Where the Captives Forge Their Own Chains

Into the inner courtyard of Prague's Hradcany Castle one morning last week rumbled a long cavalcade of black Tatra limousines. From them stepped Party First Secretary Alexander Dubcek, the ministers of his regime and 277 members of the National Assembly. Only a few months ago, these men had gathered in the historic castle to enact the reforms that started Czechoslovakia on its brief but exhilarating attempt to reconcile Communism with human freedoms. Now, under the threat of Soviet invaders, they came to dismantle their own democracy.

Total Supremacy. Assembling in the castle's ornate white and gold Spanish Hall, the Deputies clearly understood that any resistance to their Soviet masters was senseless. Dubcek's regime had drafted a series of bills that fulfilled many of the demands of the Moscow accord. In that accord, the Soviet leaders had promised to ease their grip on the country as it returned to what the Soviets consider "normal." In quick succession, the National Assembly reimposed censorship on Czechoslovakia's press, revoked the right of assembly and association, abolished the small non-Communist political groupings that had grown up during Czechoslovakia's springtime of freedom, and reaffirmed the total and irrevocable supremacy of the Communist Party. By afternoon, it was all over. Only two Deputies had dared abstain on the press bill. Otherwise, the votes were all unanimous. In that manner, the captives forged their own chains.

Another important shackle was riveted onto Czechoslovakia in Moscow.

Journeying to the Soviet capital, Czechoslovak Premier Oldrich Cernick put his signature on a new seven-year economic agreement that abolishes any hope that Czechoslovakia might be able to seek funds and know-how in the West to revitalize its disastrously outmoded industry. The agreement was another barter deal, similar to earlier ones that ruinously shortchanged the Czechoslovaks; they must deliver trucks, heavy pipe and other manufactured goods to the Russians in return for raw materials. In addition, both countries will cooperate in the construction of a long pipeline to carry natural gas from the Soviet fields in western Siberia to Czechoslovak plants near Kosice.

A While Longer. Meanwhile, the drab sameness of Communist conformity once more settled over the country and stifled its spirit. Ordinary Czechoslovaks seemed cowed and de pressed. Press, newspaper, radio and television spewed forth daily drivel about happy factory workers, joyous farmers and the blessings of Marxism. They could do little else. Under the censorship rules, the press is forbidden to mention that Czechoslovaks were killed and wounded by the invading armies. It is also forbidden to talk about the damage that trigger-happy Soviet soldiers and their tanks inflicted on Czechoslovak buildings and autos. Above all, there must be no criticism of Warsaw Pact countries or use of the word "occupation." Censors canceled a nationwide TV and radio address by Dubcek one hour before broadcast time because he planned to say that the resumption of censorship was to be only a temporary measure. A few days later, he finally got to make his speech, but the section on censorship was deleted.

Despite continued Soviet press attacks on Prague counterrevolutionaries, the Czechoslovaks appeared, at least for the moment, to have avoided even harsher Soviet measures, such as mass arrests. To a large degree, they owed that to Soviet First Deputy Foreign Minister Vasily Kuznetsov, who had arrived in Prague the week before as Moscow's viceroy for its captive land. A skilled diplomat, Kuznetsov outranks Ambassador Stepan Chervonenko. After assessing the situation, he reported to Moscow that things were not going as badly for the Kremlin as Chervonenko had made out. He said that Dubcek and President Ludvik Svoboda should be given a while longer to make good on the Moscow accord. As the Czechoslovaks did, in fact, fulfill the first part of the demands, the Soviets reciprocated by withdrawing the remainder of their 275,000 troops* from the cities into bivouac areas in the suburbs and countryside. Many Czechoslovaks feared that no matter how much they bent to Soviet will, some Red Army units would remain in the country. That fear was buttressed by the fact that seven Soviet divisions already were digging in along the West German border and emplacing tactical missiles.

Kuznetsov also seemed to be doing what Chervonenko had dismally failed to do: lining up an alternative leader to Dubcek. On a one-day flying visit, Kuznetsov went to the Slovak capital of Bratislava for a chat with Gustav Husak, the Slovak party secretary whose recent public criticism of Dubcek's handling of Czechoslovakia's short-lived reform program won favorable mention in the Soviet press. Kuznetsov's visit encouraged speculation in Czechoslovakia that the Soviets hoped ultimately to replace Dubcek with Husak when the switch could be made without needlessly inflaming the country's turbulent political atmosphere.

Choosing Freedom. As part of the normalization program, Dubcek and his colleagues issued a proclamation appealing to Czechs abroad to come home. "Your place is here," it said. "Czechoslovakia needs your capabilities, knowledge and education." The Czechoslovak leaders even issued special assurances that there would be no reprisals against returnees. Throughout Western Europe, where there are now an estimated 60,000 Czechoslovak "tourists," Czechoslovak embassies are holding briefing sessions to try to convince those who fled to return home. Some Czechoslovaks, especially those who had been caught abroad by the invasion, were indeed returning. But others, notably scientists, professors and artists, sought asylum abroad. Australia sent a Qantas Boeing jetliner to Vienna to pick up 164 refugees, including many scientists and their families, for emigration Down Under. Canada also sent a jet. Under the circumstances, the refugees could hardly be blamed for choosing the freedom that had been so cruelly wrested from their countrymen at home.

* Reports on the number of Soviet troops in Czechoslovakia have varied widely. The Czechoslovaks put the total at more than 600,000. The U.S. Defense Department uses a figure of between 250,000 and 300,000. The West German intelligence estimate is the lowest of all: 220,000.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.