East Germany

By Jill Smolowe

Vacationing in the northern industrial city of Rostock last month, Egon Krenz decided to attend a soccer match. The outing may have been business as much as pleasure: as the Politburo member who handled youth affairs, Krenz also oversaw the country's sports programs. Soon after Krenz settled into his seat, an announcement blared over the public address system that the politician was in the stadium. Cheers and applause? Hardly. The fans booed lustily.

Those jeers apparently never reached East Berlin. Last week party elders demonstrated just how out of touch they are with the masses by awarding Krenz the country's top political trophy. Erich Honecker, for 18 years the country's unsmiling, unbudging leader, was relieved of his posts as head of state, Communist Party chief and chairman of the National Defense Council. Krenz, his protege, was elevated to all three positions. Technically, the 77-year-old Honecker resigned, citing the poor health that has plagued him since he underwent gallbladder surgery last August. But few East Germans doubted that Honecker had been pushed aside by a leadership increasingly nervous about the continuing exodus of refugees to the West and the growing clamor of the stay- behinds for reform at home. At the same time, the two Politburo members in charge of the economy and mass media also lost their posts, signaling that a more extensive housecleaning might be under way.

Krenz, who had long been expected to succeed his mentor, will get no honeymoon, since the change at the top does not alter the crisis down below. Given Krenz's hard-line convictions, there is little expectation that he will be the leader who will guide East Germany along the path toward social and economic reform. Krenz may turn out to be only a transitional figure, put in place, like the Soviet Union's Konstantin Chernenko, to warm the chair for a more visionary thinker. "The real reformers will take over power in the next six to twelve months," predicts Wolfgang Seiffert, a former adviser in the East German Communist Party who now teaches at West Germany's Kiel University. Others see in Krenz the possibility of a Yuri Andropov -- someone who appeals to conservatives but recognizes the need for change.

Analysts were united at least in this: Krenz is no Mikhail Gorbachev. True, Gorbachev was no Gorbachev when he ascended to power almost five years ago. But while Gorbachev was aligned early on with reformist factions within the Communist Party, Krenz is indelibly marked as Honecker's creation. The son of a tailor, Krenz joined the Young Pioneers in his early youth and became a full-fledged Communist Party member by 18. He spent three years at the party academy in Moscow, then returned home to rise quickly through the party ranks. He has been a member of the party's Central Committee since 1973. A decade later, he joined the Politburo, gradually assuming responsibility for both youth affairs and the country's security apparatus.

At 52, Krenz is the youngest member of the Politburo. He is also among the members most widely distrusted and reviled by citizens. Rumors circulate about both his drinking and his health. "This man is a technician of power, a man of the central party machine," said Fred Oldenburg, a senior analyst with the Federal Institute for East European and International Studies in Cologne. East Germans mockingly call Krenz a "professional youth" because he has continued to dabble in youth affairs despite his age, organizing and attending rock concerts that are intended to pacify restless youngsters. A West German television crew, interviewing East Germans at random the day of Krenz's appointment, turned up evidence of the popular disdain. "He's one of the concrete heads," said a young man. Remarked an elderly woman: "They should all step down and let new blood in."

Krenz is also regarded with suspicion by many because of his connections with the Stasi, or secret police. Few citizens seem persuaded that Krenz had a true change of heart when he ordered police forces to stand back during the demonstrations that continue to spread like a brush fire, last week drawing 100,000 people into the streets of Leipzig. Many point instead to his comments on recent trips to China and West Germany, during which he expressed support for the Beijing leadership's crackdown on the pro-democracy movement.

Krenz may face resistance within ruling circles as well. One source who has good Soviet connections and contacts within East European diplomatic circles said, "Krenz is engaged in a deep power struggle because some of the district party bosses were against him. The Central Committee was not unanimously for him." Still, Krenz is regarded by the other 20 members of the Politburo as the best they have to offer. Krenz, who is more animated and garrulous than Honecker, is also better attuned to the television age. He ordered up a camera crew to record his exit from the Central Committee session at which he was promoted, and six hours after Honecker's resignation, Krenz addressed the nation on live TV.

His words gave the country's fledgling opposition little cause for optimism. While Krenz called for a "new course" and "dialogue with all the citizens of our country," he also made it clear that he had no intention of bringing any of the freshly organized reform groups into the dialogue. "Our society already has enough democratic forums in which different interests from various parts of the population can express themselves," he said. While Krenz acknowledged that "problems in recent months had not been sufficiently assessed," he stated that the party would maintain firm control. "Socialism," he said, "is not negotiable." His only conciliatory gesture was a hint that travel restrictions might be relaxed. At the same time, he encouraged East Germans to stay home, and admitted that the flight of 135,000 citizens this year was "a draining of a lifeblood" that amounted to "a human, political and economic loss."

The next day, however, Krenz went on a good-guy offensive that favorably impressed his critics. He was shown on television chatting, Gorbachev-style, with factory workers in East Berlin. He let it be known that he had traveled to Leipzig on Oct. 9 to ensure personally that police forces did not confront demonstrators. And Krenz met with leaders of the Protestant Church, around which the opposition movement is grouped. Later, Bishop Werner Leich, head of the church, said the meeting left him hopeful that Krenz would open a dialogue with all segments of the society. Says Oldenburg: "It looks to me like Mr. Krenz is trying to be more flexible than we had expected."

Others were not ready to give Krenz the benefit of the doubt. "It makes one fearful when, again, one person is taking on the three positions formerly held by Honecker," said Barbel Bohley, a co-founder of New Forum, the largest of the new reform groups. The night after Krenz's walkabout, more than 20,000 people demonstrated in Dresden, signaling that the pressure for democratic reform would continue.

West German politicians greeted Krenz's appointment cautiously. Chancellor Helmut Kohl said, "Reforms cannot be restricted to a mere replacement of persons." Oskar Lafontaine, a deputy chairman of the Social Democratic Party and Krenz's host during the East German's first visit to West Germany last June, was also wary. "He has a conciliatory approach and friendly manners, but is tough as nails when it comes to substance," he said.

In Hungary the state-run newspaper Magyar Nemzet predicted that Krenz would be only a transitional leader. But news of Krenz's appointment was eclipsed by the Hungarian Parliament's decision, in a vote of 333 to 5, to embrace substantial revisions in the country's constitution. The changes include not only "the values of both bourgeois democracy and democratic socialism" but also the country's name: the People's Republic of Hungary is now the Republic of Hungary. The reaction from Moscow was more generous, as Gorbachev sent a telegram of congratulation to Krenz. But the news agency TASS pointedly noted that Gorbachev encouraged Krenz to be "sensitive to the demands of the times." Interestingly, beyond the quiet message of change that he urged upon Honecker when he visited East Germany three weeks ago, Gorbachev appeared to have had no direct hand in the shake-up.

The most optimistic prognosis is that Krenz will navigate a minimalist course that will be enough to restore, at least temporarily, a degree of stability. But in fast-changing Eastern Europe, no leader can afford to tread water for too long. Honecker tried -- and was drowned by the tidal wave of events. His record actually boasts some accomplishments. Honecker had two chief aims: to nurture his country's industry and to legitimate the existence of the German Democratic Republic. In both endeavors, Honecker largely succeeded. But when the situation demanded that he broaden his agenda and introduce political reforms as well, Honecker was too calcified to muster any flexibility. If Krenz aims to ensure a kinder legacy, he would do well to heed the cry building in the streets and within the party rank and file.

With reporting by James O. Jackson/West Berlin and Ken Olsen/Bonn