Elbow Room in East Europe : Soviet Allies, Yes, but No Longer Faithful Servants

Today the winds of change blow from the Soviet Union to Eastern Europe and not the other way around--and most East European regimes, making use of their newly granted if still limited autonomy, are dissociating themselves from Mikhail Gorbachev’s policies of reform. Most are, in fact, united against almost everything he stands for, and they are unwilling to follow his example.

With only Hungary and Poland backing Gorbachev, and emulating especially his policy of glasnost , the region’s old diversity is thus turning into a new political schism. The emerging rift lacks the decisiveness and vindictiveness of earlier disputes, like the Soviet-Yugoslav conflict of 1948-49 or the Sino-Soviet split of the 1960s. Indeed, Moscow may yet restore a greater measure of unity in Eastern Europe by masterminding the replacement of its orthodox opponents, or by slowing down its reformist supporters, or both. But now there is an unprecedented standoff between the East European “Gang of Four” (Romania, East Germany, Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria) on the one hand and Hungary and Poland (and the Soviet Union) on the other. It is truly a standoff, because so long as the East European guardians of orthodoxy can convincingly argue that reforms would undermine their countries’ fragile stability, there is little that Gorbachev can do--or would want to do--to impose his policies and preferences.

The Soviet Bloc in 1989, then, is but a shadow of its former self. It is a military alliance whose members maintain extensive, but not always beneficial, economic ties. Their ideological orientations, and certain of their political interests, diverge. Romania, East Germany, Czechoslovakia and Bulgaria defy Moscow and continue to seek only to “perfect” their harsh rule. Supporting and supported by Moscow, Hungary declares its interest in the adoption of a multiparty system, and Poland may yet come to terms with labor-union pluralism.

What are the implications of these contradictory, tentative, still reversible but in some cases very promising trends? Does Gorbachev have a new policy toward Eastern Europe?

In examining Soviet intentions, it is useful to begin with the obvious: Gorbachev is a reformer, not a revolutionary. Whatever his ultimate impact may be, he does not seek to liquidate the Soviet hold on Eastern Europe; it is, after all, the most significant and the most tangible achievement of Soviet foreign policy. Gorbachev may bend--he is bending--but he will not break. The evolution of Eastern Europe from a Soviet sphere of domination to a sphere of influence may yet take place--fitfully, the process of decompression and even retrenchment has begun--but not because Moscow is ceding its “front yard.” The Soviet role is becoming less domineering and more paternalistic, because to continue the old policy of heavy-handed Soviet rule would have deleterious consequences for Gorbachev’s domestic and foreign-policy priorities.

Still, a cloud of uncertainty hangs over Soviet intentions. On the one hand, Gorbachev still approves of past Soviet interventions and he still speaks of protecting the region’s “common interests.” On the other hand, East European officials trying to interpret Soviet policy no longer take it for granted that, in a crisis, they should either expect or count on Moscow’s “fraternal assistance.” They believe that there are conclusive signs of a growing Soviet reluctance to offer such “assistance”: Gorbachev’s withdrawal from Afghanistan and his promise to reduce Soviet commitments elsewhere in the Third World, his patience toward centrifugal tendencies in the Soviet Union, the stress he places on the autonomy of the East European Communist parties, his plan to begin thinning out Soviet forces in the region, and his subordinates’ repeated assurance that the Brezhnev Doctrine of restricted East European sovereignty is dead.

Gorbachev’s policies also reflect the ambiguity inherent in Moscow’s current position in Eastern Europe. For example, several recent decisions concerning personnel changes in the East European regimes were apparently permitted to be made mainly on the scene, and only partly in Moscow. While the removal in December, 1987, of the old Brezhnevite party chief of Czechoslovakia, Gustav Husak, was in line with Soviet expectations and suggestions, his replacement by a younger and more vigorous Brezhnevite, Milos Jakes, was a decision made in Prague. In Hungary, too, the replacement of Janos Kadar by Karoly Grosz in May, 1988, was congruent with Soviet signals, but the wholesale expulsion of eight of the old Politburo’s 13 members was accomplished at a party conference in what amounted to a local conspiracy against Kadar’s associates. Produced by secret ballot, the eventual outcome took everyone, including the Soviets, by surprise.

How Soviet leaders treat their East European colleagues behind the scenes is, of course, largely a matter of rumor and speculation. While Soviet officials claim that “a good example is the best sermon,” East European officials say that although their Soviet counterparts show considerable flexibility both at bilateral and multilateral meetings, they are still tough and demanding, especially on economic issues. Nevertheless, during a private conversation in his office last October, Karoly Grosz told me that it was no longer either necessary or customary to ask for Moscow’s “permission” before undertaking a new initiative. He said that recently, before making a particularly difficult decision, he had called Gorbachev and asked for his “opinion.” The answer was that Grosz should be “guided by his conscience.”

