Poland: The Standoff in Victory Square

Neither the military regime nor Solidarity can find a way out

As Poles quietly marked the beginning of the eighth month of military rule last week, there were signs in Warsaw that some easing of martial law might be on the way. Rumors spread that the government of General Wojciech Jaruzelski planned, among other steps, to release all but 600 of the 2,300 prisoners still held, according to official count, in detention camps. At week's end the Communist Party hierarchy was reshuffled in the first major shake-up since martial law was declared on Dec. 13. The main victim was hard-line Politburo Member Stefan Olszowski, who lost his key position as the Central Committee secretary in charge of propaganda and ideology. But, as TIME Correspondent Gregory H. Wierzynski observed after a three-week visit to Poland, the military government remains very much in charge. Wierzynski's impressions:

Every evening, rain or shine, a crowd forms around a huge cross of flowers lying in the center of Warsaw's Victory Square. This floral tribute to Polish Primate Stefan Cardinal Wyszynski, who died last year, has become the most potent political symbol in Poland today. Three times the government has swept it away, and three times it has been rebuilt by the crowds who come to pray and intone hymns. The cross is tended by a group of women who patiently replace wilted flowers every day under the watchful eyes of militiamen. Late each night the police move in, picking up candles, garlands and any symbols of opposition to the regime.

On the surface, the "war," as Poles refer to military rule, is hardly noticeable. The tanks are gone from the streets, the soldiers are back in their barracks, and television newscasters have hung up their ill-fitting military uniforms. Indeed, the most vivid reminder that Poles live in a state where the authorities can—and occasionally do—frisk, detain and arrest on sight is what cannot be seen any more: the once ubiquitous Solidarity pins on coat lapels and the political slogans that seemed to be scrawled on every available wall. But if the shock and fear of the first dark days of martial law have now passed, the country seems sunk in joyless apathy. Though darkness comes late to Poland's northern summer days, the streets of major cities are empty by early evening. Cracow's ancient market square, normally crowded with youths, folk singers and tourists, seems as lifeless as a clock bereft of hands.

By far the most alienated segment of Polish society is the young. Whether headed for factories or universities, they see no prospect for great personal freedom or even for better economic conditions. Says a University of Warsaw professor: "The state of war has created a generation of opposition." Despite government efforts to tighten ideological controls and reinstitute mandatory classes in Marxism-Leninism, Polish youths are adopting styles of rebellion from their Western peers.