Red Alert from Moscow

By Stephen Smith

Nervous about labor unrest, the Soviets get their troops ready

"Countrymen, the fate of the nation hangs in the balance." With that dramatic warning, the Polish Communist Party appealed last week for an end to the labor unrest that had brought Poland to what the party itself called "the brink of economic and moral destruction." More than that, the dread scenario of Moscow intervening to prevent a key satellite from abandoning Soviet-style socialism suddenly seemed very real, perhaps imminent. Soviet troops in East Germany, Czechoslovakia and along the Poland-U.S.S.R. frontier were reported to be on full alert. East bloc propaganda guns were blazing, repetitively comparing events in Poland with those that touched off the 1968 Warsaw Pact invasion of Czechoslovakia. There was a measure of understatement in the urgent message of the Polish party: "All Poles are engulfed by profound anxiety."

The crisis atmosphere eased somewhat at week's end, after leaders of the Warsaw Pact nations, including Polish Party Boss Stanislaw Kania, were summoned to Moscow for a secret summit. They later issued a rambling communique expressing confidence that Poles "will be able to overcome the present difficulties." The statement also noted that Poland "can firmly count on" the support of its East bloc brethren, meaning that the Soviets were still ready to step in if need be.

By the time of the Moscow meeting, the free world was in somewhat of a cold war lather. President Carter, in a strong statement, said the U.S. was "watching with growing concern the unprecedented buildup of Soviet forces along the Polish border," and urged that the Poles be allowed "to work out their internal difficulties without outside interference." Warned the President: "Foreign military intervention in Poland would have the most negative consequences for East-West relations." Meeting in Luxembourg, leaders of the European Community predicted "very serious consequences" if Poland were invaded. With a touch of Gaelic hyperbole, Irish Prime Minister Charles Haughey told journalists: " 'Very serious consequences' might be a euphemism for World War III."

Moscow's saber rattling had a clear purpose: to intimidate Solidarity, the independent trade-union movement that has become increasingly bold in its demands for political liberalization. But what may have been a better guide to Soviet intentions was nearly drowned out in the alarmist din. With the Polish economy in a tailspin, the Soviets last week gave their suffering satellite $1.1 billion in hard-currency credits and $200 million in commodities. Most analysts believe Soviet military intervention is a distant last resort, to be used only in case of serious disturbances or a total breakdown of party control. Jozef Klasa, chief spokesman for the Central Committee, gave credence to this view when he said: "If the threat to socialism is real--and I think this could happen when authority slips out of the hands of the democratic process --this would end in drama and tragedy."

Analogies with the Prague spring of 1968, while useful as a possible rationale for intervention, are not exact. The reform movement in Czechoslovakia was the brainchild of liberal intellectuals. Alexander Dubcek's "Socialism with a Human Face," which advocated a loosening of state controls, was more of an ideological experiment than a pragmatic response to a crisis. At the time the Soviets stepped in, a true counterrevolution was working its way down to the grass roots. In Poland, by contrast, the reform movement is very much a working-class phenomenon, with the intellectuals cheering from the sidelines. Most important, the Polish Communist Party remains orthodox and loyal to Moscow.

Evidently trying to reassure Moscow that it was still in control, the Polish party adopted a harder line toward the unruly unions during a troubled two-day meeting of the Central Committee last week. At the opening session, Kania sternly warned that "there cannot be two centers of power in the country." The labor disputes, he said, "threaten eventually to destabilize the peaceful order of Europe." He added a caution that moderates in Solidarity might well have agreed with: "It is high time to sober up."

With an eye again turned toward Moscow, Kania continued his purge of discredited party hacks. Ousted last week were four more members of the ruling Politburo; only Kania and three others are left from the 14 voting members on the Politburo at the start of last summer's massive strikes. Many of the 500 functionaries axed so far were closely associated with former Party Chief Edward Gierek, who was dropped from the Central Committee last week and forced to give up his seat in parliament.

One of the developments that caused worldwide concern last week was a decision to seal off a 30-mile-wide swath of the East German-Polish frontier, parts of which are ordinarily open to Western military observers under World War II occupation agreements. Western intelligence experts also reported increased communications among army units in the western Soviet Union and an unusual number of Soviet transport planes flying in and out of Poland. Troops in the U.S.S.R. and elsewhere in the East bloc were said to be at top readiness--capable, if need be, of moving on Poland within three or four days. Almost too conveniently, the Warsaw Pact defense ministers were in Bucharest for their regular winter meeting.