The East European leaders have obtained considerable elbow room, even if their growing autonomy is still circumscribed by their perception of geopolitical realities, by the extent of their countries’ economic dependence on the Soviet Union and by their knowledge that the political survival of the region’s one-party systems ultimately still depends on Moscow.

What, then, can be made of Gorbachev’s more paternalistic approach to Eastern Europe? Clearly, Soviet hegemony is not giving way to full respect for the principles of sovereignty and noninterference. There are circumstances that would prompt Moscow to resort to the use of force on behalf of its geopolitical--if not ideological--interests, claiming that the Warsaw Pact’s common interests were threatened. Indeed, the important question is not whether the Brezhnev Doctrine is alive or dead. Even if it were declared null and void, East Europeans would remain uncertain and skeptical. The more realistic questions are these: To what extent has the threshold of Soviet tolerance changed? How far can an East European country go without inviting Soviet military intervention?

One answer is that as long as a given East European country remains in the Warsaw Pact and accepts socialism, there will be no intervention. A second answer is that the Soviet threshold of tolerance is higher for the region’s small and strategically insignificant countries (Bulgaria, Romania and Hungary) than it is for East Germany, Poland and Czechoslovakia. The third--and safest--answer is that only if an upheaval occurs will Gorbachev know and decide what to do, and therefore the outside world cannot know in advance either.

Absent upheavals, there are two important differences between the domineering Soviet policies of the past and Gorbachev’s more paternalistic approach. First, in the past Moscow did not hesitate to tell the East European leaders both what they should and should not do, issuing imperatives as well as prohibitions. Today, Moscow is satisfied with indicating only what they should not do. Within the confines of such prohibitions--against leaving the Warsaw Pact and renouncing socialism--the East European regimes have gained sufficient autonomy to decide on their own what sort of economic and even political arrangements would suit their circumstances.

Second, Moscow’s major preoccupation, even more than in the past, is the region’s stability, meaning peace and quiet at almost any price. A spontaneous, popular upheaval similar to that which engulfed Poland at the beginning of this decade is today’s Soviet nightmare. Soviet officials know that large-scale East European disturbances would weaken and perhaps defeat perestroika and glasnost. This is why Gorbachev, fearful of disorder, has shied away from trying to dislodge the orthodox leaders of still-quiescent Romania, Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia and East Germany. The more idealistic goal of yesteryear--creating a cohesive and viable “socialist commonwealth”--has been shelved for the time being.

Yet even the limited and relatively modest goal of stability remains beyond Moscow’s reach. Evaluations of the region’s economic ills range from serious to catastrophic. Hungarian and Polish reformers are uncertain of and divided over what to do next, while the anti-reformist contingent skirts trouble in the longer run by adhering to the repressive policies of the past. Meanwhile, the present mix of Soviet toleration of rigid East European regimes and Gorbachev’s concurrent calls for dynamic change at home is--unwittingly--fueling the fire of rapidly growing East European popular demands. The irony, as Zbigniew Brzezinski has observed, is that “if the viewpoint that a Soviet military intervention is in fact unlikely becomes more widespread (in Eastern Europe), this perception might make a revolutionary upheaval more probable.”

Hence, the underlying problem is that while Moscow seeks peace and quiet in Eastern Europe, the East European peoples feel encouraged by Gorbachev’s domestic politices and rhetoric to seek change. In fact, so basic is the change they propose in some countries that, according to a rudimentary but telling survey of public opinion, most East Europeans see even Gorbachev as being “good” for the Soviet Union but not good enough for Eastern Europe.

The expected regional crisis of the 1990s calls for a bold supplement to existing U.S. policy toward Eastern Europe: direct talks with Moscow about the region’s future. The purpose of such a dialogue would be not to settle but to probe; bilateral contact might also pave the way for multilateral discussions.

For the first time in four decades, the interests of the two super-powers concerning the region’s future may have begun to converge in Eastern Europe--and to reflect the aspirations of the Eastern European people as well.

No one would gain from violent East European upheavals that might prompt Soviet military intervention and very possibly mark the end of the reform process in both Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. By contrast, all sides would gain from evolutionary change under stable conditions.

The ultimate purpose should be to shape a zone of peace in Eastern Europe, an area that would consist of a group of truly friendly states mindful of legitimate Soviet interests. In the end, they would be like neutral Austria or Finland, or find an independent and pluralist existence within the Warsaw Pact framework.

To bring about such changes, Washington should help fashion a market-oriented economic environment in Eastern Europe--and thus contribute to the region’s viability and stability at a time of radical change. Moscow should concurrently help fashion a pluralist political order in Eastern Europe--and thus contribute to the region’s long-term viability and stability.

An understanding along these lines would eliminate the most important legacy of the Cold War, give content to Gorbachev’s concept of a “common European home,” facilitate the devolution of the Soviet Empire under peaceful and stable conditions and afford Eastern Europe an opportunity to get on its feet and stand on its own.