Moscow & the Market

In the five years since Western Europe's Common Market was formed, the Soviet press and radio have hardly mentioned it at home; few Russians even know the name. In its propaganda abroad, the Kremlin simply sneered at Europe's economic integration scheme as a plot by "monopoly capitalists" to perpetuate the enslavement of the working class and by "neocolonialists" to exploit the newly independent nations. But last week Moscow more openly recognized the Common Market for what it is: a grave threat to Communism. With Nikita Khrushchev smiling benevolently near by, Propagandist Leonid Ilyichev proclaimed from a Moscow platform that "integrated Europe" merely disguises the old capitalist rivalries: 'It represents a new tangle of acute antagonism between its members. It is one of the new aggressive and anti-popular unions which are aimed against the socialist camp."

Ilyichev's fears are well grounded. A consolidated community of 170 million people in Western Europe, with their huge joint productive capacity, brings Russia a formidable new economic competitor. More important, a thriving, cooperating Europe dramatically belies the Marxist belief that capitalist nations will destroy one another and leave their workers in rags as Communism sweeps over the world. Actually, industrial production in the Common Market's six nations is up 37% in five years; after a brief lull, orders are pouring into steel factories and other heavy industries. Most of Western Europe's workers enjoy a standard of living far higher than that of any Communist country.

Outside the Kremlin, there is many a Communist expert who frankly recognizes the Common Market's growing power, and some Soviet economists have begun discussing it in technical journals. Poland's Foreign Trade Minister Witold Trampczynski recently declared that "the integration of Western Europe is a fact today," warned that Polish agricultural products and machinery exports may not be able to compete as the Common Market's tariffs to outsiders go up. Party Chief Wladyslaw Gomulka has been urging Polish industrial managers to produce better goods at lower prices. But the program of the Communist economic bloc (COMECON) is spotty; in East Germany, output is in such a sorry state that industrial control has been transferred from local party men to planners sent in from Moscow.

Fearful of even greater damage as the Common Market gets stronger, Moscow cries "discrimination" each time the Six lower tariffs for one another. To fight back, the Soviet Union recently began a dual tariff system of its own, with one set of high duties for nations that "discriminate," another, lower set for those that do not. What Russia urgently wants is concessions by the Six that will allow the Communist-bloc countries, even if their products are not competitive, to maintain their trade with Western Europe.

Despite their anguish, the Russians still refuse to deal with the Common Market as a single unit, go to elaborate pains to do all their negotiating on a country by country basis. That way, Moscow thinks it can avoid recognizing what the rest of the world accepts as the permanent pattern for the new Europe. But Common Market officials in Brussels are sure that the Kremlin will eventually have to accept the inevitable; after 15 years, Russian trade officials finally show signs of giving in on a similar issue and will probably soon be dealing with Belgium, The Netherlands and Luxembourg as Benelux, not as three separate nations. For Moscow, that is a concession to reality.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.