Ripe for the Communists

A cruel trick of geography has wedged Laos, a land of 3 million delicate, gentle and innately pacific people, between powerful and antagonistic neighbors. With the Communist takeover of Cambodia and South Viet Nam, it is probably only a matter of time before Laos becomes the next Indochina state to fall to the Communists. Anticipating this, wealthy Laotians, Chinese and Vietnamese have already begun departing Laos in great numbers; planes are booked solidly, and scores of autos have lined up at the Vientiane ferry, waiting to cross the Mekong River into Thailand.

On the Brink. At week's end a takeover by the Communist-led Pathet Lao seemed even more certain. The year-old coalition government teetered on the brink of collapse as five pro-American Cabinet members resigned their posts, leaving the Cabinet virtually in the hands of the Communists. The immediate reason for the resignations was the mounting pressure against the right from leftist student and labor groups. More basic, however, has been the right's increasing sense of futility as it has witnessed the coalition -- which technically was supposed to divide power equally between the two factions -- work almost solely to the advantage of the Pathet Lao. Ailing Prince Souvanna Phouma, the 73-year-old neutralist Premier, has consistently pressured the demoralized and leaderless rightists into accepting the demands of the Pathet Lao Cabinet members. Last summer, for example, the rightist-dominated National Assembly was suspended and later formally dissolved because some of its members had called for the withdrawal of North Vietnamese troops from Laos.

Laos' de facto legislature has been the Joint National Political Council, headed by the dynamic titular head of the Pathet Lao, "Red Prince" Souphanouvong, 62, who is Souvanna's half brother. Leftists in the Vientiane government have been steadily tightening their control of key ministries (such as Information and Foreign Affairs) and have triggered disruptive strikes by teachers, police and municipal employees.

Last week terror was added to the growing pressure from the left; an unidentified assailant tossed a hand grenade into a car full of rightist politicians and Chinese businessmen. Among the three killed was former Minister of Religion Boun Om, brother of the warlord of southern Laos, whose name is Boun Oum, and uncle of Sisouk na Champassak, the powerful Minister of Defense, who was among those that resigned. It was the first assassination of a rightist political figure since the ceasefire, and has unsettled many leading rightists. They now fear for their own and their families' safety; Boun Oum has reportedly gone into hiding somewhere in his fief.

What has certainly also discouraged the right was last week's order by the Premier to the rightist forces not to oppose the Pathet Lao troops. The Communists, however, have been launching attacks that brazenly ignore the February 1973 cease-fire agreement, which was supposed to have ended the fighting between the two opposing forces in the country by recognizing that the Pathet Lao controlled two-thirds of the country's territory and one-third of its people. By comparison with the wars in Cambodia and Viet Nam, Communist offensives in Laos have been rather timid. The recent Pathet Lao violation of the concords--presumably prompted by the nearby Communist triumphs--involves one battalion consisting of 100 to 300 men accompanied by four armored vehicles, which have been slowly moving down Highway 13 in the direction of Vientiane, overrunning rightist outposts. For the past two years, the Pathet Lao have steadily nibbled at rightist-controlled territory and have moved uncontestedly into broad stretches of no man's land.

Western observers in Vientiane have told TIME'S Stephen Heder that the Pathet Lao could achieve a quick military victory if they want it. The 35,000-man Royal Lao Army is thinly spread across the territory it supposedly still controls. Under the terms of the ceasefire, it has lost nearly all its U.S. support: American advisers and warplanes have been withdrawn (the size of the U.S. mission in Vientiane has been reduced by nearly 25% in the past two years), while military aid from Washington has been cut from more than $350 million in fiscal 1973 to $30 million this year. On the other hand, the Communists blithely ignore the terms of the ceasefire; an estimated 20,000 North Vietnamese soldiers remain in Laos, and Hanoi continues to supply the 30,000-man Pathet Lao force.

The political crisis triggered by the resignation from the Cabinet can only benefit the Communists. Prince Souvanna considers the coalition important and is eager to see Laos united before he dies. Thus, he will probably move even closer to the Pathet Lao position.

Although a Pathet Lao victory appears inevitable, Laos is not expected to become a radically Communist state. "The Pathet Lao have never been outlaws here," a veteran Western observer told Heder last week. "For the past two years they have been in close contact with rightist members of the coalition and even with Americans." Nonetheless, Laos' orientation in the future--as in the past--will depend upon its neighbors, and primarily upon Hanoi. The powerful North Vietnamese could easily dominate the tiny kingdom--a development that would surely alarm nervous Thailand. It might even worry the Chinese, who would then be tempted to foster a more independent Laotian government as a check on the growing North Vietnamese influence in Southeast Asia. One thing seems certain: whatever Laos' fate, it will almost certainly not be in the hands of the Laotians.

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