Soviet Union: New World Order? Or Law And Order?

By JOHN KOHAN. MOSCOW

Even in the best of times, Moscow was a militarized city, where officers in uniform rode the metro and army vehicles mingled with city traffic. But as tensions rise and visions of chaos begin to haunt the nation, jittery Muscovites have been paying more attention to all the soldiers in their midst.

As soldiers and sailors teamed up with police last week on joint patrols in cities across the country, the question of just what they were there for took on fresh urgency. Defense Minister Dmitri Yazov and Interior Minister Boris Pugo, who drafted the order in secret last Dec. 29, say the new patrols are intended to combat an odious side effect of economic and political liberalization: a steep rise in violent crime.

But many Soviets interpret the measure differently. They see it as one more piece of evidence that Mikhail Gorbachev has given way to hard-line pressures to curtail the reforms he ushered in himself. In the past month the Kremlin has sent the army into the Baltic republics, tightened controls over television and radio, outlawed 50- and 100-ruble notes and seems to have shelved plans for introducing a market economy. Gorbachev has also authorized KGB fraud squads to stamp out so-called economic crime. A new era of repression seems to be in the making.

While there is widespread resentment of these measures, many Soviets fear the confusion attending wholesale reform and welcome the reassurance that the central government does not intend to let liberalization get out of hand. The Soviet people are accustomed to a system that guarantees order and stability, whatever the cost in individual liberties. Now that crime and disorder are up, people are frustrated and afraid. "I get the impression," says a State Department analyst, "that a lot of Soviets are saying, 'Let's get things calmed down.' And if it takes a little arbitrary justice to make life more stable, well, O.K."

But as democratic forces in the country pointed out, the dispatch of paratroops to Lithuania last month was first justified in the same way -- as a limited move against draft dodgers. Yet it quickly turned into a bloody assault against pro-independence demonstrators that claimed the lives of 14 people.

Demands for law and order have become a favorite rallying cry of the hard- liners. Declared an Interior Ministry colonel: "People are afraid to walk the streets. Something must be done." But reformers are skeptical. Russian leader Boris Yeltsin, who now stands at the head of the democratic opposition, called the moves "a serious step toward dictatorship." Reformers argued that bringing troops into the streets has involved the military in areas beyond its competence. Said the independent weekly Moscow News: "The army must not be used as a muzzle on the people!"

The string of policy reversals cast something of a chill on U.S.-Soviet relations as well. Last week the superpowers agreed to postpone the presidential summit that had been scheduled for Feb. 11-13 in Moscow. The ostensible reason was the gulf war and the need for more work on a strategic- arms treaty. But the U.S. was also attempting to indicate its disapproval of the Kremlin's backsliding on reform.

Few of the signals from Moscow offered much cause for optimism. Gorbachev's decree on economic crime gave security squads the right to raid government enterprises, cooperatives, private businesses and even joint ventures involving foreign firms, and to carry out audits of their wares, cash holdings and accounts. The crackdown is supposed to wipe out the black market, but it may well trample underfoot the first fragile growth of free enterprise. Said Deputy of the Russian parliament Artyom Tarasov, a new Soviet entrepreneur: "This is no longer the politics of the free market but the politics of discipline."

With public confidence in the Kremlin steadily ebbing, ordinary Soviets doubted that either politics or public safety explained the security patrols. Citizens suspected that the troop "deployments" were going to be coupled with an announcement of steep price hikes: the Kremlin wanted to be ready in case the people rioted. Government officials assured the population that no such decision was coming any day soon.

If the rest of the country was suffering from a bad case of nerves, the troubled Baltic republics enjoyed a moment of relative calm. After meeting with Soviet Foreign Minister Alexander Bessmertnykh in Washington, President Bush said he had been given assurances that Moscow intended to withdraw some of its forces from the region and reopen talks with the republics. Interior Minister Pugo said that all paratroops, except those permanently stationed in the Baltics, and two-thirds of the Interior Ministry forces would be withdrawn by week's end. In another conciliatory gesture, Gorbachev set up Kremlin delegations to begin talks with the Baltic republics.

There were signals too of a slight softening in the stance of Baltic leaders. "If we see signs of a reduction of the Soviet military presence in the republic now," admitted Lithuanian President Vytautas Landsbergis, "the step can become a good signal for talks." Nationalist governments in the three republics have rejected Gorbachev's plans for a nationwide referendum in March on the future of the union. The Lithuanians and Estonians plan to hold their own polls on independence before then. That would help defuse Moscow's charges that the Baltic governments only represent the views of radical minorities.

With the Baltics cooling down, Gorbachev's decision to send troops into the streets everywhere else seemed all the more bizarre. Even though the Defense and Interior ministries' order on joint patrols was dated a full month ago, Gorbachev gave his official authorization for the decree only last week. When he did publish the directive, it was considerably watered down and accompanied by provisions for local watchdog committees on "the activities of law- enforcement organs."

Reformers had been incensed by the permission for the joint patrols -- and even armored vehicles -- to control "mass actions by citizens" and "social- political activities." Their anger led Pugo to explain that the reference was not to "rallies" but to "hooliganism and other criminal offenses and % nothing else." Pugo also said that each republic had the right to decide whether it wanted the army to join forces with local police. Taking him at his word, the Baltic republics and Georgia, Armenia and Moldavia promptly turned down the offer, and the Russian Federation called on Gorbachev to suspend the entire decree.

Mistrust of the security forces runs high -- with good reason. According to Colonel Victor Alksnis, a spokesman for disenchanted reactionaries, the pro- Communist National Salvation Committee in Lithuania was prepared to seize power and expected Gorbachev to pave the way by imposing presidential rule. But Gorbachev did not act, leading Alksnis to conclude that "the President betrayed us."

The colonel put Gorbachev on notice that if he did not intend to use his powers more decisively he would face a mutiny within the army. At the same time, Gorbachev's hesitation to impose presidential rule in the Baltics or give his unequivocal support to military actions has not won him applause from reformers either. If the Kremlin has a strategy nowadays, it seems to be to get tough -- then back down. But with the growing polarization between radicals and reactionaries, no one seems prepared to accept uncertainty anymore.

With reporting by J.F.O. McAllister/Washington