Defiance in the Streets

By Thomas A. Sancton

Tear gas, Molotov cocktails and bullets mark Solidarity's second birthday

It was a day of rage, violence and bloodshed, and it proved again that Solidarity and the spirit the union embodied were far from cowed. In cities and towns across Poland, demonstrators turned out by the tens of thousands last week to commemorate the birth in 1980 of the now suspended Solidarity.

Government forces responded with barrages of tear gas, crippling blasts from mobile water cannons and, in the southwestern town of Lubin, a lash of bullets that left at least two workers dead and twelve wounded. Another demonstrator died of bullet wounds in the nearby city of Wroclaw, while a 22-year-old man was found dead following disturbances in Gdansk. They were Poland's first fatalities in political demonstrations since Dec. 16, when nine striking miners were shot by security forces at the Wujek colliery after the imposition of martial law. In the wake of the rioting, the government announced a major crackdown on all sources of dissent in the country. Said Government Spokesman Jerzy Urban: "Solidarity's extremists played their funeral march on Aug. 31."

Warsaw's bosses at first tried to dismiss the demonstrations as minor disturbances by bands of "rampant" youths. But the government's own figures told a different story. Officials announced that 4,050 Poles had been detained, and that up to 75,000 in 54 communities had taken part in demonstrations. In addition to the four acknowledged deaths, 148 policemen and 63 demonstrators were reported injured. Although the government insisted that the demonstrations enjoyed no wide popular support, the world had been given vivid proof of the Polish people's determination to win back the freedoms that were crushed by the military regime of General Wojciech Jaruzelski. Neither side could claim a clear-cut victory in this round. The confrontations seemed likely to continue and to increase.

The demonstrations had been called by Solidarity's underground leaders as a nationwide statement of support for the suspended union. Anxious to avoid a showdown, the government had mounted an intensive publicity campaign aimed at keeping people off the streets. Officials announced the arrest of underground activists who had allegedly stockpiled crowbars and metal cable to use as weapons. Speaking at the graduation exercises of an officers' training school in Poznan, Jaruzelski warned that "excesses and irresponsible demonstrations" would "not be tolerated." Just before the scheduled demonstrations, the management of several major Warsaw factories played tapes of one of Lech Walesa's moderate speeches, followed by a commentary on how extremists had taken over the union. On the afternoon of the Solidarity anniversary, the state television even scheduled a replay of the now legendary soccer match in July when Poland eliminated the Soviet Union from the World Cup competition.

The government campaign seemed at first to have succeeded: an eerie calm settled over most of Poland's cities on the morning of the demonstrations. By midafternoon, however, groups of protesters had begun to gather. In Gdansk, the Baltic seaport where Solidarity was born two years ago, 4,000 employees filed out of the Lenin shipyard to lay flowers on a towering, triple-spired memorial to workers killed in the 1970 riots. Police and soldiers ringed the monument to prevent other demonstrators from joining the workers. Suddenly, the paramilitary police force, known as ZOMO, rolled toward the monument in three columns of Jeeps, armored personnel carriers and mobile water cannons, firing hundreds of tear-gas grenades into the crowd.

Street skirmishes flared for the next eight hours. Some of the demonstrators, who built barricades of benches and trash bins, attacked the ZOMOs with rocks, slingshots and Molotov cocktails that turned at least two police vans into smoldering hulks. By the time the struggle quieted down around midnight, the streets of Gdansk were littered with broken glass, paving stones and empty tear-gas canisters.

An even bigger demonstration took place in Wroclaw, where up to 20,000 people turned out in the face of a formidable array of police and army units. According to one report, the authorities had sent some 15,000 extra police troops to Wroclaw in anticipation of major trouble. The main battle started in front of the city opera house. As in Gdansk, demonstrators erected barricades and hurled Molotov cocktails at police vans, setting at least one on fire. Some residents even dropped flowerpots and bottles from their windows on passing ZOMO troops.

In Warsaw, about 1,000 demonstrators gathered on Constitution Square and began marching toward the monolithic, Stalin-era Palace of Culture and Science in an effort to link up with another group. Police moving in to break up the crowds were greeted with shouts of "Gestapo!" "Solidarity!" and "We want Lech!"--a reference to Lech Walesa, the detained leader of Solidarity.

By far the bloodiest clash erupted in Lubin when a squad of policemen were confronted by enraged demonstrators, who allegedly hurled rocks and gasoline bombs. After firing blanks as a warning, the police unleashed a volley of lead. Officials reported two deaths, although some local witnesses put the total at five.

Following the rioting, a strict curfew was clamped down on Lubin and six other towns and cities. Lubin protesters, however, skirmished with police for two more days, burning at least one building to the ground. The government reacted to the disturbances with strong hints that Solidarity might soon be banned outright. Government Spokesman Urban told foreign reporters that "the entire leadership of Solidarity cannot be considered as worthy partners for negotiations." From now on, he said, the regime would plead its case directly with the workers, whose "hearts and minds," he claimed, were now closer to the government's policies than to Solidarity's leaders, including Walesa.

Urban also announced that four members of the dissident group known as the Committee for Social Self-Defense (KOR) had been charged with both preparing to change Poland's political system by force and engaging in activities toward that end. Maximum penalty for the first offense is ten years; for the second, death. The four defendants, who have been in detention since Dec. 13, were officially arrested and believed to have been taken to high-security prisons. In addition, several dozen underground union members were arrested on the eve of last week's upheaval. Among them was Zbigniew Romaszewski, thought to be the leading figure behind Radio Solidarity.

The military council also warned that the demonstrations had endangered "the possibility of suspending martial law by the end of this year." That came as no surprise. When a regime is opposed by a majority of its subjects, whose trust it has betrayed, the government is condemned to rule by force. General Jaruzelski hardly needed last week's events to teach him that lesson. --By Thomas A. Sancton. Reported by Richard Hornik/Warsaw

With reporting by Richard Hornik

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.