TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/112789/11278900.038

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                                                                                WORLD, Page 36

An Irresistible Tide


With Moscow's apparent acquiescence, reformers in Bulgaria and
protesters in Czechoslovakia follow East Germany in pressing for
democracy

By Howard G. Chua-Eoan


    In the ebb and flow of history, there is sometimes a tide
that can sweep in the most profound changes. The people of
Eastern Europe sense just such a tide washing over them now, a
political swell that has already propelled Solidarity to power
in Poland, transformed Communism to socialism in Hungary and
punched through the Wall in Berlin. Last week the irresistible
tide reached Bulgaria and even pounded at the entrenched
Communist regime in Czechoslovakia. Men and women across the
full breadth of the East bloc were attempting to catch the wave,
aware that it must be done before a historic opportunity is
lost.

    In Bulgaria at least 50,000 people marched peacefully
through central Sofia, chanting "Democracy!" and "Free
elections!" and demanding that Todor Zhivkov, the autocratic
hard-liner who had been ousted only a week earlier after 35
years in power, be put on trial. Although the unthinkable has
become a daily happening in Eastern Europe, there was still
something astonishing in the sight of street demonstrations in
this quiescent land. The marches even had the blessing of the
week-old reformist government of Petar Mladenov, 53, which has
been moving rapidly to harness the country's desire for change.
For the first time ever, Bulgarians watched live television
coverage of their National Assembly -- and listened to vicious
denunciations of Zhivkov. After installing Mladenov as head of
state, the legislature revoked the law that made it an offense
to utter words "of a character to create dissatisfaction with
the government." Mladenov seemed to be pushing Bulgaria further
down the road to political reform when he declared that
"personally, I am for free elections."

    In Czechoslovakia more than 15,000 students in Prague last
week staged the largest protest rally in two decades. "This is
better than in 1969 because the atmosphere is much better," said
Karel Srp, head of the dissident group Jazz Section, recalling
the way an angry populace had reacted after the defeat of its
brief fling with liberalization in the spring of 1968. "Now we
know we can win. This is unstoppable."

    Maybe -- and maybe not. Instead of co-opting the protests,
the Communist government of Milos Jakes beat them down. Riot
police armed with long white clubs and plastic shields put an
end to the five-hour march with tear gas and truncheon attacks,
injuring dozens of protesters and arresting about 100.

    Still, the once monolithic regime seemed to be of two minds
about political reform. Rude Pravo, the official party daily,
revealed last week that Prime Minister Ladislav Adamec had
urged that "we now need political reforms to go even faster"
than economic changes. Adamec added, "The country can be ruled
only on condition that its people feel confident about the
government." It was a direct contradiction of Jakes' doctrine
that economic opiates -- adequate housing, food and clothing --
would numb the populace to the desire for political
liberalization. So strong was the whiff of reform in Prague last
week that hard-line officials went out of their way to deny
Western reports that they had received telexes from Moscow
urging democratization.

    In Rumania the harsh regime of Nicolae Ceausescu sought to
immunize itself from any hint of change by locking its borders
with reformist Hungary. Travelers trying to cross at five border
points were turned back, possibly to prevent any disruption of
a party Congress this week. With the Soviet Union now
encouraging the reforms that felled other hard-line rulers, the
tyrannical Ceausescu last week turned to China for support in
standing firm. The tide of reform is not likely to reach
Bucharest so long as its despotic leader survives. Any Rumanian
bold enough to speak out is beaten, harassed or imprisoned. Says
Jane Ingham, a Rumanian specialist in England: "The regime is
so oppressive that no opposition movement is able to exist."

    In East Germany the dust from the breaching of the Wall has
yet to settle. Prime Minister Hans Modrow, a leading reformer
who was elevated to the Politburo only two weeks ago, faced a
parliament rapidly awakening to popular calls for more
democracy. At an emergency session, delegates to the once
ineffectual legislature proposed to remove the constitutional
guarantee of a "leading role" for the party, a phrase as basic
to Communist dogma as "We the People" is to the U.S.
Constitution. On Friday Modrow presented a 28-member Cabinet
that included eleven representatives of officially sanctioned
minor parties that have begun to wean themselves from Communist
domination. Modrow also announced the establishment of "the rule
of law," "protection from the law," and "freedom from fear." As
a step toward these reforms, the government ousted the head of
the dreaded Ministry of State Security, slashed the ministry's
personnel by 10% and renamed the department the Office of
National Security.

    Even in Moscow, party leaders were struggling to come to
terms with the revolution being wrought in Eastern Europe.
Official papers were both elated by the changes and wary that
the democratic tide might wash away the postwar boundaries of
Europe. Politburo member Alexander Yakovlev observed that the
renewal in Poland, Hungary and East Germany "poses a threat to
none, except, maybe, those countries that have yet to go through
the process of democratization." Moscow was preparing to ease
rules for travel and gave no sign that the tidal wave in Eastern
Europe has reached the limit of its tolerance.

