-out negotiations," said an American diplomat in Moscow. "Lithuania has a united population on the issue of independence, and I don't think they'll back down. And Moscow has pretty much ruled out force." At independence ceremonies in Namibia last week, Soviet Foreign Minister Eduard Shevardnadze said, "We are against the use of force in any region, and we are particularly against the ^ use of force domestically."

The Baltic republics present a special dilemma for Gorbachev, since they enjoyed independence between the two World Wars, before being consigned to Moscow by the Nazi-Soviet pact of 1939 -- an accord the Kremlin has belatedly admitted was unjust. Thus, Lithuania, as well as Estonia and Latvia, claims it has been occupied by the U.S.S.R. for the past 50 years. Gorbachev's saber rattling aside, there is every indication he believes the three republics have the right to secede, though only after Moscow has agreed to the terms of the separation. He reiterated the point last week at a meeting with Estonian officials, reportedly saying, "In the case of a divorce, it is not important whether the marriage was contracted legally or not. The property must be divided nonetheless."

In Washington and Moscow, analysts felt that the most sensible course for Gorbachev is to back away from brinkmanship and begin negotiations with the Lithuanians, who have all along expressed their eagerness to talk. In a commentary in the Soviet weekly New Times, political columnist Leonid Mlechin wrote, "Cooler heads will not ignore the will of the Lithuanian voters and will start shaping up a mechanism of cooperation with Vilnius. Any option for resolving this problem with force will strengthen the position of those in the republics who believe it is useless to try to reach an agreement with Moscow."

Others criticized Lithuania for its refusal to consider Gorbachev's offer of membership in a Soviet federation, with full autonomy for each republic. "If Lithuania were willing to remain in the Soviet Union," said a senior White House official, "Gorbachev would pretty much let them do what they wanted to on the economic side." But with positions hardening and Gorbachev worried about losing face, danger was growing that he might be tempted to use a time- tested Soviet solution to uprisings by impudent satellites: intimidation with tanks and guns.

With reporting by Ann Blackman/Moscow, Michael Duffy/Washington and Paul Hofheinz/Vilnius