Moscow's military moves apparently stemmed from a confrontation the week before between Polish authorities and Warsaw workers, who were demanding the release of two imprisoned union sympathizers and an investigation of the state security apparatus. Although the militants got their friends out of jail, the political nature of their demands must have alarmed the Kremlin. Anticipating a backlash, the leaders of Solidarity announced a moratorium on strikes. Not one work stoppage was reported last week. Indeed, Poland seemed to be in the eye of the hurricane. "The storm of anxiety came from the West," a Warsaw journalist remarked. "People here are more worried about how to do their shopping."

To subdue Poland, the Soviets would need at least 35 divisions, according to military planners in Washington. Such a force could be mustered without seriously weakening the Warsaw Pact's western flank, since the Soviets have 30 divisions near their own border with Poland, another 19 in East Germany, Poland's eastern neighbor, and five in Czechoslovakia to the south.

Based on Soviet tactics in Hungary in 1956, Czechoslovakia in 1968 and Afghanistan last year, experts in Bonn outlined the following possible invasion scenario: the two Soviet divisions stationed in Poland would quickly try to secure strategic points, notably major airports, so that infantry and light artillery could be flown in as reinforcements. At the same time, tank forces and additional motorized infantry would move across the borders from the Soviet Union and East Germany. Soldiers from the satellites would be used sparingly, in case anti-Soviet feeling flared throughout the East bloc. East German troops would probably be withheld completely, since the Poles hate the Germans even more than they hate the Soviets. Rumania, which refused to take part in the 1968 invasion of Czechoslovakia, would probably refuse to invade Poland.

The military, diplomatic and economic price of any invasion--no matter how successfully executed --would be incalculable. Intensely nationalistic, the Poles have resisted foreign domination throughout their history, rising up against Tsarist rule in 1794 and 1830 and against the Nazis in 1944. Some units of the large (210,000 man) and well-trained Polish army would almost certainly fight back, possibly alongside Polish workers. If defeated, the Poles would no doubt set up an opposition underground. "The core of it would probably be Solidarity because it is already organized and has nationally respected leadership," said a senior Foreign Ministry analyst in Bonn.

The use of force would destroy what is left of detente, accelerate the U.S.-Soviet arms race and damage Soviet prestige in the East bloc and the Third World. Relations with the incoming Reagan Administration might never thaw. Said a U.S. State Department official: "There is no facet of international affairs in which the Soviets would not lose." Western economic reprisals would be swift and painful; the European allies, which had little taste for the Afghanistan embargoes imposed by the U.S., would be far more responsive concerning Poland. Sales of grain and sophisticated technology to the Soviets might well be shelved, and so might plans for a ballyhooed natural gas pipeline between Siberia and West Germany.

More important, the Soviets would be forced to take over Poland's enfeebled economy, a $21 billion hard-currency debt to the West and a mutinous population. All of these costs, as Secretary ol State Edmund Muskie noted last week, would be "taken out of the hides of the Soviet people." The low-keyed rumbles of discontent in the U.S.S.R. about deaths and injuries suffered by an invasion force of 85,000 in Afghanistan would grow far louder if Soviet troops were bloodied in a Polish occupation.

Still, Moscow might feel it had to pay the price if it believed that Poland was about to become an example to the world of Communism's failures. Not only is Poland the largest Soviet satellite, it is strategically crucial, Unking the Soviet Union with East Germany, the front line of Warsaw Pact defenses.

If Kania can keep the Soviets calm, the West is poised to help with loans and other aid. The Common Market nations agreed last week to make available surplus beef and butter at discount prices, provided Poland asks for them. It was a fairly timid gesture designed not to offend the Soviets, but it could be a very wel come one to Poland if severe food shortages develop this winter.

Kania needs time to reassert the party's authority. And to gain time, he needs cooperation from the workers.

Until last week, Lech Walesa and other union leaders had not been able to rein in Solidarity's rank and file. But in response to the Moscow summit, Solidarity warned its local branches not to strike without its authorization. The next major test of his control could come at week's end with the start of observances marking the tenth anniversary of the 1970 Gdansk riots, in which at least 49 Poles were killed. This symbolic occasion could touch off another bout of labor unrest and perhaps force Moscow's hand.

-- By Stephen Smith. Reported by Erik Amfitheatrof/Warsaw and Barry Kalb/West Berlin

With reporting by Erik Amfitheatrof, Barry Kalb

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