    The biggest danger to Prague's inflexible leadership is an
explicit Soviet disavowal of the 1968 invasion. Amazingly, that
might be in the offing. Rude Pravo reported that Prague's chief
of ideology, Jan Gojtik, had met with his Soviet opposite number
in Moscow. Rude Pravo confirmed that the two men had dealt
``with the history of the relations between the Communist
parties, including the year 1968" and that "they reached a full
identity of views." It has long been the accepted wisdom among
Western and Czechoslovak experts that if the legitimacy of the
1968 invasion were ever officially questioned, it would be the
Jakes regime's death warrant. This week East Germany's Communist
Party chief Egon Krenz will be in Prague for a visit with Jakes.
Sources in Berlin intimate that Krenz will try to persuade the
Czechoslovak leader to drop his hard line. The trip, said East
German Foreign Minister Oskar Fischer, may just have a
"stimulating effect."

    Mladenov's ascendancy in Bulgaria was the result of deep
interparty wrangling that was fueled by a policy clash over
Zhivkov's persecution of the country's large Turkish minority.
The racist program raised an international uproar that
embarrassed Mladenov, who was then Foreign Minister. Mladenov
is believed to have rallied support among the Politburo to stage
a civilian coup against Zhivkov. After a decisive vote, the new
overlord of Bulgaria quickly adopted the language of reform to
rally public support and consolidate power. Despite his stated
preference for free elections, Mladenov has said nothing about
abandoning the Communists' "leading role." "I don't expect
elections with new parties," said Vladimir Kalaidjev, a senior
party official. "They will not have the chance to be formed."

    But the popular thrill of change may overwhelm even the
canniest of political manipulators. Officially sanctioned
anti-Zhivkov demonstrations last week were soon overwhelmed by
popularly organized protests. For the moment their prime target
is the hated Zhivkov, who is widely accused of arrogance,
corruption and a czarlike accumulation of personal wealth. Said
Slavcho Trenski, a Central Committee member: "Bulgaria became
a hunting reserve for the President." Communist leaders may buy
time and cheer hearts with a modicum of reform, but it is all
too possible that they also could be surprised by the chain
reaction that arises from the very exhilaration of new freedoms.

    But what a party it has been for the Germans. Through the
Wall and the rest of the border fences, the flood of East
Germans to the West continued all week long. Ten million East
Germans -- nearly two-thirds of the population -- obtained
permits to cross over. By the end of the week, upwards of 4
million had made the journey, crowding the autobahns and filling
stores. Most had eyes bigger than their pocketbooks. They
financed their mini-splurges with a one-time $55 in "welcome
money" provided by West Germany.

    To the relief of politicians on both sides, no more than
15,000 East Germans elected to stay permanently in the West,
joining the 225,000 who had fled before the border opened. Some
-- East Germany says as many as 10,000 -- may return home. But
the human hemorrhage stopped, confirming what common sense
should have told East Germany's leaders years ago: people who
feel free have no need to run away from home.

    East Germany's desperate gamble did not, however, save the
Communist Party from the prospect of political oblivion. There
seemed to be little doubt that its absolute and often brutal
40-year rule would come to an end. Despite his role in the
reform initiatives and opening of the Wall, Krenz is so widely
distrusted that he stands in danger of losing his top role.
Restive members demanded that an emergency party conference
scheduled for mid-December be elevated into a full-scale
congress that will have the power to dump the entire Central
Committee.

    Modrow appeared to be the party's great Red hope. He was
the one member of the Old Guard with a certain popularity, if
not exactly a following. During the Honecker years, he had
openly criticized the deterioration of East Germany's economy
and kept up the attacks even after party bosses tried to
intimidate him by sending 140 "investigators" to Dresden, where
he was local party chief, to look into his "ideological errors."
Modrow is now considered the only man who may be able to lead
a rejuvenated and reformed party to a respectable performance
at the polls.

    Elections are the key to the party's -- and East Germany's
-- future. They are scheduled for 1991, as required by the
constitution, but the pace of change is pressing the country
toward an earlier date, perhaps next spring. For the
Communists, ironically, an early vote could prove a boon by
keeping potential rivals from organizing effectively.

    Yet most Western diplomats believe the Communists, even
transformed from top to bottom, probably would not win more
than 10% of the popular vote if elections were really free. The
party has lost an estimated 600,000 of its 2.5 million members
in recent months. By some accounts, half the membership would
not even vote Communist.

    East Germany will also have to deal with the economic
consequences of opening up its borders. As goods and labor
begin to flow across the Wall, the difference between the strong
West German mark and the virtually worthless East German mark
will create a powerful black market. Beyond that, East Germany
will need Western help to revive its Rust Bowl of antiquated
factories. West Berlin's Economic Research Institute says it
will cost $250 billion just to bring the country's hopelessly
outmoded communications system up to Western standards.
Upgrading roads and rails could cost as much or more.

    For the rulers of the East bloc, opening the floodgates of
reform even partway seems certain to result in more than just
a cleansing catharsis. If they had expected only to buy time to
save their slipping grasp on power, they may soon be proved
wrong. Each change begets some other unpredictable change, and
as leaders in Poland, Hungary and East Germany have already
discovered, suddenly brings on a whole new order. The tide is
simply too irresistible.

    -- Kenneth W. Banta/Prague, James O. Jackson/Bonn and
Frederick        Ungeheuer/Berlin