The Standoff in Victory Square

Neither the military regime nor Solidarity can find a way out

As Poles quietly marked the beginning of the eighth month of military rule last week, there were signs in Warsaw that some easing of martial law might be on the way. Rumors spread that the government of General Wojciech Jaruzelski planned, among other steps, to release all but 600 of the 2,300 prisoners still held, according to official count, in detention camps. At week's end the Communist Party hierarchy was reshuffled in the first major shake-up since martial law was declared on Dec. 13. The main victim was hard-line Politburo Member Stefan Olszowski, who lost his key position as the Central Committee secretary in charge of propaganda and ideology. But, as TIME Correspondent Gregory H. Wierzynski observed after a three-week visit to Poland, the military government remains very much in charge. Wierzynski's impressions:

Every evening, rain or shine, a crowd forms around a huge cross of flowers lying in the center of Warsaw's Victory Square. This floral tribute to Polish Primate Stefan Cardinal Wyszynski, who died last year, has become the most potent political symbol in Poland today. Three times the government has swept it away, and three times it has been rebuilt by the crowds who come to pray and intone hymns. The cross is tended by a group of women who patiently replace wilted flowers every day under the watchful eyes of militiamen. Late each night the police move in, picking up candles, garlands and any symbols of opposition to the regime.

On the surface, the "war," as Poles refer to military rule, is hardly noticeable. The tanks are gone from the streets, the soldiers are back in their barracks, and television newscasters have hung up their ill-fitting military uniforms. Indeed, the most vivid reminder that Poles live in a state where the authorities can--and occasionally do--frisk, detain and arrest on sight is what cannot be seen any more: the once ubiquitous Solidarity pins on coat lapels and the political slogans that seemed to be scrawled on every available wall. But if the shock and fear of the first dark days of martial law have now passed, the country seems sunk in joyless apathy. Though darkness comes late to Poland's northern summer days, the streets of major cities are empty by early evening. Cracow's ancient market square, normally crowded with youths, folk singers and tourists, seems as lifeless as a clock bereft of hands.

By far the most alienated segment of Polish society is the young. Whether headed for factories or universities, they see no prospect for great personal freedom or even for better economic conditions. Says a University of Warsaw professor: "The state of war has created a generation of opposition." Despite government efforts to tighten ideological controls and reinstitute mandatory classes in Marxism-Leninism, Polish youths are adopting styles of rebellion from their Western peers.

With a self-satisfied sigh of relief, the government proclaims every day in the press that "normalization" has come. The government claims that it has arrested seven people in Warsaw who were involved with Radio Solidarity and shut down the clandestine station, but underground transmitters continue to taunt the authorities with short FM broadcasts. By some estimates, 1,700 underground publications appear regularly. More than 100 illegal books have been published in Warsaw alone.

Morale among the Solidarity detainees who are still held in some 20 camps is said to be high. In some detention centers, guards on patrol at the perimeter of the camps even signal their support for prisoners within by flashing the V-for-victory sign. The authorities have shifted Solidarity Chief Lech Walesa from the villa outside Warsaw where he had been held under house arrest to a remote town in the southeast, an indication that the government may have given up efforts to negotiate an accommodation with the independent trade union movement.

According to a secret government poll, fully 85% of the public still back Solidarity. But the union's scattered leadership appears uncertain about how to mobilize this support. In an article smuggled out of prison, Union Adviser Jacek Kuron has called for a general strike to force the government to carry on genuine negotiations with Solidarity. But Zbigniew Bujak, the former chief of the union's Warsaw branch, feels that Solidarity should operate nonviolently as an underground society.

No one knows precisely who runs the country. The 21-member Military Council for National Salvation is largely a figurehead group. Instead, General Jaruzelski relies on a small kitchen cabinet of advisers. The government is rent by factionalism. Supporters of Deputy Premier Mieczyslaw Rakowski, who is thought to be a liberal, and those of Party Hard-Liner Tadeusz Grabski take potshots at each other in the official press.

Shunted aside by the military takeover, the Communist Party has not recovered. Army officers hardly conceal their contempt for the party, which they consider a source of corruption and mismanagement. At the provincial level, many generals have taken over top party posts, and every factory, service agency or government office has its military commissar.

Because tens of thousands of rank-and-file members turned in their cards after the crackdown, party cells have ceased to function in many places.

The key to breaking Poland's impasse may be in the economy. The huge price increases of up to 400% on many essential goods, which went into effect last February, have brought a semblance of order to an economy that had been distorted by subsidies, hoarding and black-market speculation. But the price hikes have helped to raise the cost of living 108% over the past year. All-night queues in front of butcher shops have largely disap peared, because many people cannot afford to buy meat at the new prices. Virtu ally all necessities are rationed: one bar of soap, a half-liter of vodka and 3 lbs. of sugar per person per month. This fall, pre schoolers will be allotted one pencil, one eraser and one paintbrush for the entire year.

Overall industrial production in the first five months of this year has dropped 8.7% below last year's level. The decline is due in part to worker apathy and to Western economic sanctions. Since only 8% of Western imports can be replaced through purchases from other Communist-bloc countries, numerous factories stand idle for want of raw materials and spare parts. The only industrial growth has been in mining, where the government has gone back to a four-shift system, abolished free Saturdays and bought off the miners with wages up to four times the national average.

Perhaps the most debated question in Poland today is whether Pope John Paul II will visit Poland's holiest shrine at Czestochowa next month. Jaruzelski has told Western visitors privately that a visit this year is unlikely, and party ideologists have pointed out that the Pope's 1979 visit was a major factor in the subsequent growth of Solidarity. Still, as Cracow Theologian Jozef Tischner, a close friend of the Pontiff, observed, "Objectively, I don't think he will be able to come. But knowing John Paul II as I do, I believe he will come. Eveverything he tries seems to work out for him." The church has stronger since the declaration of martial law, drawing back thousands of worshipers. Priests report an upsurge in middle-aged baptisms, and it is not uncommon nowadays to find a couple in their 40s, surrounded by their children, taking their marriage vows in church for the first time.

On Victory Square, the cross survives as a living symbol of endurance. The flowers wilt and they are replaced. When too many people assemble, the militia comes roaring in with paddy wagons to disperse the crowds. But as soon as the blue trucks have returned to their stations, the people gather around the cross and sing and pray again.

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