Is Moscow preparing to crack down on the Baltics? With his government and party in near-collapse, President Mikhail Gorbachev may soon conclude that only the threat of force can hold the Soviet Union together. As the black berets took up positions in Latvia, breakaway republics elsewhere nervously weighed their options. Moldavia’s president promised to rescind a new law making a Romanian dialect the official language - hoping to avert the “necessary measures” Gorbachev has threatened for the new year. In Georgia, where a new noncommunist government recently moved toward independence, nationalists armed themselves against attack. Lithuanians watched as troops turned out to guard Communist Party headquarters, and Estonian Prime Minister Edgar Savisaar warned: “If Estonia is calm and quiet today, it doesn’t mean that we aren’t on the waiting list.”
If a crackdown comes, it could come first in Latvia. Roughly half its residents are Russians and other nationalities. Relations between the Latvians and the “occupiers” are sorely frayed. Non-Latvians complain bitterly that their rights are being “trampled.” The republic’s parliament has made Latvian the state language, and refused last week to declare Russian Orthodox Christmas, Jan. 7, a state holiday. The result has been a dangerous escalation of tensions. WE DEMAND AN END TO TYRANNY, read one placard at a demonstration last week supporting the takeover of Latvia’s publishing house. “Our opponents are pushing us into the streets,” says Anatoly Alekseyev, president of an action group called Interfront, established to protect the interests of non-Latvians.
His organization gets strong support from the disgruntled Soviet military. Riga is headquarters for the Baltic Military Command, and an estimated 15 percent of Latvia’s residents are servicemen and their dependents. Latvians contemptuously call them “the occupiers,” and behave accordingly. The Latvian parliament in November threatened to stop supplying Soviet bases with water, food and electricity if Moscow failed to open talks on withdrawing its troops from Latvian territory. And local authorities have withheld housing permits for officers living off base, arguing that the Army has enough real estate already. Without these papers, however, Soviets cannot buy rationed food in the grocery stores. To Moscow’s military men, such moves amount to outright persecution. “The mood among officers is terrible,” says Col. Yuri Podolnitsky of the Baltic Command. “Throw one match, and the whole thing will blow up.”
That’s hardly an idle metaphor. A series of mysterious bombings have rocked the capital in recent weeks. No one was injured, and four youths have been arrested. But many Latvians suspect the explosions, directed mostly against communist memorials and official buildings, were provocations staged by the military and non-Latvian supporters. The reason: to stir disorder and create the pretext for a takeover. “Whose interests are served by such explosions?” asks one mechanic, whose front door was blown off and living-room windows were shattered in a blast the night after Christmas. “Only those who want tensions to grow. And that’s not Latvians.”
Like their Baltic neighbors, Latvians are hoping to tiptoe out of the union. Last May the republic declared it had never legally joined the Soviet Union, and would take steps to withdraw. But it wants to pull out gradually. Latvian President Anatolij Gorbunovs refuses to attend meetings of the Council of the Federation, Gorbachev’s new interrepublican executive body. Last week, however, he sent his prime minister to the council’s first meeting, and then scored a coup when Soviet Chief of Staff Gen. Mikhail Moiseyev agreed to “meet Latvian authorities halfway.” “Not a single additional soldier will be dispatched to the Baltics,” the general declared, hinting that some might even be withdrawn. And he promised for the first time to disclose how many Soviet troops are stationed in the republic - and where. Gorbunovs told NEWSWEEK: “We found real common ground.” As for the future, the adroit Gorbunovs is hoping to negotiate a new economic agreement with the Kremlin. “Economic relations must come first, and then political relations will follow,” he said. “We’re too politically polarized to do it any other way.”
Though top officials were coming to terms, their constituents were not. Five hundred angry officers from around the Baltics met in Riga last month to form a new pressure group, the Union of Servicemen in the Baltics. Latvia isn’t the only republic that should be ruled by presidential decree, says one of the group’s leaders, Maj. Leonid Alyoshin. “It should be introduced all over the Soviet Union.” Alyoshin and others are also alarmed by Latvia’s march to free markets. The takeover of Riga’s publishing house showed that the Communist Party will not readily give up its property. Meanwhile, prices for milk, meat and other household staples as much as tripled last week, as the first free-market reforms took effect. “How do I feed my wife and children,” groused one black beret, as he gulped down meatballs in the cafeteria of Riga’s publishing house. Latvian employees disdainfully gave him a wide berth. “I don’t see anything good in independence,” said the soldier, cradling a Kalashnikov on his knees. “I’m going to do everything I can to prevent it.” Latvians can only wonder just how far he’ll go.
Soviet troops are stationed throughout the Baltics - and are a source of mounting friction.
